Atonement of Blood(127)

Gormán and Eadulf edged protectively close to Fidelma. But Conrí’s sword arm did not waver.

‘It is out of respect for the sacred banner that I do what I do now,’ he returned coldly. ‘Many Uí Fidgente would be alive today, had they not listened to the siren call of your father. And now you, too, would have them follow you into the field of blood again. Follow you? In your ambition you even slaughtered your own brother, who was a good, moral man. The blood of many is on your hands.’ He turned to Fidelma. ‘What do you suggest, lady? Is he to be escorted to Cashel for trial?’

Fidelma was shaking her head.

‘I believe Lorcán and his confederates should be tried by his own people. It is to them that he owes an atonement of blood. The decision of what to do with Lorcán will be made by the Uí Fidgente, so that it will create no fresh cause for the Uí Fidgente to nurture any more grievances against Cashel.’

Temnén grinned. ‘Did I not say that you were a wise woman, Fidelma of Cashel? That is a sound judgement.’

‘A judgement that shall be carried out,’ Conrí said firmly.

‘My suggestion is that Lorcán be taken to Dún Eochair Mháigh. He can be imprisoned there until the return of Prince Donennach.’

Lorcán chuckled sourly. ‘If he ever returns.’

Fidelma cast a look of satisfaction at Conrí. ‘Well, then, I will let you await in your prison cell to hear whether Prince Donennach survives the ambush you have set for him and returns with Brehon Uallach as a prisoner.’

She saw the dismay spread over Lorcán’s face as he was led away. He had obviously been banking on the fact that she had not worked out a major part of his plan to kill Prince Donennach on Cashel territory.

‘You are forgetting Gláed, lady,’ muttered Conrí.

Artgal took a pace forward. ‘You promised that I could take my brother back to Sliabh Luachra to be tried for the murder of our father, lady,’ he reminded her.

‘And so it shall be done,’ she said without hesitation. ‘I think Gláed will receive the justice he deserves from his own people.’

A grim smile was on Artgal’s lips. ‘You may be assured of that, lady.’

‘What about the abbey?’ Abbot Nannid sounded uncharacteristically humble.

‘What about the abbey?’ Fidelma enquired innocently.

‘If this conspiracy was nurtured in this abbey, are we not culpable for fines under the law?’

‘Not in my judgement,’ she assured him. ‘However, I will, as I have said, take my brother’s shield back to him as well as the golden collars of those of my brother’s warriors who died in battle. They belong to their widows and children. I would advise you that a shrine to a battle is one thing, but a shrine which has the potential for perpetuating hatred is another. Any representations you may want to make are best submitted to the Brehon of the Uí Fidgente – that is, once a new Brehon is appointed.’

‘So what can we do now?’

‘Now?’ Fidelma glanced out into the darkness that had enveloped the abbey. ‘Now I think we shall avail ourselves of your hospitality. Hot baths and an evening meal. Then a good night’s rest, before my companions and I start back for Cashel in the morning.’





CHAPTER TWENTY





It was late the next morning when Fidelma, Eadulf and Gormán began to cross the marshland to the south-east of Mungairit and turn along the road that would lead them back to Ara’s Well on their way home to Cashel. For the first time in a while, Eadulf felt he could talk freely.

‘I shall be glad to get back to Cashel and our son,’ he said to Fidelma, looking at the distant hills. ‘I cannot say I have much desire to return into the country of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘It is all the Kingdom of Muman, Eadulf,’ she reproved.

‘It may well be, but this is not a territory in which I am at ease. Anyway, I feel strangely dissatisfied. It seems to me that there are still questions that remain unanswered.’

‘Such as?’ she asked innocently.

It was Gormán who answered. ‘We have not identified the warrior of the Golden Collar who stayed at Menma’s rath. Why did he leave it and never return after Lugna, or rather Lorcán, destroyed it? If he was in love with Liamuin, why did he not want revenge or even to punish the attackers?’

‘Now that is a good question, Gormán. Yet in the overall scheme of things, his identity does not matter. However, I think I will find an answer to that, once we return to Cashel.’

The young warrior rode on in thoughtful silence for a while before suddenly addressing no one in particular. ‘Knowing what I now know, I realise that I was too hasty in condemning that young girl, Aibell. She was very attractive and to have been a bondservant to that man Fidaig, unjustly enslaved and … Well, one can forgive her temper and …’