‘I know it well,’ replied Fidelma.
‘That was to be the target of these raiders. However, as they were gathering for the attack, they were surprised by your brother’s warriors. They engaged them and caused them to withdraw back to the western hills. They saved the community from destruction.’
‘It is a large community,’ Eadulf said with a frown. ‘How on earth did the raiders think they could destroy it?’
‘According to the merchant’s tale, their numbers could match the religious there man for man.’
‘But that means-’ began Eadulf.
He was interrupted by Enda. ‘That means that a single ceta, a company of one hundred of our warriors, drove hundreds of raiders from the field. If that is true, there will be no approaching Dego for his vanity and boasting.’
The smith had not finished. ‘According to the merchant, the King’s men did have help. They were reinforced by warriors led by Donennach, the Prince of the Uí Fidgente himself.’
‘Then these raiders were not Uí Fidgente?’ Gormán said. ‘So, who were they?’
‘Everyone is talking about them but this merchant could offer nothing but speculation.’
‘Are you telling us that the raiders have been defeated?’ Fidelma said.
‘The merchant had much more to say but little of relevance to fact,’ lamented the smith. ‘However, I did gather that the battle was fierce and the raiders finally retreated, leaving many dead and a few wounded behind. However, they moved into the western mountains, and the pursuers lost them.’
‘Was nothing learned about who they were or who commanded them?’ Fidelma asked.
‘The merchant only knew that they claimed to be fighting for the True Faith.’
Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a startled glance.
‘What did they mean by that?’ Eadulf wanted to know.
The smith shrugged. ‘What can I say? I am only repeating what this merchant said and can add nothing of my own. As I said, I doubt whether he was in possession of all the facts himself.’
‘You are right,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘Anyway, tomorrow I shall go to the fortress for there is much I need to discuss with Gelgéis. Eadulf will come with me, while Gormán will see what gossip he can pick up in the market square.’
‘And what of me, lady?’ asked Enda.
‘At first light you, Enda, will ride for Cashel and inform my brother what is happening here and especially of the need to launch an attack to free the Uí Duach in Liath Mór.’
‘Do you really think that there is a threat to Éile from the Osraige?’ Gobán asked. ‘Is Cronán definitely going to attack us?’
‘I am sure of it, but I can’t say when it will happen,’ replied Fidelma. ‘However, I think it will take place soon. We know that new roadways are near completion. Events have already started to occur in Osraige that bear similarities to events in the west. They must be connected.’
Eadulf had never seen her as agitated before. She tried not to show it but he knew her well enough to spot the signs. Usually, even in the most difficult circumstances, Fidelma looked upon problems as a challenge that brought a sparkle to her eyes as she took them on. He realised that she was frustrated because none of the facts that they had gathered seemed to fit into any coherent pattern.
‘Perhaps we should get some rest,’ he ventured.
She looked at him with anger flickering in her eyes. He waited for the inevitable barb of sarcasm, but then she seemed to relax and even smile.
‘I suppose I am being tedious, Eadulf. I fear that I have repeated my frustration about this matter many times of late.’
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘You have always told me that it does not do any harm to reassess what facts are known.’
‘I have also told you that there should be no speculation without information,’ she replied.
‘I do not hear you speculating,’ he said gently. ‘What I hear is the enumeration of the facts that we have gathered which seem related but in such a manner that can make no sense.’
Fidelma chuckled in approval. ‘You are right, of course. It is the mysterious relationship of these facts that vexes me more than if I had no facts at all.’
‘We have come a long way — and in just four full days since the body of the envoy was discovered,’ Eadulf said.
‘Except that he was no envoy.’
Eadulf was just about to demand an explanation when the sound of a distant trumpet made them all start.
Gobán was first upon his feet. ‘That is the sound of some person of rank announcing their approach to the fortress of Gelgéis.’
‘So long as it is not the seventh trumpet,’ Eadulf half-joked with dark humour.
Fidelma rose to her feet. ‘So late in the evening? That is unusual.’
‘Sometimes it happens, lady,’ replied Gobán. The smith had opened the door to his cabin. ‘Nevertheless, there are horses coming this way,’ he added, as he placed his head to one side in a listening attitude.
‘Horses,’ muttered Gormán. ‘Several horses. It sounds like warriors.’
‘Wait here,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘I will go to the entrance of the forge and see who they are as they pass by into the town.’
‘But …’ Eadulf began.
‘Stay here,’ she insisted, and moved quickly to the front of the forge. She hid in the shadow of the building and peered towards the roadway which led past into the town. A dozen riders, carrying torches to light their way, followed by a wagon drawn by two horses, also with lanterns on it, were moving slowly by. Her mouth opened slightly in astonishment as she recognised them.
Her companions waited apprehensively in the cabin for her return. Gormán and Enda had their hands on the hilts of their swords, although what they expected to do if this was some enemy at the gates, Eadulf was unsure. The tension in their bodies was obvious. Judging from the sounds of the horses’ hooves on the road, there was a whole column of riders. It seemed a long time before the clatter of the horses and wagon began to fade into the distance.
Fidelma wore a thoughtful expression as she returned and resumed her seat.
‘Were they more of Gelgéis’s warriors?’ asked Gormán.
‘Not this time,’ she replied simply.
‘Then who were they?’ prompted Eadulf.
‘From the banner they were carrying, they were warriors of the Osraige. I saw it in the light of the lamps they carried.’
‘Osraige? You mean they are Cronán’s warriors!’ Gormán exclaimed. ‘Are they going to attack Durlus?’
‘And how many warriors are there?’ demanded Enda at the same time.
‘About a dozen, I should say,’ Fidelma told them, adding, ‘But I do not think they come as enemies. At their head was none other than Drón.’
Eadulf took some moments to register who she meant. ‘Drón of Gabrán? Do you mean the father of your brother’s wife-to-be?’
‘The very same,’ Fidelma affirmed heavily. ‘Drón — and his daughter Dúnliath is with him. At the end of their column was a wagon containing their belongings. Now what on earth are they doing here? And why have they left Cashel?’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As Fidelma and Eadulf rode up the slope towards the gates of the fortress of Gelgéis of Éile, they could see that this time they had been recognised. One of the guards had disappeared inside, apparently to alert the steward. The other guard greeted them respectfully as they trotted through the gates into the courtyard, and two attendants came forward to hold their horses’ heads while they dismounted. The atmosphere was friendlier than at their first arrival at the fortress — was it only two days ago?