breaking of twigs as someone approached in a great hurry.
Again, the figure, when it came into sight, was familiar.
‘It’s Gobnuid, the smith from Rath Raithlen,’ whispered Menma only a split second before Eadulf himself realiaed who the burly man was.
Chapter Fourteen
Eadulf stared at the man but nothing now surprised him. He just wished Fidelma had confided in him about her suspicions concerning the cave. Perhaps the matter had nothing at all to do with the deaths of the girls. They watched as the thick-set figure of the blacksmith approached the cave entrance. He did so quickly, surely footed as if he knew exactly where he was going. At the cave entrance he halted and gave a sharp call, apparently announcing his presence. Then he disappeared inside.
Eadulf glanced across to the rocks where Goll still lay hidden. He noticed a movement behind the rocks that indicated the woodsman’s presence and gave a quiet sigh of exasperation. He wished he had listened more carefully to what Fidelma had said about the mine. He could not see how it was at all relevant to the moonlight killings of the girls except that the bodies had been found in the vicinity. And what had Goll to do with it? He could not even think what questions to ask, let alone seek answers.
Menma gave a tug on his sleeve. The dark stranger, Brother Dangila, and Gobnuid were coming out of the cave mouth. Gobnuid was waving his hands in the air as if to help him explain something to the stranger. Brother Dangila extinguished his lamp and they both began walking slowly back down the hill in the direction of the abbey. Gobnuid was talking loudly but not loud enough for Eadulf to understand what he was saying. As soon as they were out of sight, Goll rose from his hiding place and began to follow them in a stealthy manner.
When they had all disappeared Menma rose. ‘What now, Brother? Do we follow them?’
‘We do not,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I need to report this to Sister Fidelma. Following them will not tell us anything. The stranger and Gobnuid seem to be heading back to the abbey. Goll appears to be merely watching them. The question that must be resolved is why?’
‘That is true,’ agreed Menma. He glanced up at the sky. ‘Anyway, within the hour it will be dark. Let’s get back to the horses.’
The horses were waiting patiently, tethered where they had left them. Menma led the way back down the winding track through the hilly woodland. They had progressed about halfway down the trail when they came to a fairly open stretch of hillside. Eadulf, lost in his thoughts, almost let his horse run into that of Menma, who had sharply halted.
‘What-’ he began, startled.
‘Look!’ Menma held out a hand.
Eadulf followed the line he was indicating to the woods at the bottom of the hill. Dusk was coming down, obscuring the clarity of his vision, but even so he could make out a rising plume of white smoke.
‘It’s coming from my cabin!’ Menma suddenly yelled. ‘My cabin is on fire!’
Without another word, he thumped his ankles into the sides of his mount. With a startled whinny, the horse leapt forward and began to canter down the hill. A sudden fear for Fidelma clutching at his breast, Eadulf followed swiftly in the other’s tracks.
It seemed to take an interminable age to get down the hill. They had to slow their speed several times because of the steep descent in places, which threatened to precipitate both horses and riders in tumbling heaps down the hillside. They reached the main track to Rath Raithlen and crossed it, plunging on into the woods. As they neared the hunter’s home they realised that the entire cabin was one gigantic bonfire. It was blazing from wall to wall, and as they rode up the roof fell in with a cascade of sparks and burning debris.
‘Suanach!’ yelled Menma, peering round in desperation for his wife. ‘Suanach!’ He flung himself from his horse and, for a moment, looked as though he was going to dash forward into the burning building.
Eadulf had dismounted and ran forward to grasp his arm. ‘You cannot go in there!’ He had to yell to make his voice heard above the crackling of the flames as they ate hungrily into the wood.
Menma halted, his eyes wide and staring.
Eadulf, too, was gazing in horror at the burning building. If Fidelma and Suanach had been inside then there was no hope for them. He moved backward and his heel hit something hard and metallic. He dragged his gaze away from the burning cabin and glanced down, finding, to his surprise, a discarded shield on the ground. He raised his eyes and began to look around.
There was something about the scene that did not seem right. The carcass of a dog was lying a short distance away, an arrow projecting from behind its shoulder. It was Luchóc. And now Eadulf saw there were boxes and garments strewn about, as if discarded in hurried fashion. He tugged at Menma’s arm and pointed silently.
The young hunter stared, visibly shaken. Then he dropped to his knee by his dog and examined the arrow. He saw the shield that Eadulf had found, and swore vehemently.
‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘Uí Fidgente!’ snapped Menma.
Eadulf shivered slightly. He was well aware of the rebellious clan of north Muman. He had had dealings with them before.* He also knew that they were a constant threat, challenging the authority of Fidelma’s brother at Cashel and sometimes raiding his territory.
‘You mean it is an Uí Fidgente raid?’ he demanded.
There was no need for Menma to confirm the obvious. The hunter was examining the area, using his tracking skills.
‘Probably about twenty men. At least, there were enough horses here to carry that amount.’
He was looking down at an area of churned-up earth. All Eadulf could see was a number of hoofprints.
‘But Fidelma and your wife…?’ he began.
‘I think they have been taken as prisoners. Look, a woman’s footprint over the hoofprints.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘A woman was made to mount the horse here.’
‘Both of them? Or one of them?’ demanded Eadulf.
Menma pulled a face. ‘That I cannot say…’
The rumble of many horses approaching caused Eadulf to swing round and Menma to run for his weapons.
A dozen horsemen broke through the surrounding trees, weapons in hand, and halted. Accobrán was at their head.
He caught sight of Eadulf and Menma. Even by the glow from the fire, which made a distorted reflection on his face, Accobrán was clearly surprised.
‘We saw the smoke from the fortress and came to investigate. What’s caused this? What are you doing here, Brother Eadulf?’
Menma took a step forward. ‘Uí Fidgente! They have taken my wife and Sister Fidelma as hostages.’
‘What?’ Accobrán looked startled.
Menma quickly explained the evidence, the Uí Fidgente arrow and shield and the signs of horses.
‘We must ride after them. How much start do you think they have, Menma?’
‘A good half an hour, no more.’
‘Then we may yet catch up with them. This is the first time they have raided our territory for years. Why now?’
Eadulf was mounting his horse and preparing to join Accobrán’s men.
‘Not you, Brother,’ the tanist said sharply. ‘I cannot risk you being slain or taken as a hostage. It is bad enough that the Uí Fidgente have taken the sister of King Colgú. For that, someone will surely pay a price.’
