‘Perhaps we could send to the township for help?’ Brehon Ruán offered. He still looked exhausted, having been kept prisoner for so long. ‘Surely some of the Prince of Osraige’s warriors there will help?’

  ‘I would not trust anyone now,’ Fidelma said soberly. ‘Don’t forget, Feradach commanded those warriors. Perhaps he fooled them and they are genuine adherents to the Prince of Osraige, or maybe they are all part of this Fellowship. I would not trust anyone in Cill Cainnech unless I had the company of two-twenties of Nasc Niadh at my back.’

  ‘Then we seem to have a choice of abandoning the prisoners or the stone,’ Eadulf declared.

  ‘I’d rather not abandon either,’ Fidelma replied firmly. ‘But I could do with more warriors to keep an eye on the prisoners. At the moment Failge is in shock. I must admit that I can understand it. I have never known ravens to attack like that. I don’t trust Duach and Cellaig either. They are well used to arms and might have some tricks up their sleeves.’

  * * *

  It was an exhausting night. Failge seemed to have retreated into his own world and it was clear that he had not recovered from the death of his leader and by such a vile retribution. He sat with eyes closed, unmoving and not responding even when offered a drink or food. The portly woman was also fairly uncommunicative but her mood did not impinge on her appetite. It was clear that she was not very intelligent, nor a moving force in the curious Fellowship of the Raven. Duach and Cellaig were clearly not fanatics. They seemed to have little interest in any religion. This fact made their role worse, in Fidelma’s eyes. They were mercenaries and she swiftly came to the conclusion that they would cheerfully serve and kill in the service of whoever paid them the most.

  Although exhausted, Fidelma was glad to welcome the eventual coming of the dawn. Only the little terrier seemed to have slept soundly through the night. Ríonach went to busy herself in the kitchen with the dog trotting happily after her. Enda immediately volunteered to fetch water from the well for her. Fidelma noticed that the young warrior still seemed keen to help the girl at every opportunity. Fidelma had spoken to Ríonach during the hours of waiting for dawn and heard more details of her sorry story and her account of what had happened at the farmstead. She tried to reassure the girl that, under her knowledge of the law, she had little to fear. Eadulf, she noted approvingly, had already given her the correct advice on her defence.

  Aidan had been despatched to take a position on the lookout tower at the gates of the homestead as a precaution in case any of Feradach’s warriors approached from the township. It was only after everyone had eaten that Fidelma recalled that there remained one distasteful task to be carried out.

  Leaving Eadulf and Ruán to watch over things, she took Enda with her into the backyard. The evil-looking inhabitants of the hen coop seemed quiet enough now; crouching darkly, the rising sun reflecting on the shining black of their feathers, eyes glinting with that strange malignance. Now and then, they let forth a grating sound from the back of their throats – a sound that was far more intimidating than the shrill cry of their feeding. There was still quite a lot of Feradach’s body left. Fidelma screwed up her face and turned away for a moment.

  ‘Lady, you don’t have to do this,’ Enda told her sympathetically. ‘I can handle it.’

  She shook her head. ‘It is my responsibility as a dálaigh,’ she said. ‘Had I not ordered his hands to be bound, he might have fought his way out of the shed.’

  ‘Had he not attacked you, had he not done this or done that … wishing things were different is no consolation for what has happened. If wishes were cows, then every farmer would have a wealthy herd.’

  Fidelma caught herself and realised that Enda’s old saying and his comment were valid. She thanked him.

  ‘We must be careful then,’ she advised. ‘These birds are vicious. Grab those scúap and give me one.’

  The scúap were yard brooms made from bundles of reeds. Gripping them firmly, they approached the door of what had once been the hen coop. Fidelma slipped the catch and threw the door open wide. Then they both retreated either side of the coop and began to bang on the netting and yell. At first the ravens seemed resentful, staring beadily at their tormentors, but then they started to hop through the dried and bloodied remains on the floor of their prison towards the open door. At first they did no more than hop onto the earth outside and then, as Fidelma and Enda carried on thwacking the side of the coop with their brooms, yelling loudly, the birds flapped their large black wings, took a few experimental hops into the air and then were suddenly away, soaring upwards into the morning sky. They circled a few times as a flock before disappearing on towards the distant marshlands.

  The next task for Fidelma and Enda was even less pleasant.

  Fidelma had first returned to the house and asked Ruán for something that she could use as a winding sheet for his nephew’s body. Realising what they were about, Ruán, as frail as he was, had taken a spade and gone to a field behind the outhouses and begun to dig a grave for the remains. Enda quickly took over the task; then dragging the sheet with the remains wrapped in it, he pushed it into the hole.

  Once the last spadeful had been thrown over to cover it, Fidelma drew a sigh of relief.

  ‘I suppose I should offer a prayer for his soul but I don’t think he would appreciate it. You could say Badh took him. So, as he believed, let us hope that Donn has gathered his soul and taken him to Tech Duinn on his voyage to the Otherworld.’

  Enda muttered that, in itself, it was prayer enough.

  ‘There is a stream just behind the trees there,’ volunteered Ruán, pointing in that direction. ‘I bathe there myself. I’ll fetch sleic and towels to dry ourselves.’

  They came from a society that was highly conscious of keeping the body clean and healthy, and bathing was a daily occurrence, although it generally took place in the evening. However, after the efforts of clearing the ravens and their victim, it was essential, according to the old physicians, to wash themselves clean. The Crith Gablach insisted that foulness must be washed away with sleic, soap, and the body dried with fresh linen.

  When they finally rejoined the others, it was mid-morning, and Fidelma realised that it was time for a decision. They could delay no longer before setting out for Cashel.

  ‘Would we find horses in your field strong enough to pull the wagon containing the stone?’ she asked Ruán.

  ‘I should think so,’ replied the Brehon. ‘Although I have not had a chance to assess my stock since being made a prisoner.’

  ‘I presume that you have a plan?’ Eadulf asked Fidelma.

  ‘We could put the prisoners in the wagon with the stone, ensure the team is strong enough, and the rest of us will ride our own horses as an escort, After that, all we can do is hope that our road to Cashel will be a safe one.’

  At that moment Aidan, who had been at his lookout post, burst into the hall, slightly out of breath. ‘Now we have real trouble,’ he gasped without preamble. ‘Riders, a score or more of them, are coming along the highway. They will be here in a few minutes.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘This is not good,’ Aidan was whispering, although there was no reason to do so. The approaching riders were still some distance away. He and Fidelma had climbed up to the watchtower next to the wooden gates of the homestead. The others waited anxiously below.

  ‘Can you identify the riders?’ Eadulf called up to them.

  ‘I make out twenty horsemen, and from their demeanour they are not amateur warriors,’ Aidan responded. ‘We won’t be able to defend this place if they are hostile.’

  Fidelma too was observing the column of riders. ‘At least they are not coming from the direction of Cill Cainnech. We might be lucky. But even if they are loyal to Feradach, we might be able to fool them. We have not achieved this much to be overcome now by this fellowship of fanatics.’

  ‘I doubt we can fool them.’ Aidan was pessimistic. ‘The only alternative will be to fight.’

  ‘One thing at a time,’ Fidelma replied, although she silently agreed with him. ‘Let’s wait to see if they are merely passing. They might simply be on their way to Cill Cainnech.’

  They did not have long to wait because the column of horsemen soon turned off the main highway and followed their leader up the short track towards Ruán’s homestead. A little way from the main gate, their leader halted his men before coming on alone at a trot to rein in before the wooden gates.

  Even before he drew close, Aidan let out an astonished gasp. ‘I recognise that man.’

  Fidelma was already smiling in relief. ‘Open the gates,’ she called down to Eadulf. ‘Let Luan and the Nasc Niadh in.’

  An astonished Luan was still shaking his head in disbelief when Fidelma and her companions surrounded him with shouts of welcome.

  ‘Now tell us, what brought you here?’ she demanded when things had quietened and the rest of Luan’s troops had been assured that all was well.

  ‘A young man, the son of a shepherd from these parts, rode into Cashel with a strange story,’ Luan explained. ‘There was a lot I didn’t understand about his tale of a farmhouse, a dead farmer and two men who had been made prisoners there. The shepherd and his son had released these two men, who thanked them by promptly stealing their horses and galloping off, cursing and swearing about giving chase to a man and a woman.

  ‘The shepherd had already spoken to the man and woman. He described the man as a foreigner wearing the tonsure of Rome. The man sounded remarkably like friend Eadulf, but the woman did not appear to be you, lady. Anyway, it worried the shepherd and so he sent his son on his remaining horse to Cashel to report the matter because the man had mentioned Fidelma’s name and he thought the King should be informed directly.’

  ‘That shepherd should be well rewarded,’ Eadulf declared.

  ‘Indeed. Well, the King ordered me to take a company of men and ride here to make enquiries. We followed the tracks to a hermit’s place in the mountains. The hermit was called Brother Finnsnechta. He confirmed that it was Brother Eadulf and told us that he had advised him and his companion to come to Brehon Ruán at Tulach Ruán. And so here we are.’ Luan ended by raising his arms in a helpless gesture. ‘I have no understanding of any of these events, lady.’

  ‘No matter,’ Fidelma said cheerfully. ‘All will be explained in due time. For the moment, the Fates have smiled on us. We have prisoners and a wagon to transport back to Cashel. We were going to have some difficulty with the journey, so your arrival is fortuitous.’

  ‘Is it a heavy wagon?’

  When Fidelma took him to the stable and showed him, Luan was doubtful. ‘With that large stone in it, I would say it will take several days to haul that wagon to Cashel, even with a strong team of horses. Why do you need to take the wagon and stone, lady? On horseback, we can return to Cashel in half that time.’

  ‘But it is the stone in the wagon that is important,’ Fidelma pointed out.

  Luan looked at the wagon and scratched his head. ‘What’s so special about it? It’s just a bit of old rock.’

  Eadulf chuckled and clapped the warrior on the shoulder. ‘I’ll explain all about that “bit of old rock” later, Luan.’

  Fidelma was standing, thinking. ‘Now that your men have arrived, we can get them to round up some of Brehon Ruán’s horses. We’ll select a good team for the wagon. Half your company can act as escort for the wagon back to Cashel, if you command them. The rest of us can escort our prisoners on horseback, assisted by the other half of your men.’

  ‘Very well, lady,’ Luan agreed.

  ‘We can then give a full report to my brother before the arrival of the wagon. Were the Cleasamnaig Baodain still under restriction in Cashel when you left?’

  ‘They were, lady, although the King and the Chief Brehon did not seem too pleased about the situation.’

  ‘Has the Chief Brehon returned to Cashel then?’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘So the sooner we return, the better.’

  * * *

  Six days later, the council chamber of King Colgú was crowded with sombre-faced people.

  The arrival in Cashel of Fidelma and her party had been met with curiosity and much excitement. People knew that the party included prisoners. When, some days afterwards, Luan and his warriors had arrived, accompanying a wagon containing an object that looked like a small standing stone, which was hauled up to the King’s palace, there was considerable speculation and animated gossip.

  Fidelma and Eadulf were met by her brother, the King, on their arrival. Colgú was with his Chief Brehon, Fíthel. The new arrivals gave a brief account of their experiences in Osraige, and it was agreed that a dál or court should be convened on the following day. Cerball, Lord of Cairpre Gabra, who was still at Rumann’s inn, would be summoned to attend, as well as all the adult members of Baodain’s Performers.

  In agreeing to this, Colgú regarded his sister with some resignation.

  ‘Are you sure that all the mysteries can be explained? Will you be able to enlighten us about what happened when the girl’s wagon was set on fire on the marsh road?’

  ‘Have I ever let you down, brother?’ Fidelma replied, with one arched brow.

  Her red-headed sibling grinned at her. ‘You have caused me much worry and anguish, but you have never let me down in the end.’

  Fidelma’s response was a disdainful sniff as she left.

  So now the council chamber was packed. Colgú of Cashel sat with his Chief Brehon Fíthel on his left side. His heir-apparent, Finguine, sat on his right. Next to Finguine was seated the dour, autocratic Cerball, Lord of Cairpre Gabra. Ségene, Abbot of Imleach and Chief Bishop of Muman, was seated on the other side of the Chief Brehon. The elderly Brehon Ruán was seated next to him. Ready to present their report, Fidelma was placed with Eadulf at a table at the left side of the chamber. Nearby sat Ríonach, who had had to leave her dog in the palace kitchens with Dar Luga, the housekeeper. Next to her sat the elderly Brother Conchobhar, the physician and apothecary.

  To the right of the chamber stood the prisoners – Failge, Duach, Cellaig and Dar Badh. The entire adult group of Cleasamnaig Baodain, Baodain’s Players, had been brought in and given a place facing the King. Warriors of the Nasc Niadh were stationed at strategic places around the council chamber.

  Brehon Fíthel waited until a hush had descended before officially opening the proceedings. As was custom, he acknowledged and welcomed the distinguished guests by name. Finally he turned to Fidelma.

  ‘Are you ready to make your submission on the matters before this dál?’

  ‘I am.’ Fidelma quickly outlined the circumstances of the conspiracy.

  ‘The matter began with a curious fire on the marsh road, the death of a girl dressed as a boy, and the discovery of her companion several days dead in the wagon. It was the second death that led Eadulf and me, and our companions, into the lake of fire and evil that we subsequently encountered. Indeed, we found an evil that threatened the peace of all Five Kingdoms and the New Faith itself. With her companion dead from poison, the girl, also dying from poison, was trying to make for Cashel to meet someone – someone to whom she was determined to make a report even though she must have known she was dying. She knew how important the information was that she carried.’

  Fidelma turned her gaze to Cerball. ‘That report was meant for you, Cerball, Lord of Cairpre Gabra, was it not?’

  Cerball stirred uncomfortably. If some in the council chamber were expecting an indignant denial, they were disappointed, for he merely inclined his head in agreement but said nothing.

  ‘We are told that the girl was called Ultana and her companion was Ultan. Were they emissaries from Cairpre Gabra, or from Tethbae?’ queried Fidelma.

  ‘Cairpre Gabra will suffice,’ Cerball replied without emotion. ‘We owe allegiance to Tethbae, so it makes little difference. I should add, for your record, that their names were, in truth, Ultan and Ultana.’

  ‘Were they sent here by you?’

  This time Cerball shook his head. ‘They were sent by Febal, Abbot and Bishop of Clochar, to whose community they belonged.’

  ‘Then I presume that you also come here at his request?’

  Cerball shrugged indifferently.

  ‘We’ll take that as confirmation,’ Fidelma observed. ‘By the way, did you know that the girl, Ultana, was pregnant?’

  Cerball started visibly in his chair. Then he said quietly: ‘I knew they were married and had decided to undertake this mission together. But we had no idea that the girl was with child. She did not mention it. Abbot Febal would never have allowed them to go on the mission, had he known this. He would not have endangered her and the soul of the unborn child.’

  ‘The child was only a few months in the womb,’ piped up Brother Conchobhar, from where he was observing proceedings. ‘I doubt whether the soul had entered into it.’

  The laws, which all physicians had to obey, differentiated between aspects of an unborn child when considering abortion. There was the establishment of the foetus, then the forming of the flesh of the unborn, rising to the point when it was finally considered that a soul had entered the child.

  ‘I did not know,’ Cerball repeated softly, his face showing a terrible sadness. ‘She was my niece, the daughter of my own sister.’

  ‘I believe that they were sent to discover something,’ continued Fidelma in a more gentle tone. This time he did not respond at all. ‘They were sent to discover the location of the Golden Stone, which your people call the Cermand Cestach. It is one of the sacred stones of the Old Religion, through which superstitious people believed that the ancient gods and goddess spoke to their Druids. Will you tell us its story, Cerball?’