This time there was no mistaking the ugly features of Menma, the chief stableman at the rath of Araglin.
Chapter Fifteen
They had ridden back to the edge of the forest in silence. Fidelma’s brows were drawn together in concentrated thought. Eadulf did his best to fight down the numerous questions which kept tumbling into his mind. Finally, as they emerged out of the shade of the forest, he could keep silent no longer.
‘What do you think it means, Fidelma?’ he demanded at last.
‘If I knew that, then I might have the answer to this entire mystery,’ she replied impatiently. ‘However, at least we have discovered the lair of the men who have been raiding the farms of Araglin.’
‘Why would Menma and these outlaws be hiding in that cave? And why should Menma be associated with cattle raiders?’
For a moment Fidelma’s lips parted in a grin.
‘I do not think that they are cattle raiders neither are they are exactly hiding.’
‘What then?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘Didn’t you see the tools lying about in the glade?’
‘Tools? No. I was too busy watching the men. What tools?’
Fidelma sighed gently.
‘You must always remember that observation and the analysis of that observation is essential to the art of truth seeking. There were several tools by the wagon. They told me that the cave must undoubtedly be a mine.’
Eadulf was astonished.
‘A mine?’
‘It is not unusual to find mines in this country. Had we left Lios Mhór and travelled due west along the Abhainn Mór we wouldcome on a plain called Magh Méine, or the Plain of Minerals, where copper, lead and iron are mined.’
‘I seem to have heard of that place before.’
Fidelma looked at him pityingly.
‘The hostel keeper, Bressal, mentioned that he had a brother who was a miner at the Plain of Minerals,’ she said softly.
‘Of course. But what was Menma doing at this mine, if such it is?’
‘That we must discover for ourselves.’
‘And why would …’
‘It is no good asking questions to which we do not have sufficient evidence to even make a guess at answering.’
‘Perhaps we should have made our presence known and demanded an explanation,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘After all, you are an official of this kingdom.’
Fidelma smiled broadly.
‘Those men are up to no good. Do you think they care for my office?’
‘We might have been able to surprise them, disarm them …’
‘There is a line in Horace’s Odes, my good friend. Vis consili expers mole ruit sua.’
Eadulf nodded slowly: ‘Force without good sense falls by its own weight,’ he repeated.
She peered up at the summit of the hill above them, shading her eyes against the sun.
‘You said earlier that if we climbed across the summit we should find ourselves above Archú’s farmstead. Is that correct?’
Eadulf frowned at her abrupt change of subject.
‘It is,’ he agreed stiffly.
‘Do you want to see if you are right?’
Eadulf thought she was jesting with him. She was not.
‘But the slopes are far too precipitous for horses,’ he protested. ‘On foot we could climb the hill but …’
She pointed silently upwards.
Further along the hill Eadulf saw a movement. The red brown of an animal. He screwed up his eyes to focus. It was the sleek, muscular figure of a stag, herding his deer before him.
Fidelma grinned quickly.
‘Where a stag may lead his herd, there might a horse and rider go. Are you willing?’
Eadulf raised his arms in unwilling surrender.
‘There is something like a path just up ahead.’ Fidelma turned. ‘I think it is the deer run over the hill. Look!’
Eadulf could just see a worn strip of land, stretching through the fern and furze.
‘We cannot ride along that,’ he protested again.
‘No, but we can lead our horses,’ Fidelma assured him. She slid from her horse and took its bridle, picking her way carefully up the tiny animal-trodden path towards the shoulder of the rounded hill before them.
Eadulf groaned inwardly, then he, too, slipped from his horse and began to lead it after Fidelma. In truth, Eadulf had no liking for high, exposed places and so he kept his eyes closely on the path before him.
‘I cannot see why you wish to use this short cut to Archú’s place. We could have easily returned along the main track,’ he complained, more to keep his thoughts occupied as they ascended than with the desire to argue with Fidelma.
‘This is quicker. And we do not want to alert anyone at Muadnat’s farm who are in league with our friends back at the mine.’
‘I cannot see how any of this ties in with Eber’s murder.’
Fidelma did not bother to answer him.
A wind was gusting across the hills and the horses were getting skittish. It required all their strength to keep a tight rein on them. In front, Fidelma saw the herd of deer making slow progress, grazing as they went. The wind held no fears for them or for the great antlered stag who paused now and then, like some impressivestatue, staring down at them as if anxiously watching their progress as they climbed steadily upwards. The stag would pause for a while and then turn, with a curious barking bellow, and urge his charges to increase their pace. They would bound upwards for a while before pausing once more to graze.
The path was almost indistinguishable from the grazed grassy inclines around them but Fidelma pressed on, moving at an easy pace around the shoulder of the rounded hill. The winds were bluff and Eadulf found himself bending his head, not only to avoid contact with the wide open spaces but to meet the onslaught of the strong gusts. He prayed that his horse would not become too skittish for he did not know whether he would be able to hold on to the beast.
Suddenly he was aware of Fidelma halting.
‘What is it?’ he demanded.
‘See for yourself,’ she replied.
Eadulf plucked up courage for a quick nervous glance.
The L-shaped valley stretched away below them. He had an impression of some buildings far below and he dropped his gaze as soon as he could.
‘What is it?’ he asked again. ‘Archú’s valley?’
Fidelma turned and gazed at him thoughtfully.
‘Do heights bother you, Eadulf?’ she asked in concern.
Eadulf bit his lip. There was no point denying it.
‘Not heights exactly,’ he replied. ‘It is a fear of being on high exposed places, not so much of falling downwards but of falling outwards. Does that sound strange?’
Fidelma shook her head slowly.
‘You should have told me,’ she rebuked softly.
‘I would not be of use to anyone if I confessed this fear.’
‘My mentor, Morann of Tara, once said that a mouse can drink no more than its fill from the stream.’
Eadulf was puzzled.
‘That sounds like an obscure philosophy.’
‘Not so. We must recognise our weaknesses as well as our strengths. Only then shall we know the strength in our weakness and the weakness in our strength.’
‘Are you telling me that I should have accepted my fear and told you?’
‘What else should you have done? Had I been forewarned then I might have been prepared if anything had happened.’
Eadulf sighed impatiently. He disliked talking about his weaknesses.
‘This is not the time and especially not the place to debate my failings.’
Fidelma was immediately contrite.
‘Of course,’ she said consolingly. The contriteness was not suited to her character but it seemed genuine enough. ‘I am not thinking clearly. From now on we shall be descending. You were right. Below is Archú’s farmstead. This is the valley of the Black Marsh.’
Eadulf set his shoulders.
‘Then let us set forth,’ he said irritably. ‘The sooner we begin the descent then the sooner we shall reach the bottom.’