‘Where is this shepherd?’
‘He has left the rath to get back to his unattended sheep.’
Eadulf turned to Fidelma with a troubled look.
‘Archú told us that there was only himself and the young girl, Scoth, working the farm.’
‘I know,’ Fidelma replied grimly. ‘Dubán, when are you and your men leaving for Archú’s farmstead?’
‘At once.’
‘Then Eadulf and I will accompany you and your men. I have grown to have an interest in the welfare of those young people. Has the whereabouts of Muadnat been established? I would have thought that he could well resort to attacking Archú and throwing suspicion onto your cattle raiders.’
‘I know you do not like Muadnat but I cannot believe that he would do anything so stupid. You misjudge him. Besides, we have seen the bandits with our own eyes.’
Eadulf was thoughtful.
‘It is true, Fidelma. You cannot deny the presence of bandits.’
Fidelma glanced scornfully at him before returning her gaze to Dubán.
‘We did, indeed, see the horsemen. But, if you recall, they were heading south and we saw no cattle with them. All we saw were asses loaded with heavy panniers. Where were the cattle if they were cattle raiders? Come, let us ride for Archú’s farmstead.’
Chapter Thirteen
Dubán had gathered half a dozen riders; all were well armed. Fidelma was relieved to see that the arrogant young Crítán was not one of them. Fidelma noticed that neither Crón nor her mother, Cranat, came to observe their departure from the rath. In a column of twos, with Fidelma and Eadulf bringing up the rear, they turned through the gates of the rath and proceeded at a gentle trot along the river’s southern bank towards the eastern end of the fertile valley of Araglin with its grain fields and grazing cattle herds. Dubán did not hurry the pace but kept the column moving at a steady rate.
They had not gone more than a few miles when the track came to a bend in the river which looped in such a way as to create a sheltered peninsula with the river forming a natural barrier on three sides. It was a small haven of land that also had the protection of trees. Flowers grew in abundance here and rising on the land was a picturesque single-storeyed cabin built of wooden logs and planks. There was a garden before it. Standing in this garden, watching them pass, obviously disturbed in the process of tending to the flowers, was a small, fleshy blonde woman.
They passed too far away for Fidelma to note the details of her features. The woman stood making no effort to raise her hand in greeting but continued to watch them as they rode by. Fidelma noticed with curiosity that a couple of Dubán’s men exchanged sly, grinning glances and one of them even gave an audible guffaw.
Fidelma eased her horse towards the front of the small column to where Dubán rode.
‘Who was that?’ she asked.
‘No one of importance,’ replied the warrior gruffly.
‘This no one of importance seems to create an interest among your men.’
Dubán looked uncomfortable.
‘That was Clídna, a woman of flesh.’
‘Woman of flesh’ was a euphemism for a prostitute.
‘I see.’ Fidelma was thoughtful. She pulled her horse out of the line and waited while the other warriors rode by. Eadulf caught up with her and she eased her horse alongside his. She briefly passed on the explanation. He sighed and shook his head sadly.
‘So much sin in so beautiful a spot.’
Fidelma did not bother to reply.
At the end of the large valley they began to ascend through the shelter of the surrounding forests but here the track was well cut and broad enough for wagons. They ascended the steep gradient between two hills, climbing upward into a second valley on a higher elevation. As they moved into this, Fidelma pointed wordlessly and Eadulf followed her outstretched hand. A column of smoke was rising some way away across the shoulder of the hills.
Dubán turned in his saddle, and noting that Fidelma had already seen the tell-tale sign waved her to come forward.
‘This is the valley of the Black Marsh. Where that smoke is rising is Archú’s farmstead. To your left, the valley lands belong to Muadnat.’
Fidelma noted the cultivated fields, the cattle and deer herds and rich pastureland. It was a farmstead that was worth far more than seven cumals, she noted. Muadnat’s farm was clearly a rich one. She placed it at five times the value of the land which he had been forced to give back to Archú.
The road ran alongside the boundary of Muadnat’s farmstead, slightly above it on a track worn in the side of the rolling hills. It was sometimes lined with trees and scrubland while at other times open to stretches of grassland which had been shortened by deerherds or other herbivores. In the valley below there seemed no sign of activity on Muadnat’s farmstead.
‘I would imagine Muadnat and his farm hands have already ridden to Archú’s,’ explained Dubán, guessing what was passing through her mind.
Fidelma smiled thinly but made no other comment. Certainly the column of smoke would have been easily seen from Muadnat’s farmstead.
Dubán ordered the pace to increase to a canter.
The column of horses moved rapidly along the hillside track, which twisted down the slopes moving with the contours of the hill.
Fidelma realised that the part of the valley in which Archú dwelt almost constituted a separate valley to the area occupied by Muadnat. This area seemed to twist off from the main valley of the Black Marsh at a forty-five degree angle, hiding much of its lands from the track along which they had come. Soon the descent to the valley became so precipitous they had to slow down to a walk.
‘How well do you know this area, Dubán?’ called Fidelma.
‘Well enough,’ replied the warrior.
‘Is this the only track in or out of this valley?’
‘This is the only easy route but men, even with horses, might find a way over the peaks.’
Fidelma raised her eyes to the rounded hilltops.
‘Only in desperation,’ she observed.
Eadulf leaned forward.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
‘Oh, just that a band of men on horseback riding to Archú’s farmstead must surely have ridden across or by the land of Muadnat and have been observed.’
They came as quickly as they could down to the valley floor. The main group of farm buildings were easily recognisable; a dwelling house, a kiln for drying corn standing just beyond it.There was a barn and a pigsty. A little way beyond these was the smoking ruin of another barn, charred and blackened, from which the spiral of smoke was still ascending.
There were a few cattle in a pen, one of which was giving vent to an irritated lowing.
Dubán made directly for the dwelling house.
‘Halt! If you value your lives!’
The voice was almost a high-pitched scream.
It caused them all to jerk upon their reins and come to an unceremonious halt before the main building.
‘We are armed,’ called the voice, ‘and many of us. Go back from whence you came or …’
Fidelma edged her way forward.
‘Archú!’ she shouted, having recognised the voice of the youth. ‘It is I, Fidelma. We have come to assist you.’
The door of the main building opened abruptly. Archú stood there staring at them. All he held in his hand was a rusty sword. Behind him the young girl, Scoth, peered fearfully over his shoulder.
‘Sister Fidelma!’ Archú gazed from her to Dubán and the rest of the company. ‘We thought the raiders had returned.’
Fidelma swung herself down, followed by Dubán and Eadulf. The other men remained mounted, staring suspiciously about the countryside.
‘We heard that bandits had raided your farmstead. A shepherd rode to the rath to bring word.’