‘I heard that you were here and was hoping I had not missed you,’ the girl opened.
Fidelma did not reply and allowed a few moments of silence between them. So Aróc continued. ‘You were right, lady,’ she said, interpreting the silence. ‘I behaved badly when we met at my father’s fortress. I was in a bad mood. What else can I say but that I apologise?’
‘An apology would be sufficient,’ Fidelma replied coldly.
‘Then I give it with all honesty,’ the girl responded. ‘There were various things on my mind at the time and I should have had a better control of my emotions. And, of course, I did not know who you were at the time otherwise I would not have spoken to you as I did.’
Fidelma did not voice the obvious thought that came to her mind: that this implied she would have had no compunction in speaking to anyone of lesser status in the same manner. That would have made the girl’s attitude worse. However, she let the thought pass.
‘You have apologised and I accept,’ she replied coldly.
Either the girl did not appear to detect her coldness or, if she did, it did not trouble her.
‘I was surprised to hear that you had arrived last evening,’ Aróc went on. ‘I thought I saw you heading for Garrchú’s forge to the west.’
Fidelma decided to unbend a little as it would be stupid to pass up the opportunity to extract information that might be of help.
‘My companion Enda thought he saw you riding with a warrior in the hills when we were on our journey to Dún Árd?’ She framed the question as neutrally as she could.
The girl shrugged. ‘The warrior was Corbmac. We were on a task for my father.’
‘Is that why you are here at the abbey?’ Fidelma asked in a mild tone.
‘It is,’ confirmed the girl. ‘My father trusts me to check on certain properties and ensure that tributes are paid.’
‘I thought it was your brother, as steward, who was tasked with such matters?’ Fidelma tried to sound offhand but this information was contrary to what Scáth had told her.
The girl scowled. ‘My brother is weak. He has no heart for collecting tributes when people claim they have nothing with which to pay. It needs a sterner hand to insist on payments from some of these local chieftains who think to take advantage. In such cases my father puts more trust in me and Corbmac.’
‘I did not know Corbmac was also staying in the abbey?’ Fidelma made the comment into a question.
‘Corbmac and his warriors stay at the fortress of a local chieftain on the slopes of An Doire Bán, the white wood mountain.’ She indicated a nearby peak to the south-east, which overlooked the abbey. ‘I prefer the comforts offered in the guesthouse here.’
‘Even so, it must be a long and tiring journey across these mountains collecting tributes. Are you not afraid, especially with stories of brigands and attacks?’
The girl sniffed dismissively. ‘You mean the matters you went to see my father about?’ There was a flippant tone in her voice. ‘Well, Corbmac and his men are more than a match for any brigands, and I, as you know, can shoot with my bow as well as any warrior. I try to be the warrior my father wanted. I grew up with a bow in one hand and a sword in the other.’
Fidelma was not sure whether the girl spoke in humour or there was a serious quality behind the remark.
‘Does it not perturb you that, in spite of this, there are some who intend to rob the mines of your father? That robbery might not stop at murder.’
‘I know all about the deaths of a Brehon and the local pedlar. There are always those who will try to take what does not belong to them and they will always be punished.’ The girl thrust her chin up belligerently as she said this. ‘I understand from my father that your job is to find and punish such people. I will leave such worries to you.’
Fidelma was about to make a further comment when one of the stable attendants appeared leading a horse. Aróc moved forward and took the reins, springing on its back with long-accomplished ease.
‘Good luck in your task,’ she called. ‘Perhaps we shall encounter each other again soon.’
Then she was urging her horse into a gallop across the grounds of the abbey and, dangerously, without pausing, across the bridge through the gate. The thunder of hoofs over the wooden bridge left a disturbing echo. For a moment Fidelma stood shaking her head at the recklessness of Aróc’s departure. The stable boy was still standing looking after the girl with a disapproving frown. He had not even been acknowledged for his service. Fidelma smiled sadly at him.
‘She neglected to thank you,’ she observed.
The boy turned with a bitter grimace. ‘She is the daughter of the lord of The Cuala and does not believe that she has a need to thank anyone.’
‘Does she often stay here?’
‘Too often,’ agreed the boy morosely. Then he caught himself as if he had spoken unthinkingly. ‘I am sorry, lady. I did not mean …’
Fidelma reassured him. ‘Never apologise for expressing what one truly thinks. What is your name?’
‘I was born in winter and so I was named “holly”, which bore berries outside the house.’
‘So your name is Cuilínn? Have you often had to deal with Aróc before?’
‘To be honest, my father and I once worked the lead mines on what we call “the badgers peak”, not far down this glen. It was a good mine and supported a few members of our family who worked there. Then came the day when that girl arrived and demanded so much in tribute in the name of her father that we could not even produce a tenth of what was demanded. At her orders, the mine was closed and we were forbidden even to have access to it.’
Fidelma frowned. ‘She is not old. This must have happened recently?’
‘Six months ago. At least I had a good knowledge of horses and immediately sought work in the stables here.’
‘You seem to have much in common with Brother Dorchú,’ Fidelma reflected. ‘Tell me, this mine, was it the same one that Brother Dorchú was once a guard to?’
The stable boy shook his head immediately. ‘It was not, but I know the one you mean. It was on the other mountain, Céim an Doire, further up the valley. That one had been closed some time before. I was once told it was worked out some years ago.’
‘Unlike your mine?’
‘Our mine was a good mine but it could never produce as much as the lord of The Cuala wanted in tribute. It was on the hillside behind a rocky outcrop. We never wanted for game, as below was a shallow area of the riverbed that all manner of animals had made their watering hole.’
‘Aróc refused to let you continue working the mine for a lesser tribute?’
‘She evoked the name of her father to demand the tribute.’
‘You say it was a lead mine. Were there any other metals that could be extracted from the veins that you were following?’
For a moment the boy stared at her and then started to chuckle. ‘You are thinking the seams – the veins, as you call them – might have led to more valuable ones? That suddenly the mine might start producing silver or gold? I am sorry, lady. Not a hope of that. The mine had once been a cave system with three or four interconnecting caves. We knew the caves and the seams well. It was a moderate living until … until the lord of The Cuala grew greedy.’
‘You say that it was the girl who had the place closed?’
‘To be accurate it was the lord of The Cuala’s steward. He said she had reported the tribute value to her father and he had been sent by Dicuil Dóna to close the mine if we did not pay it. Now there are always a couple of his warriors protecting it and anyone wandering too near gets threatened.’
‘Isn’t that odd?’
‘Not odd when it is an order of the lord of The Cuala. He can do what he likes. As for Aróc and her brother … they are probably as bad as each other.’
‘But the mine only produced lead?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘Why guard it at all now that you have had to abandon it?’
‘It is not my position to seek to question the lo
rd of The Cuala.’
At that moment Eadulf appeared, leading their horses. The stable boy inclined his head as the two of them mounted and moved out of the abbey grounds.
‘What were you talking to the stable boy about? Eadulf asked, as they clattered across the wooden bridge and joined the track that led towards Láithreach.
‘About a little lead mine.’ Fidelma paused for a moment. ‘I think I would like to look at it sometime as I am told that although it is not worked out, two of Dicuil Dóna’s warriors are permanently stationed there to dissuade anyone trying to reopen it.’
Eadulf glanced at her for a moment, puzzled. He was about to ask another question when a figure appeared abruptly out of the thick woods they were passing.
‘Greetings to you, offspring of Eber Finn, son of Golamh, first true King of this land. Greetings, daughter of kings and sister of a king.’
They recognised her immediately. This time the old woman was without her mule. Fidelma smiled softly at her.
‘And to you, greetings, Iuchra, who knows my genealogy so well. Is it that you are Iuchra, daughter of Abertach, who has the ability to shapeshift into herons or other forms?’
The old woman stared at her for a moment and then let out a cackle of laughter. ‘Well, Fidelma of the long tresses, you know your legends and stories of the shapeshifters. I bid you greetings. You are looking for something that is under the earth, below the rocks and soil. Is this not so?’
Fidelma chuckled and shook her head. ‘It is not so. I am not here to steal from the mines of The Cuala.’
Iuchra laughed with her. ‘Nevertheless, it is so, and you will know it soon. I say this to you – you will take from the mines of The Cuala that which you desire.’
Eadulf frowned in displeasure. ‘Have a care, old woman; by accusing Fidelma of Cashel of contemplating robbery from the mines here you are treading dangerous ground.’
‘I still say, she will take what she desires from the mines and I do not lie,’ repeated the old woman. ‘She does this to return what is illegally held to its rightful owner. That is not robbery.’
‘I have no understanding of what you mean,’ Fidelma retorted impatiently.
‘You will understand when you realise the real secret is exposed in the names of the shapeshifters.’
‘I still have no understanding,’ repeated Fidelma.
‘Then you are not possessed of the knowledge that others say you have,’ Iuchra replied. ‘Think calmly on what I say. You will find what you seek in the caves of The Cuala, of that there is no doubt.’
‘What makes you think we search for metal?’ Fidelma asked, frowning.
‘There comes a time, and come it must, when metal has to be met with mettle. That is the purpose of your coming. There is a mist crossing the high peaks and that foretells of snows coming. You do not have long to resolve the conundrum. I will give you one more clue. Look for what you seek in the place of soft metal and meet it with mettle that is so hard that it can overcome all metals. The secret is in the names.’
The old woman turned with a wheezy screech of laughter and scampered into the thick underground. It seemed the very earth had swallowed her whole.
‘Mad, indeed!’ grunted Eadulf. ‘It’s an insult to claim that we are here to rob the mines of The Cuala. She insulted you by saying you are not intelligent enough to solve her stupid riddle …’
‘Eadulf,’ Fidelma replied quietly, ‘let it be for the time being. I must think about what she said.’
‘Not much to think about, if you ask me …’
‘Eadulf!’ Fidelma warned.
Eadulf shrugged and was silent. Finally, Fidelma nudged her mount forward and he followed.
They rode into the township, passing by Teimel’s cabin without stopping. In fact, Fidelma was too deep in thought to notice it and so the two of them crossed the bridge into the main part of the town. They continued on, passing the wharfs and the few boats along the river’s quayside, and passed among the buildings that clustered around the town’s square. Eadulf guessed Fidelma was heading to see her friend Beccnat, the assistant to Brehon Rónchú. Because of the rivers and many streams that joined at this point, they had to negotiate another bridge to get to Beccnat’s cottage.
‘Wait!’ Eadulf gave a sibilant whisper, halting Fidelma in surprise before they reached it. ‘Stop here,’ he urged.
Fidelma turned to him with a questioning frown and pulled rein on her mount.
‘Isn’t that Beccnat’s cabin?’ said Eadulf, pointing.
‘It is. Why?’
Fidelma followed the direction that his hand was indicating. Her eyes narrowed. There was a young man dismounting from his horse before the cottage where Beccnat had entertained them when they first arrived in the town. Beccnat had now emerged to greet the newcomer. She greeted him rather effusively, as a lover greets the loved one. Fidelma was surprised. It was Scáth, the son of the lord of The Cuala. She knew that Beccnat was her own age, having studied with her at Brehon Morann’s law school. That meant she was about thirty-five.
As she looked on, a rapid exchange was taking place. Beccnat was shaking her head while Scáth was gesticulating with one hand, making sweeping motions as if waving at the mountains. Fidelma wished she was nearer to see their facial expressions more clearly. Then Scáth, after another close embrace, was back on his horse and digging his heels in to send it into a gallop, scattering groups of people right and left.
‘They seem very friendly,’ Eadulf remarked thoughtfully. ‘What was that about?’
‘I think we should find out,’ Fidelma replied.
By the time they had negotiated the path across another bridge there was no sign of the young steward of the lord of The Cuala. The hollow tattoo of their horses crossing the bridge must have alerted Beccnat. They had barely dismounted when she re-emerged from her cabin, her face flushed and looking confused.
‘Fidelma!’ She tried to put surprise in her voice but only succeeded in sounding suspicious. ‘But you have been away for only a few days. I thought Teimel was taking you along the valleys in search of—’
‘I think you know where we’ve been,’ Fidelma smiled easily as she dismounted.
Beccnat frowned ‘I know that you left with Teimel, whom you hired as your tracker to take you—’
Fidelma was in no mood for prevarication. ‘I am sure Teimel or Scáth, or either one, has already told you exactly where we have been and what happened.’
This seemed to stop her immediately. Her flushed face, if anything, reddened further and a curious glint came into her eyes.
‘You seem to know Scáth very well.’ Fidelma continued to smile but without warmth. ‘I was wondering why he came here. Perhaps with a message from his father?’
Beccnat’s mouth tightened. Suddenly she seemed to emerge from whatever constraints had been holding her back. ‘I am not ashamed that I know him.’ Her head rose defiantly, chin pushing upwards. ‘Are you disapproving of me, Fidelma? You of all people?’
There was something hidden in her angry tone that puzzled Fidelma. She could not quite interpret it.
‘Your life is your own, Beccnat. Why should I either disapprove or approve of anything? He has attained the aimsir togú, the age of choice, and so have you. We have free choice to do as we will, providing it harms no one. I am just pointing out that Scáth must have—’
The face of Beccnat seemed to have dissolved into some sort of fit of sullen anger.
‘Free choice? You never allowed me any choice before when you stole the person I loved.’
Fidelma was frankly puzzled and she glanced nervously towards Eadulf. He looked equally perplexed.
‘Stole the person you loved? I fail to understand—’ she began again.
‘Have you forgotten so soon?’ interrupted Beccnat furiously. ‘I am talking about Cian! Have you forgotten him so soon?’
‘Cian?’ A spark of light was dawning in her mind.
‘Cian, who was my lover, and you stole him,�
�� snapped the girl.
Fidelma blinked in shock. ‘He was your lover?’
Cian had been a young warrior of the Fianna, the High King’s bodyguard, who used to frequent Brehon Morann’s law school in the year before she graduated. Fidelma swallowed sharply. She had thought that she had dealt with Cian. He had been youthful and handsome. Many had sought his company for he was a famed athlete. In fact, she had seen him racing at the Féis Teamhrach, which was where a friend named Grian had introduced him to Fidelma. The young Fidelma had fallen for the handsome warrior. But Cian had turned out to be just a weak man. He saw women of all ages as conquests to be achieved and, when done, he had abandoned interest and his victims.
‘I never forgave you for what you did,’ Beccnat cut into her memories with barely suppressed anger. ‘He was my lover. You went off with Grian to the Féis Teamhrach. I remember it like yesterday. That was where you met Cian. Where you seduced him. He abandoned me for you. I would have been with him now had it not been for you. I would have kept his love.’
Fidelma stared in shock at this ghost from the past being conjured in hatred against her. She tried to gather her thoughts.
‘Beccnat, Cian was an immature youth in pursuit of conquests,’ she with icy hate. ‘He made my life a turmoil of conflicting emotions. When I refused to go to bed with him he abandoned me for a more pliant companion. Even Grian recognised that his pursuit was merely superficial. Cian was the sort to boast about his conquests. He did not care once the conquest had been made, although it took me time to believe that he had such a base motive. He was dismissed from the High King’s bodyguard for his licentious behaviour. I never allowed him into my bed, nor did I go to his.’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf as if seeking his reassurance. She had told him the story of her unhappy affair, especially after she had encountered Cian years afterwards on the pilgrim ship, the Barnacle Goose. It was while she was trying to sort out her relationship with Eadulf, during the time he was imprisoned in Laigin, that she had made the voyage on the pilgrim ship. Cian was then supposed to be a member of the community of the Abbey of Beannchar. Even that was pretence. It had turned out that Cian had not changed at all, but by then she had been able to see him clearly in his true light. For years Cian had been a thorn in her memory as she recalled the anguished emotions, but she had finally dealt with him, or rather the memories he had inflicted, during that pilgrim voyage. At the end of it she found he had no hold on her emotions or memories She ended the voyage as if a dead weight had fallen from her shoulders and she was able to speak easily and freely to Eadulf about it.
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