‘There is one thing that I must know,’ Enda requested.
‘Which is?’
‘Given that Glaed has some forty men with him, what is your intention if we catch up with him?’
‘I do not intend to do anything more than observe,’ Fidelma told him. ‘Only when we have information will we discuss what can be done.’
‘If Glaed is meeting with Abbot Nannid on the Hill of Truth, it means that we actually made a mistake at Mungairit last year by giving Nannid the benefit of the doubt about being involved in the conspiracy with him and Lorcan,’ reflected Eadulf.
Fidelma’s expression was grim. ‘I was the dalaigh who made the decision, not you,’ she reminded him. ‘As such, it was my mistake and that decision cost the life of Glaed’s brother, Artgal. Also, it was my decision to send Lorcan to Prince Donennach’s fortress. As we heard, Lorcan almost escaped.’
‘But was mortally wounded in the attempt.’
‘The important point is that he did so.’
‘He was helped to escape,’ Eadulf said, trying to appease her.
Enda was restless. ‘I thought we were going to bury the bodies and get on as fast as we can,’ he said, his eyes signalling to where Aibell was still wandering around the smoking ruins, looking utterly lost and desolate.
‘Of course.’ Eadulf was immediately contrite. ‘Let’s find a spade and get on with our task.’
It was some time before they left the ruined farmstead of Corradain’s slain son and his wife and rode towards the woods that Fidelma had identified lying between the small hill and the higher rise of the Hill of Truth. Enda led the way again, using his knowledge of woodcraft and the natural cover of the terrain, gathered during his training as a warrior, to help them approach in safety.
They passed another farmhouse which was deserted but undamaged, although most of the livestock there had also vanished. They halted in the shelter of some outbuildings, while Enda dismounted and made a quick search of the main dwelling.
‘It looks as if whoever was here saw the approach of Glaed’s marauders and fled.’
‘Taking most of the livestock?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Maybe not. Maybe they were taken as more spoils for the brigands.’
‘Is there a spring or well that we can use?’ Fidelma wanted to know. ‘The sun is well past its zenith now and the horses could do with a drink. We might as well take the opportunity to refresh ourselves, since no one is here to offer us hospitality.’
‘Farmers always know best where to place their farms for fresh water,’ Enda offered. ‘There should be a spring at the back of the building there. I just want to scout round on foot before I join you. Would you mind taking my horse with you? Maybe you’ll find some food still left in the house.’
‘Scout round for what?’ Eadulf queried.
‘Oh, for this and that,’ Enda replied airily. Fidelma realised that he did not want to alarm them but needed to check in case some of the raiders were still lurking in the vicinity.
It was some few minutes before he rejoined them, by which time they had found fresh bread, presumably baked that morning, cold meats and cheeses. They helped themselves and washed the meal down with cold water from the spring, although they found containers of apple cider which Fidelma decided they should leave untouched. They needed completely clear minds.
‘What signs did you find?’ Fidelma asked as the young warrior dropped into a seat before the table and cut himself a slice of the bread and a piece of cheese.
‘From the tracks, the main body passed by here a short distance away, on the other side of that treeline. Six riders came to the farmstead here and doubtless it was they who searched it. They don’t appear to have done much damage, as you can see.’
‘What about the farmer?’ Eadulf asked.
‘I saw tracks of two adults and some children heading east. They had some animals with them.’
‘Do we know if Glaed is still making for the Hill of Truth?’
Enda nodded.
‘And Gorman?’ Aibell demanded. ‘What sign of Gorman?’
Enda shifted uneasily. ‘No sign, but if he was on horseback with them, then there would be none. Certainly there were no tracks of a man on foot following the horsemen that I could find.’
‘Then you believe he is a captive?’ she said, her voice trembling.
‘Belief is difficult without facts, Aibell. Once he left the farmstead of Corradain’s son, he could either be hiding, following on another route or placed on one of the horses whose tracks I have seen. Perhaps he is even heading in a direction other than this one.’
Enda did not mention the other possibility, but Fidelma and Eadulf knew it well and certainly did not want to share it with Aibell. Fidelma wished to press on, so as soon as they had finished their meal, they set off again. Enda was becoming more cautious. There were stretches where the trees and shrubland did not adequately cover their passage, and one or twice Enda left them while he went ahead to scout the land.
They had almost reached the wooded area of the small hill and moved away from the track that skirted it, which would have brought them out into the open view of the Hill of Truth. Beyond the trees they found a curious passage through some large limestone rocks. Enda had suggested that this cover of high birch trees would be a good place to halt. Beyond the rocky barrier and among the trees they found a small glade – a perfect spot. A brook tumbled through the glade, having risen from some spring further up the hillside.
‘We can make this our base and leave our horses here before we climb up to see what is happening on the Hill of Truth,’ Fidelma announced with satisfaction.
Enda had returned to the main track on foot to make a quick survey of the terrain and ensure that their tracks were not discernible. They had barely dismounted when the young warrior came racing back.
‘There are horsemen riding this way,’ he said urgently. ‘The trees should provide cover here, but try to ensure the horses are quiet.’
Crouching behind a boulder, Fidelma whispered: ‘How many riders?’
‘Four, or maybe six.’
‘What did you make of them? Are they more of Glaed’s brigands?’
‘They are heading for the Hill of Truth,’ he said as if that answered the question.
‘I’d like to see who they are,’ Fidelma suddenly decided.
‘No, lady. It’s best for you to remain here. I will move closer and take a look.’
Without another word, crouching low, the young warrior moved stealthily away while the others held on to their horses, praying the animals did not cause any noise or make a movement that would alert the passing riders to their presence. In silence they waited, dreading the sounds that would announce that the riders had discovered them. When Enda came back, it was clear that something was troubling him.
‘They’ve passed on. However, I’d like to show you something, lady,’ he said. ‘Best keep the horses here, Eadulf. Aibell can help you.’
Fidelma gave Eadulf a shrug to show she had no idea what was going on before she followed Enda without another word.
They had gone a little distance, out of earshot of the others, when the warrior turned and, keeping his voice low, said: ‘I didn’t want Aibell to hear.’
At once Fidelma asked: ‘Was it Gorman?’
Enda quickly shook his head. ‘The riders were definitely from Sliabh Luachra – not professional warriors but dirty, ragged men whose weaponry would not pass inspection among the warriors of the Golden Collar. The thing is, I recognised the man at the head of them … he was old Brother Conchobhar’s nephew. I often saw him at Cashel when he was with Aibell.’
‘Deogaire!’ Fidelma exclaimed loudly in her surprise.
‘The very same,’ Enda confirmed. ‘Black hair and that strange multi-coloured coat – I’d know him anywhere.’
‘So Deogaire is here and joining Glaed?’ She gave a shake of her head as if she could not believe it.
‘I was saddened when Aibell rode off with Deogaire,’ Enda said. ‘You recall how upset Gorman was, and how he rode after them? But Marban said Deogaire had left her at his mill and then gone back to Sliabh Luachra, to his home. Well, now he seems to be in command of some of Glaed’s marauding wolves.’