Eadulf knew that most clans, when they went to battle, usually carried into the conflict a sacred object which they believed gave them strength and protection. The object was known as a cathach or battler. More recently, as the New Faith spread, some clans carried a copy of one or other of the Scriptures while others carried a reliquary of the great teachers of the Faith. But this was an ancient symbol from the time before the New Faith.
As if reading his thoughts, Fidaig said: ‘This is supposed to be the very standard that the Goddess of Darkness and Sorcery, the Mongfhind, gave to Fiachu Fidgenid, the progenitor of the Uí Fidgente, at the time before time.’ His tone was a mixture of wonder and dread.
‘Are you saying that it is the battle standard of the Uí Fidgente, last seen during the conflict at Cnoc Áine?’ asked Fidelma.
‘It disappeared from the battlefield. It was thought to have been looted and taken to Cashel, but your brother denied all knowledge of taking it as part of the spoils of battle.’
‘Had it been taken to Cashel, then it would have been destroyed,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Its symbol would have aroused too many passions among the Uí Fidgente. The question is – how has it fallen into the hands of Ordan?’
‘A question we should now attempt to answer,’ Eadulf said, turning and jumping down from the wagon before he held out his arm to assist Fidelma down.
Her feet had barely touched the ground when there were shouts coming from the direction of Fidaig’s tent, followed by the sound of a horse galloping off.
‘If the guard has let that merchant escape …’ began Fidaig, stifling an oath.
They were running for the tent across the campsite. The warriors milled around in confusion as Fidaig began yelling orders for the wagon to be protected, for others to chase after the fugitive.
They halted at the entrance of the pupall. There, lying on the ground, was the rotund form of Ordan. Eadulf went immediately to kneel by him. Ordan was clutching his side where blood was seeping over his clothing. His face was deathly white. One look into his eyes and Eadulf knew that Ordan had resigned himself to death. A tongue licked over the pale lips.
‘Wealth … more wealth than I ever dreamed of. He promised me … he promised …’
Fidelma knelt by his other side, glancing at Eadulf who shook his head.
‘Who promised you this, Ordan?’ she asked softly.
‘He would be King … he promised.’
‘Gláed? Did he promise you wealth? What was he to be King of?’
The dying merchant stared at Fidelma as if not recognising her.
‘Not Gláed. Must get it … get to Mungairit. He promised … he …’
With a sigh, Ordan suddenly went limp. Fidelma did not have to ask Eadulf whether he was dead or not.
Slowly, she and Eadulf stood up. Fidaig had just been speaking to his son Artgal. He came towards them with an angry expression.
‘It seems that one of my warriors drew his knife and killed Ordan. Then he leaped on a horse and rode away. It was Loeg, one of the men you prevented from engaging in the single combat earlier.’
Fidelma glanced into the darkness beyond the campfires. ‘Was Loeg one of Gláed’s men?’ she asked.
‘He came from Barr an Bheithe,’ acknowledged Fidaig bitterly.
‘I suppose there will be no chance of overtaking him in this darkness?’
‘Half a dozen of my men are now chasing him,’ Fidaig replied. ‘I doubt that they will be able to catch him. Come daylight, they might be able to track him, but I suspect that he will have gone to ground before then.’
‘Was the attack unprovoked?’ Eadulf asked, although he already knew the answer. ‘Did Ordan make an attempt to escape?’
‘It was when you discovered the Cathach and the news spread that Loeg struck,’ Artgal said, having followed his father to their group.
‘You think that he did it to prevent Ordan revealing where he obtained it?’ queried Fidaig, troubled. ‘If my son was buying arms then he was surely plotting against me – plotting my overthrow.’
‘That might well be,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Except that I think it was a bigger conspiracy – and one to which the Cathach of the Uí Fidgente is the key. You heard what Ordan said. The answer is at Mungairit.’
The lord of the Luachra shook his head stubbornly. ‘My concern is to stop Gláed’s folly. If he wants to take over the chieftainship of the Luachra, then he must confront me first. I am taking my men to Barr an Bheithe tomorrow. Gláed has much to learn if he thinks he can outsmart me, lady.’
‘Then I suggest that we split up and go our separate ways. I think it is important that we get to Mungairit in view of the discovery of the Cathach and Ordan’s dying words, so Eadulf, Gormán and I will continue north to Mungairit at sun-up.’