long stabbing cut had cleaved through the neck almost to the back.
Fidelma suddenly looked at the lips and gums of the dead religieux. They had a faint blue tinge about them which she could not explain. Clearly the knife cut had caused his death and the wound was still bleeding. Distastefully, she reached out a hand to touch the skin. It was still warm. Brother Dianach had only recently died, probably even as they had entered the cabin.
She sprang to her feet and looked around. Her eyes scanned the landscape.
‘Did you see anyone near here, Rudgal?’
The wagon maker dragged his fascinated gaze away from the corpse and regarded her in bewilderment.
Fidelma was impatient.
‘The boy has only just been killed. Perhaps while we were in the cabin. Look, the shed is small, you have to bend down to peer inside. Perhaps Dianach was hiding from us when we approached the cabin. His killer must have come upon him in this fashion and slit his throat. It happened only moments ago.’
Rudgal whistled softly.
‘I walked around the cabin but there was no one in sight, it was only when I was looking for the tracks of the cattle that I suddenly saw the body.’
Eadulf had moved swiftly to a stone wall and clambered up. He swept the surrounding countryside with his keen gaze.
‘Can you see anything?’ demanded Fidelma.
Eadulf shook his head in disappointment.
‘No,’ he replied in disgust. ‘There are so many gullies and walls around here that anyone, knowing the area, could hide themselves easily from our sight.’
‘Any sign of the cattle?’
‘None at all. But while a man might hide among these gullies, I would say that it would be difficult to hide cattle.’
Fidelma turned back to the body in frustration.
‘Why kill him, I wonder?’ Rudgal said. ‘And what was the lad doing up here anyway?’
‘When Artgal said that he had been offered the bribe by someone with a northern accent, Dianach grew upset,’ she reflected. ‘He jumped up to deny that it was him.’
‘But Artgal corroborated that by saying it was a deeper voice whereupon Ibor of Muirthemne disappeared from the ráth not attempting to deny the logical conclusion that it was he who had bribed Artgal,’ Eadulf called from the wall, still scrutinising the surrounding countryside. ‘And now Ibor has fled the valley.’
‘If it was not Ibor of Muirthemne who tried to bribe Artgal, why did he disappear?’ added Rudgal.
There was no escaping the logic.
Eadulf had jumped down from the wall and joined them again.
‘Moreover, why would Artgal disappear?’ he asked. ‘Surely Laisre’s wrath is not so terrible. Artgal would have to pay a fine under your law to reinstate his honour but better to do that than flee to a life of wandering exile outside his clan?’
Fidelma rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
‘It is a good point, Eadulf. I wonder if we might be overlooking a more pertinent question. Did the cattle really exist in the first place?’
‘That is a question beyond my understanding,’ muttered Rudgal. ‘Artgal would not have made up such a story.’
‘Think about it,’ invited Fidelma. ‘We are told that Artgal was given two milch cows by … shall we just call him a man with a northern accent? Did this man buy them from a farmer within this valley? It is small and the news of such a purchase ought to spread instantly for gossip does not need the flight of birds to cover the ground swiftly.’
‘Perhaps they were brought from without the valley,’ suggested Eadulf.
‘The same would apply. A man herding two or three milch cows into this valley would easily be observed and identified.’
Eadulf had begun to examine the ground at the back of the cabin carefully.
Fidelma glanced towards Rudgal. The warrior stood waiting patiently for instructions.
‘I think that you should go back to the ráth and tell Murgal what we have found here.’
‘Won’t Laisre be angry with you for disobeying his decree not to pursue this matter?’ asked the wagon maker.
‘That is my problem to deal with,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘And,more importantly, this death of a cleric outside of Laisre’s ráth is mine to deal with. Go quickly now.’
Rudgal set off back down the hill in the direction of the ráth at an ambling trot.
Fidelma turned back to Eadulf who was now sitting on the stone wall with a frown on his face. His eyes were still fixed on an examination of the ground at the back of the cabin which constituted the farmyard.
‘You seem interested in something,’ Fidelma prompted.
Eadulf looked up reluctantly in her direction and then pointed to the ground.
‘What you have said troubles me. If Artgal had not been given the cows why would he make up the story about them? Yet the evidence points to the fact that what you have said needs some consideration. You see, if Artgal had been given two cows, he certainly did not keep them there.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Have you ever seen a patch of land where cows have been kept?’
‘I do not see what you are driving at.’
‘Examine this land, Fidelma. Where are the marks of cattle hooves — moreover, where are the pats of cattle excretions which one can never hide? No, even if the cows were given to Artgal this morning and were here during the course of the day, there would be such signs of their passing. If Artgal had such cattle, they were kept somewhere else.’
Chapter Fifteen
A conflict of expressions flitted across Fidelma’s features as she considered what he had said.
‘What is it?’ Eadulf demanded.
‘You have just observed the obvious, Eadulf. I think I may know where we might find these missing cows.’
Eadulf was startled.
‘Come with me,’ Fidelma said, turning and leading the way from Artgal’s farmstead. In bemusement, Eadulf followed her as she confidently swung her way down the hill, following the path directly towards the group of buildings dominated by Ronan’s farm. They walked in silence for the most part as Fidelma appeared plunged into deep thought. Eadulf knew better than to attempt to interrupt her when she was in such a meditative mood.
He was astonished when, reaching the bottom of the hill, she turned aside from the main track and approached the small house of Nemon the prostitute. She rapped confidently on the door.
Nemon came out immediately and regarded them in surprise. Then she forced a twisted smile which was not entirely one of welcome.
‘You two again? I thought they said that you had killed the man about whom you were asking — what was his name, Solin?’
‘They thought wrongly,’ Fidelma assured her firmly.
‘Well, I can tell you no more about this Solin other than what I have told you already,’ sniffed the woman, attempting to close the door.
‘It was not Solin that I came to speak to you about. May we come in?’ Fidelma had noticed that the burly wife of Ronan, Bairsech, had come out of her house and had taken up her apparently favourite position, standing with folded arms watching them with undisguised hostile curiosity.
Nemon was indifferent. She merely stood aside and allowed Fidelma to push by with Eadulf following.
