‘You mean it is an Uí Fidgente raid?’ he demanded.
There was no need for Menma to confirm the obvious. The hunter was examining the area, using his tracking skills.
‘Probably about twenty men. At least, there were enough horses here to carry that amount.’
He was looking down at an area of churned-up earth. All Eadulf could see was a number of hoofprints.
‘But Fidelma and your wife…?’ he began.
‘I think they have been taken as prisoners. Look, a woman’s footprint over the hoofprints.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘A woman was made to mount the horse here.’
‘Both of them? Or one of them?’ demanded Eadulf.
Menma pulled a face. ‘That I cannot say…’
The rumble of many horses approaching caused Eadulf to swing round and Menma to run for his weapons.
A dozen horsemen broke through the surrounding trees, weapons in hand, and halted. Accobrán was at their head.
He caught sight of Eadulf and Menma. Even by the glow from the fire, which made a distorted reflection on his face, Accobrán was clearly surprised.
‘We saw the smoke from the fortress and came to investigate. What’s caused this? What are you doing here, Brother Eadulf?’
Menma took a step forward. ‘Uí Fidgente! They have taken my wife and Sister Fidelma as hostages.’
‘What?’ Accobrán looked startled.
Menma quickly explained the evidence, the Uí Fidgente arrow and shield and the signs of horses.
‘We must ride after them. How much start do you think they have, Menma?’
‘A good half an hour, no more.’
‘Then we may yet catch up with them. This is the first time they have raided our territory for years. Why now?’
Eadulf was mounting his horse and preparing to join Accobrán’s men.
‘Not you, Brother,’ the tanist said sharply. ‘I cannot risk you being slain or taken as a hostage. It is bad enough that the Uí Fidgente have taken the sister of King Colgú. For that, someone will surely pay a price.’
‘But Fidelma-’ Eadulf protested.
‘Exactly so!’ snapped Accobrán. ‘I want you to ride back to the rath and tell Becc what has happened. Our people need to prepare just in case this raid turns into a major onslaught on the Cinél na Áeda. I would not put it past the Uí Fidgente to begin an undeclared war. If they are only a small raiding party, then we have a chance to overtake them and rescue the women. If not, then our people need time to prepare. Go back and tell Becc!’
Eadulf sat uncertainly on his horse but Accobrán ignored him and waved Menma and the others forward, following the tracks leading towards the north-west.
Eadulf realised that the tanist was right. Dusk had already given way to night. Someone had to warn the chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda about the possibility of an incursion by the Uí Fidgente. The chase of the raiding party was best left to the warriors of Accobrán.
He turned his horse and began to gallop quickly along the track towards the dark hill of Rath Raithlen, hoping his horsemanship was good enough to cover the distance without mishap.
A short time before, Fidelma had been drowsing comfortably. Her headache was gone and so was the intense feeling of cold. She felt warm and comfortable.
A hand suddenly clutched at her wrist, bringing her wide awake. She was staring into the pale face of Suanach.
‘What’s the matter?’ She blinked rapidly as she struggled up. Her senses informed her that there was fear in the eyes of the wife of Menma.
‘I went to the well for water. Several riders are coming this way. They carry an Uí Fidgente standard. The Uí Fidgente are not well intentioned towards our people.’
At the name, Fidelma had already sprung out of the bed and was hauling on her robe.
‘We must hide,’ she whispered.
‘Truly,’ agreed the woman. ‘If you fell into their hands, lady…’ Her eyes rolled at the idea for a moment.
There came the sounds of horses halting before the bothán and a voice calling harshly for the occupants to come forth.
‘Too late!’ cried Suanach. ‘I must go and see what they want. You must hide.’
She knelt on the floor and removed the rug, revealing a wooden trapdoor. She pulled it up and pointed down.
‘It is our uaimh talún — the sousterrain where we store food. Crawl along the tunnel as far as you can. It’s a safe place to hide.’
They heard the door of the bothán crash open abruptly.
Fidelma did not waste time by trying to persuade Suanach to come with her. She dropped down into the tunnel and was immediately engulfed in darkness as the trapdoor was lowered and the hunter’s wife replaced the rug.
‘I’m coming!’ Fidelma heard the woman call out to the intruder in the other room. She heard her footsteps cross the floor and then she decided to move further along the darkened tunnel just in case anyone found and lifted the trapdoor.
The tunnel was merely a crawl way. One could not stand in it but could progress only on hands and knees. It seemed to go on for ever, but then she reminded herself that space and time became meaningless when you were plunged into utter darkness. At least it was insulated with stone — she could feel the hard, smooth surfaces — and, above all, the tunnel was dry. She moved carefully along and soon aromatic smells came to her nostrils. She realised that this was where Suanach stored her herbs and mysterious items of food in bottles and boxes.
She sat with her back against what seemed to be a box and relaxed for a moment or two wondering whether Suanach had been right. The Uí Fidgente would surely not dare to raid this far south? And yet Fidelma knew just how brutal and rapacious they were. She sniffed in deprecation and, as she did so, caught a whiff of an acrid smell. It was a moment or so later that she realised just what it was.
Smoke!
She fought a moment’s panic. Smoke was permeating along the tunnel. That had to mean that the bothán was alight. The raiders had set fire to the place. She could feel the smoke growing thicker as she began to breathe with difficulty. There was no chance of crawling back down the tunnel. There was no escape.
She turned and began to feel around her. Something that squeaked brushed by, then another and another. Mice! Mice were escaping the burning building. Again she almost panicked and then she realised that the mice were heading in one direction, away from the trapdoor through which she had come. She sought to control herself and move further along the tunnel.
It was not so much a light as a thin glowing line in the roof of the tunnel. Another trapdoor? Sometimes sousterrains had two entrances. Could Menma have built one that had an outside entrance? Would it be far enough away from the bothán to escape detection? Well, there was no other course but to find out. The smoke was growing thicker and she fancied she could feel an increasing heat blowing down the tunnel. Fear lent her strength as she scrambled over the boxes that lay in her path towards the chink of glowing light.
She pushed at the dark roof above her. It was wood! A trapdoor, indeed. But it did not move. Was it secured from the outside? She positioned herself under it, her back against it, and began to straighten up. It seemed immovable. But then…did it give a little? She pushed again with her back and felt it loosen. Something snapped. Then she heaved and found herself above the soil line.
She scrambled out with the quickness of a cat, crouching on all fours and looking round. She had emerged more than fifteen feet behind the bothán, from which smoke and flames were curling upwards. Fortunately, the raiders were all at the front of the building. She could hear shouting and laughter and the whinnies of their horses mingling in the commotion of the raid. She hoped that Suanach was not harmed, but her immediate need was to find shelter in case the raiders should venture around the back of the building. She remembered to push the trapdoor back into place and examined her escape route.