Mugron had reported the matter of the strange warship to Duinn, who was a rough, almost uncommunicative man, more fitted to be a warrior than a minor chieftain. He did not seem perturbed by their report and felt that the responsibility of sending men to Seanach’s Island was not his immediate concern. Even when Fidelma rebuked his lack of enterprise, he was stubborn.
‘It is up to Slebene, Sister,’ he said. ‘He will make the decision. My task is to make sure that goods are landed safely here, not to go chasing after raiders unless they come into the waters of my territory.’
Finally, Fidelma gave up trying to persuade him. Mugron had purchased some horses and it was arranged that they could be used by Fidelma and her party, who would eventually ride them back to Ard Fhearta by the land route. Their own mounts were, of course, still stabled at Ard Fhearta. While Conri was sorting out the details with Mugron, a monk arrived who identified himself as Brother Maidiu, the keeper of the oratory on Breanainn’s mount. He had come to the harbour to trade with Mugron and was able to confirm that there was still no sign of the missing members of Abbess Faife’s party. Fidelma had expected no less.
They finally left Mugron and his ship at Duinn’s harbour settlement
The party spoke little as they rode along. But soon enough they reached the end of the long valley, passing by a series of lochs, and then climbing through a short mountain pass before descending almost immediately into the plain that led to Daingean. While Slebene’s fortress of grey stones was eye-catching, what was more striking was the settlement that spread around the harbour before it. Even Eadulf was impressed by the populace and by the vessels clustered in the sheltered harbour. There were even two churches within the settlement, set apart from the other buildings by their small wooden bell towers.
There was no difficulty in finding their way through the streets of the settlement to the great wooden gates of Slebene’s fortress from which the settlement took its name — An Daingean.
Heavily armed warriors barred their way at the gates, demanding to know their business. Fidelma requested to see their chieftain. On being asked who it was who wished to see Slebene, Fidelma felt the need to impress by announcing herself as Fidelma of Cashel, sister to Colgu, king of Muman. That certainly had the desired effect and they were quickly admitted to the fortress. One of the warriors hurried off to announce their presence to Slebene. They had barely time to dismount before the warrior came hurrying back to announce that Slebene would see them immediately. Conri told his men to stay with the horses and arrange for their feeding. Then the three of them followed the warrior to the great hall of the fortress where Slebene waited to receive them.
Slebene, chief of the Corco Duibhne, was a large man with a loud voice who used a great bellow of laughter as a means of punctuation. He was
He came forward to greet his visitors with a bear hug to each one, even Fidelma, leaving them all breathless in his overwhelming presence.
‘Welcome, you are welcome!’ he thundered. ‘Let me offer you corma — or there is mead if you prefer it?’ He waved to an attendant and would hear no refusal on their part.
He bade them all be seated before the fire that crackled in a circular hearth in the middle of his great hall.
‘I am honoured to give hospitality to the daughter of Failbe Flann. There is something in your manner, Fidelma of Cashel, that reminds me of him,’ he told her with a toss of his silver-grey mane.
Fidelma’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
‘You knew my father?’
‘Did I know Failbe Flann?’ There came the great bellow of laughter.
‘Did I not fight at his right hand at the battle of Ath Goan when we overthrew the king of Laigin’s men? I fought with him at Carn Feradaig when we put to flight that pretentious whelp Guaire Aidne and his Ui Fidgente allies and sent them with their tails between their legs scampering back to their mothers in Connacht. Those were the days when the Eoghanacht were in danger from the pretensions of their neighbours. Indeed, those were great days when we exerted our authority with swords and axes.’
Fidelma glanced anxiously at Conri but the Ui Fidgente’s face was impassive.
‘Carn Feradaig was fought forty years ago,’ she pointed out, examining Slebene curiously and wondering how old he could be.
‘I was a young man then,’ smiled the chief. ‘Young and ready for battle. But age and chieftainship create wisdom and the hardest thing in age is that you have to send the keen young innocents off into battle on your behalf. It is a strange thing, life. Youth will not believe that age will come, or age believe that death will come. I believe I shall live for ever.’
Eadulf smiled thinly.
‘Grave senectus est hominibus pondus,’ he proclaimed.
To his surprise Slebene slapped his thigh in good humour, understanding the Latin aphorism.
‘Age, indeed, is a heavy load, Brother Saxon. But the groans of the aged are often heavier than the load.’
‘I would like to speak more of my father, but an another occasion,’ Fidelma said, ‘but we have little time to spare at present
…’
‘Ah, patience was not a virtue of Failbe Flann either. Never mind. We shall speak more of him at the feasting this night. Look, the day is growing dark already. Such is the curse of a winter’s day. Whatever business you have with me will not interfere with the meal, for you will stay overnight at least.’
Thanking him for the hospitality, Fidelma told him about the encounter with the warship on their journey.
The chief listened to the story of the attack with an incredulous expression, and when she had finished Slebene threw back his great mane of hair and let forth a resounding hoot of laughter.
‘A pirate, no less, and in my domain! Well, we’ve dealt with them before, by the fires of Bel! Soon there will be one less pirate to trouble the merchants.’
Eadulf winced a little at the pagan oath, glancing at Fidelma. She was not perturbed. She knew that the territory of the Corco Duibhne was still not entirely converted to the New Faith in spite of the prominent churches in the settlement outside the fortress.
‘We are concerned, Slebene,’ Fidelma leant forward earnestly, ‘for the members of the hermit community of Seanach’s Island. Your man Duinn, when we told him, did not share that concern. He said that only you were able to make the decision as to whether a ship should be sent to find out whether the religious on the island are safe.’
Slebene stroked his beard, still smiling at her.
‘Duinn is a cautious man. But have no fear. No one would ever harm a hermit group, especially those of the Faith. Duinn is a good man, when acting under orders. He has little imagination himself.‘He glanced at Conri. ‘Fidelma says this warship flew the war banner of Eoganan of the Ui Fidgente.’
‘It did.’
‘And you, warlord of the Ui Fidgente, reject all knowledge of Ui Fidgente warships in my territory?’
‘We are at peace now,’ replied Conri. ‘If this is a ship manned by Ui Fidgente, then they are rebels and outcasts.’
The chief chuckled and shook his head.
‘Rebels? A difficult word to define. Who is a rebel and who is not? They vary from day to day. Yesterday, Eoganan was a legitimate ruler. Today, those who supported him are rebels. Well, without wishing to cast insult, peace means nothing. For years I have had Eoganan’s whelp, Uaman, controlling the passes on my eastern borders. He even dared to call himself Lord of the Passes. Every time I took my warriors against him, he would either shut himself up in that impregnable fortress on that island of his or disappear up into the mountains where it was impossible to find him and come to blows.’
‘Uaman is dead,’ Eadulf pointed out, trying to bring the conversation to the immediate point. ‘The task is to find out who these raiders are.’