‘As you say, the war is long over, Marban. Hopefully, the Uí Fidgente no longer have any ambition to fight to assert their superiority,’ she said firmly. ‘Too many have died for that ambition. Too many mothers have lost sons.’
Eadulf added softly: ‘Bella detesta matribus — wars, the horror of mothers.’
‘I believe in peace as well as the next man,’ Marban stated. ‘I pray Prince Donennach will last long enough to ensure that this peace, a peace we have known for the last four years, continues. But it is a fact that the only outcome of war is hatred and more war. And I fear it will be so. War will come again out of resentment. Don’t forget, lady, in a conquered land, the defeat of its army leaves three armies in its place. An army of wounded and cripples; an army of mourners and haters; and an army of thieves and opportunists. Out of those three comes the growing resentment to seek atonement from the conquerors. An atonement in blood.’
Fidelma said sadly, ‘You sound like a philosopher, Marban. All I know is, Cashel had to defend itself once attacked. But I agree that victory in war does not determine who is right, only who was the strongest. The victory is not a solution and that is why my brother engaged in finding a solution with Prince Donennach. At least, he seemed to understand the path to peace between Cashel and Dún Eochair Maigh.’
‘Well, let us hope he has time to establish that peace. There is much resentment here.’
‘And there are people who will attempt to overthrow him and end the peace?’ queried Eadulf.
‘Isn’t that the nature of things?’ The miller looked sad. ‘Anyway, now you have heard the full story of Liamuin. She was a lovely girl, albeit a foolish one. Many loved her, but she chose the wrong man and suffered for it. Beaten, forced to abandon her own daughter, fleeing to a place where she was killed along with the family of my dear friend who gave her shelter. That is the tragedy of her life.’
Fidelma sighed. ‘I am not sure it is the full story of Liamuin as yet. At least, Marban, I can confirm some good news to alleviate the tragedy. Aibell is, at this moment, safe in Cashel, having escaped from Sliabh Luachra. Furthermore, when I challenged Fidaig he was forced to admit that he acted illegally, as I have already said, and he has agreed to pay a fine and compensation for doing so.’
The miller stared at her in disbelief. ‘Liamuin’s daughter is alive and well?’
‘Your niece is safe, Marban.’
Tears sprang into the eyes of the big man. Then he tried to pull himself together. ‘Liamuin would be overjoyed. The old saying is truly spoken — that dark stormclouds are sent to prove there is such a thing as sunshine. The impossible can happen.’
‘I am sure she will want to meet with you and hear the real story of why her mother had to abandon her,’ Fidelma said kindly. ‘Even more, my friend, I believe that soon we will find out exactly what happened at the rath of Menma — and who is responsible for it.’
As the words left her lips, one of Marban’s men came banging at the mill door and burst in before he could respond. ‘Horses are approaching,’ gasped the man. ‘It is Gláed and his men.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Marban turned pale with apprehension. It was Gormán who sprang into action and snapped at the miller: ‘Are our horses under cover? Will they be spotted? Quick, man!’
The miller seemed in a panic. ‘No, they are standing outside in clear sight. They will be seen before we can run them to the stables.’
Eadulf was glancing up the stairway to the room where they had successfully hidden before, but Fidelma, reading his intention, said: ‘It won’t work twice, Eadulf.’
They could hear the approach of a band of horses and any initiative seemed to drain from them as they realised how close the riders were. Gormán put his hand on his sword in a futile gesture — but Fidelma reached over to stop him.
‘Resistance will only bring about your death more quickly. Our only defence is in my rank and office — not that Gláed seems to be concerned about that. As we cannot hide, let us go and confront him.’
Eadulf would have preferred to have made a run for it rather than be faced with the wayward son of Fidaig, but Fidelma was already moving towards the door with Marban behind her, wringing his hands.
As they exited from the mill a band of thirty horsemen swept up to the mill buildings. Among the first of the horsemen was the man they had spotted previously from the mill room and whom Fidelma had identified as Gláed or rather Brother Adamrae.
Then they halted in surprise, for next to Gláed rode the familiar figure of the warlord of the Uí Fidgente, Conrí, with Socht on the other side of him.
The men reined in their horses before Fidelma and her companions, with Conrí clearly astonished at seeing them.
‘Lady!’ greeted the Uí Fidgente warlord. ‘What are you doing here?’
Fidelma recovered her poise. ‘I would ask you the same question, Conrí … and riding in such company.’
She turned towards Gláed and only then noticed his sullen features and the fact that his hands grasped the reins at an odd angle, the wrists having been tied tightly together with rawhide. She turned back to Conrí with a puzzled look.
Conrí was dismounting with a grin.
‘You were right in your suspicion, lady. There is a plot to overthrow Prince Donennach. But I thought you would have left the hospitality of Marban long ago. The girl at the fortress, Ciarnat, told me where you had gone. If Marban will extend his hospitality so that my men and I can water our horses in the stream here and rest before we take our prisoners back to Dún Eochair Mháigh, I will tell you what we have been about.’
Marban hobbled forward quickly, almost sobbing in relief.
‘By all means, Lord Conrí.’ He looked nervously at Gláed, who sat impassively on his horse, looking neither to right nor left, his mouth set in a firm line.
‘Have no fear, miller,’ Socht assured him. ‘He won’t hurt you. This man is our prisoner. Have you somewhere safe where I might put him? Preferably a well-used pigsty?’
‘Still amazed?’ smiled the warlord as they settled themselves back in the warmth of the mill. ‘You may not have recognised him, but that is actually our missing Brother Adamrae, and Adamrae is-’
‘Gláed, son of Fidaig of Sliabh Luachra,’ finished Fidelma. ‘We spent last night with Fidaig.’
Conrí looked disappointed for a moment. Then he continued his explanation. ‘We took Gláed as a prisoner. He had a few men with him who put up a fight, neglecting to notice I had a couple of good bowmen with me. Gláed finally preferred discretion to valour. Now he will answer for Lachtine’s death and for what he did to Brother Cronan.’
‘He will have to answer for much more than that,’ Fidelma replied grimly. ‘How did you find him? And what happened to confirm my idea of a plot to overthrow Donennach?’
The warlord ran his hand through his hair. ‘It was pure luck,’ he confessed. ‘After you left us at Dún Eochair Mháigh, a messenger came to the fortress. We had decided to stay on for a day or two as Cúana used to be an old friend of mine.’
Eadulf picked up the past tense and looked hard at the man.
Conrí interpreted the question. ‘I am afraid he came off the worst in an attack on me.’
‘What happened?’
‘It was as simple as being in the right place at the right time. Night had fallen and I could not sleep. I was still wondering what the purpose of Adamrae, or Gláed as I now know him, was in the Ford of Oaks. I heard a messenger arrive at the fortress and curiosity brought me from my chamber. The messenger was speaking with Cúana in the antechamber. I was about to enter when I heard him say that the moment to strike was at hand. That made me pause.