She answered Fidelma’s greeting with a lack of enthusiasm.
‘What do you seek here?’ she demanded gruffly.
‘We are looking for what used to be the rath of Menma,’ called Fidelma without dismounting, unperturbed by the woman’s hostility.
‘The rath of Menma, is it?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘He is long dead and his rath is no more than a pile of firewood.’
‘So I have been told. And in which direction do we go from here?’
The woman gestured along the path to the west. ‘Keep on this track and you will come to it. But there is nothing there now. As I said, Menma is dead. They were all killed years ago.’
‘Were there no survivors?’ asked Fidelma.
Again she was met with a suspicious frown. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘If there were survivors of that tragic event, I would like to speak with them. I am a dálaigh.’
The woman blinked. ‘A lawyer? We do not have many lawyers coming along this track.’ She suddenly gave a grunt; it took them a while to realise it was a sardonic laugh. ‘In fact, you are the first strangers I have seen since the harvest.’
‘Have you lived here long?’
‘I was born on that far hill. My husband, Cadan, runs this farm. He’s away with the sheep right now.’
‘So you lived here at the time when Menma’s place was burned down?’
‘Why the questions, lady?’
‘I want to know what happened.’
‘That I can’t tell you in detail. One day we saw smoke rising above Menma’s homestead. I called my man. He and my son ran to help – but by the time they reached it, all that was left were slain bodies and smoking ruins.’
‘You knew Menma, of course?’
‘Of course.’
‘And what of his household?’
‘He had a large household. There was Menma, his wife and two sons who worked the farm. He had cornfields on the plain below. He also had two servants … oh, and there was a woman. She was a guest. I think that she might have been a relative. I forget her name now.’
‘Was anyone else at the farmstead that day?’
She shook her head. ‘Not on that day.’
Fidelma caught the inflection. ‘So, on other days there were people staying or visiting.’
‘There was one warrior. I was told that he was one of the Eóghanacht troops sent to keep us in order. It was in those days following the great defeat and there were several Eóghanacht soldiers encamped around here. He was their commander. I only saw him from a distance, riding across the hills with his men. Thankfully, he had no cause to come to our farmstead.’
‘You do not know who he was – his name, or what he looked like?’
‘Why all these questions?’ the woman muttered impatiently. ‘Who are you, lady?’
‘I told you, I am a dálaigh and I want to know what happened at Menma’s rath.’
The woman sniffed. ‘A bit late for that isn’t it, when all these years have passed.’
‘And you say no one survived?’
A cunning look spread across her features. ‘Did I say that?’
‘Then someone did survive?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘Old Suanach survived. She had worked for the family ever since she was a young girl.’
‘Suanach? Where would we find her?’
‘You just carry on beyond the ruined rath. The track leads into a forest. She took refuge there afterwards and still lives there. My man and my son found her more dead than alive and brought her here at first. We nursed her as best we could, with the help of the local apothecary, until she eventually said she would go to live across the hill. Old Menma had a cabin in the forest where he once employed a woodsman, for the forest was partially his.’
‘Thank you. That is very helpful. Did she ever tell you what happened?’
‘That the Eóghanacht horsemen attacked the rath for no reason. Cadan, my husband, was able to confirm that.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘My man is a good woodsman. He saw the signs of several horses. Most people had been killed by sword blows. The woman who was staying with them had been shot with arrows and so had one of the servants. Old Suanach would have been dead too from a hefty blow to the back of her skull from a sword but, thanks be, it merely knocked her unconscious but left such a bloody mess that they thought she was dead.’
‘You’ve been very helpful,’ Fidelma repeated. ‘What is your name?’
‘Flannait is my name.’
‘Then my thanks, Flannait.’ Fidelma turned and led the way along to the track across the hillside.
It was not long before they came across a large site of overgrown scrubland. Half-hidden amidst it were the remains of stone and burned wooden constructions; the stones were scarred and blackened by fire. Already nature was beginning to claim the site for grass, shrubs and trees were spreading across it. A quick glance assured them that it had once been a substantial rath, a large house with many outbuildings. They paused only momentarily before moving on along the track towards the forest beyond. It was a large area of evergreen, holly, mixing with blackthorns. The many-branched trees rose to contest the hardy grey alders with their pointed leaves and smooth grey bark. Even rowans spread towards the ridge of the hill. Moss, fern and lichen all clustered among them giving the impression of a dark, impenetrable forest.