“What is the plea?”
“My wife, my wife, Cara, Cara. She has disappeared, disappeared. Carried off in an Uí Fidgente raid, a raid.”
Sister Fidelma felt Conrí stir and glanced quickly at him to still any outburst.
“And when was this raid?”
“Last night, maybe this morning. Yes, this morning.”
“I see. And they carried off your wife?”
“They did, they did.”
“Tell us about it, in your own words.”
Febrat glanced to his left and then his right in quick nervous motions and then his dark black eyes focused on Fidelma. He spoke rapidly and with many repetitions.
He and his wife, Cara, had gone to bed at the usual hour. Around dawn they had been awoken by the noise of horses and men riding about the farmstead. He had taken his billhook, his only weapon, and gone out to see what was happening. In the yard, he recognized men of the Uí Fidgente apparently trying to steal his livestock. He was aware that his wife was behind him for he heard her cry out. That was the last thing that he had heard for something must have hit him. He awoke on the floor beside his bed and all was quiet. His wife had disappeared.
He ended his swift recital of the facts and stood looking at Sister Fidelma, waiting for her reaction.
Díomsach stifled a yawn at her side.
“Febrat, this is the third time you have come before me with tales of raids by the Uí Fidgente. .”
“False tales,” interrupted Conrí in annoyance.
“In the other two instances,” went on the chief of the Tuatha Cromadh, “we have investigated and found your stories to be untrue. Do you expect us to believe you now?”
Febrat glanced quickly at him and then back to Fidelma.
“All true, all true,” he replied. “I never told a lie, a lie. Not before and not now. My wife has been taken by the raiders, by the raiders. True, I swear it.”
“As you have sworn before and found to be a liar!” snapped Díomsach.
“Come here, Febrat,” Sister Fidelma instructed quietly.
The man hesitated.
“Come and stand before me here!” she repeated more sharply.
He did so.
“Now kneel down.”
Her eyes glinted as he hesitated for a fraction, and then he dropped to one knee.
“Bow your head.”
He did so. She peered into the gray tousled mess of hair, much to the surprise of Díomsach and Conrí.
“Stand back,” she instructed after a moment or two, and when he had resumed his place, Fidelma pursed her lips. “This blow that knocked you unconscious, it was on the head?”
“It was, it was.”
“There is an abrasion on the side of your head,” she confirmed.
“The story is false, Fidelma,” Díomsach said. “Let him return to his farmstead and we will discuss what is to be done later.”
Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment, and then said to the warrior, Fallach, “Take Febrat outside for a moment.”
When they had gone, Fidelma turned to her companions.
“This case intrigues me.”
The chief of the Tuatha Cromadh made a sound like a cynical chuckle.
“You surely don’t believe the man, do you? Because he has an abrasion on the side of his head does not prove his ridiculous story.”
“Did I say that it did prove his story? What I believe is not relevant to the matter. I know that this matter cannot be left as it is. Either there is something that motivates this man to come with his stories to you, something which is substantial, or it is something that is due to a dementia. Either way, one should investigate so that the good of the people may be safeguarded. I would like you, Díomsach, to keep Febrat in your custody while I will ride out to Febrat’s farm-stead and speak to his wife, Cara. And I shall take your chief warrior, Fallach, as escort in case of trouble.”
“I can tell you this, Fidelma of Cashel, there has been no Uí Fidgente raid,” Conrí announced belligerently.
Fidelma returned his sour look with a bright smile.
“I am sure that had such a raid taken place you, as an Uí Fidgente chieftain, would have the honesty to admit it,” she said softly.
Conrí’s jaws snapped shut for a moment.
“I can give you this assurance, lady, that if there had been a raid, word of it would have come to my ear,” he said stiffly.
“Excellent.” Fidelma rose and looked across to where Brother Colla, the scriptor, was still working away.
“You may say that this court has ceased its hearing
“You are not going before the feasting?” demanded Díomsach in dismay.
“I think this matter demands my immediate attention. But I shall return, hopefully before evening, to enjoy your feasting.”
Díomsach’s face fell for he had been expecting to start the feasting and entertainment within that very hour and now the laws of hospitality would prevent him starting before his chief guest, the sister of the king, was ready to join him.
Febrat’s farmstead stood in lush fields by the river of the plain, the Maigue, about an hour’s ride from Díomsach’s fortress. The nearest hills were a mile or two to the south and east.
Fallach, riding at Fidelma’s side, stretched out a hand to indicate the group of buildings sheltering behind a small copse of oaks and yew.
“There is Febrat’s farm, lady.”
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed as they rode nearer. There came to her ears the sound of some cows in distress, a bellowing which she was able to interpret immediately.
“It sounds as though the cows have not been milked,” Fallach announced, interpreting the sound as she had but before she could articulate it.
They rode into the yard and looked ’round. Sure enough, two cows were bellowing in plaintive tones in a nearby paddock. Chickens ignored them and continued pecking their haphazard way around the yard. Other animals meandered here and there: a few sheep, several goats. Apart from that the place seemed deserted.
Fidelma dismounted and stood looking around.
Fallach had also slid from his horse, and tied their horses to the rail before striding forward to the house, shouting loudly for the wife of Febrat. There was no respond.
“Shall we search inside, lady?” he asked.
Fidelma sighed deeply.
“Our first duty is to put those animals out of their misery,” indicating the two cows. “Find buckets. You take one and I will take the other.”
Fallach looked shocked.
“But lady, I am a warrior. .”
“I am sure the poor beasts will overlook that fact as they will overlook the fact that I am a
He flushed and turned to search for buckets.
A while later when the lowing of the cows had ceased and the buckets were almost full, Fidelma and Fallach
