Penance of the Damned (Sister Fidelma)

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Not really. Once we pass north through the valley between these hills, the land is almost flat with a few simple homesteads. There is only one prominent landmark as I recall from my childhood. That is Cnoc Fírinne.’

  Fidelma tried to disguise her look of excitement. ‘Cnoc Fírinne?’ she repeated.

  ‘The Hill of Truth, though why it was called that I do not know.’

  ‘Is it the site of some religious community?’

  Aibell shook her head. ‘I have not heard it to be so, but as I have already said, my childhood memories are lazy and many things may have changed since then.’

  Eadulf said gloomily. ‘If not a religious site why would Abbot Nannid go there?’ Could he really have an assignation with Gláed and his band of raiders?’

  ‘If he did,’ Fidelma replied, ‘why would he name the location of his meeting in front of Prince Donennach and Conrí? He would surely be more circumspect about it.’

  ‘A good point, although he only said he was going there on some religious errand. Perhaps the name of the hill slipped out inadvertently? He would not expect anyone to make a connection with Gláed.’

  ‘Is this Hill of Truth far from here?’ Enda wanted to know.

  ‘If I remember correctly,’ said the girl, ‘we should see it as we come through this pass ahead of us. The hill is said to be so high that it can be seen from great distances over the flat northern plains of the Uí Fidgente territory.’

  ‘Very well,’ Fidelma said. ‘We have no choice but to follow Gláed’s band – but if there is little shelter available we must proceed with caution.’

  They turned northward along the path, and eventually entered the valley between the two hills. After some time, including a stop by a gushing brook to rest their horses and consume a frugal meal of fruit, they left the shelter of the hills to pause on a rise and stare out across the broad plain before them.

  The first thing they noticed was a large hill around four kilometres due north of them. There was a small hillock before it but the large hill was a gorse-covered mound of nearly three hundred metres high, with a curious limestone bald patch on its highest peak.

  ‘I presume that is Cnoc Fírinne,’ Eadulf stated.

  A moment later, Aibell cried, holding out her left hand to point. ‘Look, oh look!’

  Across the plain to the immediate west, past ploughed fields and among some sparsely spaced trees, was what seemed to have been a group of buildings. They were now only black smudges in the landscape, and a pall of smoke hung low in the hot summer air above them.

  ‘A farmstead on fire, or nearly burned out,’ muttered Enda. ‘I can hazard a guess at who is responsible, since the men of Sliabh Luachra have passed this way.’

  ‘I see no sign of horsemen on the plain down there,’ Fidelma noted. ‘Let’s check to see if there are any survivors of this attack.’

  Eadulf licked his dry lips. ‘Shouldn’t we be a little more careful and not just ride straight up …?’ But his companions were already moving off. Shrugging philosophically, he followed them.

  The smell of burned wood was pungent as they approached what had been a number of barns and animal pens. Beyond these were the ruins of the farmstead itself. They halted before the main building.

  Eadulf, observing no danger from any lurking raiders, dismounted and began to examine the ruins. The first thing he saw was the body of what he took to be the farmer. The man had been tied to a tree at the back of his property. He had not been long dead for the blood was still seeping from the spear thrusts in his chest and stomach. To one side, lying on the ground, hands stretched out imploringly was the body of a woman – no doubt the farmer’s wife. The couple were both fairly young. The man was tall, well-built with a mass of dark red hair. The pretty young woman was suntanned, with fair hair and callused hands indicating that she worked with her husband on the farmstead.

  Eadulf sighed deeply as he gazed around. More devastation – cruel destruction of people’s homes and lives. There was little left standing and certainly nowhere this time for anyone to hide in the charred ruins. Meanwhile, Enda had been searching the outbuildings.

  ‘Definitely a raid,’ he reported. ‘There are pens for cattle and sheep but no sign of them, so I think they have been driven off to provide food for the raiders.’

  He paused and looked about. ‘Wait here,’ he said, climbing back on his horse. ‘I’ll circle around and see in what direction they have driven the animals off.’

  ‘I don’t suppose Corradáin ever told you the name of his son?’ Eadulf asked Aibell after he had gone.

  The girl shook her head. ‘All he said was that his son and his wife had a farm on the northern side of the hill where he worked and …’ She stopped, her eyes wide with horror. ‘You don’t think …’

  ‘Red hair seems to run in the family,’ Eadulf said sadly, pointing to the farmer’s body. ‘There is no need to tell Corradáin’s son about his father’s death. The poor young man and his wife have met the very same fate – and at the very same hands.’

  Aibell did not reply. Her features were deathly pale and her mouth clenched tight in a rictus of grief.

  A few moments later Enda appeared and swung down from his horse.

  ‘I am sure it was a raid for supplies. There are signs of a wheeled cart that is heavy in its tracks. They will have loaded it with whatever they could find. Also, they took several cattle and pigs, and I should imagine the cart was hauled by mules, judging by the tracks. I think they killed the chickens and any other birds, as I could see a large amount of feathers strewn on the path back there. It’s easier for them to transport dead birds than live ones.’

  ‘Which way were the raiders heading?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘They were heading to that northern hill,’ Enda said. ‘There’s no attempt to disguise their tracks. However, they appear to have lost one of the horses.’ He jerked his head in the direction from which he had come. ‘There is a carcass back there. A good-looking animal, a grey with a white mane and more like a warhorse than a workhorse. I can’t think why they would want to kill it. It’s been shot with several arrows, so it was deliberate.’

  Aibell suddenly let out a scream, and was running in the direction that Enda had indicated.

  ‘Wait!’ cried Fidelma. ‘Aibell, wait!’

  The idea had occurred to her only a moment after Enda had spoken, but Aibell had already got there.

  Fidelma, followed by Eadulf and Enda, set off after the lithe form of the girl. They could not overtake her before she came to the carcass of the horse. She halted before it. Her body shook for a moment and then she sank to her knees beside its head.

  ‘Gormán!’ she moaned. ‘Gormán! It is my husband’s horse!’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was Enda who tried to offer comfort to the girl first.

  ‘Because it is Gormán’s horse that has been killed does not mean to say that he is also dead. If he were killed here, where is his body?’

  ‘That is so,’ Fidelma immediately agreed. ‘There are other possibilities. He might have managed to escape and hide, or they could have taken him captive.’

  Aibell raised a tear-stained face to them.

  ‘If he is captured, he would not be alive long,’ she declared bitterly. ‘Gláed has sworn vengeance on those who thwarted his plans to help Lorcán overthrow Prince Donennach last year. Gláed knows Gormán. He will kill him.’

  ‘There is no sign that Gormán is dead or captive,’ Enda said crisply. ‘It would take more than a band of marauding wolves from Sliabh Luachra to finish him off.’

  ‘That is true.’ Eadulf was trying to sound more positive about the matter than he truly felt. He had witnessed the brutality of Gláed before and knew there was little by way of cruelty that he and his followers would not inflict on their enemies.

  ‘So do we intend to follow Gláed to the Hill of Truth?’ he asked.

  ‘If Gormán is still able to follow these raiders, or even if he has been taken c
aptive, that is the place where we will find him.’ Enda looked across the vast plain towards the hill. ‘The trouble is that it is the highest point on the plain. If Gláed is anything of a military leader he will place watchmen on the hill who could easily spot our approach.’

  ‘There is a smaller hill between us and the larger one,’ Fidelma said. ‘The small hill is not high but there appear to be patches of woods and shrubland around it. If we make for that it should provide us with some cover as we approach.’

  ‘There is one thing that I must know,’ Enda requested.

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Given that Gláed has some forty men with him, what is your intention if we catch up with him?’

  ‘I do not intend to do anything more than observe,’ Fidelma told him. ‘Only when we have information will we discuss what can be done.’

  ‘If Gláed is meeting with Abbot Nannid on the Hill of Truth, it means that we actually made a mistake at Mungairit last year by giving Nannid the benefit of the doubt about being involved in the conspiracy with him and Lorcán,’ reflected Eadulf.

  Fidelma’s expression was grim. ‘I was the dálaigh who made the decision, not you,’ she reminded him. ‘As such, it was my mistake and that decision cost the life of Gláed’s brother, Artgal. Also, it was my decision to send Lorcán to Prince Donennach’s fortress. As we heard, Lorcán almost escaped.’

  ‘But was mortally wounded in the attempt.’

  ‘The important point is that he did so.’

  ‘He was helped to escape,’ Eadulf said, trying to appease her.

  Enda was restless. ‘I thought we were going to bury the bodies and get on as fast as we can,’ he said, his eyes signalling to where Aibell was still wandering around the smoking ruins, looking utterly lost and desolate.

  ‘Of course.’ Eadulf was immediately contrite. ‘Let’s find a spade and get on with our task.’

  It was some time before they left the ruined farmstead of Corradáin’s slain son and his wife and rode towards the woods that Fidelma had identified lying between the small hill and the higher rise of the Hill of Truth. Enda led the way again, using his knowledge of woodcraft and the natural cover of the terrain, gathered during his training as a warrior, to help them approach in safety.

  They passed another farmhouse which was deserted but undamaged, although most of the livestock there had also vanished. They halted in the shelter of some outbuildings, while Enda dismounted and made a quick search of the main dwelling.

  ‘It looks as if whoever was here saw the approach of Gláed’s marauders and fled.’

  ‘Taking most of the livestock?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘Maybe not. Maybe they were taken as more spoils for the brigands.’

  ‘Is there a spring or well that we can use?’ Fidelma wanted to know. ‘The sun is well past its zenith now and the horses could do with a drink. We might as well take the opportunity to refresh ourselves, since no one is here to offer us hospitality.’

  ‘Farmers always know best where to place their farms for fresh water,’ Enda offered. ‘There should be a spring at the back of the building there. I just want to scout round on foot before I join you. Would you mind taking my horse with you? Maybe you’ll find some food still left in the house.’

  ‘Scout round for what?’ Eadulf queried.

  ‘Oh, for this and that,’ Enda replied airily. Fidelma realised that he did not want to alarm them but needed to check in case some of the raiders were still lurking in the vicinity.

  It was some few minutes before he rejoined them, by which time they had found fresh bread, presumably baked that morning, cold meats and cheeses. They helped themselves and washed the meal down with cold water from the spring, although they found containers of apple cider which Fidelma decided they should leave untouched. They needed completely clear minds.

  ‘What signs did you find?’ Fidelma asked as the young warrior dropped into a seat before the table and cut himself a slice of the bread and a piece of cheese.

  ‘From the tracks, the main body passed by here a short distance away, on the other side of that treeline. Six riders came to the farmstead here and doubtless it was they who searched it. They don’t appear to have done much damage, as you can see.’

  ‘What about the farmer?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘I saw tracks of two adults and some children heading east. They had some animals with them.’

  ‘Do we know if Gláed is still making for the Hill of Truth?’

  Enda nodded.

  ‘And Gormán?’ Aibell demanded. ‘What sign of Gormán?’

  Enda shifted uneasily. ‘No sign, but if he was on horseback with them, then there would be none. Certainly there were no tracks of a man on foot following the horsemen that I could find.’

  ‘Then you believe he is a captive?’ she said, her voice trembling.

  ‘Belief is difficult without facts, Aibell. Once he left the farmstead of Corradáin’s son, he could either be hiding, following on another route or placed on one of the horses whose tracks I have seen. Perhaps he is even heading in a direction other than this one.’

  Enda did not mention the other possibility, but Fidelma and Eadulf knew it well and certainly did not want to share it with Aibell. Fidelma wished to press on, so as soon as they had finished their meal, they set off again. Enda was becoming more cautious. There were stretches where the trees and shrubland did not adequately cover their passage, and one or twice Enda left them while he went ahead to scout the land.

  They had almost reached the wooded area of the small hill and moved away from the track that skirted it, which would have brought them out into the open view of the Hill of Truth. Beyond the trees they found a curious passage through some large limestone rocks. Enda had suggested that this cover of high birch trees would be a good place to halt. Beyond the rocky barrier and among the trees they found a small glade – a perfect spot. A brook tumbled through the glade, having risen from some spring further up the hillside.

  ‘We can make this our base and leave our horses here before we climb up to see what is happening on the Hill of Truth,’ Fidelma announced with satisfaction.

  Enda had returned to the main track on foot to make a quick survey of the terrain and ensure that their tracks were not discernible. They had barely dismounted when the young warrior came racing back.

  ‘There are horsemen riding this way,’ he said urgently. ‘The trees should provide cover here, but try to ensure the horses are quiet.’

  Crouching behind a boulder, Fidelma whispered: ‘How many riders?’

  ‘Four, or maybe six.’

  ‘What did you make of them? Are they more of Gláed’s brigands?’

  ‘They are heading for the Hill of Truth,’ he said as if that answered the question.

  ‘I’d like to see who they are,’ Fidelma suddenly decided.

  ‘No, lady. It’s best for you to remain here. I will move closer and take a look.’

  Without another word, crouching low, the young warrior moved stealthily away while the others held on to their horses, praying the animals did not cause any noise or make a movement that would alert the passing riders to their presence. In silence they waited, dreading the sounds that would announce that the riders had discovered them. When Enda came back, it was clear that something was troubling him.

  ‘They’ve passed on. However, I’d like to show you something, lady,’ he said. ‘Best keep the horses here, Eadulf. Aibell can help you.’

  Fidelma gave Eadulf a shrug to show she had no idea what was going on before she followed Enda without another word.

  They had gone a little distance, out of earshot of the others, when the warrior turned and, keeping his voice low, said: ‘I didn’t want Aibell to hear.’

  At once Fidelma asked: ‘Was it Gormán?’

  Enda quickly shook his head. ‘The riders were definitely from Sliabh Luachra – not professional warriors but dirty, ragged men whose weaponry would not pass inspection among the warriors of the Gol
den Collar. The thing is, I recognised the man at the head of them … he was old Brother Conchobhar’s nephew. I often saw him at Cashel when he was with Aibell.’

  ‘Deogaire!’ Fidelma exclaimed loudly in her surprise.

  ‘The very same,’ Enda confirmed. ‘Black hair and that strange multi-coloured coat – I’d know him anywhere.’

  ‘So Deogaire is here and joining Gláed?’ She gave a shake of her head as if she could not believe it.

  ‘I was saddened when Aibell rode off with Deogaire,’ Enda said. ‘You recall how upset Gormán was, and how he rode after them? But Marban said Deogaire had left her at his mill and then gone back to Sliabh Luachra, to his home. Well, now he seems to be in command of some of Gláed’s marauding wolves.’

  ‘But Deogaire claimed to be one of the Druids, still battling to retain the Old Religion, claiming to have the gift of prophecy. He used to irritate poor Brother Conchobhar beyond measure. He is the last person I would have thought would join Gláed’s marauders.’

  ‘Well, now he bears a blue shield with a raven’s image on it. I saw his weaponry. And one of the men at his side carries a blue silk banner with a similar raven’s image.’

  ‘Are you sure that they are heading to the Hill of Truth?’

  ‘Where else does that track lead?’

  Fidelma was silent for a moment. Then she said: ‘You are right, Enda. It is better that Aibell does not know of this development for the time being.’

  As they returned to the others, Fidelma raised her voice a little. ‘There was not much to tell from the horses’ tracks,’ she announced brightly, as if that had been the reason why Enda had asked for her to come and express an opinion. ‘Anyway, I think they were just a group hurrying to catch up with Gláed’s main body. Now let us proceed. We can leave the horses here then two of us shall climb the hill. From the top we should be able to see across the little valley to the Hill of Truth.’

  Eadulf knew when Fidelma was disguising facts that she did not want others to know. What others? He glanced at Aibell and realised that it must have some connection with her. Was it a sighting of Gormán? He was determined to find out at the first opportunity when the girl was out of earshot.