‘So you knew Ledbán, you say? What did you know of him?’
Temnén rubbed his chin reflectively. ‘Little enough, except that some years ago he was in service to Codlata, whose rath was at the Ford of Flagstones. Ledbán must be elderly now. Brother Lennán was his son. I simply knew him as a physician from Mungairit who came to tend the wounded during the battle. He was no warrior. He should not have been killed.’
‘You know nothing else about Lennán or Ledbán?’
‘If you spoke with Ledbán at Mungairit you must have learned all he could tell you.’
‘Ledbán died the evening we arrived there,’ replied Fidelma.
There was a moment of silence and then Temnén said reflectively: ‘That was bad fortune.’
‘Indeed it was,’ returned Fidelma. ‘Then there is little you can tell us about Lennán or his family?’
‘Little enough, other than what I have already told you. But there may be some left at An tAth Leacach, the Ford of the Flagstones, who still remember old Ledbán. As I recall, the old man was well known for his work with horses.’
‘When the storm clears, we shall continue on there.’ Her sentence was punctuated by another clash of thunder.
Temnén glanced up to the ceiling, as if able to peer through it to the storm raging above.
‘This will not pass for some time. I suggest that you join me in the eter-shod, the middle-meal?’
It was usual to have a light meal between the morning breaking of the fast and the evening meal. Temnén was no poor provider. He produced some cold joints of ham called saille, deriving from the word for salt and applied to any salted meat, for the joints were salted for preservation. These had been mixed with berries of rowan to enhance its flavour. There were also indrechtan, sausages made of a pig’s intestine, stuffed with minced meat, creamh or garlic, folt-chep or leeks, and inecon, carrot that had been cooked, pickled and placed on the table. There was also a dish of barley cakes, the inevitable basket of apples and a jug of ale.
‘You serve an excellent table, Temnén, especially for one who lives alone,’ Fidelma observed.
The farmer shrugged. ‘I make use of that which I am surrounded by.’
‘You work this farm alone?’
‘During the summer months I sometimes share the work and produce with my neighbours.’
‘I did not see any fences marking the boundaries of your farm,’ observed Eadulf.
‘What need?’ replied Temnén. ‘So far as the land is free from forest and bog, it is clan land, and as I was a bó-aire there was little need for fences to mark out my portions of it.’ He hesitated. ‘But after Cnoc Áine some of us are beginning to mark our land even though it was once common property.’
‘It is true that as tillage increases, the Council of the Brehons have introduced new regulations regarding the erection of fences between farmsteads,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘The laws now state how such fences are to be constructed, and if they are not constructed well then the owner is liable if animals are injured by them. For example, if a fence was so constructed that stakes were too sharply pointed and placed in a way to cause injury, that would bring the owner into difficulties.’
‘Doubtless Cashel will send a Brehon to teach our backward lawyers the new laws,’ Temnén said sarcastically.
‘Only if they need instruction,’ replied Fidelma without taking offence. She felt that she should make allowances for the bitterness of the bó-aire. ‘But this law does not come from Cashel. You know that every three years the Brehons gather to discuss and update the laws, and these are promulgated in the name of the Chief Brehon of the Five Kingdoms.’
Temnén suddenly relaxed and smiled.
‘There is much resentment in this land, lady. I suppose I am a symptom of it. It is hard not to feel aggrieved when you see your territory being changed by defeat and conquest.’
Fidelma saw that Gormán was having difficulty restraining himself and she gave the young warrior a warning glance.
‘We won’t argue the rights and wrongs. In Cashel we feel it was wrong for Prince Eoganán to lead his people into rebellion against us and thus, being defeated, the Uí Fidgente reaped what they had sown. Unfortunately, as we have already discussed, in warfare the innocent are swept away with the guilty. That is the sad lesson of life that we must all live with.’
As Temnén was carving the cold ham, his hound, which had been lying so quiet they had almost forgotten it, suddenly gave a little whine and thumped its tail on the floor. It still lay stretched in the corner, but its eyes were alert.