‘You make it sound easy.’ Fidelma felt more caution was needed.
‘Often when things appear hard, they can be rendered down into manageable stages. Everything is achievable if one is not afraid to take the first step.’ Eadulf paused and they heard him chuckle in the gloom. Then he added: ‘That philosophy was once taught to me by a talented young dalaigh some years ago. I learned much from her.’
‘You have convinced me,’ Fidelma said, smiling in the darkness at his compliment.
‘Then we are agreed?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Tomorrow, when we have interred Corradain and the nameless brigand, and checked the area, we shall set off to follow Glaed’s marauders.’
‘And while we do so,’ added Aibell’s soft, slightly reproving, tone, ‘we should find the farmhouse of Corradain’s son, to inform him of his father’s death.’
As it was dark she could not see the guilty expressions on her companions’ faces because they had forgotten all about Corradain’s son.
They woke up, cold and shivering, just after first light to the raucous sound of birdsong and the curious cry of a solitary fox. In spite of the still smouldering ruins of Corradain’s cabin, it had been an unusually cold night for the time of year and they found themselves stamping their feet and waving their arms to regain some degree of warmth. The first task was the burial of Corradain and the other body. It was done in a respectful silence, with Eadulf ending the ritual with a murmured prayer.
He and Fidelma went to check the horses while Enda scavenged from the fotholl. He managed to get a small fire going from some of the embers of the hut and, with this means, he was able to prepare a passable meal. By this time the sun was now warming the air and, so far as they could see, looking up between the surrounding trees, there were few clouds in the sky. When they had finished the tasks, Fidelma made a final examination of the area, in case there was anything salvageable that they were overlooking. The attackers had taken not only Corradain’s ass but Aibell’s horse with her setan, the saddlebags, as well. There was nothing else left.
‘You’ll have to ride double with one of us, Aibell, until we catch up with Gorman.’ Fidelma phrased it purely as a means of comforting the girl. Privately, she had come to the conclusion that Gorman must be dead. He would not have abandoned his wife, therefore if he had been unable to get back to Corradain’s cabin, some ill fate had clearly befallen him during his tracking of the Sliabh Luachra men.
‘Aibell can ride behind me, lady,’ Enda offered. Then, lowering his voice: ‘Friend Eadulf is not so good a horseman as to cope and …’
Although Eadulf’s horsemanship had improved greatly – out of necessity – and these days he could even take their young son Alchu riding, he was still not completely at ease on horseback. Aware of his limitations, Eadulf offered no protest.
‘No – I’ll need your eyes as a tracker, Enda,’ Fidelma told the warrior. ‘Aibell can ride with me.’
With Enda leading, Fidelma and Aibell came next with Eadulf following behind. They left the clearing that had once been Corradain’s home, and made their way down the hill, between the dense trees to the broad track that skirted the elongated hill. Fidelma rode cautiously, eyes and ears alert. The raiders from Sliabh Luachra might well have passed through on the previous morning, but that did not mean they had gone for good. As broad as the track was, it wound through a forest and there could be many hidden dangers.
Eadulf eased his cob forward until he rode alongside Fidelma’s sturdy mount, Aonbharr.
‘This raiding party seems a long way from Sliabh Luachra, if I recall the geography,’ he commented.
‘Your memory is correct,’ she nodded.
‘If Glaed is serving as a mercenary to some Ui Fidgente noble with the intention of overthrowing Prince Donennach …’
‘It bodes ill,’ Fidelma cut in.
‘Then you believe he is part of this mystery at Donennach’s fortress?’
‘He has appeared at an opportune time. If his band is following this track eastward, he must be moving directly towards the River Maigh. I think that might have been what Gorman feared – and he followed just to make sure.’
They rode onwards. Every now and again, Enda would stop to examine the ground.
‘Still signs of a large number of horses passing here,’ he would call out, to assure everyone that they were following the right path. In this manner, they continued to move along the wide track for a considerable distance. In different circumstances it would have been a pleasant ride through the forest, with the warmth of a summer’s sun falling on them through the canopy of branches and leaves. Now and again they heard the howl of a she-wolf warning her cubs, and once there was a scuttling sound as a wild boar suddenly burst through on the track ahead of them. The animal paused, grunted – and then, to their relief – trotted off back into the cover of the forest. Birds kept up a constant exchange of calls. Even Eadulf almost found the ride relaxing.
Then the track suddenly came to a fork. One branch led straight on to the east while the other turned north through a small valley. They halted while Enda dismounted and surveyed the earth. Finally he announced: ‘The horsemen have turned north.’
‘So they are not going to Prince Donennach’s fortress.’ Eadulf was puzzled. ‘Why go north?’
‘I passed along this road a few times as a child,’ Aibell said. ‘That was before … before …’ They did not have to be reminded again of the bitterness of her childhood and how her own father had sold her as a bond-servant to Fidaig, then chief of the brigands of Sliabh Luachra.
‘Do you have any idea where the northern road leads to?’ Fidelma asked.
‘If you swung more easterly then you could reach the Ford of the Oaks.’
‘That would mean going back towards the river – or is it that the river turns to flow more to the west there? Can you remember any other important place on that northern road if you were not heading as far as Conri’s fortress?’
The girl searched her memory and revealed: ‘There is another fortress and township at Cromadh, the bend of the river on An Mhaigh. It belongs to an important Ui Fidgente chieftain named Donnabhain.’
Fidelma was immediately interested. ‘Do you know what sort of person he is?’
Aibell gave a whimsical smile. ‘I cannot remember very much, as I was taken to Sliabh Luachra when I was just a child, but Ciarnat told me once that you have already met his son.’
‘His son?’ Fidelma repeated, baffled. ‘How would Ciarnat have known that – and where did I meet his son?’
‘He is Ceit, the commander of Prince Donennach’s guard at the fortress.’
Fidelma exchanged a surprised glance with Eadulf.
‘It is tenuous link,’ he pointed out. ‘Glaed and his cut-throats might not even be going to Cromadh.’
‘True enough,’ Fidelma said. ‘Although Ceit would know of all our comings and goings from the fortress. I agree that his father might be a fragile connection but we should not discount it.’ She paused. ‘Let us remember this fact. By increasing our information we can make better speculations. Don’t the scriptures say – Vir sapiens et fortis est vir doctus robustus et validus?’
‘A wise man is strong, a man of knowledge increases his strength,’ Eadulf translated.
Fidelma turned to Aibell. ‘Is there nothing else of importance lying in that direction that you know of, and to which these raiders might be heading?’
‘Not really. Once we pass north through the valley between these hills, the land is almost flat with a few simple homesteads. There is only one prominent landmark as I recall from my childhood. That is Cnoc Firinne.’
Fidelma tried to disguise her look of excitement. ‘Cnoc Firinne?’ she repeated.
‘The Hill of Truth, though why it was called that I do not know.’
‘Is it the site of some religious community?’
Aibell shook her head. ‘I have not heard it to be so, but as I have already said, my childhood memories are lazy and many things may have changed since then.’