The smith actually burst out with a sharp laugh. ‘Lady, he is Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail, Lord of the Hills of Sliabh Ardachaidh. His purpose is conquest and power. He simply marched into the buildings of Liath Mór several years ago, threw out the community, declared himself Abbot and forced men to start building a great fortress under the guise that it was an abbey. He now controls all the northern marshland of Osraige.’
‘Well, whether chieftain or abbot, the religious are not above the law of this land,’ Fidelma said angrily. ‘Surely your own prince, Tuaim Snámha of Osraige, would bring the man to order? Has no one made representations to him?’
‘Cronán claims the support of the Prince of the Osraige and so we must accept his authority.’
‘No one has contacted Cashel and told the King how matters fare here?’
‘What would distant Cashel care about a few poor people in a bog land of no worth?’
‘Even the poorest in our society have rights and will receive protection from any despot, be he King or Abbot.’
‘That may be so in an ideal world where people respect the law,’ interposed the wife of Coccán with a bitter smile. ‘In our world, lady, it does not happen. I know it is so written in law, but that does not mean it is so done in practice. To stand up against the wishes of King and Chieftain, who calls himself an abbot, is like trying to flood your field by throwing stones in the nearby river.’
Fidelma’s frustration was apparent by her sharp exhalation of breath.
‘Well, my brother, the King, shall hear about this and there shall be an accounting. I promise you that, as both the King’s sister and as a dálaigh.’
She suddenly realised that Eadulf was dozing and recalled that none of them had slept during the previous night at Liath Mór. Gormán and Enda also looked exhausted. They had to move on, but sleep must come first. Even a short nap would help before continuing their journey. Coccán’s wife interpreted the situation and led them to a side room, promising to rouse them to give them time to cross the river and reach Durlus before nightfall.
To Fidelma it seemed that her head had hardly rested on the pillow when there was a sudden shouting and the sound of a horse approaching at a gallop. At once Gormán and Enda were up, swords at the ready. But Coccán the smith appeared in the doorway and told them: ‘Put up your weapons. It is only my cousin. He is the very person that I have spoken of from the township of Eirc.’
They returned to the tavern room and a moment later a young man strode in. He was covered in dust and there was blood on his forehead. He looked exhausted. ‘Water, I pray you,’ he gasped.
He was handed a beaker of water which he drained at once.
‘What is it?’ demanded Coccán.
‘I came to warn everyone,’ the man said breathlessly. ‘They must be prepared for an immediate attack from Cronán.’
‘An attack?’ repeated Fidelma, moving forward.
The young man glanced at her in surprise and then, seeing her in the company of Coccán, nodded. ‘An attack from Liath Mór. My chieftain sent half a dozen of us to attempt to speak with Cronán this morning, to ask why he had attacked a peaceful township …’
Coccán interrupted hurriedly: ‘I have told them about the attack.’
‘We had not ridden far south when we heard a band of men riding hard in our direction. I told my men to disperse and string their bows. It was then I saw that those approaching wore the dress of Cronán’s cowled murderers. I was going to let them ride by when I saw that son of a she-devil, Anfudán, at their head. In my mind’s eye I saw the burning township of Eirc. I could not help myself, but I loosed my arrow straight into his throat! Some of his men had their swords out but my companions let loose a shower of arrows. Some fell and the rest appeared unnerved and fled the ambush. They left three dead including Cronán’s nephew. I have no regrets for them.’
‘Are you sure that Anfudán is dead?’ asked Fidelma.
‘I am sure,’ the young man confirmed grimly. ‘Now we will have stirred up a hornet’s nest. Once Cronán learns what has happened he will unleash his hordes against us. That is why we are riding in all directions to warn our people. Everyone must be prepared to abandon their homes and settlements and move towards the mountains. You know what Cronán did to our township of Eirc. He has brought fire and sword to many other Uí Duach settlements. His vengeance will now be merciless and total. You must prepare to fight or to flee for your lives.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A short time later, as they continued their journey westward towards Durlus, Eadulf turned to Fidelma.
‘The matter becomes more complicated as we progress,’ he observed. ‘Added to everything else, we think we have found an abbey and uncovered a fortress run by a merciless warlord who thinks nothing of destroying an entire township.’
‘You realise that Anfudán and his men were probably chasing after us or Torna when they encountered those Uí Duach men?’
‘Yes, that is true. When we get to Durlus, will you send on to Cashel to inform Colgú?’
‘That is my intention,’ she assured him. ‘The sooner he can send warriors here to protect the Uí Duach, the better.’
‘That is one thing that bothers me,’ Eadulf reflected.
‘Only one thing?’ responded Fidelma with a ghost of a grin.
‘Cronán is obviously increasing his labourforce. Why? Why does he want these workers?’
‘It takes a lot of labourers to build the causeways and roads,’ replied Fidelma.
‘There is something else,’ Eadulf went on. ‘I presume that most of the people in Osraige are of the Faith?’
Fidelma was puzzled. ‘Of course.’
‘Why then do you suppose a condition was made that the townsfolk of Eirc were to swear allegiance to the True Faith and not just to serve Cronán?’
Fidelma was about to respond when she realised the emphasis that Eadulf had placed on the word, and found that she could not answer him.
The journey to the edge of Éile country before the River Suir was made without incident. They had decided to walk their horses slowly, resting now and then, just in case of the need to call upon them for sudden bursts of energy to take them out of danger. So there was a feeling of chill in the air from the oncoming autumnal evening darkness by the time they approached the river.
‘It will be sunset soon,’ Fidelma said, glancing up to the western sky. Perhaps they had stayed too long at Coccán’s village of Baile Coll. But they had needed to rest.
‘We will still reach Durlus well before dark,’ Enda told her, seeing her anxious gaze and thinking she was worried about arriving in darkness.
The river, when they came to it, was not as broad as its lower reaches and it was easily fordable. They moved across on horseback in comfortable fashion as the passage of the shallows was clearly visible under the translucent waters in spite of the lateness of the day. Even the darting brown trout caused Eadulf to think that all he had to do was dismount, bend down and catch them with his bare hands. They splashed up on to the far bank and took a moment to rest again. It seemed absurd that he could think such incidental thoughts in the dark atmosphere of the last few days.
To the south stretched the flat plains that reached down to Cashel and, for Eadulf, they were familiar and reassuring compared to the countryside through which they had just ridden. To the north was the long dark ridge of mountains stretching westward. Then he frowned as he spotted a peculiar indentation in the silhouette of the mountain range.
‘What’s that?’ he asked Fidelma, pointing towards it.
‘They call it Bearnán Éile,’ she replied immediately. ‘The Gap of the Éile. In olden times, it was where warriors defended the route into Muman when the hosts of the Northern Kingdoms tried to invade.’