‘So, as far as you are concerned, there was no reason?’
‘He was an Eóghanacht warrior. Did he need a reason? They spread death and destruction wherever they go.’
Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment. Eadulf had noticed that she had been tense since the woman had mentioned the shield. Now she seemed to allow herself to relax a little.
‘Did anyone come to investigate this matter?’ she asked.
‘None to my knowledge. Oh, I did hear that someone had been asking questions about the attack some time afterwards. But no one knew who it was. I was still confined at Flannait’s cabin and in no fit state to answer questions. I am told that after that, there was no sign of the warrior who led the attack or anyone else. Of course, by then a peace was agreed between our people and the Eóghanacht. Much good did it do us.’
To their surprise the old woman suddenly spat at her feet.
‘I say this to the Eóghanacht of Cashel – may they melt off the face of this land like snow melts off a hedge when the sun appears. May guinea fowl cry at each new birth from the loins of their women. May the old ones die roaring. May they have only ashes in their hearth through the coldest winter. And may they sustain no comfort in this world nor the other one.’
Fidelma shivered suddenly at the chill intensity of her voice. Eadulf looked angry.
‘Christ forgive you, woman. It is against the Faith to make such a curse. It is bad and penance should be made,’ he admonished.
‘Bad was its inspiration,’ muttered the old woman, ‘and the bad seed only produces a bad harvest. I have already served my penance and now it is the turn of others to serve their due.’
Fidelma gave a warning glance at Eadulf when he would pursue the moral rebuke. She rose to her feet and reluctantly Eadulf followed.
‘I thank you for telling your story, Suanach. It was bad, what happened to you – but you cannot curse a whole people for what one person has done. It is wrong to live with such bitterness in old age.’
‘It is that bitterness which sustains me in what is left of my life, dálaigh,’ she replied emphatically.
Fidelma led the way back through the fern-covered path to the main track.
‘Where now, lady?’ asked Gormán as they rejoined him.
‘I think we will return to Flannait’s farm. There are some further questions I would like to ask.’
‘The old woman was still very angry,’ remarked Eadulf, after they had quickly told Gormán what had happened.
‘I cannot believe someone of the Nasc Niadh could do such a thing,’ the young warrior said. ‘It goes against all our training, all our code of chivalry.’
‘Yet it must be true,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Warriors have sometimes been known to betray their code as well as loyalty to those they claim to hold dear and to serve until death.’
‘It is hard to accept that a warrior of the Golden Collar could have done this thing, but if the evidence shows it then we must accept it,’ Eadulf said sadly. ‘We must then find out who is the man responsible and secure his punishment.’
‘If only Suanach had not forgotten his name,’ replied Fidelma. ‘She is certain she saw him lead the attack, but only because he wore a golden collar.’
‘And carried a shield,’ added Eadulf. ‘Remember? The shield bore the symbol of a bejewelled stag rampant on it.’
Gormán’s reaction was a sharp tug on his reins so that his horse came to an abrupt halt. He turned a pale face to them.
‘You did not mention this before,’ he grated.
Eadulf looked at him in bewilderment. ‘Is there something I should know?’ he asked uneasily, recalling Fidelma’s reaction when Suanach had mentioned it.
‘There is only one person who is allowed to carry on his shield a bejewelled stag rampant.’ Fidelma’s voice was almost inaudible.
‘The stag rampant is the symbol of the Eóghanacht. That shield is only carried by the King of Muman,’ Gormán added grimly.
They rode on in silence for a while. It was Eadulf who finally broke it.
‘If the old woman was the sole survivor of the attack, then she must have told someone who also knew who carried such a shield.’
‘Suanach did not know the meaning of the shield,’ Fidelma objected.
‘But the person she told might have done. That person thought it was your brother, and if we find the person she told, we know the assassin. Don’t we need to go back and ask who she has told?’
‘You believe that the assassin came to Cashel to claim blood vengeance?’ Fidelma was reflective. ‘I am not sure. The fact that he cried “Remember Liamuin!” and not “Menma” would indicate that he sought vengeance for her and no other. It is logical, but then why wait all these years?’