Valley of the Shadow

men called Cúchulainn, the hound of Culainn?’

Fidelma looked into Ibor’s eyes and saw a pride in his ancestry.

‘You have not explained why the lord of Muirthemne in Ulaidh was skulking in Gleann Geis in the guise of a merchant. This is a curiously isolated part of the world for a band of warriors from the north to stumble on without some evil intent?’

‘In truth, we did not stumble on it and we did come here with a specific purpose.’

‘At least you are honest with me. Why?’

Ibor smiled disarmingly.

‘I would ask you to promise that you will be circumspect as to what I tell you.’

Fidelma held her head slightly to one side. Her expression one of curiosity.

‘Circumspect? You do not ask me for secrecy?’

Ibor shook his head.

‘I trust your discretion and honesty as I hope you will trust mine once you hear my story. I know of your reputation. I told you sobefore. And I also see that you wear the cross of the order of the Golden Chain. This is why I shall put my trust in you.’

Fidelma continued to gaze at him thoughtfully.

‘I would answer that I apply discretion in all things but as to accepting your honesty, that remains to be seen.’

‘I would expect no more in the circumstances.’ The young lord of Muirthemne glanced quickly at Eadulf. ‘Your voice also speaks for the Saxon brother?’

‘You may be assured of Brother Eadulf’s discretion as you are of mine.’

‘Discretion is all I ask.’

‘You can expect little more, especially when you hold that gold torc which I found at the site of the slaughter of thirty-three young men,’ Fidelma added quietly.

Ibor glanced down at the torc in his hand and nodded absently.

‘It is a torc fashioned for the warriors of Ailech,’ he commented absently. ‘You will hear the explanation for this shortly. To begin, my men and I have been following Brother Solin of Armagh this past week.’

‘On whose authority?’ Fidelma asked at once.

‘On the authority of Sechnassuch, High King at Tara.’

‘With what purpose?’

‘With the purpose of discovering his reason for coming to this land.’

‘You say that as if you suspected him of some transgression against the law?’ intervened Eadulf.

The lord of Muirthemne chuckled grimly.

‘I would venture that my view has long passed the point of mere suspicion. And as for transgressing the law, he has transgressed every moral code that I know of.’

‘I do not understand,’ Fidelma said. ‘You are a man of the north and yet you appear to be claiming that you are an enemy of Brother Solin? Why is this? Is Brother Solin not only a man of the north but also of the cloth? He maintained that he was on a mission for the Faith.’

‘A mission for the Devil!’ snapped Ibor. Then he leaned forward, his voice grave. ‘Surely you know something about the dissensions among the kings of the north? You have been to Tara and you have also been to Armagh.’

‘Is it a coincidence that Brother Solin once asked me this very same question? I have been to Tara and I have been to Armagh but I was not privy to any internal disputes there.’

Ibor sat back.

‘I will explain the divisions as simply as I can. First you must know that I am an emissary of the High King, Sechnassuch. As you know, he is of the southern Uí Néill, of the seed of Aedo Slaine. Here is his royal seal as proof of my word.’ He reached beneath his shirt and brought out a gold seal on a golden chain and held it out for her inspection. ‘You have been to Tara and know it well.’

Fidelma glanced at the gold medallion. On it was stamped a regal upright hand symbolising the duty of the king to reach out his hand to protect his people, for in ancient times it was said that both words rí for king and reach were the same. Fidelma recognised the seal of the Uí Néill immediately.

‘Go on,’ she invited. ‘Tell us your story.’

‘Brother Solin was secretary to Ultan of Armagh.’

‘That I know,’ Fidelma said, a trifle impatiently.

‘Ultan has secretly sworn to support the claims of the dynasty of the northern Uí Néill, the kings who sit at Ailech.’

Fidelma had never had dealings with the northern Uí Néill kingdom. She only knew that Ailech was a fortress city in the extreme north-west of the country where the king was currently Mael Dúin, who also claimed descent from the great High King, Niall of the Nine Hostages.

‘Your man said that the torc was made in Ailech,’ she observed quietly.

Ibor nodded.

‘There is little love lost between the two dynasties of the Uí Néill, northern and southern,’ he explained. ‘Mael Dúin is not the first king of the northern Uí Néill line to argue that his dynasty are the true heirs of the kingship of all the north, and not only the kingship of Ulaidh but he claims the right to the High Kingship at Tara. He further claims that the High Kingship should not be a matter of conferred honour among the provincial kings but a reality and that the High King should have a real power over all the five kingdoms of Éireann.’

Fidelma examined him suspiciously.

‘And what does Sechnassuch say to this?’

‘You have met Sechnassuch,’ Ibor replied. ‘His principle is the law. He is king of the southern Uí Néill of Tara and acknowledges the courtesy accorded by the laws of the Míadslechta of being High King. But as the Míadslechta says — why are the provincial kings greater than the High King?’

‘Because they appoint and ordain the High King,’ interrupted Fidelma quoting the text, ‘the High King does not ordain the provincial kings.’

Ibor nodded appreciatively at her knowledge.

‘You are correct, dálaigh of Cashel. Sechnassuch would give his entire honour price of fourteen cumals in forfeit if he ever broke this law.’

‘Is there any likelihood of him doing so?’

‘Not while he is alive. But this cannot be said of the northern Uí Néill; nor of Mael Dúin of Ailech. He has ambition. And that ambition has grown since he went on a pilgrimage to Rome before he took the crown of Ailech.’

‘How so? What has a pilgrimage to Rome to do with this matter?’

‘He saw the greatness of Rome and became enamoured of the Roman path of the Faith. He went to a Roman-trained confessor and priest who taught him about the great temporal empires and the peoples who fell under the suzerainty of the emperors of Rome.’

‘There are several in the five kingdoms who have already accepted allegiance to Rome,’ observed Fidelma. ‘Allegiance to Rome is surely a matter of individual conscience? My companion, Eadulf, bears allegiance to the Roman ways, unlike myself being committed to the Church of Colmcille. We do not fight but we discuss in fruitful amity.’

‘Fair enough, Fidelma of Cashel. Each to his own path. But when one is forced along a path one does not wish to take, then there is dissension in the land.’

‘This Mael Dúin believes, then, in forcing his beliefs on others?’

‘That he does. And he does so in two ways. Firstly with his religion and secondly he has been fired to create in this island the feudal empire of the type which he has learned about in Rome, a central kingdom ruled by one emperor. And he wants that emperor to be himself.’

Fidelma let out a soft breath.

‘I begin to see where you are leading us. Mael Dúin of Ailech wishes to firstly subsume the southern