‘Her body was never recovered?’
‘No. Liamuin was never seen again.’
‘And did Escmug and Liamuin have any children?’
‘There was a girl, as I recall. Liamuin abandoned her, which supported the idea that her husband killed her, for it takes a strange woman to abandon her daughter. For a short time the girl lived with Escmug. He was a brute of a man and worked the girl from morning to sunset until one day, she suddenly took off. Some time later, Escmug’s body was found upriver from here. Again, there were rumours and stories. No one ever saw the girl again.’
‘Was it thought that the daughter had murdered her father?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Who would have blamed her, if she had? Whoever did it had made a mess of his head, or so the locals say. The daughter vanished as surely as the mother.’
‘Does any of Escmug’s family remain here?’
‘None that I can recall. But I will ask around …’ A bell interrupted him and he smiled at them. ‘That signifies that the waters in the dabach have been heated for your baths. So we will continue this conversation at the evening meal.’
It was some while later that Fidelma and Eadulf sat in the guest chamber they had been allotted. They had both bathed and changed and were awaiting the bell that would summon them to the feasting hall for the evening meal.
Eadulf was reflective. ‘So far as I can see, we have not learned much more than we knew before we started out. The girl, Aibell, seems to have told us the truth — except that she could have killed her father.’
‘I don’t believe she did. The father seems to have been killed just after he had taken the girl to sell her to Fidaig of the Luachra. Therefore, she was not free to do so.’
Eadulf acknowledged the point. ‘Yet there is a curious pattern emerging. We have learned that Ledbán had two children. One was Brother Lennán and the other one was Liamuin. Someone calling themselves Lennán attempts to kill your brother, shouting, “Remember Liamuin!” — the name of the real Lennán’s sister. Then Aibell, the daughter of Liamuin, finds herself in the hut used by the so-called Brother Lennán. Then the father of the real Brother Lennán and Liamuin is, so we think, smothered to stop him talking to us about his daughter. Then there is the matter of Ordan the merchant and his activities with the mysterious Adamrae. I have never encountered such confusion before.’
‘It is a puzzle, right enough,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘There is a relationship between all these matters, of that I am sure. The question is finding the common thread.’
A distant bell sounded and Eadulf rose to his feet. ‘Let’s hope the quality of the food in this place is good.’
There was a tap on the door and it swung open to admit a female servant. She was young, not more than twenty years, with fair skin, dark hair and pretty features.
‘I am to escort you to the feasting hall,’ she announced.
Eadulf was about to remark that they could have found the way, unaided, but Fidelma interrupted.
‘What is your name?’
‘Ciarnat, lady.’
‘How long have you served here, Ciarnat?’
‘Since I reached the age of choice at fourteen years, but my mother was one of the coic of this household so I have known no other place but Dún Eochair Mháigh.’
A coic was one of the professional cooks who served in the households of the nobles.
‘So you know this township well?’
‘I do, lady. I was born and raised here.’
‘Do you remember a girl called Aibell, the daughter of Escmug? You look about the same age.’
A troubled look crossed the girl’s features. ‘I knew her,’ she said quietly. ‘She was my best friend, once.’
‘Once?’
‘She and her father left here and never came back. Her father was found murdered. I fear she might have killed him.’
‘What makes you think so?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Her father was a wicked man who used to beat her. He also beat her mother before she ran away. The local people say that he killed her mother.’
The bell rang again with more persistence and the girl raised her head with a fearful look.
‘The evening meal, lady. I will get into trouble unless I take you there at once.’
‘That’s all right, Ciarnat,’ Fidelma reassured her. ‘We will come with you. But tell me, is there any of Aibell’s family still living in these parts?’
The girl hesitated then said, ‘Her uncle is Marban — he is a saer-muilinn.’
‘A millwright?’ asked Eadulf. ‘Where would we find him?’
‘He has a cornmill upriver,’ she confirmed, lowering her voice and giving an anxious glance over her shoulder as if looking for an eavesdropper. ‘It is a place called An Cregáin. You turn west before the Mháigh passes a tributary called the Lúbach. There is a fast-flowing smaller stream that joins the river from the west. Go upstream along it. That stream is still known as the Mháigh. You follow it through a forest and that is where Marban lives. Now, please, we must go.’
‘Just tell me what relation this millwright is to the family of Aibell? Is he brother to her mother or to her father?’
‘Brother to Escmug, but people say that he hated him. Marban rarely came to Dún Eochair Mháigh.’
Then the girl turned and hurriedly led the way along the corridors towards the feasting hall with Fidelma and Eadulf hastening in her wake.
Cúana and Conrí were waiting before a large fire in the central hearth. They had been joined by Socht and Gormán. A table was already prepared.
Fidelma immediately apologised for keeping them waiting. ‘I am afraid I needed some adjustments to my hair and this young girl helped me.’
Cúana nodded, as if understanding, and gestured to the table.
‘Pray, seat yourselves. I have asked Donennach’s harpist to attend and provide us with some distraction.’
Fidelma looked and saw an old man seated in a corner with his clarsach in front of him; at a sign from the young steward, he started to pluck at the instrument with agile fingers. It was the custom for musicians to play while nobles ate, and Cúana obviously did not believe in stinting on the rituals simply because his Prince was absent. As steward, he first ensured that everyone was seated in the appropriate order of priority. In attendance was a deochbhaire or cup-bearer to see that each guest’s goblet was filled, and a dáilemain who would carve and serve the meat dishes.
The meal was impressive. It was mainly composed of meat dishes: spit-roasted venison joints, basted with honey and salt, sausages made of pork and lamb, and a dish of hard-boiled eggs which, by custom, were eaten cold. There was also fish, and Fidelma observed that these had been cooked on an indeoin or griddle; nearby were complementary dishes of craobhraic or samphire, and a braised pottage of herbs. There were other vegetables such as onions and watercress, and kale spiced with wild garlic. Later, there would be platters of nuts and apples. The knife was used in the right hand and the left was used to pick up the food. When needed, an attendant came forward with a basin of water to wash the fingers and a lámbrat, or small linen cloth to dry them on. Throughout, the deochbhaire continued to keep all the goblets filled with ale. If Cúana was trying to impress them, he was succeeding.
Cúana took an opportunity presented by a pause in the harpist’s repertoire to report to Fidelma. ‘I have made enquiries about the matter you were interested in, and I am told no one exists these days who was connected with the family of Escmug or Liamuin.’
Eadulf’s brow creased; he was just about to say something when Fidelma said quickly, ‘That is a shame. It would seem that our enquiries here have come to nothing.’