“I am … I am brother to Cianat, wife to Cuilind, who owns this farm,” he replied, shortly. “I came to visit them. I tend goats on the far side of this valley? You say that you came here last night?”
“I found this cabin deserted. There is no sign of the occupants. The animals were in need of tending and, most worryingly, the guard dog was laying by the cabin door, still tethered, but its skull crushed in.”
It was impossible to judge the man’s expression in the shadows of the cabin; he breathed out sharply but said nothing.
“You say that you are kin to the people here?” pressed Fidelma. “What is your name?”
“I am known as Faelur,” he replied. “What do you know of … of the disappearance of Cianat and Cuilind?”
“I have told you all I know,” responded Fidelma. “I suppose that you know these mountains well? They might have had an accident in the snowstorm.”
Faelur pursed his lips as he thought about it.
“Maybe they have gone to visit someone else in the valley. It would be unusual for anything to happen, because Cuilind knows the mountains well, as does my sister.”
“No matter how well a person thinks they know mountains, in a snowstorm mistakes can be made,” Fidelma assured him. “
Faelur nodded slowly in agreement.
“Perhaps you are right. One thinks one knows the land well but snow obliterates the features, no matter how familiar they have been. Indeed, they may have come to grief on the mountain in the snowstorm. Anything could have happened, a broken leg or some such accident.”
“I presume there are people here who could form a search party for them?”
“I can certainly raise some … some local people.”
“The one thing that bothered me was that I found the dog still tied up and killed, its skull smashed. I dragged it from the door and piled stones and snow over it as there were wolves in evidence in the mountains last night.”
Faelur glanced at her quickly. “That is worrying. What do you make of it?”
“There is nothing I can make of it without information,” replied Fidelma. “Anyway, I suggest that if there are others living in this valley, you should organize a search for your sister and her husband. Alas, I cannot stay longer. I must try to find the way to Beal Atha Gabhann for I was expected there last night.”
For a passing moment, it seemed a look of relief came into the man’s eyes and then he sighed.
“I will take care of things now.”
“I have fed the animals. But they will need tending to later on. The cow particularly.”
“That is no problem. I will collect some friends and look after things here. As you say, a search must be organized.” There was a hesitation. “Are you rested well, for it will be a hard ride to Beal Atha Gabhann?”
“I was warm and comfortable in the cabin last night. I wish I could stay to help in the search for the owners. I will endeavour to make amends for their hospitality once I have completed my business.”
Something had made her withhold telling Faelur about her disturbed night. She did not know why. Perhaps it was because he seemed anxious about her having had a good rest.
She moved to the table and collected her things, her comb-bag, and placed them all in her
“Now I will get my horse and if you can point me in the right direction …?”
The man came with her to the door of the cabin and waited while she collected Aonbharr.
“There is a path down there that leads back to a main track,” he said, pointing in the direction she had climbed to the cabin from on the previous night. “Best lead your horse down to it. Then you turn northwards,” he indicated the direction. “You see that peak there, on the far side of the valley? That is Sliabh Coimealta, Keeper’s Hill. Keep that on your left and this track comes down through a valley, at the end of which you’ll find the streams that rise in these hills, all converging into a broad stream called Glaise an Ghleanna. Follow the bank and that will lead you directly to the main river, the Mhaoilchearn. You’ll see a small stone circle by it. It is easy to ford the river there and beyond it you will see the pass that will bring you through the mountains called Sliabh an Airgid. Once through the pass, you will find your destination.”
Fidelma thanked him and offered her best wishes that his search for his missing sister and brother-in-law would prove successful and that all would be well with them. He nodded thoughtfully and stood by the cabin door watching her as she led her horse back down the path to the main track. It was difficult, as the snowfall of the previous night had completely covered any recognisable signs of where it lay. It was only when she reached a flat area of snow that ran in both directions that she realized she had reached the main track. She mounted Aonbharr before glancing back. It was as if the man had not moved, for he still stood watching her. She raised a hand in acknowledgement and set off at a quick walking pace northward on her journey.
It was only sometime later that she realized what had been causing an irritation in the back of her mind. As she had led Aonbharr from the cabin down the path to the main track, the path had been completely covered in snow, so that she had to feel her way down. It had been completely covered in the snowfall, smooth and white, except where a single set of tracks followed it. They could have been the tracks of a dog but Fidelma knew that they had doubtless been made by one of the wolves that had been howling near the cabin during the night. But that was not what was causing the growing unease. It was the question, how had a man called Faelur come to the cabin? Surely he would have left tracks in the snow? And there were none.
** * *
“We were worried about you, Fidelma. We were afraid that you were lost in the snowstorm. Eadulf was very concerned.” It was Fidelma’s cousin Scoth, the daughter of Prince Gilcach of the Eoghanacht Airthir Chliach, who chided her as she ushered her into the hall of her father’s hunting lodge.
Fidelma had reached the settlement at Beal Atha Gabhann by mid-afternoon, when the sky had already begun to darken again. There she had found not only Eadulf, waiting anxiously for her, but also her cousin. Prince Gilcach kept a small hunting lodge at the settlement and Scoth was currently in residence, insisting that Eadulf and Fidelma stay with her. Soon Fidelma was relaxing in a chair before a crackling log fire with a glass of mulled wine. Seated by her were Eadulf and Scoth.
Scoth was younger than Fidelma by five or six years; an attractive girl with golden-red hair who seemed to treat everything and everyone with an intense curiosity. Her family shared a common descent with the Eoghanacht of Cashel from Oengus — the first Christian King of Muman. Scoth was always lively and loved nothing more than to gossip.
“Scoth suggested that we should form a search party for you,” admitted Eadulf, Fidelma’s stoic partner, “for there were violent snowstorms across the peaks last night.”
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf with a quick, reassuring smile.
“There was no need to worry on my account. I found shelter for the night.”
“Where did you find hospitality?” demanded Scoth in surprise. “These mountains are sparsely populated and the tracks are few and far between.” When Fidelma explained the route she had taken, a worried expression formed on the face of her cousin. “I know where you went wrong. You must have left the main track in the valley and headed through the high pass between Sliabh Coimealta and An Cnoc Fionn. You should have remained in the valley and followed the track to the east of An Cnoc Fionn.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door and one of the female attendants entered.
“Excuse me, my lady,” she said, speaking directly to Scoth. “A messenger has arrived and needs a private word.”
Scoth looked irritable. “I am with my cousin. Can’t they wait?”
“They told me to tell you that it is news of Rechtabra.”
Scoth rose quickly with an apologetic expression. “Rechtabra is my wayward cousin,” she said to Fidelma. “You may remember him? I will be but a moment.”
She was, indeed, back before hardly any time had passed. “What were we talking about? You said that you missed the valley track east of An Cnoc Fionn.”
“It was in the blizzard that I lost the path. There was no track to follow,” countered Fidelma.
Scoth looked serious. “But no one lives up along that high pass. There is scarcely a track you can follow on foot, let alone one to ride.”
