‘Does Laisre know of this, lady?’ came the warrior’s still uncertain tone.
‘Isn’t Laisre chief of Gleann Geis and surely he knows everything which stirs within his own ráth?’ she countered, trying hard to steer a cautious path between not telling an outright lie and making an implication which would satisfy the man.
The sentinel’s voice was aggrieved.
‘Do not blame me, lady, for my ignorance. No one has informed me of your leaving.’
‘I am now informing you.’ Fidelma tried to sound irritable. ‘Stand aside and let us pass. Should any inquire, we shall soon be back.’
Hesitantly the sentinel stood aside and Fidelma and Eadulf trotted through the open gates through into the darkness.
It was not until they were some way from the ráth and moving swiftly along the valley road towards the ravine which provided the exit from Gleann Geis that Eadulf allowed himself to exhale noisily in relief.
‘Was that wise, Fidelma? To imply that you had Laisre’s permission will only deepen the chieftain’s anger when we return.’
‘Wisdom rises upon the ruins of folly,’ grinned Fidelma in the darkness. ‘I told the man no lie. And we shall be back as soon as possible.’
There were grey streaks in the sky by the time that they reached the grim granite statue of the god Lugh of the Long Hand which marked the entrance to the valley. It looked strange and frightening in the grey half-light as they rode past. Eadulf crossed himself nervously at its towering image but Fidelma laughed gaily.
‘Didn’t I tell you that the ancients saw Lugh as a god of light, a solar deity. You should not fear him for he was a good god.’
‘How can you be so calm about such frightening wraiths?’ protested Eadulf. ‘Antler-headed gods with serpents in their hands!’ He shivered violently.
‘Didn’t your people worship such gods before they converted to Christianity?’ asked Fidelma.
‘None with antlers from their heads,’ vowed Eadulf.
They reached the entrance of the gorge and started through its narrow rocky passage.
‘Who passes?’ cried a voice from high above them.
Fidelma groaned inwardly. She had forgotten the sentinels who guarded the gorge. However, what had worked once would doubtless work again.
‘Fidelma of Cashel,’ she called back. Then, as an afterthought, ‘Were you on guard here yesterday afternoon?’
A shadow moved above them and emerged indistinctly in the rising light of the dawn.
‘Not I. Why do you ask?’
‘I wondered if the horse dealer, Ibor of Muirthemne, was seen passing this way or Artgal?’
‘Everyone who passed through this gorge came under our scrutiny. The horse dealer certainly passed along here in the afternoonfor my brother was on duty here. But as for Artgal … no, it would have been mentioned if he had passed this way. The news of Artgal’s loss of honour has certainly been spoken.’
Fidelma accepted the information with resignation. She had not really expected to learn much.
‘Very well. Can we proceed?’
‘Go in peace,’ invited the sentinel.
By the time they had negotiated the gorge, dawn had broken across the mountains in streaks of orange, gold and yellow and the countryside was coming to life with a noisy chorus of birds arising from all around them. Fidelma made her unerring way towards the spot where they had encountered the slaughtered bodies of the young men. It was well and truly light by the time they reached the place. The view was clear in every direction. However, in two days the ravens had done their work well. The white bones of the skeletons lay scattered with hardly any flesh left upon them. Eadulf shuddered as he gazed about the bright sepulchre of bones, reflecting in the translucent light.
Fidelma did not give them a second glance but rode directly to where she recalled that the tracks had been. She could not find them. It was Eadulf who attempted an explanation.
‘While it didn’t rain in Gleann Geis yesterday, there was some rain beyond the mountains. It might be that the tracks have been washed away.’
Fidelma moved forward to view the ground more carefully.
‘But not entirely,’ she called triumphantly. ‘I can still see faint traces of the ruts.’
Eadulf followed her, his eyes sweeping the countryside around them in case of danger for he still questioned the wisdom of what they were attempting. Those who would not hesitate to kill thirty-three young men in a ritual slaughter would not falter in killing any religious if they became a threat.
‘Come on,’ Fidelma called, ‘the tracks lead northwards.’
She began to walk her horse carefully across the floor of the valley.
‘How far do you intend to go?’ grumbled the Saxon. ‘Colla says the tracks soon disappeared.’
Fidelma pointed before her towards the northern hills on the rim of the valley.
‘I will go as far as the edge of the glen, just there, where the hills begin to rise. If we see no further signs by then, we will follow the edge of the valley back to the entrance to Gleann Geis and conclude our business there.’
‘Do you mistrust Colla so much? Do you really think that he has tried to mislead us?’
‘I prefer the evidence of my own eyes,’ replied Fidelma easily. ‘And don’t forget, I did see Orla outside the stable. I know I did. Therefore, the logical conclusion is that Colla lied to protect his wife. By doing so, he placed me in jeopardy. What he did once, he can do a second time.’
In silence they walked their horses on, sitting at ease in their saddles, but now and then Fidelma stopped in an attempt to pick up the signs of the passing of the wagons. The tracks soon disappeared. They had not been visible for long before the stony ground had, indeed, disguised all signs of the passing of the carts. She was forced to admit that Colla had told the truth. They were still a mile or so off from the foot of the hills when all trace completely vanished.
‘Perhaps you have done Colla an injustice?’ ventured Eadulf wryly.
Fidelma did not grace his comment with an answer.
‘If we go back empty handed, what excuse will you give to Laisre?’ Eadulf pressed.
Fidelma thrust out her lower lip in annoyance.
‘I am not in the habit of giving excuses,’ she replied crossly. ‘He has no right to question my actions as a
She drew her horse to a halt and raised a hand to shade her eyes. Then she exhaled in irritation.
‘I would be happier if I even had an idea of what we were looking for,’ protested Eadulf. ‘I don’t think we are going to find further tracks in this terrain. What else is there?’
For a time Fidelma did not bother to reply. They continued in silence for a while until the stony valley floor began to rise into the surrounding hills. But there was no sign of any tracks at all. After a fruitless hour or so Fidelma called a halt and extended her hand southwards.
‘There are some grassy areas if we swing south of here. Perhaps we might find some tracks there,’ she volunteered. ‘This northern path looks as if it is going to reveal nothing.’
Eadulf suppressed a sigh but still followed her. He already had a feeling that a search of the area would reveal nothing. Not a sign of wagon tracks but Fidelma pressed on. Eadulf was about to make a stronger protest to the effect that they were simply wasting time and ought to return to Gleann Geis when Fidelma halted.
‘Tracks of several horses,’ she cried triumphantly pointing downwards to the disturbed grassy area.
Eadulf confirmed the statement with a sour glare.
‘It means little without wagon tracks. There are plenty of people on horseback who could pass this spot.’
It happened so suddenly that Fidelma and Eadulf had no time at all to react.
Out of nowhere half-a-dozen warriors appeared on horseback with swords ready and surrounded them.
‘Hold still, if you value your lives!’ cried their leader, a large man with a bushy red beard and a burnished bronze helmet studded with red enamel pieces.
Fidelma had a sinking sensation as she realised that the man spoke in a northern accent.
