of the Prince of Cnoc Aine.’
Fidelma shot a grateful glance at her cousin.
‘Be about your tasks,’ she instructed. ‘This man is in the custody of the Prince of Cnoc Aine and if he bears any responsibility for what has happened to you, then he will be heard before the courts.’
There was an angry muttering but with Finguine and his men standing there, each with drawn sword, the crowd reluctantly began to dispel.
The little man was wiping the blood from a scratch on his cheek. He was beginning to recover his courage and his pale face was suffused with a flush of anger.
‘Animals! I have never been greeted like this before. Compensation is due me, if you are Prince of Cnoc Aine.’
This last sentence was addressed to Finguine who had turned to him and was sheathing his sword.
‘I am Finguine,’ he affirmed shortly. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Solam of the Uí Fidgente.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Are you Solam the
The little man smiled thinly. ‘That is precisely who I am, Sister …?’
‘I am Fidelma of Cashel.’
Solam managed to contain his surprise very well.
‘Ah!’ It was an exclamation which appeared to mean many things. ‘I should have known that you would be here, Fidelma.’
‘And what are you doing here?’ demanded Finguine.
The little man pursed his lips and gestured towards Fidelma. ‘She will know.’
‘He is doubtless on his way to Cashel for the hearing,’ Fidelma responded. ‘Prince Donennach of the Uí Fidgente said he would be sending for Solam to represent him before the Brehons of Cashel, Fearna and the Uí Fidgente.’
Eadulf had caught hold of the
‘I need to bathe and recover from this greeting,’ Solam announced irritably. ‘Is there no inn here?’
‘Your friends burnt it down and killed the innkeeper,’ one of Finguine’s men sneered.
The little man’s eyes flashed. ‘Have a care about further accusing the Uí Fidgente. I have heard also that we are under suspicion by some of attempting to assassinate the King of Muman!’
Fidelma regarded him with equal seriousness, then said, ‘These burning buildings did not ignite spontaneously, Solam. The great yew symbol of our land did not chop itself down. Nor did those whose bodies are about to be consigned to a mass grave, slaughter themselves. Do you want to go and look carefully at them?’
Solam grimaced in repugnance. ‘The Uí Fidgente are not responsible for the actions of outlaws and renegades. Where is your proof that we did this thing?’
It was Finguine who replied. ‘Come with me,’ he ordered grimly, giving Solam no other choice.
He led the way towards the newly dug grave where the women were still crying and clapping their hands in the lamentation of sorrow. Some of his warriors were still digging a grave. They paused as Finguine came up with the Uí Fidgente lawyer leading his ass and with the two warriors on either side of him. Fidelma and Eadulf brought up the rear.
Finguine walked to one body laid slightly apart from the others and not wrapped in the traditional linen shroud, but covered instead by an old horse blanket. The Prince tipped the edge of the blanket aside with the point of his sword. His gaze did not leave the face of Solam.
Under the horse blanket lay the corpse of the raider who had been slain.
‘Do you recognise him?’
Solam examined the corpse carefully and then shook his head.
‘You either speak the truth or you are a good liar,’ observed Finguine bluntly.
He returned the blanket to cover the face of the body, still using the tip of his sword. ‘I would advise you to continue your journey to Cashel immediately.’
Solam was proving to be a highly strung, impulsive little man whose excitable temper showed in his irritation. However, it also seemed that he had the quality of stubbornness.
‘Preposterous! I entered this township, was attacked, injured, accused unjustly and then, in need of hospitality — mine by right of law — am told to ride on. You are truly making my case strong when I plead at Cashel.’
Fidelma decided to take a hand.
‘Without proof of Uí Fidgente involvement in the raid, Solam does have a point, cousin,’ she ventured. ‘We cannot prove who the raiders were. Solam, therefore, is entitled to seek and receive hospitality and rest here on his journey to Cashel.’
Solam raised his chin defiantly. ‘I am glad that there is someone with sense in this land,’ he observed bitingly.
Fidelma’s cousin expressed his dissatisfaction with a long, irritable sigh. ‘Very well. Solam may seek hospitality but since these raiders destroyed the only inn in the township, I cannot suggest where he might receive it.’
‘At the abbey, of course,’ Solam replied.
‘You are not a religieuse.’
‘That does not matter. The rules of hospitality are there for everyone,’ interposed Fidelma. ‘Go to the abbey, Solam, and you will receive hospitality.’
Solam smiled, a little smugly, and turned to the abbey. Then he frowned and turned back, his stubbornness tempered by reality.
‘You don’t expect me to walk through the township again without protection, do you?’ he asked almost peevishly.
Fidelma looked at Finguine. She did not say anything but her cousin read the message in her expression.
The Prince of Cnoc Aine signalled to one of his warriors. ‘Escort the
The man frowned and seemed about to protest but, seeing his Prince’s expression, shrugged.
When Solam had gone, Finguine turned to Fidelma with a shake of his head. ‘I hope you know what you are doing,’ he warned. ‘The longer that this man Solam stays here, the more his danger will increase. There are many who have lost relatives here.’
‘But if the Uí Fidgente are not responsible …?’ Fidelma posed the question.
‘You really think that Solam arrived here this morning by chance?’
‘We have no reason to suppose otherwise … at the moment,’ she replied.
‘I think we do. Why would someone who set out on a journey from the country of the Uí Fidgente to Cashel arrive here, in Imleach? We are far south of the road that leads from their lands towards Cashel.’
Fidelma smiled briefly. ‘Of that I am aware. But cunning is superior to strength. If Solam came here to enact some treachery let us observe what he does and where he leads us. That way we may set a snare for the wolf.’
‘Better to hold the wolf by the ears than let him loose among the sheep,’ Finguine countered.
‘We will not let him loose; just hold him on a long leash and see where he wants to go. Do not worry; I, too, do not believe he came here by chance.’
Finguine opened his mouth but Fidelma had already begun to walk away.
Eadulf was perplexed as he hurried after her.
‘I cannot make anything out of this. If the Uí Fidgente were the raiders last night, why would this man Solam come riding into the township this morning?’
‘Speculation without knowledge is pointless,’ Fidelma replied shortly.
They returned to the main street.
‘Now where did we see Brother Bardan?’
Eadulf silently rebuked himself. In the excitement of Solam’s arrival, he had forgotten the reason they had come to the township.
‘I did not see him,’ he replied.
