Fidelma was slightly perplexed. She wondered why Eadulf had asked about the path if he was not prepared to insist on the logical assumption that the raiders might have escaped by that route and suggest that Dubán take his men in pursuit. She quickly deduced that there was another reason to Eadulf’s question.
Dubán was not persuaded.
‘I will send two of my trackers to check the path. If they find any sign of the raiders then we shall go in pursuit.’
Agdae sniffed in displeasure.
‘They will find nothing.’
Dubán motioned to two of his men who set off at a canter in the direction of the pathway.
Agdae was looking sourly at Fidelma.
‘It seems that you are determined to paint my uncle Muadnat as a villain, dálaigh.’
‘Muadnat is capable of painting his own image,’ replied Fidelma without concern.
‘Dubán, there is a horseman approaching!’ It was one of Dubán’s men.
They all turned in the direction to which the man was pointing. A horseman was certainly approaching from the direction of the main track to the rath of Araglin. It did not take long to recognise the slight form of Father Gormán.
‘What is happening here?’ called the priest as he rode up.
‘You startled us, Father,’ rejoined Dubán. ‘You seemed to appear from nowhere.’ He glanced at the priest’s attire and added: ‘It is cold weather to be abroad without a riding cloak.’
Father Gormán shrugged.
‘It was warm when I started out this morning,’ he said dismissively. ‘But what is the matter?’
‘Have you not heard that Archú’s farmstead has been attacked? That is why we are nervous about horsemen in this area.’
The dark-featured priest looked uneasy.
‘An attack? This is shameful. These cattle raiders again, I suppose?’ He paused and shrugged. ‘I was on my way to Archú’s place anyway. But if there are raiders still about perhaps I should take care to go in company.’
‘Oh,’ Fidelma was sardonic, ‘the raiders are long gone but surely you have your Faith to guard you from harm. Still, I am sure you would be welcomed at Archú’s farm. There is a corpse that stands in need of your blessing.’
Father Gormán glowered in annoyance.
‘Who has been killed?’ he demanded.
‘No one seems to know,’ Dubán confessed. He was about to add something else when his two men came back.
‘We have examined the path. The ground is far too stony to define any tracks so far as we climbed it. We went about a mile.’
Dubán was disappointed.
‘I do not want to waste time in fruitless chases,’ he muttered. ‘If the track leads nowhere then it is a waste of time. I will accept what you say, Agdae, but tell your uncle that I, Dubán, wish to see him when he returns. I do not think we can do any more here.’
He glanced towards Fidelma, as if seeking her approval, and she inclined her head in agreement.
They left Father Gormán talking with Agdae, and turned back towards the rath of Araglin. It was after they had ridden away from Muadnat’s farmstead, heading back along the track out of the valley, that Fidelma turned to Eadulf and quietly asked him what had prompted him to ask his question about the path if he was simply prepared to take Agdae’s word about where it led.
‘I wanted to see his reactions because I saw someone on the path as we rode up to the farmstead. I think everyone must have had their attention on Agdae and his men for it appears no one else noticed the figure but myself.’
‘I did not even see the path,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Certainly no one has said that they saw a figure on the hills.’
‘Well, I saw someone riding swiftly along the path and vanishing into the trees behind the farmstead.’
‘Who was it? Muadnat?’
Eadulf shook his head.
‘No. The figure of the rider was not male. It was the slighter figure of a woman. I saw her shape clearly in the sunlight as we came up to the farm buildings.’
Fidelma raised her eyebrows in exasperation. She always felt irritated when Eadulf prolonged his pronouncements for dramatic effect.
‘Did you recognise who it was?’ she demanded as patiently as she could.
‘I believe that it was Crón.’
Chapter Fourteen
Looking out from the window of the guests’ hostel, Fidelma saw a horse and rider galloping through the gates of the rath of Araglin. It was morning and she and Eadulf had just finished breaking their fast. They had returned to the rath late the previous evening without any resolution to their visit to the farmstead of Archú. Dubán had decided to send a second man back to the farmstead after they had left Muadnat’s farm as protection. But Dubán was convinced, however, that bandits were responsible for the raid. Even as Fidelma and Eadulf had sat down to breakfast, they had seen Dubán and a group of his warriors ride out and presumed that they had set out in another searching sweep of the countryside.
Eadulf’s identification of the rider on the path behind Muadnat’s farmhouse was, at Fidelma’s insistence, a matter between them. In fact, when Fidelma pressed Eadulf as to why he was so sure of the rider’s identity at that distance, Eadulf told her it was only by means of the parti-coloured cloak which he had seen Crón wearing in the hall of assembly.
The thunder of hooves on the wooden planking of the bridge was the first sound to alert Fidelma to something unusual. She moved to the window in time to see the single horse and its rider racing into the rath. Fidelma was surprised to see that it was Muadnat’s nephew Agdae. He flung himself from the beast and went racing towards the hall of assembly.
‘What now?’ demanded Eadulf gloomily.
Fidelma looked composed as she resumed her seat to finish her meal.
‘I have a feeling that we will discover the answer to your question soon.’
Indeed, it was only a few moments later that Dignait arrived to summon them to join Crón in the hall of assembly. The face of the young tanist was grim.
‘It is Muadnat,’ she announced as they entered the hall.
Fidelma drew a breath of annoyance.
‘I suppose our litigious friend is now charging young Archú with burning down his own stable. What is it now?’
‘It may well be that Archú will be charged with a serious crime, Fidelma,’ replied Crón. ‘But it will not be Muadnat who does the charging.’
‘I think you need to explain further,’ Fidelma suggested softly.
‘Muadnat has been found dead. He was found hanged on the high cross of Eoghan that marks the road into Araglin.’
Fidelma’s eyes went wide. She remembered Eadulf pausing to admire the cross as they arrived at the valley of Araglin.
‘If memory serves me right, the high cross is not on the road to Muadnat’s farmstead but stands by the road which comes into the valley in the opposite direction. Who discovered his body?’
‘Agdae. The high meadow beyond the cross belongs to him. Agdae said that Muadnat left his farm yesterday afternoon to go hunting. It was only early this morning that Agdae realised that Muadnat had not returned home. He went in search of him. And found him dead at the high cross. Muadnat often went hunting in the hills beyond there. Agdae rode here to get help and has now returned there with some men.’
Fidelma made a cynical grimace.
‘Doubtless Dubán has told you of our visit to Muadnat’s farmstead yesterday?’
Crón nodded.
‘It seems that Agdae did not think of directing us to that quarter at that time when we were looking for Muadnat.’
‘Is that important?’
‘We shall see. But Agdae did not know where Muadnat was to be found when we inquired for him yesterday. However, this morning, when he became worried about Muadnat’s absence, he was able to go directly to that spot.’