‘But people still travel this road?’ she asked. ‘There are enough passers-by to maintain the inn?’

  ‘Enough to keep my wife and children alive, lady,’ replied the man. ‘I will not grow rich but I am well content.’

  ‘It seems a somewhat lonely place,’ she commented.

  ‘When there are guests, we have our full share of news and gossip. Also, we have horses and a good cart so we can regularly visit our relatives in Durlus Éile.’

  ‘Are you of the clan Éile?’

  ‘And proud of it. Descendants of Cian, brother of Eoghan Mór.’ There was pride in his voice.

  ‘Then tell me this, my distant kinsman,’ Fidelma said, trying to adopt a more friendly tone, ‘sometime during the last few days, do you recall a foreign-looking wagon passing by here? Perhaps even stopping here? It was drawn by a team of two oxen and driven by a young boy or a girl.’

  She added the two possibilities as she was not sure at what point the girl had assumed the identity of a boy.

  The man shook his head without hesitation.

  ‘No foreign-looking wagon, certainly not a wagon driven by either a young boy or girl, sought my hospitality nor passed by here.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘On the heads of my children, lady. You have given a description that is hardly confusing. That would not be a sight seen often along this road.’

  Fidelma sighed softly. ‘Is there no other way of passing by your tavern?’

  ‘If the wagon came down this road, it would have to pass here. Perhaps it came on the parallel, broader road that I mentioned?’

  ‘There are no other direct roads across the marshlands? Any that would link up with this one and from this road onto the Slíge Dála at the southern end? That would mean it came by here or joined the road at some point from the marshes.’

  The tavern-keeper said sceptically, ‘There are a few narrow tracks across the marshes, I suppose. None that I would like to traverse with a heavy wagon.’

  ‘Most of the area around here is marshland, isn’t it?’

  ‘There are patches where sheep and cattle are grazed by some local farmers,’ admitted the man. ‘But it is mainly marshland between here and the Osraige territory to the east, and then after that is the barrier of the great river An Fheoir that runs north to south through Osraige.’

  ‘There are no other hard-surfaced roads across the area?’

  ‘Not unless you come through the territory of the Loígis and cross into Osraige. I have heard that the Abbot of Liath Mór had a new road built crossing Osraige, all the way into the Kingdom of Laigin.’

  Fidelma could not help but smile grimly for she knew well the reason why Abbot Cronan had built that road. The intention had been to use it for an invasion of warriors from Laigin to cross the plains of Osraige and enter the territory of the Éile in order to launch an attack on Cashel itself.

  ‘But what if somewhat wanted to avoid Durlus? I mean, if you were travelling from the north?’

  The tavern-keeper scratched the back of his head. ‘From the north? The Slíge Cualann comes from Tara into Laigin and from it you could still cross through the territory of the Loígis and keep east of the River An Fheoir and reach the cross point into Cill Cainnech.’

  Fidelma tried to repress her excitement. Wasn’t that the very route Baodain said he had taken?

  ‘There is a ferry, so travellers tell me, which connects with the east and west banks,’ continued the innkeeper. ‘By all accounts the ferry connection has been well developed since the expansions by the new Abbot.’

  Fidelma had travelled several times along that route because it was a short distance up the river from Cill Cainnech that An Fheoir turned into a smaller river. Here, the great Abbey of Darú was situated, where her cousin Laisran was Abbot.

  Fidelma stared thoughtfully at the innkeeper for a moment. She was not thinking of the ferry crossing but of the fact that the river itself actually provided a quicker route from the north. An Fheoir started its journey to the north of Muman and ran between the mountains and hills through several little ferry points. Cill Cainnech stood right on the river and there was certainly a landing stage there where transports from the north could bring cargoes.

  ‘Is something wrong, lady?’ repeated the tavern-keeper wondering why she had fallen silent again.

  ‘There are big barges that ply their trade up and down An Fheoir, aren’t there?’

  ‘Of course, lady; big enough to take large wagons on them, if that is what is on your mind. It is now one of the great trading routes eventually linking what they call the Three Sister Rivers – the Suir, An Fheoir and An Bhearú. They all join at the sea port of Laigre.’

  ‘Once across the Sliabh Bladhma Mountains, which border the north of the kingdom, one could get a barge all the way down to Cill Cainnech and join the Slíge Dála there.’ Fidelma spoke to herself, but aloud.

  ‘Many barges and boats use the great river, as I have said. In former times, Cainnech was just a small river port, but the ancient settlement has grown quite large since the abbey was built there.’

  Fidelma was smiling with satisfaction. Here was a better theory of how this wagon could have reached Muman from the north, than with oxen pulling it for weeks across mountains in inaccessible wild country. She should have thought of it before. After all, the rivers were still the main highways of the Five Kingdoms. She ought to have known from the careful regulations laid down by the laws relating to the artrach iomchair or ‘carrying ships’ which transported cargoes up and down the rivers. Even so, it would be quite a task for a young girl to negotiate with river-men to bring a wagon and a team of oxen from across the northern mountains. Unless, of course, the girl’s male companion had still been alive at that time … Perhaps the strange wagon had left the river at Cill Cainnech and began its journey from there.

  With these thoughts, her mind returned to Eadulf and she stirred uneasily. Perhaps he had been right to check out that abandoned house. She moved across to the window and peered anxiously up at the darkening sky. Nightfall would not be long now.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Eadulf finally reached the large hill-like rise in the verdant marsh. It was larger than he had thought, and it rose to a flat top. In the centre was a rectangular wooden structure that had clearly been the farmhouse itself, but it was clear that the place had been abandoned many years before. The wood was rotting and there was evidence of overgrowth everywhere as Nature struggled to reclaim it. The shepherd had told him no more than the truth.

  He identified the main building as once having been a brugh or more prosperous house than many of the round tech-fithi or wickerwork houses with reed roofs that he expected to find in the marshlands. The roof on this rectangular building was called slinn – sloping thin boards of wood that were coated with black picc or pitch. He also noticed that the main wood in the construction was yew, which he knew was the hardest and most difficult timber to work. The ailtire, the builder in wood, had undoubtedly been an expert at his craft.

  The entire broad plateau on which the buildings were constructed was surrounded by a little stone wall, and around the farmhouse were several outbuildings, a few of them of the round wickerwork type that perhaps the farmworkers might have lived in, as well as barns that had once contained animals. These seemed in a more advanced state of decay.

  He slid from his horse and hitched the reins to a nearby wooden pole. As he was doing so he glanced at the soft earth nearby and caught his breath. There were indentations in it that showed the recent marks of a wheeled vehicle – a vehicle that had carried some weight, he could tell. The tracks were deep and he estimated that the width between the indentations could easily have been that of the wagon in question. He smiled to himself. If he could find evidence to prove that the girl and her wagon had been here, then Fidelma would have to eat her words and apologise to him, while admitting that her irritated outburst had been uncalled-for.

  He went to the door of the main house. Close to, he could see that the place had been built with a mixture of woods; the yew had just been employed to anchor deal, which was the main timber used in the building. The door was closed but the latch was easily lifted and he pushed it open. A scampering sound started up as he entered, and some flapping of wings. It was light inside, due to a large hole in the roof where the wooden boards had rotted away and fallen inwards. Obviously, a host of animal life was now reclaiming the place as its shelter.

  Whether the house had once been as prosperously furnished as it should have been, judging by the detail of the building, he could not be sure, for the place was empty and covered with dust and dirt. The smell of animals and their excrement caused him to wrinkle his nose in disgust. This was clearly the main room of the house and there were the stone remains of what would have been the central fireplace. The aperture in the roof through which its smoke would have been sucked up was where the rot in the roof had started.

  Eadulf was disappointed that he could see nothing that would present a clue as to whether the place had been used. Then he noticed that there were several wooden doors leading off this central room which presumably led to the imada or bedrooms. He might as well check everywhere, he decided. There was still plenty of light left. He walked across to the nearest door and pushed it open – it was only half-closed anyway. Once again the room was bare and his entrance caused various scuffling noises and squeaks. He tried another room, with similar results. A third door led off to an area whose wall had crumbled away, and he saw from the stonework in the corner that it had served the function of a kitchen.

  Then he uttered a low exclamation as a thought occurred to him. If the girl had stayed here, she would not have slept inside the deserted house with its wildlife inhabitants. She would have stayed in the wagon! Almost as soon as that thought occurred to him, he countered it by reminding himself that there had been a dead body in the wagon. But what if the man had still been alive at that stage? Perhaps this was where he had died … How could he tell? Eadulf sighed in frustration and decided to go back to the wheel ruts and see if he could find out more.

  He came out of the house and went over to the tracks. They led, he saw, to one of the barns. It was a large open affair, little more than a reed roof supported on a frame of oak posts. Certainly the wagon seemed to have rested here for a while, judging by the deep indentations and signs of cloven hooves as well as animal excreta. But the knowledge didn’t really help to answer any questions. He stood hesitantly and then decided, since he was here and the girl and her wagon had been here, that he should make a quick inspection of all the other outhouses.

  As he suspected, there was nothing to catch his attention in the first two buildings, and he wondered whether to bother with the others. However, Eadulf was nothing if not thorough. He opened the door of a small round wicker construction, finding he had to bend down to look beyond. There was a movement inside – and before he could react, he felt something touch the back of his head. He had not even registered it as a blow before he was swimming in a dark, bottomless pool.

  * * *

  Fidelma went to the door of the tavern and breathed in the night air. She was too restless to think of sleep. A moment later she was joined by Aidan, who said quietly: ‘I suppose you are thinking what I am thinking, lady?’

  Fidelma’s mouth tightened. For a moment she was not sure whether she had forgiven him yet for wasting precious hours of the day by leading them up the wrong road. Her annoyance had caused her to allow Eadulf to go wandering off in these dangerous marshlands all by himself. She silently rebuked herself again for her behaviour. Then she turned to the warrior, saying, ‘You are right, Aidan. Dusk is fast approaching and Eadulf has been gone far too long. I am thinking that he might be in trouble.’

  ‘Perhaps I should ride back to that building and take a look,’ the warrior volunteered. ‘The marshland can be treacherous.’

  ‘I shall come with you,’ she decided, turning back into the interior of the tavern. ‘Enda, you will stay here while Aidan and I go back to find Eadulf. If we miss him on the road and he turns up here, tell him where we have gone and ask him to stay here with you until we return. We should be back before long.’

  Enda was not happy at having to remain behind, but he accepted Fidelma’s logic.

  Fidelma then turned to the tavern-keeper. ‘Do you have a lantern – perhaps two lanterns – in case we are caught abroad by the coming nightfall?’

  The man replied that he would fetch the lanterns and was back a short while later. ‘I’ve asked my boy to bring your horses round from the stable,’ he said.

  The horses arrived quickly and they mounted and set off at a canter to retrace their route back down the road. Night was approaching faster than they had estimated, the darkness increasing with the flood of black rainclouds spreading across the sky. A cold wind began whipping at their faces and they were hard-pressed to watch the landscape with the same ease of earlier. In fact, they almost missed the turning onto the marshland along which the wooden building was situated.

  ‘It’s down there!’ Aidan suddenly shouted, waving his arm. ‘You can hardly see it against the eastern sky.’

  Fidelma pulled rein and peered along the path which led towards the building on a hillock.

  ‘Well, we have not missed him on the roadway,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to go and take a look. It’ll soon be time to light a lantern at this rate,’ she added, glancing at the lowering sky.

  Aidan nudged his horse into the lead and moved along the path with Fidelma following. They came to the causeway and crossed it. Then Fidelma gave an angry exclamation. She had seen what Eadulf had seen – the broadening of the track and the signs of a passing vehicle.

  ‘Friend Eadulf had the right instinct,’ Aidan could not help commenting, but Fidelma did not reply. She was rebuking herself yet again for having ignored his suggestion.

  Twilight was creeping in as they trotted along the meandering track across the marshes. They halted for a moment below the rise, with its trees and manmade structure. Within a few moments they had negotiated the hillock and stood before what seemed to be collection of abandoned buildings surrounded by a low circular stone wall.

  * * *

  Eadulf was swimming slowly upwards out of his black pool, struggling and gasping for air. He tried to move his hands, but his wrists were tied together behind him. Nor could he see, as something was covering his face. It took him a few moments to understand that a hood had been placed over his head. After that, he stopped struggling and tried to relax and breathe more easily.

  He knew that he was lying on a cold earthen floor, but his head and shoulders were propped up against a wall, which felt as if it were built of wood. He surreptitiously tested his other limbs. The pressure around his ankles told him that they were also bound, like his wrists.

  Lying there, his head aching from the sharp blow, the throbbing in his temples was agonising. He was almost glad of the darkness of the hood and he shut his eyes for a moment to try to block out the pain. It didn’t work. The next problem was that every time he inhaled, the hood – a smelly piece of old cloth – was drawn against his mouth, almost causing him to choke.

  Only after his assessment of his physical condition did he turn to a consideration of his current predicament and what had been the cause of it.

  He could remember the movement behind him as he entered the wicker outhouse. He also remembered trying to turn – but then came the blow on his skull which had sent him spinning into the blackness. So a hood had been placed on his head and he had been tied up. But by whom – and why?

  He lay for a while just listening, trying to separate any sounds around him from the drumming in his temples, but could hear nothing. He wondered how long he had been unconscious and whether Fidelma and the others had missed him, by now. Would Fidelma be able to find him? Well, it was no use waiting and hoping. What was the motto that his old teachers used to keep hammering home to him and his fellow students? A line from the Roman Varro – dei facientes adiuvant – the gods help those who help themselves. Well, he presumed that one God would do the same as the many pagan Roman gods. So he must help herself. But he must go carefully. He moved slightly, cleared his throat and called softly: ‘Is anyone there?’

  Almost at once, with a sinking feeling, he heard the catch on a nearby door being lifted.

  ‘So you’re awake at last, eh?’ The voice was male and harsh.

  Eadulf wet his lips, although his tongue was almost dry. ‘Who are you?’ he managed to reply.

  There was a laugh. ‘Still causing trouble, eh? Well, you couldn’t elude us.’

  ‘My throat is dry. I need some water!’ Eadulf countered, not understanding.

  This brought forth another sinister chuckle. ‘By the powers, you show some spirit. You should have been dead days ago. Go and fetch him and tell him that the man is conscious.’ This remark seemed to be addressed to a companion outside. Then the voice sounded closer to Eadulf’s ear: ‘You will have to wait a while longer, until he comes to have a word with you, so you had better relax or devote the time to praying to your gods.’

  The door shut and Eadulf realised that the man had left him alone in the room.

  * * *

  Fidelma and Aidan sat astride their horses peering at the dark outlines of the building and its outhouses.

  ‘There is no sign of his horse,’ Fidelma observed. ‘Perhaps he did not come here, after all.’

  Aidan shook his head. ‘It was definitely this building he wanted to see. After all, it’s the biggest one so far. Plenty of space for an oxen team and wagon to shelter, and…’ Then he slid down and bent to examine the ground.

  ‘What is it?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘Wheel ruts,’ the warrior replied. ‘The deep impressions of wheels from a wagon of a similar width to the one the girl was driving.’ He knelt to look closer. ‘Cloven hooves – and ones that were shod at that. Eadulf guessed right. An oxen wagon was definitely here.’