She stared in unbelief at the leading horsemen.
One was the Uí Fidgente dálaigh, Solam, and the other was her cousin, Finguine, Prince of Cnoc Aine. The other four men were obviously members of Finguine’s warriors.
‘Well?’ she heard Solam’s high-pitched, querulous tones. ‘Have we lost the tracks or not?’
She heard her cousin’s voice, tight and also irritable. ‘Do not concern yourself. I know this country. There is little choice in the places where they can hide. We shall find them.’
Fidelma found herself growing cold.
To whom were they referring? What was Finguine doing with Solam when he claimed to be suspicious of him; when he blamed the Uí Fidgente for the raid against Imleach? Had Finguine been riding only with his men, she would have undoubtedly contacted him and explained all about Brother Mochta. But why was he with Solam?
‘Well, the sooner we find this monk — what’s his name? — Mochta? — the sooner we shall resolve this business,’ snapped Solam. ‘The key is the Holy Relics, of that I have no doubt at all.’
Fidelma’s eyes rounded.
Her cousin was responding. ‘We will try the southern caves first. Then there is a cave on the Hill of the Cairn to the north.’
He raised his hand and motioned the body of horsemen forward.
For a few moments Fidelma remained where she was, trying to make sense of what she had heard.
Then she rose and hurried back to the horses. Whatever it meant, it seemed that her own cousin, the Prince of Cnoc Aine, was searching for Brother Mochta. She wondered if Eadulf had begun to move Mochta down the hill to the safety of the forest cover along the banks of the River Ara. She must not let Finguine and Solam reach the cave on the Hill of the Cairn first. She was thankful that Finguine had suggested going to the southern caves first, wherever they were. It gave her time to reach Mochta and Eadulf before they did.
Pressing her heels into the flanks of her horse, Fidelma set off at a canter across the meadowland, swinging around the edge of the forest towards the hill. She was thinking about Finguine, aboutBrother Mochta and his bitter betrayal by his brother. What was it he had said? Unity is not cemented by blood. She skirted the broad base of the hill and came round to the eastern side, where a new tract of forest began to stretch along the valley which eventually led towards the Well of Ara.
As she rode across the shoulder of the hill, she saw the small figures of Eadulf and Mochta on the hill above her. Eadulf was carrying the reliquary under one arm while the other supported Brother Mochta, who had his arm around the Saxon’s shoulders and was struggling to keep his footing.
Fidelma gave a cry to attract their attention. The pair halted, then recognised her. They began to struggle downwards again.
Fidelma urged the horses upwards, as far as the steep slope would allow, then waited for them to come to her, dismounting and holding the horses steady. It took a while for Eadulf and Mochta to struggle down the hill to her.
‘Phew!’ Eadulf gasped as they came up. ‘I could do with a rest.’
He was about to ease Brother Mochta into a sitting position when Fidelma shook her head swiftly.
‘Not here. We must get to the shelter of the woods down there as soon as possible.’
‘Why?’ demanded Eadulf, puzzled by her sharpness.
‘Because horsemen are coming and they are searching for Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics.’
Brother Mochta blinked. ‘Uí Fidgente?’ he gasped.
‘One of them is,’ acknowledged Fidelma. ‘Solam.’
Eadulf pursed his lips as he caught her inflection. ‘Who are the others?’
‘My cousin rides with Solam.’
Eadulf was about to make a further comment when Fidelma swung up on her horse.
‘Give me the reliquary,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll carry that. Brother Mochta will have to mount in front of you, Eadulf. That way you can give him support. We can continue this conversation when we are safely away from this exposed place.’
Eadulf did not say anything further. Instead he handed up the reliquary box to Fidelma and then helped Brother Mochta into the saddle of his horse before he scrambled up behind him. Eadulf was no skilful horseman and he did not use the most elegant method of mounting his patient colt. And it was a very ungainly rider who directed the young horse down from the hillside in the wake of Fidelma and trotted towards the cover of the forest through which the river ran. However it sufficed.
Fidelma did not stop immediately once they were under the canopy of the trees but continued on for a while. After a mile or so, they came to a clearing by the banks of the river and it was here that Fidelma slid from the saddle and led her mare to the water. Then she turned to help Eadulf assist Brother Mochta down for a rest.
The monk sank thankfully to the grass.
‘Are you claiming that the Prince is part of this conspiracy?’ he gasped immediately, while massaging his leg.
‘I am not saying anything of the sort,’ Fidelma replied quietly. ‘I am merely saying that he and Solam, with some of his men, appeared to be searching for you and the Holy Relics. They were searching the caves.’
Eadulf gestured in annoyance. ‘But that means he is in league with the Uí Fidgente, with Armagh, with the Uí Néill! Your own cousin has betrayed his King’
‘It means that he and Solam were searching for Brother Mochta,’ replied Fidelma waspishly. ‘Make no judgements until you have all the facts. Remember my principles?’
Eadulf raised his head defiantly. ‘You may not wish to see your cousin guilty of such treason. However, what other interpretation can be put on what you say?’
‘There are several’interpretations but it is pointless speculating about them. It is the worst thing that can be done, to speculate before you are in full possession of the facts. I have said so many times. To do so means that you will distort those facts in order to fit your theory.’
Eadulf relapsed into an ungracious silence.
Brother Mochta eased his aching limbs, glancing up uneasily at Fidelma. ‘So, Sister, what is your plan now?’
Fidelma examined Brother Mochta for a moment before making up her mind.
‘I do not think, in your condition, that you will be able to travel much further today. We will see if we can make it to the Well of Ara and rest there. I can trust the innkeeper there. Then, by easy stages, we will go to Cashel.‘’
They reached Aona’s inn at nightfall. At Fidelma’s insistence they did not approach it directly but moved around the rear of the inn. It was not yet time for the dogs to be loosed although they could hear a couple of hounds barking at their tethers. As they approached the rear door of the inn, it opened and a voice cried out, demanding to know who it was approaching in such a stealthy fashion.
Fidelma relaxed a little as she recognised Aona’s voice.
‘It is Fidelma, Aona.’
‘My lady?’ Aona’s voice was puzzled because Fidelma responded so quietly.
The innkeeper came forward to hold the bridle of her horse while she dismounted. Then he turned aside and yelled at the dogs to quiet them. They relapsed into protesting whines.
‘Aona, is there anyone else in the inn tonight?’ Fidelma asked immediately.
‘Yes; a merchant and his drivers. They are at their evening meal.’ He screwed up his eyes in the darkness to where Eadulf and Mochta still sat on their horse. ‘Is that the Saxon Brother?’
‘Listen, Aona, we need rooms for the night. And no one must know that we are here. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, lady. It shall be as you ask.’
‘Did your guests hear us arrive?’
‘I don’t think so. They are making so much noise over their meal. The ale has circled well in them.’
‘Good. Is there a way we can go to a room without the merchants or anyone else seeing us?’ pressed Fidelma.