Badger's Moon

set.

‘It is the will of my chieftain. I shall go with you, lady,’ he affirmed.

‘How will you proceed?’ asked Becc, turning back into his hall. They followed him in while someone was sent off to the stables to order the horses to be saddled for them.

‘I think that we will have to see what this Conrí’s intentions are,’ Fidelma said. ‘We know that this foraging party came to the bothán of Menma and Suanach. They kidnapped Suanach, and burnt the cabin. That is hardly in keeping with the behaviour of what the herald described as a peaceful foraging party. For our part, we have to admit that these Uí Fidgente were all slaughtered instead of being made captive.’

Accobrán muttered angrily: ‘Them or me. The choice was obvious.’

‘Are you saying that the messenger was lying when he said that some of the bodies showed that they had been shot or stabbed in the back?’

‘Back or front. An enemy is an enemy and we did right to slaughter the vermin.’

Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment.

‘It might be that compensation will have to be offered for this slaughter, Becc,’ she pointed out.

‘Never!’ snapped Accobrán, his voice rising in his anger.

‘It is surely true, Fidelma,’ Becc said, waving his tanist to be silent, ‘that it is lawful to kill a thief caught in the act of stealing who does not surrender and threatens violence.’

‘That is so, just as it is permitted that a death resulting from defending oneself against an attack is not subject to punishment. Everyone is entitled to self-defence. The problem is whether a case may be made out that a person who has been shot or stabbed in the back was a threat to the life of the person who killed him in this fashion.’ She stared briefly at Accobrán who scowled back at her but made no reply.

‘I think,’ ventured Eadulf hurriedly, seeing the anger in the tanist’s eyes, ‘we had better leave any decisions on culpability until we see what the Uí Fidgente have to say.’

‘Agreed,’ sighed Becc in relief. ‘In the meantime, I do not think it will harm us if we prepare the defences of this fortress.’

‘That would be an obvious course,’ agreed Fidelma solemnly. ‘Also you might enquire how this war band came so near to Rath Raithlen without an alarm being raised. I thought you had ordered a watch yesterday?’

Becc glanced at his tanist. The young man flushed again.

‘I called it off once we had returned here triumphant after pursuing and defeating the raiders.’

Becc did not say anything but his features were like granite as he turned to give instructions, ordering that defences be prepared as they rode out of the gates and down the hill. It was Adag who led them to the area called the Marsh of the Birch, which was scarcely an hour’s ride away. There was no mistaking the area because they were soon in sight of an encampment marked by posts from which red silk banners bearing the wolf symbol fluttered. The wolf symbol was always associated with the Uí Fidgente. Watchful sentinels challenged their party and then allowed them to pass into an area sheltered by trees beside a small stream.

Several warriors stood about there and Fidelma had no trouble recognising the techtaire who had come to the fortress. He looked surprised as she and Eadulf, followed by Adag, dismounted and approached.

Two felled trees provided seats by the banks of the stream.

Fidelma made straight for one of the logs and took a seat, ignoring the astonished looks of the Uí Fidgente. Eadulf and Adag took a stand behind her. The half-dozen dumbfounded warriors looked at one another. No one said anything for a moment and then Fidelma announced icily: ‘I am here to see Conrí. Let him come forward.’

Her natural hauteur and air of command confused them even more and again no one seemed to know how to speak to her.

Then a tall, well-muscled man, with a shock of black hair, grey eyes and the livid white of a scar across his left cheek, emerged from a nearby pupall or tent as used by military commanders in the field. He scowled as he saw Fidelma seated at her ease on the log and moved forward to face her.

‘I am Conrí, King of Wolves, warlord of the Uí Fidgente,’ he growled. ‘You are arrogant, religieuse. You forget your manners.’

Fidelma regarded the man coldly.

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel,’ she replied in icy clear fashion. ‘I am here as a dálaigh, qualified to the degree of anruth. Thus I may sit even in the presence of kings, thus I may speak before they do, and thus they must be silent until I have had my say. I am Fidelma of Cashel, daughter of Failbe Flann, sister to Colgú, who reigns in prosperity there.’

Conrí had taken an involuntary step backwards, his eyes wide. He glanced at his herald and Fidelma noticed the man spread his hands, palms outward, and shake his head as if disclaiming any knowledge.

A look of reluctant admiration spread over Conrí’s features.

‘You have courage, Fidelma of Cashel. I’ll grant you that. Courage that you come with only two unarmed companions into the lair of the warlord of the Uí Fidgente, especially after your brother slaughtered my people on the slopes of Cnoc Áine two years ago.’

Fidelma looked at him levelly. ‘You might recall that it was the hosts of the Uí Fidgente who began a rebellion and marched on the legitimate ruler of Muman. They were an armed host desperate for victory. They had only themselves to blame for their fate. As for the courage of my companions or myself, is courage needed here when we come at your own invitation, under bonds of the strict code of hospitality and the rules of the Brehons which no one can break with impunity? What danger can possibly be here for us?’

She threw the question at him in challenge.

Conrí stared at her for a moment and then his stern features dissolved in a smile. He moved to the second log and sat down opposite her.

‘You are right, Fidelma of Cashel. There is no danger in my camp for you or any member of your party who comes here in the office of techtaire.’

‘That is good. Now, perhaps you will tell me what brings you to this land?’

‘Willingly. Although I would like to know why you are here and how you represent the Cinél na Áeda?’

‘I came at the invitation of Becc, chieftain-’

‘I know of Becc.’ interrupted the warlord. ‘What are you doing in his territory?’

‘I am here as a dálaigh. There have been some unlawful killings among his people.’

Conrí pursed his lips sourly. ‘Then we share a similar goal, for it is the unlawful killings of my men that bring me also into this territory.’

‘I doubt that we share the same goal, Conrí,’ Fidelma returned evenly. ‘But tell me the details for, at this time, it cannot be accepted that the Cinél na Áeda are responsible for the death of your men.’

‘That we must see.’

‘I am told by your techtaire that your host was passing on their way to the games being held by the prince of the Corco Loígde.’

‘That is true,’ agreed the warlord.

‘Why did this group of men, whom you so lament, leave your main body and cross into the territory of the Cinél na Áeda? And spare me the story claimed by your techtaire that they were merely a foraging party.’

Conri regarded her with slightly narrowed eyes.

‘Why do you doubt our word?’ he demanded.

‘Because I happened to be in the bothán of Menma and Suanach when your men rode up outside. This foraging party set fire to that place and took Suanach as a prisoner among them.’

The warlord let his breath out in one long sibilant sigh. His eyes narrowed. ‘You were taken hostage?’

‘Suanach hid me in the sousterrain because she feared that harm would befall me, being sister to the king. I escaped. She did not.’

There was a silence, then Conrí lowered his head slightly.