‘And no one helped you? You did this alone?’
‘It happened as I said. He was shouting and raving. His anger grew murderous as he realised that I had been helping Liamuin the whole time. No one else was involved.’
Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘So his death was in self-defence,’ she murmured.
‘But what of Liamuin?’ Eadulf wanted to know. ‘You said that she was dead?’
‘So I have been told.’
‘You must know more. Explain.’
‘All of this happened after the war against Cashel. With the defeat and death of our Prince, warriors of Cashel came to occupy certain places to ensure our people were pacified. It was not a good time for any of us.’
‘Go on,’ prompted Fidelma when he paused.
‘Menma told me that a warrior came to his rath and demanded to stay.’
‘Who was this warrior?’
‘I do not know. Only that he was of Cashel and wore the same golden circlet around his neck as you wear.’
‘Then he was a member of my brother’s bodyguard?’
‘Whoever he was, lady, my friend Menma was forced to give him hospitality. It seemed his task was to ensure there were no threatening disturbances in the foothills that border the territory of our lands with those of the Luachra.’
Even Eadulf had to chuckle at this. ‘One warrior?’
‘He was the commander of a troop that encamped in those hills between Sliabh Luachra and the Uí Fidgente territory. He would go and consult with them from time to time to ensure there were no rumblings of discontent while the peace negotiations were continuing.’
The miller stopped and wiped his brow with a piece of cloth before going on.
‘As I said earlier, the mind of a woman is beyond understanding. Within a short space of time Liamuin and this Cashel warrior grew close; even though her own brother had been killed at Cnoc Áine, she and this warrior became lovers. Menma tried to warn her. He even sent for me to come and try to speak with her.’
‘And did you?’
Marban sighed deeply. ‘When I reached Menma’s fortress, it was a burned-out shell. Menma, my good friend, was dead, along with his wife and sons and almost his entire household. Liamuin was also dead.’
‘And this Cashel warrior?’
‘I found out from neighbours that one day, after it was thought this warrior had gone into the hills, he and his men suddenly returned and without warning they attacked Menma’s fortified house. I was told that Liamuin was struck down by one of his bowmen. The place was put to the torch. The folk from a neighbouring farmstead buried them.’
‘And could anyone identify the warrior who had done this terrible deed?’ Fidelma’s voice had gone dry. When Marban silently shook his head, she went on: ‘What of these neighbours? Did they not learn anything at all about him?’
‘Only that he was from Cashel and wore the golden collar. It is some years now, but I think there was a survivor who reached the safety of the forest during the attack. I am not sure, but that is what I was told. A name might be known among those neighbouring farmsteads.’
Fidelma was surprised. ‘Do you mean that Menma’s farmstead was the only one torched? That the other farmsteads were left alone?’
‘It seemed so. But such things were what we of the Uí Fidgente had to endure in those months after the defeat at Cnoc Áine,’ the miller added bitterly.
There was a silence and then Fidelma said: ‘I can assure you, Marban, that I will do all in my power to find out who that warrior and his men were. There is surely a way of tracking him down. When we do, he will find himself answerable to the law.’
The miller uttered a cynical laugh as he said, ‘I am an Uí Fidgente, lady. The warrior was an Eóganacht, one of your kind. Do you seriously expect me to believe that the victor will punish his own?’
‘That is the law, and if it is not applied then there is no justice.’
‘I have seen enough Eóganacht justice,’ the miller grunted.
‘You will see it,’ emphasised Fidelma. ‘That is my promise.’
‘And you will swear that on all that is sacred to you?’
‘On all that is sacred to me, I swear it,’ she replied solemnly.
There was a silence and then Eadulf said: ‘And what of her daughter, Aibell? You have not said why you believe her to be dead.’
This time the man hesitated a moment. ‘I went to Fidaig, as Escmug said he had sold her to him as a bondservant, but Fidaig denied all knowledge of the transaction. So I realised that either Fidaig was lying, or that Escmug must have killed the girl, as people suspected. My brother was a vile, vengeful man. Anyway, to all intents my niece was beyond rescue and therefore as good as dead.’ The miller bowed his head, sighed, then rose suddenly, saying, ‘I must attend to my workers. I presume you are anxious to continue your journey?’