Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

Several warriors stood about there and Fidelma had no trouble recognising the techtaire who had come to the fortress. He looked surprised as she and Eadulf, followed by Adag, dismounted and approached.

Two felled trees provided seats by the banks of the stream.

Fidelma made straight for one of the logs and took a seat, ignoring the astonished looks of the Uí Fidgente. Eadulf and Adag took a stand behind her. The half-dozen dumbfounded warriors looked at one another. No one said anything for a moment and then Fidelma announced icily: ‘I am here to see Conrí. Let him come forward.’

Her natural hauteur and air of command confused them even more and again no one seemed to know how to speak to her.

Then a tall, well-muscled man, with a shock of black hair, grey eyes and the livid white of a scar across his left cheek, emerged from a nearby pupall or tent as used by military commanders in the field. He scowled as he saw Fidelma seated at her ease on the log and moved forward to face her.

‘I am Conrí, King of Wolves, warlord of the Uí Fidgente,’ he growled. ‘You are arrogant, religieuse. You forget your manners.’

Fidelma regarded the man coldly.

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel,’ she replied in icy clear fashion. ‘I am here as a dálaigh , qualified to the degree of anruth . Thus I may sit even in the presence of kings, thus I may speak before they do, and thus they must be silent until I have had my say. I am Fidelma of Cashel, daughter of Failbe Flann, sister to Colgú, who reigns in prosperity there.’

Conrí had taken an involuntary step backwards, his eyes wide. He glanced at his herald and Fidelma noticed the man spread his hands, palms outward, and shake his head as if disclaiming any knowledge.

A look of reluctant admiration spread over Conrí’s features.

‘You have courage, Fidelma of Cashel. I’ll grant you that. Courage that you come with only two unarmed companions into the lair of the warlord of the Uí Fidgente, especially after your brother slaughtered my people on the slopes of Cnoc Áine two years ago.’

Fidelma looked at him levelly. ‘You might recall that it was the hosts of the Uí Fidgente who began a rebellion and marched on the legitimate ruler of Muman. They were an armed host desperate for victory. They had only themselves to blame for their fate. As for the courage of my companions or myself, is courage needed here when we come at your own invitation, under bonds of the strict code of hospitality and the rules of the Brehons which no one can break with impunity? What danger can possibly be here for us?’

She threw the question at him in challenge.

Conrí stared at her for a moment and then his stern features dissolved in a smile. He moved to the second log and sat down opposite her.

‘You are right, Fidelma of Cashel. There is no danger in my camp for you or any member of your party who comes here in the office of techtaire .’

‘That is good. Now, perhaps you will tell me what brings you to this land?’

‘Willingly. Although I would like to know why you are here and how you represent the Cinél na Áeda?’

‘I came at the invitation of Becc, chieftain-’

‘I know of Becc.’ interrupted the warlord. ‘What are you doing in his territory?’

‘I am here as a dálaigh . There have been some unlawful killings among his people.’

Conrí pursed his lips sourly. ‘Then we share a similar goal, for it is the unlawful killings of my men that bring me also into this territory.’

‘I doubt that we share the same goal, Conrí,’ Fidelma returned evenly. ‘But tell me the details for, at this time, it cannot be accepted that the Cinél na Áeda are responsible for the death of your men.’

‘That we must see.’

‘I am told by your techtaire that your host was passing on their way to the games being held by the prince of the Corco Loígde.’

‘That is true,’ agreed the warlord.

‘Why did this group of men, whom you so lament, leave your main body and cross into the territory of the Cinél na Áeda? And spare me the story claimed by your techtaire that they were merely a foraging party.’

Conri regarded her with slightly narrowed eyes.

‘Why do you doubt our word?’ he demanded.

‘Because I happened to be in the bothán of Menma and Suanach when your men rode up outside. This foraging party set fire to that place and took Suanach as a prisoner among them.’

The warlord let his breath out in one long sibilant sigh. His eyes narrowed. ‘You were taken hostage?’

‘Suanach hid me in the sousterrain because she feared that harm would befall me, being sister to the king. I escaped. She did not.’

There was a silence, then Conrí lowered his head slightly.

‘You realise that this places your hosting in a bad position legally.’ pointed out Adag, feeling that he should add something.

Conrí raised his head and glanced at the steward, but not angrily. ‘My intention and the intention of the main body of my men is clear. We were passing down to the land of the Corco Loigde.’

‘Your foraging party had come to that bothán seeking the woodsman, Menma,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Finding him not there, they kidnapped Suanach in order to lure him after them so that they might capture him. I heard them speaking to one another and that is what they said.’

Conrí was still looking uncomfortable.

‘Why would they be seeking Menma?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘And what was the attraction of the Thicket of the Pigs?’ she added, leaning forward, the words spoken so softly that not even Eadulf and Adag could hear her.

Conrí started on his seat. ‘You know of that?’ His voice had lost its aggression.

‘What game are you trying our patience with, Conrí?’ She sat back and spoke normally.

Conrí glanced around for a moment and then he gestured to his pupall . ‘One to one, Fidelma of Cashel. I am willing to tell you and no other. Will you come into the tent while I explain?’

Adag started to protest. ‘It is not seemly, it is not correct protocol.’

‘I am happy to dispense with protocol so long as we find truth at the end of the path,’ Fidelma said, rising, and giving a reassuring nod to Eadulf.

There was a murmuring among Conrí’s men but he silenced them with an angry glare. Fidelma followed him into his tent and he motioned her into the only camp chair while he took a seat on the edge of his bed.

‘There is one thing that we must be clear about,’ he began. ‘I spoke the truth when I said that my men and I are on the way to the games at Corco Loígde. We had gathered at Geiphtine’s Waterfall in our own land and thought to come by ship to the harbour of our hosts. But the captain of the ship we had hired was killed in a fight on the evening before we sailed. A stupid drunken brawl. We could not persuade the crew to fulfil the agreement.’

‘Killed?’

‘By one of his drunken crew. But before he died he spoke to Dea, who, as it turned out, was the leader of the foraging party. Dea was with the seaman when he died.’

‘I presume that there was no suspicion that Dea was involved in the man’s death?’

Conrí quickly shook his head. ‘Dea was a good warrior but inclined to be headstrong. He commanded his own small company.’

‘A company of ten men?’ queried Fidelma.

Conrí made a motion of assent. ‘As we came south, I noticed that Dea was growing more and more preoccupied. Then, as we approached the border of the territory of the Cinél na Áeda, he asked me if he could take his men on a foraging party. I will admit that I was suspicious of his intentions and asked him what was on his mind. Then he told me that the sea captain, just before his death, had spoken of new discoveries of gold in Becc’s territory.’