Fidelma bent down and entered the stone hut. There were traces of a travellers’ fire, some discarded pottery items and a few pieces of rag… no, not rags, but clothing. She looked carefully at one of them. It turned out to be a leather jerkin, a seaman’s jerkin, of the style she had seen on the decomposing corpses on the island. Nearby was the boot — a coisbert.
She emerged from the coirceogach and held out the items to Conri.
‘I presume that this is the boot and clothing that Mugron showed you?’
Conri gave an affirmative gesture.
‘They may mean nothing,’ she said, replacing them in the hut. ‘There are many ways that the clothing could have come here. There is also a chance someone took it from one of the corpses and brought it here. Perhaps one of the people who killed Faife could have been carrying it or even wearing it. There are lots of possibilities.’
Conri was looking at the sky with impatience.
‘I do not think that we should spend any more time here. We need to find a place to pass the night,’ he said. ‘It is going to be a cold one and I do not fancy the idea of sleeping out under the trees.’
‘I told you that there was a village up the mountainside just here. We should have no trouble in finding a sheltered place. It was people from it who destroyed Uaman’s fortress once they learnt they were free from his thrall.’
‘Let us hope that they are more hospitable these days,’ the warlord muttered.
‘People’s actions in normal circumstances cannot be judged by their actions in extreme conditions,’ replied Eadulf. ‘I am sure we will find hospitality there.’
‘Then lead on, Eadulf,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘It has been a tiring day.’
They remounted and Eadulf led the way up the track in the direction he knew the village lay. It was not far up the hillside, on the easy slopes just before the trees stopped and the great bald, rocky hills began to climb into the towering Sliabh Mis mountains. Eadulf swung round a bend on the track and came abruptly into what was the centre of the village. There was a blacksmith’s workshop in its usual position at the end of the settlement and a series of buildings, both stone and wooden structures, spread either side of the track. It was not quite dark yet and Eadulf was surprised by the utter stillness of the place. It seemed deserted.
‘Are you sure this is the place, Eadulf?’ Fidelma found herself whispering as they halted.
‘I am sure.’
He leant forward in his saddle and gave forth a loud shout.
‘Hoigh! Hoigh!’
There was a sudden fluttering of alarmed birds rising into the air but when their angry squawks died away no one had appeared or answered the call.
As an automatic reaction, Conri’s two warriors had their swords unsheathed and ready as they examined their surroundings.
‘Your villagers seem to have deserted this place,’ commented Conri unnecessarily.
Eadulf rode forward between the houses, peering in at half-open doorways. It was true. It seemed that the entire village had been deserted, and certainly fairly recently judging by the condition of the buildings and what he could see of their interiors.
Fidelma was resigned.
‘Well, if we cannot find hospitality we can, at least, have a roof over our heads this night,’ she said philosophically.
Eadulf pointed to a building.
‘That looks suitable for accommodation. There is even a well beside it.’
They dismounted and Socht and his companion took charge of the
‘From the dust, this place cannot have been deserted for more than a week or two,’ Fidelma commented. ‘I wonder why the people decided to leave?’
A moment later the second warrior returned. He wore a grin on his face. He said nothing but had his bow in one hand and held up two rabbits in the other.
Conri smiled appreciatively.
‘Well, we won’t starve tonight. And we have water at hand and there is still corma in my saddle bag to keep out the winter’s chill.’
At a nod from Conri, the warrior went outside to skin and gut the animals ready for cooking while the warlord constructed a spit that could be turned over the fire he had made.
It was while they were seated in the main room of the deserted building in front of the fire, watching the sizzling carcasses of the rabbits being turned over it, that they all heard a slight, muffled sound.
It was a soft thump. The noise seemed to come from under the very floor on which they sat. Yet the floor appeared to be a hardened earth surface.
Conri glanced at the others and placed a finger to his lips. His brows were drawn together. He began to examine the floor without moving from his seat. Then he silently pointed. There was a spot where dried rushes had been strewn and they saw a metal ring almost buried in the straw.
Quietly, quickly, Conri rose and moved to it. His two warrior companions had drawn their swords ready. The warlord bent down, gripped the metal ring quietly, paused only a moment and then pulled it abruptly upwards. A small trapdoor came away and Conri peered down.
‘Come out of that!’ he shouted in a thunderous bellow.
A moment later a small head and shoulders emerged.
A frightened fair-haired boy, freckle-faced, terror in the blue eyes that peered round at the company. His hair was matted and his face smudged with dirt.
‘It’s a boy!’ cried Conri in surprise, then he bent with one hand and hauled the child bodily up into the room. The lad could have been no uaimh talun, an underground chamber for storing food.’
It was clear that the boy was still very frightened.
Fidelma smiled encouragingly at him.
‘Come here, child,’ she instructed. ‘Come, tell me your name.’
The boy shuffled forward a step.
‘I am Iobcar, son of Starn the blacksmith,’ he said hesitantly yet with a curious dignity.
‘Well,’ Fidelma’s smile widened at the child’s tone, ‘well, Iobcar son of Starn the blacksmith, I am Fidelma of Cashel. Tell me what you were doing in that souterrain?’
‘Hiding,’ the boy said simply.
‘From whom?’
‘From you,’ the boy replied without guile, causing some merriment from the two warriors.
‘Tell us, Iobcar son of Starn the blacksmith,’ invited Fidelma, ‘why would you be hiding from us?’
‘I thought you were the bad people.’
‘The bad people?’
‘The people of Uaman the Leper.’
Eadulf frowned in irritation.
‘Uaman the Leper is long dead, boy,’ he snapped and received a look of rebuke from Fidelma for his manner.
‘My father said that he was so bad that the Otherworld would not have him and he had to return to this one.’
Fidelma tried to hide her chuckle of amusement.
‘So your father Starn is a philosopher?’ observed Eadulf sarcastically. The boy shook his head, taking the question seriously.
‘He is a blacksmith,’ he protested. ‘I have told you as much.’
‘Very well, Iobcar,’ intervened Fidelma. ‘But tell us where the people of this village have gone and why.’
The boy examined her thoughtfully.
‘I cannot tell you where they have gone, for that is a secret,’ he said after some hesitation. ‘But the reason why is because they were fearful that Uaman would punish them now that he has returned from the Otherworld.’
Eadulf was about to interrupt to correct the boy again but Fidelma gave him a warning glance. He held his peace.
‘So when was this? When did they leave?’
‘Last week.’
‘And why were you left here?’
‘I was not. I returned here to find something that I had left behind.’ He glanced nervously over his shoulder at the underground storage space. Seeing the movement, Conri bent down again and with a grunt of triumph he came up with a small bow, not large but fit enough for use by the boy. The boy’s face was immediately troubled but Fidelma again smiled encouragement.