‘It is clear, Brother Eadulf. We will keep vigil over Dego and pray he grows stronger.’
Eadulf turned back to Gormán. ‘Now. . let us try to find my brother.’
Within a short time, Brother Berrihert was leading Eadulf and his companions up the mountainside. He remained on foot, while the others walked their horses. The elevation of the hill path made it difficult to ride up the slopes but Brother Berrihert had assured them that they would be needing a horse once they passed through the high valleys. It seemed that they would not be ascending any of the higher peaks of the mountains. They began to climb beyond the treelines and crossed the hill called the Pointed Peak before dropping southwards along a track that led through a valley, with one peak rising to the west and another to the east. Here they began to descend more rapidly as the path followed what was, at first, a gushing stream. It grew in strength and pace, rushing towards the plains below.
Gormán smiled. ‘I recognise it. That stream will become what is called the River of Ducks: it feeds the River Siúr further across the plain there.’
‘So you know this area?’ Eadulf asked in surprise. In truth, he had become disorientated.
Gormán raised his hand to point to an obscure track across the southern shoulder of the mountains. ‘That is called the track of Maranáin. He was an Uí Fidgente rebel who was trying to escape after the Great Uprising which ended at Cnoc Áine a few years ago. And that is where he is buried.’ The young warrior’s tone was that of grim approval.
‘And it was just by those tracks on the east side of the river that I discovered your companion, Dego,’ interrupted Brother Berrihert.
‘You said that when you found him, there was no sign of my brother not even his horse?’ queried Eadulf.
‘As I have said, there was no other living creature nearby except his horse. The signs were that Dego had been fishing there when he was attacked. All I could do was set him on his horse and take him back over the eastern path.’
‘You crossed the mountain with Dego and his horse from here?’ Eadulf asked in astonishment.
Brother Berrihert pointed to the east. ‘I brought you here by the quick route. I took him by a longer route but an easier one. It leads through that area of the forest called the Thicket of Gloiairn and there is a narrow pass between An Starraicín and Sliabh an Aird. It may be longer but far less taxing for a wounded man and his horse.’
‘Well, let us see what we can pick up from the place where you found Dego.’
They reached the site identified by Brother Berrihert. Some bags and what was probably Dego’s fishing tackle were still strewn about near a long-dead campfire. Aidan was already crouching on the ground and examining the area with keen, experienced eyes. He rose and trotted along the bank of the stream a little way before giving a grunt of satisfaction. Then he disappeared off towards a small copse. They waited in silence until he reappeared.
‘Horses,’ the warrior said laconically. ‘Two horses were tied there behind the camp. There are plenty of marks indicating that two people had dismounted here and were making camp. That was Dego and Egric. But then two other horses came from the east and halted in that wood. Two men dismounted. They must have moved quietly. They crept up on the encampment. See the dried blood on that rock? I think that is where Dego was attacked.’
‘And Egric?’ Eadulf asked.
‘There are signs of a struggle, but no blood. I think he was simply overpowered. There are marks on the ground as if he were dragged still struggling to his horse. . there. Then there are tracks of a horse being led back to the copse where the others had left their mounts. The tracks show that three horses moved off to the east.’
‘Are you saying that Egric was taken as a prisoner?’ Eadulf said, impressed by Aidan’s skill despite his worries. ‘He was not killed?’
‘It would seem that he was taken as a captive, friend Eadulf,’ agreed Aidan. ‘That is how I interpret the signs.’
Gormán pulled thoughtfully at his lower lip. ‘What now? Who could these people be?’
‘We must follow them,’ Eadulf decided. ‘I know the tracks are at least two days old, but we must see if they lead us anywhere. I need to find my brother and those responsible for what happened to Dego.’
It was decided that Brother Berrihert could contribute no more than he had already done. So he departed back on foot across the mountains, leaving the three grimly determined riders to follow the tracks to the east.
Colgú was pacing up and down. Now and then he cast a worried glance at his sister. They were alone in his private chamber and Fidelma was sitting relaxed in a chair before him. Finally, he halted and ran a hand distractedly through his fiery red hair.
‘I have no understanding of these happenings, Fidelma. Is there some personal danger to us? After all, you and Eadulf were attacked and almost killed.’
‘I do not think so,’ she replied with a shake of her head. ‘I believe the attack on us was done merely as a distraction; an attempt to lead us off on a wrong path. I think this affair is far more complicated than a threat to the kingship.’
‘Is this some curious conspiracy of the religious then?’ he demanded.
‘In a way,’ she conceded.
‘A threat from Deogaire and the supporters of the old ways trying to stem the tide of the New Faith?’
‘I am fairly sure that Deogaire was used simply as part of a diversion. I think his role is an innocent one. It is frustrating, however, that Beccan, who was my main suspect, met with his own death before I could confront him. That was a miscalculation on my part.’
‘But Beccan. . it seems impossible that he was involved! Do you have other suspects?’ asked her brother.
‘A lack of suspects is not the problem,’ she assured him.
‘Then is there any news from Eadulf yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Dego was one of my most trustworthy warriors. I pray that his wounds are not grievous. If only Gormán were here to advise me. Should I raise a catha of my warriors in case of trouble?’ Colgú seemed distracted. Gormán had recently been promoted to a cath-mhilidh, the commander of a battalion of the élite warriors.
A catha or battalion of warriors consisted of three thousand men; it was sub-divided into companies of one hundred, platoons of fifty men and squads of nine men. Of these trained warriors, the élite were the order known as the Nasc Niadh, warriors of the Golden Collar and chosen as bodyguards to the King. Usually, only a company was permanently quartered in the place, while the rest were encamped nearby where instruction in military sciences, practice with weapons and other modes of training occupied their time. But they were always close enough to come forward in time of need.
‘I don’t think the danger will come from armies but from something far more dangerous,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Ideologies are far more dangerous to deal with than men with weapons.’
Colgú sat down and reached for a drink. ‘What had Beccan to do with this religious business? I don’t understand.’
‘I have not pieced everything together yet. There is something I am overlooking, a single strand which leads to the centre of the knot.’
‘Does that piece reside with Eadulf’s brother, Egric?’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I worked out his role some time ago. I have not mentioned this to Eadulf for I think it is going to be difficult for him to accept it. Didn’t Cicero refer to bellum domesticum — family strife? It is nothing new, but I do not think that Eadulf was expecting to be confronted by it.’
Colgú looked troubled. ‘For a stranger to this land, Eadulf has given unsparingly of himself to help our people. I hope he is not in any danger?’
‘There is always danger of some sort. That is why I suggested that he take Gormán and Aidan as his companions. They are two warriors in whom I place my greatest trust.’