The miller stopped and wiped his brow with a piece of cloth before going on.
‘As I said earlier, the mind of a woman is beyond understanding. Within a short space of time Liamuin and this Cashel warrior grew close; even though her own brother had been killed at Cnoc Áine, she and this warrior became lovers. Menma tried to warn her. He even sent for me to come and try to speak with her.’
‘And did you?’
Marban sighed deeply. ‘When I reached Menma’s fortress, it was a burned-out shell. Menma, my good friend, was dead, along with his wife and sons and almost his entire household. Liamuin was also dead.’
‘And this Cashel warrior?’
‘I found out from neighbours that one day, after it was thought this warrior had gone into the hills, he and his men suddenly returned and without warning they attacked Menma’s fortified house. I was told that Liamuin was struck down by one of his bowmen. The place was put to the torch. The folk from a neighbouring farmstead buried them.’
‘And could anyone identify the warrior who had done this terrible deed?’ Fidelma’s voice had gone dry. When Marban silently shook his head, she went on: ‘What of these neighbours? Did they not learn anything at all about him?’
‘Only that he was from Cashel and wore the golden collar. It is some years now, but I think there was a survivor who reached the safety of the forest during the attack. I am not sure, but that is what I was told. A name might be known among those neighbouring farmsteads.’
Fidelma was surprised. ‘Do you mean that Menma’s farmstead was the only one torched? That the other farmsteads were left alone?’
‘It seemed so. But such things were what we of the Uí Fidgente had to endure in those months after the defeat at Cnoc Áine,’ the miller added bitterly.
There was a silence and then Fidelma said: ‘I can assure you, Marban, that I will do all in my power to find out who that warrior and his men were. There is surely a way of tracking him down. When we do, he will find himself answerable to the law.’
The miller uttered a cynical laugh as he said, ‘I am an Uí Fidgente, lady. The warrior was an Eóganacht, one of your kind. Do you seriously expect me to believe that the victor will punish his own?’
‘That is the law, and if it is not applied then there is no justice.’
‘I have seen enough Eóganacht justice,’ the miller grunted.
‘You will see it,’ emphasised Fidelma. ‘That is my promise.’
‘And you will swear that on all that is sacred to you?’
‘On all that is sacred to me, I swear it,’ she replied solemnly.
There was a silence and then Eadulf said: ‘And what of her daughter, Aibell? You have not said why you believe her to be dead.’
This time the man hesitated a moment. ‘I went to Fidaig, as Escmug said he had sold her to him as a bondservant, but Fidaig denied all knowledge of the transaction. So I realised that either Fidaig was lying, or that Escmug must have killed the girl, as people suspected. My brother was a vile, vengeful man. Anyway, to all intents my niece was beyond rescue and therefore as good as dead.’ The miller bowed his head, sighed, then rose suddenly, saying, ‘I must attend to my workers. I presume you are anxious to continue your journey?’
‘We are anxious,’ replied Fidelma, ‘but the giving and taking of hospitality is a sacred thing in itself. We will take food with you, Marban, before we continue our journey.’
After Marban had left, Eadulf commented, ‘Vengeance seems the motive for the attack on your brother.’
‘Vengeance? Indeed. The assassin chose to strike him down because he was the King whose warrior had done this. Yes, vengeance — but from whom? The would-be assassin was certainly not Liamuin’s brother, or father or anyone else who was related to her … unless he was somehow connected with Aibell. But what did Aibell know of her mother’s death and who killed her? Also, the assassin shouted, “Remember Liamuin” as if that name would mean something to Colgú. Yet Colgú swore — even as he might have been dying from his wound — that the name meant absolutely nothing to him. No, Eadulf, there is still a mystery here.’
‘You think the miller knows more than he is saying?’
‘No, I don’t think so. He did not have to give us such details — even down to admitting that he killed his own brother. I think he has been completely honest and told us all he could.’
‘Then what do we do now?’
‘There is only one path for us, and that is to see if we can find the survivors of Menma’s house. Above all, we must try to identify the warrior who killed Liamuin.’
Just then, the door of the millhouse swung open and Gormán came in. ‘The horses are safe, lady,’ he said, ‘So I thought I would come and see what is happening. The miller and his men are securing the kilns as the rain seems to have ended their day’s work.’
Fidelma turned to him with a frown.
‘Did you fight at Cnoc Áíne, Gormán?’
‘Alas, lady, I did not. I was still trying to convince my master that I had the skill to be a warrior. I was studying at the school of the Múscraige Breogain then.’
‘I don’t suppose you know which of the warriors of the Golden Collar went into the land of the Uí Fidgente at that time?’
‘Capa was the commander at that period. It was not until after that time that I was allowed to serve in the bodyguard at Cashel. Indeed, it was when Capa was replaced by Caol that I was admitted into the Golden Collar. As you know, Capa had tried to convince the King that I was responsible for the abduction of your child …’
‘I remember well enough, Gormán,’ Fidelma replied tightly. ‘I presume Caol was at Cnoc Áine?’
‘A lot of the Nasc Niadh were, lady. It was a great battle. Enda, Aidan, Dego, all of them were there.’
‘Did they ever speak of the months afterwards, when my brother sent them and some of their companies to ensure that peace prevailed in the territory of the Uí Fidgente?’
Gormán thought for a moment and then said: ‘I don’t recollect anything specific. I think everyone wanted to boast about their deeds in the main battle rather than focus on the more mundane action of making sure the peace was kept after the Uí Fidgente were defeated.’
‘But most of the warriors of the Golden Collar, who were the élite commanders, had territories to oversee.’
‘So I understood. But that did not last for long, only until the new Prince of the Uí Fidgente struck his accord with your brother. Prince Donennach accepted that if there was any infringement to the peace, he was answerable to Cashel and therefore it was in his interest to ensure there was no such unrest.’
‘Would it be hard to discover which of the warriors of the Golden Collar were sent to this area?’
‘I am not sure, lady. But we are near Dún Eochair Mháigh, which is the chief fortress of the Uí Fidgente. Would it not be logical that Colgú himself would have come here to oversee the peace?’
There was a brief silence and a troubled look crossed Fidelma’s features.
‘We are told he did not. The King would not spend months in some remote spot in the foothills south of here,’ Eadulf said quickly, knowing what was passing through her mind. ‘Those foothills lead into the mountains of the Luachra. We are looking for a warrior of the Golden Collar who was based there.’
Suddenly, voices were raised outside — then the door burst open. Gormán swung round, hand on the hilt of his sword, and Fidelma and Eadulf rose to their feet.
Marban stood on the threshold, his face grim.
‘We have word that some of Fidaig’s warriors are coming this way. I suggest that you go up to the top of the mill building and make yourselves inconspicuous.’
‘Fidaig? Of the Luachra?’ breathed Fidelma. ‘But this is not his territory.’
‘There is no time to debate borders, lady. His warriors are not given to intellectual discussion. They come by right of their swords.’