Atonement of Blood(111)

‘And then he died?’

‘While knowing full well that death was at hand, he remounted his horse and rode back towards the battlefield. It seemed that he did not make it, but he was close enough for the others to think he had been killed on the field of battle or died trying to leave it. At any rate, his visit to his sister was not known.’

‘Except to you. This is the story that Liamuin told you?’

‘He had impressed his fear into the poor girl. She took the metal wolf of the Cathach, placed it in a sack, and realising she could not wait for her daughter to return from the fields, she left Dún Eochair Mháigh and so headed upriver to me.’

‘So you weren’t simply concerned with Escmug chasing after her?’

The miller shook his head. ‘Not just Escmug, although I knew he would guess where she had fled. As I told you, Menma, the bó-aire, was one of the most moral people I knew. That is why I sent her to his rath. I suggested that we take the Cathach and have him hide it.’

‘And what of her daughter, Aibell?’

‘The plan was for her to be told where her mother was later. Escmug believed that Liamuin had simply run away from him and for no other reason than she was tired of him. In revenge, he decided to do something that would wound Liamuin. That was when he sold Aibell to Fidaig as a bondservant. As I have already told you, I had no regrets in killing that animal.’

‘So Liamuin hid with Menma and nothing was done about her daughter?’

‘What could we do? The child had become a slave – to Fidaig of all people. As I told you before, she was as good as dead.’

‘Yet she did not die. I have spoken with Fidaig and he accepts that he has done wrong in law by taking the girl from Escmug knowing she was at the age of choice.’

The miller’s expression was one of incredulity.

‘Lady, you have seen that we are not far from the great fastness of the Luachra, where Fidaig and his sons rule. His power extends even over the hills where my friend Menma used to dwell. I swear that I gave up all hope of Aibell being rescued when I heard that Escmug had given her to the Luachra.’

‘Let us speak of Gláed first,’ Fidelma said. ‘I am told he played a role at Cnoc Áine – even against the wishes of his father. His ambition lay with the Uí Fidgente.’

Marban’s mouth tightened. ‘That is true, lady. Fidaig was not really interested in Eoganán’s claims to the kingship of Cashel nor, indeed, in the Uí Fidgente at all. He was concerned in building up his own fiefdom within the fastness of the Sliabh Luachra. There is a natural fortress with its great mountain barriers.’

Eadulf rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘How well known is Gláed among the Uí Fidgente? Surely he would be recognised by all the Uí Fidgente nobles? Conrí, for example.’

Fidelma saw what Eadulf was driving at but Marban was shaking his head.

‘Outside of these borderlands, I doubt many know him at all. Although he is ambitious, don’t forget he was from Sliabh Luachra and joined Eoganán with only a small band of followers – against his father’s wishes. After Eoganán’s defeat, he was not considered of any importance to the Uí Fidgente. The war was four years ago.’

‘Would Gláed know the worth of the Cathach?’

‘It would not mean much to him personally, but he might know that any dissident prince of the Uí Fidgente would do anything to have it returned to Dún Eochair Mháigh. In the hands of our nobles it is a powerful symbol; a symbol of our past and a promise of our future – a symbol that we are not a defeated people.’

Gormán stirred uneasily but Fidelma shot him a warning glance.

‘As you say, the war is long over, Marban. Hopefully, the Uí Fidgente no longer have any ambition to fight to assert their superiority,’ she said firmly. ‘Too many have died for that ambition. Too many mothers have lost sons.’

Eadulf added softly: ‘Bella detesta matribus – wars, the horror of mothers.’

‘I believe in peace as well as the next man,’ Marban stated. ‘I pray Prince Donennach will last long enough to ensure that this peace, a peace we have known for the last four years, continues. But it is a fact that the only outcome of war is hatred and more war. And I fear it will be so. War will come again out of resentment. Don’t forget, lady, in a conquered land, the defeat of its army leaves three armies in its place. An army of wounded and cripples; an army of mourners and haters; and an army of thieves and opportunists. Out of those three comes the growing resentment to seek atonement from the conquerors. An atonement in blood.’