Fidelma said sadly, ‘You sound like a philosopher, Marban. All I know is, Cashel had to defend itself once attacked. But I agree that victory in war does not determine who is right, only who was the strongest. The victory is not a solution and that is why my brother engaged in finding a solution with Prince Donennach. At least, he seemed to understand the path to peace between Cashel and Dún Eochair Maigh.’
‘Well, let us hope he has time to establish that peace. There is much resentment here.’
‘And there are people who will attempt to overthrow him and end the peace?’ queried Eadulf.
‘Isn’t that the nature of things?’ The miller looked sad. ‘Anyway, now you have heard the full story of Liamuin. She was a lovely girl, albeit a foolish one. Many loved her, but she chose the wrong man and suffered for it. Beaten, forced to abandon her own daughter, fleeing to a place where she was killed along with the family of my dear friend who gave her shelter. That is the tragedy of her life.’
Fidelma sighed. ‘I am not sure it is the full story of Liamuin as yet. At least, Marban, I can confirm some good news to alleviate the tragedy. Aibell is, at this moment, safe in Cashel, having escaped from Sliabh Luachra. Furthermore, when I challenged Fidaig he was forced to admit that he acted illegally, as I have already said, and he has agreed to pay a fine and compensation for doing so.’
The miller stared at her in disbelief. ‘Liamuin’s daughter is alive and well?’
‘Your niece is safe, Marban.’
Tears sprang into the eyes of the big man. Then he tried to pull himself together. ‘Liamuin would be overjoyed. The old saying is truly spoken – that dark stormclouds are sent to prove there is such a thing as sunshine. The impossible can happen.’
‘I am sure she will want to meet with you and hear the real story of why her mother had to abandon her,’ Fidelma said kindly. ‘Even more, my friend, I believe that soon we will find out exactly what happened at the rath of Menma – and who is responsible for it.’
As the words left her lips, one of Marban’s men came banging at the mill door and burst in before he could respond. ‘Horses are approaching,’ gasped the man. ‘It is Gláed and his men.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Marban turned pale with apprehension. It was Gormán who sprang into action and snapped at the miller: ‘Are our horses under cover? Will they be spotted? Quick, man!’
The miller seemed in a panic. ‘No, they are standing outside in clear sight. They will be seen before we can run them to the stables.’
Eadulf was glancing up the stairway to the room where they had successfully hidden before, but Fidelma, reading his intention, said: ‘It won’t work twice, Eadulf.’
They could hear the approach of a band of horses and any initiative seemed to drain from them as they realised how close the riders were. Gormán put his hand on his sword in a futile gesture – but Fidelma reached over to stop him.
‘Resistance will only bring about your death more quickly. Our only defence is in my rank and office – not that Gláed seems to be concerned about that. As we cannot hide, let us go and confront him.’
Eadulf would have preferred to have made a run for it rather than be faced with the wayward son of Fidaig, but Fidelma was already moving towards the door with Marban behind her, wringing his hands.
As they exited from the mill a band of thirty horsemen swept up to the mill buildings. Among the first of the horsemen was the man they had spotted previously from the mill room and whom Fidelma had identified as Gláed or rather Brother Adamrae.
Then they halted in surprise, for next to Gláed rode the familiar figure of the warlord of the Uí Fidgente, Conrí, with Socht on the other side of him.
The men reined in their horses before Fidelma and her companions, with Conrí clearly astonished at seeing them.
‘Lady!’ greeted the Uí Fidgente warlord. ‘What are you doing here?’
Fidelma recovered her poise. ‘I would ask you the same question, Conrí … and riding in such company.’
She turned towards Gláed and only then noticed his sullen features and the fact that his hands grasped the reins at an odd angle, the wrists having been tied tightly together with rawhide. She turned back to Conrí with a puzzled look.
Conrí was dismounting with a grin.
‘You were right in your suspicion, lady. There is a plot to overthrow Prince Donennach. But I thought you would have left the hospitality of Marban long ago. The girl at the fortress, Ciarnat, told me where you had gone. If Marban will extend his hospitality so that my men and I can water our horses in the stream here and rest before we take our prisoners back to Dún Eochair Mháigh, I will tell you what we have been about.’