‘Irél and members of the Fianna have joined Ardgal and some members of the Cinél Cairpre. We made the attack together. It was Fidelma’s plan. Come, we’d better find her and Caol.’
There was a quiet over the Hag’s Hill now, a curious quiet broken only by cries of pain from those wounded and dying. Dawn had broken over the hills, throwing a threatening red light across the scene. It was almost symbolic as it lit the carnage, but, of course, all it presaged was the bad weather to come. However, the sight that it lit was a bloody one.
Of the attacking force, only six had been killed and seven wounded. Of the raiders, some thirty had been killed and more than forty wounded. The others had surrendered, including most of the women.
After their simple but heartfelt reunion, Eadulf and Fidelma joined Irél in examining the dead. Eadulf realised that he had seen no sign of Cuan among the dead or survivors, and quickly told Fidelma of the man’s presence among the dibergach.
For a second time they meticulously examined the bodies of the dead, as well as the wounded and the prisoners, but there was no trace of the warrior from Tara.
‘A pity,’ said Fidelma. ‘He must have escaped during the attack.’
They had halted by the body of the tall, black-haired woman whom everyone had called the ceannard, the leader.
‘Who was she?’ asked Fidelma. This woman had nearly taken her life.
‘She was apparently a priestess of their cult, but I heard no one call her by her real name,’ Eadulf said. ‘They addressed her as ceannard or leader.’
‘I’ll have the prisoners questioned,’ offered Irél, who had joined them. ‘Perhaps one of them will know who she is and can be persuaded to tell us.’ He glanced down at the body. ‘Strange,’ he muttered.
Fidelma looked at him with interest. ‘What is strange?’
‘For a moment I thought there was something familiar about her face.’
‘Now you mention it,’ muttered Eadulf, ‘I remember thinking the same thing when she was questioning me.’
Irél sighed: ‘All faces in death become distorted and perhaps it is because we look on her in death that we see familiarity in it.’
Fidelma made no comment but regarded the dead priestess for a few moments more before turning down the hill to join Caol and Gormán who were standing talking with Bishop Luachan and Ardgal.
A warrior had approached Irél and was talking to him with some animation. The commander of the Fianna called Fidelma back.
‘You were asking about Cuan, lady. One of my men recognised him. He and another man escaped. They were riding eastward. A third man was wounded as he tried to go with them. He has given us some interesting information … after some persuasion.’ Irél smiled without humour.
Fidelma frowned with disapproval but did not comment.
‘What information?’ Eadulf asked.
‘They had already grown tired of riding with these raiders and were planning to leave for Alba, to the kingdom of the Dál Riada on the seaboard of the Gael. The man said that when Cuan joined them he had a heavy plate — that was how he described it — a plate of silver in his saddlebag. He gave it to the woman — the ceannard — but when the attack started and he decide to leave with his companions, they stole it back and Cuan took it with him.’
‘So they are now heading for the coast?’ There was a tone of excitement in Fidelma’s voice.
‘For the Bóinn River,’ confirmed lrél. ‘Cuan told them he knew of a ship currently anchored there whose owner, he felt, was the sort who would take them across the Sruth na Maoile for a small consideration.’
‘Sruth na Maoile — where’s that?’ asked Eadulf.
‘The strait of water that separates the two Dál Riadas, the one in Éireann and the one in Alba. Apparently, the owner of this ship has no liking for us. He is the one whom Cenn Faelad rebuked in the market a few days ago.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened. ‘Verbas of Peqini?’
‘The same,’ confirmed Irél.
It was at noon the next day that Fidelma and Eadulf were part of a group of five riders trotting along the track which approached the banks of the great River Bóinn. They had entered the wooded plain where the Bóinn, flowing from the southern hills northward, encountered the powerful Dubh Abhainn, flowing from the west from the great Loch Rath Mór, the lakeof the big fortress. The two rivers joined forces to swing eastwards to the sea north of Tara. The settlement at their juncture was curiously called An Uaimh, the cave. The river here was deep enough for some vessels to move up from the coast to anchor. So the settlement, at this confluence of the rivers, was an excellent spot for traders and merchants to meet. It was also the principal town of the Clann Colmáin, according to Ardgal.
Ardgal had agreed to join Fidelma and Eadulf on the journey back to Tara although Fidelma had made it clear that she must first find the ship of Verbas of Peqini and question Cuan. Bishop Luachan had promised to follow them to Tara as soon as his ankle was attended to. He could not add a great deal more to the facts that they had already garnered about his visit to Sechnussach on the night before the assassination. Bishop Luachan had been adamant that the silver disk that he had discovered with Brother Diomsach would be the key to the discovering of the real Roth Fáil, the wheel of destiny, which was so eagerly sought by the dibergach and their strange female priestess. He confirmed that the day before Sechnussach’s murder, he had placed the silver disk in the hands of the High King. Ardgal could only give evidence of Dubh Duin’s character but he was keen to exonerate his clan from being wholehearted supporters of their late chief. However, in any presentation to the Great Assembly, both would be needed as witnesses to what had happened on the Hag’s Mountain.
The settlement of An Uaimh was fairly quiet as the five rode in, but they noticed with some satisfaction that there were three large ocean-going ships tied up against the wooden quays. An enquiry made to one man, lounging against bales of sheep’s wool destined for transport beyond the seas, brought forth the information that the tall masted black vessel was from Gaul and that it was indeed the ship of the merchant named Verbas of Peqini.
When they started to move towards it, the man called them back.
‘If you want to trade with the stranger, he is over at the bruden yonder.’ He indicated one of the quayside inns.
Fidelma turned to Gormán. ‘Take our horses to that other inn,’ she instructed, pointing to a building at the opposite end of the quayside. ‘Make sure they are watered, rubbed down and rested. Then come and join us.’
‘Why not take them with us, lady?’ asked Gormán. ‘After all, we are going to an inn, aren’t we?’
Fidelma smiled wryly. ‘That’s a sailors’ inn. The one back there has stables; this one doesn’t.’
Caol did not hide his grin at his comrade’s irritation. ‘A logical observation,’ he said smugly.
As they began to walk away, a cry of pain rang out behind them, loud and clear. Caol, who was leading, halted and caused those behind him to do so as well. He glanced uneasily towards Fidelma and unsheathed his sword.
‘That’s a child’s cry,’ Fidelma observed grimly.
The cry came again and before anyone could move, the door of the sailors’ inn opened and a small boy darted out; he ran unseeingly towards them, fear on his face. At the last moment, he saw them, tried to avoid them but collided with Brother Eadulf. For a few seconds, the boy struggled and then, seeing the silver crucifix around Eadulf’s neck, he stared up with a sudden hope in his eyes. He did not seem to recognise him as Cenn Faelad’s companion at the market in Tara.
‘Help me!’ he cried. ‘Please. If you are a priest of the Christian god, protect me.’