‘Or that the steward was not telling the truth?’ Fidelma pointed out.
Ciarnat looked confused.
‘Are you saying that Cúana knew that Marban was a relative of Escmug?’ asked Fidelma gently.
‘Why, everyone knows that.’ She caught herself. ‘I mean …’
‘I know what you mean,’ Fidelma said brightly. ‘Don’t worry. He shall not learn from me that you told us about Marban. However, if everyone knows this fact, we could have learned it from anyone. It is curious that Cúana does not wish us to know it.’
Ciarnat sat looking unhappy.
‘Since you knew Aibell, tell us something about her,’ invited Fidelma.
‘There’s little enough to tell. We were young girls growing up together. We explored and played together — but that was only when Aibell’s father was away working. He had a boat and often went fishing, and sometimes that kept him away for a time. These were the happy times, for when he was at home he was usually drunk.’
‘But during happy times, how was it?’
Ciarnat smiled. ‘It was good. Aibell was a great friend.’
‘What of Aibell’s mother, Liamuin? What was she like?’
‘She was young and attractive. But she was a sad person.’
‘Was she now?’ Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘Was she younger than Escmug? I know it might be difficult to say, as a child is not a good judge of age.’
‘Oh, but I do know. Escmug was evil and old. Liamuin was young, and many a man would have willingly exchanged places with him. I heard men speaking. I did not understand much then, but I remember what they said.’
‘So she was attractive and what did Aibell think of her?’
‘She loved her mother and it was not one-sided for Liamuin was Aibell’s only protection against her father. Aibell would often appear with a bruise or two. After her mother disappeared, things were very bad for Aibell.’
‘When was this?’
‘About the time I came to the age of choice. That was …’ she frowned ‘… four years ago, just after the great Battle at Cnoc Áine.’
‘Did you think it odd that Liamuin disappeared and left Aibell?’
‘I did. It was known that Liamuin loved poor Aibell and that she would never have left her behind at the mercy of Escmug. He drank more than ever and treated Aibell like … like …’ She ended with a shiver. ‘I cannot say the words.’
‘But Aibell’s mother did run away.’
‘True. Everyone hoped that she had run away and found somewhere safe, but few places were safe at that time.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Eadulf asked, curious.
‘For six months after the defeat of our army at Cnoc Áine, we had warriors of the King of Cashel quartered throughout the clan lands, and many of our nobles who had sided with Eoganán decided to flee rather than live under their orders. They took to the fastnesses and fought in small bands. Eventually, they accepted defeat and Prince Donennach made a treaty with Cashel. Things became better after that.’
‘But not at first?’ asked Fidelma.
The girl was uncomfortable. ‘Begging your pardon, lady, most of the Eóghanacht treated us fairly but there was one man, the commander, Uallach of Áine, who believed all Uí Fidgente should be treated no better than animals. He was eventually killed in an ambush. Then the treaty with Cashel was agreed.’
It was Eadulf who suddenly posed the question. ‘Did the King of Cashel, did Colgú ever come to this place during that time?’
Ciarnat stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Why would he do so?’
‘I meant, after the Battle at Cnoc Áine, when Eoganán was defeated, I am told Eóghanacht warriors were quartered in all parts of the Uí Fidgente territory. Did Colgú come here?’
Ciarnat shook her head. ‘I never heard that he was in this part of the country. He never came here to visit Prince Donennach. Donennach always had to go to him.’
There was a sound outside in the corridor. They stopped speaking and heard footsteps, the slap of leather shoes on wooden boards. The girl rose nervously. She waited until the steps faded.
‘I must go. I have said more than I intended. I don’t want to get into trouble.’
‘Then say nothing further to anyone,’ Fidelma advised with a reassuring smile, ‘and you will not get into any trouble. We shall be gone in the morning.’
The girl paused at the door. ‘If ever you find out what happened to Aibell and you can tell me, I would like to know. She was once my friend.’ Then she disappeared, closing the door quietly behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Had Ciarnat not given them specific directions, Fidelma and her companions would never have found the mill of Marban. They had left the fortress as dawn was breaking over the distant eastern hills and begun to move south along the western bank of the river, whose path continued to frequently twist and change. It was Gormán who indicated where they should turn westward, following what appeared to be an insignificant watercourse that had entered the main flow of the waterway.
He was quietly confident, saying, ‘We need to look for a rocky place — that is, if the name An Cregáin indicates the terrain.’
They could smell the cornmill before they came to it: it was the aroma of corn drying in the kilns in preparation for the grinding. Most mills would have large kilns or ovens which were called sorn-na hátha, heated by wood. These required skill to work. If the person looking after them was lax and the ovens overheated or caught fire, then the corn would be burned and ruined. In some rural parts Eadulf had seen a more primitive form of drying which was done by roasting the corn on the ear. The person in charge would set fire to the ear and then watch for the right moment when the outer husk or chaff was burned but before it had a chance to reach the grain. It was then that the burning chaff was struck off, using a stick.
The mill seemed to be well-hidden. They followed the smell of the drying corn along a small path through the trees, emerging from the treeline onto some high rocky ground, where they caught sight of the mill. It was a watermill, situated by a stream, a millpond before it and a spring behind it. To one side were storehouses and beyond them, at some distance, were two large stonebuilt kilns with smoke billowing and men checking the corn that was being fed into them or turning it to heat it evenly. There were several workers at the mill, which was clearly a large and important one.
Suddenly, one of the men spotted them; laying aside his fork, he came over to meet them. His eyes swept over them, taking in their clothes and lingering a moment on Gormán and his gold torc.
‘Is this the mill of Marban?’ Fidelma enquired.
‘It is, indeed, lady,’ replied the other with a courteous bow.
‘Are you Marban?’
‘I am not. Marban is in his millhouse. Shall I summon him?’
‘No, we will go to him,’ Fidelma answered as she dismounted. Gormán remained with the horses while Eadulf accompanied her to the mill. They had not reached the door when it opened. A giant of a man appeared. He was shirtless but with a leather apron covering his great chest and leaving his muscular tanned arms bare. He had a large head, covered with a mass of dark red hair, and a large bristling beard. His arrogant light blue eyes were half-covered by drooping lids. He gazed at them with a truculent expression.
‘Are you Marban?’ asked Fidelma.
The man did not reply immediately. If anything he seemed to intensify his scrutiny of her.
‘I am Marban the miller,’ he finally conceded. ‘I do not know you, lady. You travel with a foreign religieux but I see you also travel with a warrior of the Golden Collar,’ he indicated Gormán, still seated astride his horse behind them. ‘Further, I see you wear the same golden collar round your neck. That means you are an Eóghanacht.’
‘You have a sharp eye, Marban the miller.’