Indeed, things were beginning to fit into a pattern but there were still several pieces missing before she could fit them into a whole. Morna, the brother of Bressal, had been a miner and his knowledge had exploited this mine. Now Morna was dead. This was why Muadnat had so desperately tried to cling on to this land. But he was dead. Menma? Menma had apparently worked for Muadnat. But he did not really have the brains to exploit this mine on his own. And now Menma was dead. And what of Dubán who had killed Menma?
She turned hurriedly from the cave and made her way out into the welcoming daylight.
Menma’s body still lay on its back in the glade. The sun stillshone and the song of the birds remained undiminished. It seemed so unreal.
What madness was passing through the valley of Araglin?
Fidelma crossed the glade and hurried into the shelter of the forest, making her way quickly towards her horse. The next step lay at Archú’s farmstead, she decided. For the second time, within a comparatively short space, she found herself pulling her horse over the rounded shoulder of the hills which separated her from the L-shaped valley of the Black Marsh in which Archú dwelt.
It was late afternoon when she began to descend towards his farmstead.
Scoth came running forward and greeted Fidelma with a warm smile.
‘It is good to see you so soon, sister. Where is Brother Eadulf?’
Fidelma told her, trying to keep her voice unemotional but the girl saw through the veil at once and reached out a hand.
‘Is there anything that can be done?’
Fidelma tried to shake herself free of the gloomy foreboding.
‘Nothing. Nothing until the fever breaks … if it breaks. Where is Archú?’
‘He is up at the top meadowland repairing a fence with one of Dubán’s warriors. There is news of a ravening wolf hereabouts and …’
Fidelma was disapproving and anxious.
‘It is not right that you should be left here alone. Surely one of the warriors should be here to guard you?’
‘The other is within call,’ Scoth assured her. ‘I do not think I need have any fear. Archú is easily able to observe if any strangers enter the valley.’
‘I came up over the hill. He has not appeared to have noticed my entrance.’
‘He saw you coming over the hill half an hour ago and told me to expect you,’ Scoth replied brightly. ‘I am not neglected. But you are here for a purpose, sister. I can see it in your eyes.’
‘Let us go into your house for a moment,’ suggested Fidelma.
‘Is it something to do with Archú?’ demanded the girl anxiously.
Fidelma guided her by the arm into the farmhouse.
‘It is probably nothing but …’ She reached into her marsupium and pulled out the piece of vellum. ‘Can you read Latin, Scoth?’
The girl wistfully shook her head.
‘I was only a kitchen servant. Archú says that he will teach me my letters when we are settled. His mother taught him.’
‘Well, this is a message in Latin. It tells me that if I require answers to the deaths in Araglin I should start looking here.’
Scoth coloured angrily.
‘That’s wicked. Who would try … oh,’ the girl broke off. ‘I suppose it was Agdae.’
‘Agdae?’ Fidelma shook her head. ‘I doubt if Agdae is capable of such a literate clue.’
‘A what?’
‘I do not think he wrote this. Why would he write it in Latin?’
‘I think it is part and parcel of the same plot to drive us off this land.’
‘What is?’
It was Archú standing at the door of the farmhouse regarding Scoth and Fidelma with a frown. He hesitated a moment and then continued. ‘I saw you arriving. I was finishing a fence in the high meadow. Is there more trouble?’
‘Someone has written to Fidelma telling her that we are responsible for the deaths in Araglin.’
Fidelma corrected her immediately.
‘That is not quite what I said, Scoth. I found a piece of vellum, Archú. Can read Latin?’
‘My mother taught me to decipher it,’ admitted the young man. ‘But I am not well versed in it.’
‘What do you make of this?’ She handed him the vellum. Archú took it and held it up.
‘If you want to know the answers to the deaths in Araglin lookbeneath the farmstead of the usurper Archú,’ he read in a hesitant fashion.
He looked at Fidelma in perplexity.
‘What does it mean?’
‘That is why I am here — to find out. I found it on the body of … a dead man.’
‘A dead man?’ he repeated bewilderedly.
‘Yes. Menma.’
The young farmer showed his astonishment.
‘But Menma was here this morning with a message.’
‘What was this message?’ Fidelma leant forward in surprise.
‘Something about Dignait being missing. I was to warn Dubán’s men to look out for her.’
‘Is this another attempt to blacken our name and drive us from the Black Marsh?’ demanded Scoth, clinging to Archú’s arm.
‘We must presume that some trail has been laid for me to follow. Let us see what we can find.’
‘By all means search the farmstead.’ Archú threw out his arms eloquently. ‘We have nothing to hide.’
Fidelma took the vellum from his hands and rolled it up.
‘The message appears specific when it says “look beneath the farmstead”, Archú,’ she pointed out. ‘What lies beneath the farmstead?’
The young man thought for a moment.
‘Nothing lies underneath the farmstead.’
‘Is there no area of recently dug earth that you have noticed? Perhaps …’
Archú suddenly startled them by snapping his fingers.
‘I think I know what is meant.’
‘What?’ demanded Scoth.
‘I have remembered something my mother told me about a subterranean chamber. This farmstead was built on an ancient site when, in the times past, they built underground chambers for storing food to prepare against any period of hardship or inclement weather.’
‘Have you ever seen it?’
‘I can’t remember it. My mother said it was closed when I was a few years old because one of the children of a servant here was caught down there and died. Father Gormán was visiting at the time and it was he who fetched the child out and suggested the chamber be sealed up. So far as I know, it has never been opened since then. I had almost forgotten all about it until you prompted me.’
Fidelma sniffed slightly.
‘It seems that the author of this letter has not. We must search out the entrance to it.’
‘That is impossible. I do not know where to start.’
‘Not so impossible. Our letter writer expects us to find it. Therefore it must have been in use recently.’
The floor of the farmhouse was stone-flagged and some time spent tapping the stones revealed nothing. There was no hollow sounding echo nor was there any looseness of the flags.
‘Perhaps it is outside?’ Scoth suggested.
They walked around the farmhouse but nothing seemed to invite them to investigate further.
‘What of that barn?’ demanded Fidelma, pointing to a nearby outhouse. It stood next to the one that was now a charred ruin.
‘It has not been cleaned and converted yet,’ Archú assured her.
‘It was used for keeping pigs in.’
‘Then this might be the best place to look,’ Fidelma suggested, leading the way to it.
The place stank and the obnoxious odours caught at her throat. Archú had been right when he said that it had been used as a pigsty and barely cleaned.
In spite of the fact that it was daylight, the place was gloomy and dank.
‘I have moved the pigs out and have been meaning to clean the place,’ Archú explained as Fidelma stood hesitating in the gloom.
‘Best get a lamp.’
‘I will get one,’ offered Scoth.