‘Did he know that it was the warrior she apparently had affection for, the one who carried out the attack?’ asked Eadulf.
‘He did. For he left after Suanach had recovered and told her story.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Alas, we don’t know. Maolán was talented and set out to make his way in the world. He had an eye, that boy.’
‘An eye?’ asked Eadulf curiously, not understanding the expression.
‘He was a good copyist. He went off to do that as a means of earning his living.’
‘So is there nothing you can tell me that would help identify this warrior?’ Fidelma asked in frustration, returning to the main question. She was looking intently at Cadan as she spoke and he tugged at his lower lip with one hand under her scrutiny.
‘What sort of things?’ he countered. ‘I only saw him once or twice from a distance. All I know is that he wore the Eóganacht golden collar.’
‘Was he old or young? Fair or dark? That sort of thing,’ intervened Eadulf.
‘He was not a boy, he was a young man. That is all I recall.’
‘Surely you could tell whether he was fair or dark.’
‘Fair.’
‘Not red-haired,’ Fidelma suddenly said. ‘Say red hair like mine?’
The farmer looked at her red tresses and then shook his head. There seemed an easing of tension in Fidelma’s body.
‘Presumably this warrior with fair hair carried a shield? A warrior has on his shield his suaicheantas, his emblem, by which his friends and his enemies alike would know him,’ Eadulf said.
Cadan’s brows drew together in concentration as he tried to remember. ‘His shield was plain. There was no motif upon it except …’ He paused. ‘No, the shield was coloured red with a single, narrow blue strip across it.’
Fidelma glanced at Gormán, who shook his head.
She knew that the warriors of the Golden Collar who formed the Lucht-tíghe, the house company, were the chosen élite among the bodyguards of the King. But each had his own individual emblem or insignia. These men were classed as the ridire or champions. Beyond them the King could call on larger forces in times of danger, but he usually kept one Catha or battalion, of 3,000 warriors, permanently on call throughout the kingdom. These were divided into various units: each unit was marked by a shield emblem.
‘Is there no way of identifying which unit held such an emblem?’ asked Fidelma, knowing vaguely that the position of the stripe on the shield had some significance. ‘After all, the man wore a golden collar as well.’
Gormán took out his sword and traced the outline of a shield on the wet soil.
‘Now, you say the narrow blue strip was placed this way?’ He drew the line.
Cadan the farmer looked at it quizzically and shook his head.
‘No, the other way – horizontally, as if dividing it in half.’
‘I think it was one of the units that fought at Cnoc Áine and belonged to the amuis command.’ The amuis were companies raised in times of conflict, often hired from territories outside the immediate clanland of the King.
Fidelma sighed and shook her head.
‘Well, it might help us a little.’ She turned back to the puzzled farmer and his wife. ‘As far as you were aware, was there anyone else in the vicinity of Menma’s rath when it was attacked?’
‘As soon as I saw smoke rising, my son and I went running across the hill,’ the man replied. ‘It took us a while to get there as we have no horses. When we reached the rath, there was no one else there.’
‘What of other neighbouring farmsteads? As I approached these hills I thought I saw several rath-like buildings spaced along them.’
‘We were the nearest. After those times, some of the farms fell into disuse.’
‘Did Menma answer Prince Eoganán’s call to arms?’ Eadulf suddenly asked.
‘He did not agree with the cause,’ replied the farmer with a shrug.
‘So what you are saying is that no one saw the rath on fire except yourself?’
‘So far as I know.’
‘Who is the lord of this territory?’ asked Gormán. ‘Rather, who was lord in Menma’s time?’
Cadan looked quizzically at him. ‘You mean who was Menma’s lord?’
‘Was there anyone who could tell us something about him? I mean, someone more local than the Prince at Dún Eochair Mháigh.’
‘These are the borderlands, the edge of the lands controlled by the Múscraige Luachra. Beyond the hills behind us are the mountains of the Luachra. Although we are of the Uí Fidgente here, Fidaig of the Luachra claims tribute from us.’