They saw that he held a sack in his left hand, and this he abruptly tossed to the ground so that something bloody and gruesome rolled out of it to lie in the dust of the track before the fortress gates. Heads strained to see what it was.
‘In life, my friends,’ Deogaire called up, ‘that was Glaed, brigand chief of the Sliabh Luachra. I bring you his head, Donennach, to show that he is no longer a threat to you.’
‘How did Glaed meet his end, and for what cause did he perish?’ questioned the prince.
‘He died because he was a usurper; a murderer of his own father and his own brother. He raided, raped and murdered, and led his people into suffering and slaughter. He died because I recently returned to Sliabh Luachra seeking justice for myself and all those he had wronged. I wished to seek account of the effusion of blood that he had caused and the lives made wretched by him. When I caught up with him at the Hill of Truth, I challenged him to the fir comlainn, the truth of combat. One man and one sword pitted against another. The gods were on my side.’
‘The gods?’ exclaimed Brother Tuaman with an exaggerated expression of shock. ‘Deus salva nos! This man is not a Christian! We cannot trust him.’
‘I do not hold to the New Faith,’ Deogaire called back, overhearing the steward’s exclamation. ‘I adhere to the ancient Faith and am possessed of the imbas foronsai, the gift of prophecy which sustains and comforts me.’
Fidelma grimaced at Eadulf. ‘At least that is the Deogaire we know of old,’ she whispered.
‘So why do you approach this fortress with the ravening wolves of Sliabh Luachra?’ demanded Prince Donennach.
‘To show you that these are now my ravening wolves and they will return to their lairs. The gods helped me defeat the pretensions of Glaed in token of which, I bring you his head to dispose of as you will, in respect or contempt. If you have memory of our old religion, it is believed that the soul resides in the head. Thus our ancestors, when they slew their enemies, cut off the head so that the soul might freely speed to the Otherworld and no longer haunt the living.’
‘I have heard of the custom, Deogaire of Sliabh Luachra, and so we accept your token,’ replied the prince. ‘But I see you hold nine of my warriors bound in the square behind you. What is your intention with them?’
Deogaire raised his hand. One of the horsemen guarding the prisoners leaped from his horse, drew his sword and went along the line, swiftly cutting their bonds before remounting. The former sentinels stood rubbing their sore wrists and looking around in confusion and shame.
‘Poor sentinels though they may be,’ Deogaire called, amusement in his voice, ‘I return them to you so that you may train them more thoroughly.’ Then he untied a smaller bag from his saddle bow and this he also threw to the ground as he had Glaed’s head.
‘This is for the community of this township. It is the gold and silver pieces paid for the person of Gorman by an unscrupulous cleric. It is returned to show that no longer will those who now serve me accept blood money. Had I reached the Hill of Truth earlier, it would not have been paid in the first place and Gorman of Cashel would simply have been freed. You may also rest assured that the men who supported Glaed and were responsible for the death and destruction visited by his raids have met the consequences of their actions. One of them was once a guard in your fortress. Your trust in him was wrongly placed. Truly, Prince of the Ui Fidgente, what with your useless sentinels and your treacherous guards, there is a lack of judgement in your fortress. I do not need the gift of prophecy, the imbas forasnai, to tell you that you should have a care of those you deem close to you.’
Prince Donennach was speechless. It took him a few moments before he called down to Deogaire: ‘The gold and silver is accepted and will be returned to those it belongs to.’
‘Then I will depart with my men, but before I do …’ Deogaire drew his sword from his sheath and held it aloft. ‘This is the sword of Deogaire of Sliabh Luahcra, by which I have claimed the chieftainship of all the people who dwell there.’
Still holding aloft the sword, Deogaire nudged his horse close to the Ogham-inscribed stone pillar and with a quick downwards sweep, he smashed the broad blade against it. The blade snapped in two. Deorgaire then dropped the half that remained in his hand.
‘Witness, Prince Donennach of the Ui Fidgente – witness that I have broken my war sword against the pillar of your fortress and declare the cairde chlaidib … the agreement of the sword. This is done in symbolic act to show that there is a pact of peace between us. Is it peace?’
Prince Donennach had understood the ancient ritual. ‘Let it be peace,’ he echoed gladly.
Deogaire lifted his hand in salute. He seemed about to turn away, then, as if in afterthought, he raised his head back to those looking down on him.
‘I see that the lady Fidelma is with you.’
Fidelma moved to the side of Prince Donennach and called down: ‘I am here, Deogaire.’
‘I heard that you were here to defend Gorman from the charge of which he is unjustly accused. I know it is unjust for I knew Gorman at Cashel and my imbas foronsai tells me that he is innocent.’
‘Unfortunately, prophecy is not a witness,’ Fidelma returned with a wan smile.
‘But it tells me that you will triumph in your defence. Word has reached me that he is safe from the unscrupulous cleric. Is Aibell also safe with you?’
‘She is safe.’
‘I heard that she had married Gorman. She deserves a good life after the anguish and ordeals suffered as a bond-servant in Sliabh Luachra. Gorman is a good man and they have chosen well of each other. Give them my good wishes and, when you have secured Gorman’s innocence, should their paths come to Sliabh Luachra they will find mention of my name will ensure hospitality.’
Fidelma hesitated, wondering whether to explain the situation, but then decided against it, for she felt that the situation would not be resolved.
‘I will do this,’ she promised him.
‘Then give my salutations also to my venerable uncle, Conchobhar. Tell him how things fare with his sister’s son, who will no longer be an embarrassment to him.’
With that, Deogaire turned, and with his trumpeter and standard-bearer at his sides, he trotted back down the slope to the township square. The three rode back over the bridge across the river. The waiting men of the Sliabh Luachra moved aside to let them through and then joined their horses in a column behind them. Inside the fortress, no one said anything until the band of men had finally disappeared along the track to the south-western hills.
Eadulf was shaking his head. ‘I hardly imagined young Deogaire as a noble and leader of men. I looked on him as just a mischief-making mystic.’
‘Stranger things have happened,’ Fidelma commented. ‘Although we should have had some fore-knowledge of his capabilities after Aibell told us how he had rescued her from the slavery of Fidaig’s house.’
‘Is what he said about souls and heads truly your ancient belief before the New Faith?’ Eadulf asked.
‘It was central to the belief of life in the Otherworld. Some in remote places still cling to the old beliefs. We are told that our great heroes in ancient times would ride into battle with the heads of their foes dangling from their war chariots. But those days are long distant.’
‘Not so long ago, it seems,’ observed Eadulf as Conri was ordering one of his men to go and collect Glaed’s head. ‘And is there truly meaning in that agreement of the sword business?’
Fidelma nodded. ‘Some of the ancient rituals of our past are still there to remind us of what we were. At least the threat from Sliabh Luachra is no longer a problem.’