‘There is one other thing,’ Boric added. ‘At this point, the tracks indicate that the two horses were proceeding at no more than a walking pace. So they must have realised, at this point, that they were
‘Are you sure?’ Bleidbara frowned. ‘Maybe these are the wrong tracks. When they arrived at Brilhag, they came at a gallop.’
The stocky tracker shook his head. ‘The horses were certainly not galloping here. I’d stake my sword on it.’
‘We will continue — but with caution,’ decided Bleidbara. ‘Keep an eye on the tracks, Boric.’
‘How far to this oratory?’ asked Eadulf as they set off again.
‘We are fairly close now. It is towards the north-east, along the shore of the Morbihan. There are some farmsteads in this area. They are well away from the main course of this track, more towards the south.’
‘Then we should be coming to the bodies of Riwanon’s companions soon,’ Eadulf deduced.
From time to time, Boric had halted and dismounted to check the tracks but he had found no sign of anything untoward until they came to a track that intersected the one they were following. Here he reported that several horses had halted for a little while, for the ground was churned by their hooves.
‘I can see that two horses have left the main group here. They are going back to Brilhag.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bleidbara asked.
‘I can only report what I see on the ground,’ replied Boric stoically. ‘Shall we continue on?’
Bleidbara gestured assent.
Eadulf was thoughtful, still wondering why Fidelma had made him come along. Was there something she already knew or suspected?
After another period had passed, Bleidbara pointed through the trees on their left, north of their position.
‘Those are the waters of Morbihan and the oratory is nearby.’
Eadulf followed his quick gesture and saw waters glistening beyond the trees.
‘Well, one thing is for sure,’ Bleidbara said. ‘The raiders are long gone from this area and certainly did not maintain their pursuit of Riwanon and Budic after they had ambushed them.’
‘That might be so,’ Eadulf agreed as he looked around. ‘However, we haven’t yet come to the spot where the ambush took place.’
‘True enough,’ the other man agreed. ‘We ought by now to have come across the bodies of those warriors who fell and, of course, the girl, Ceingar. The attack was probably closer to the oratory than Riwanon allowed. We’ll continue on…’
He paused, for the stout tracker was standing still. He was sniffing the air suspiciously.
‘I smell a fire,’ he announced.
They could all smell it now. Boric silently pointed to the south, away from Morbihan. There was a gap in the canopy of leafy branches that showed clear sky and something else. A column of black smoke was rising and drifting against the blue.
‘A forest fire?’ demanded Eadulf, looking at it and then glancing at the tall trees on either side of the track that suddenly seemed to grow menacingly around them.
‘I don’t think so,’ Bleidbara replied quietly. ‘That is a man-made fire.’
Boric remounted. ‘I’ll ride on ahead,’ he called over his shoulder as he urged his horse forward at a canter.
Bleidbara signalled his band to follow carefully. The smell of burning wood became stronger.
‘There is a farmstead beyond that hill,’ he said to Eadulf. ‘Perhaps the farmer is burning his fields. It’s that time of year.’
Eadulf vaguely knew that some farmers burned corn stubble in their fields on alternate years to ensure more fertile ground. It was a practice that, not being a farmer, he did not really understand.
‘Why are you sure it is not a forest fire?’ he enquired.
Bleidbara grinned. ‘When you have lived in a forest you begin to develop a feeling, an instinct, and you also develop your eyes for such things.’
They found a small fork in the track that meandered off to the right and ascended a sloping area of ground. Boric was still ahead of them. The trees began to thin a little and suddenly they saw him halt his horse at the top of the rise. He did not turn round but held up his hand as if to stay their advance.
They came up carefully behind him and halted.
Some cultivated fields stretched before them, leading down to a stream, which ran snake-like through their middle. But it was not these that were on fire. On the far side of the fields were what seemed to have been a log-built farmhouse and some outbuildings. It was these that were on fire.
A group of people were milling about, some trying to form a human chain to the stream, along which they passed pails of water in a fruitless attempt to douse the flames. Some bodies were laid out nearby.
Eadulf tried to focus on the scene to discern its cause.
There was a sudden shout of warning from the people below. One of them was pointing up the hill towards them. Some grabbed for weapons. It was clear that their group had been spotted and identified as a potential threat.
Bleidbara began to ride slowly forward while Eadulf and the others followed a short distance behind.
As they grew close, Eadulf saw that those trying to put out the flames were reforming in defensive positions. They were those same sturdy farmers who had gathered to attack the abbey on the previous day. He could tell by their clothing and curious agricultural weaponry. He recognised the small man, what was his name? Coric! Coric — the friend of Barbatil, the father of the murdered Argantken.
They were halfway across the field when Bleidbara halted and called to Coric. It was in retrospect that Bleidbara interpreted the shouted conversation to Eadulf.
‘Coric! It is I, Bleidbara. We are friends!’ he cried.
‘You come under the banner of Brilhag,’ replied the little man. ‘That is no sign of friendship — after this.’ He gestured around him.
‘What do you mean?’
‘A group of your warriors attacked this farmstead, slaughtered old Goustan the farmer and his family and set fire to it. How should we welcome you as friends?’
‘No warriors of mine did this, Coric. We have come from Brilhag in search of the brigands who ambushed Queen Riwanon this morning. Two of her warriors were slain, and her maid.’
Coric stood uncertainly. ‘How can we know that you tell the truth?’
‘I am Bleidbara. I grew up among you. My word is my honour.’
‘I cannot accept the word of anyone who serves Brilhag after this day. Warriors have attacked us poor farmers too many times. But today, today marks an end of it. We will fight back. So I warn you, Bleidbara, stay back!’
‘They may be using the banner of Brilhag, but that does not mean they are
‘So you say. We will choose our own counsel.’
Bleidbara was losing patience. ‘Just tell us what happened and which way these raiders have gone?’
There was a pause, then Coric’s surly voice answered, ‘We saw smoke rising and, as several of our farmsteads had been attacked before, we came in a body to see what was happening. From the rise there, we saw half-a-dozen men loading booty on their horses. The cabin was already blazing. Old Goustan was still alive, we saw him arguing with the looters. Then one of them, perhaps the leader, simply drew his sword and cut him down. There was a scream and we saw Goustan’s wife and child run from behind one of the huts. They did not reach him. Their bodies lie there.’
Again Coric gestured.
‘We gave a shout of anger and all of us, as one man, raised what weapons we could and began to run down the hill. The attackers saw us. They had bows and might have cut down some of us. But their leader was wise, for he simply signalled his men to mount and they went riding away.’
‘How long ago was this?’ demanded Bleidbara sharply.
‘An hour — perhaps more. The blaze was so strong here that we have not been able to quench it.’
