She lapsed into a thoughtful silence.
They had gone over a mile, perhaps not more than two miles, when, topping a rise, Cass glanced over his shoulder and exclaimed in surprise.
âWhat is it?' cried Fidelma, swinging round in her saddle to follow his gaze.
Cass did not have to reply.
A tall, black column of smoke was rising into the pale-blue, cold autumnal sky behind them.
âThat's coming from the direction of Molua's place, surely?' Fidelma said, her heart beginning to beat fast.
Cass stood in his stirrups and seized the overhanging branch of a tree, hauling himself up into the topmost branches with an agility which surprised Fidelma.
âWhat do you see?' she cried, peering up into the dangerously swaying branches.
âIt is Molua's place. It must be on fire.'
Cass scrambled down the tree and jumped to the ground, a pile of early fallen leaves breaking his drop. He brushed himself down and grabbed the reins of his horse.
âI don't understand it. It's a big fire.'
Fidelma bit her lip, almost causing blood to flow as a terrible idea grew in her mind.
âWe must go back!' she shouted, turning her horse.
âBut we must be careful,' warned Cass. âLet the incident at Rae na ScrÃne serve us as a warning.'
âThat is precisely what I fear!' cried Fidelma, and she was already racing her horse back towards the column of smoke.
Cass had to urge his horse to its utmost stride to keep place with her. Although he knew that Fidelma was of the Eóganacht and brother to Colgú, who was now his king, Cass was always surprised that a religieuse could ride so well as Fidelma did. It seemed that she had been born in the saddle; that she was at one with her horse. She nursed it with dexterity as it thundered along the trail they had only recently traversed.
It was not long before they came over the brow of the hill and saw the great muddy estuary spread before them.
âHalt!' yelled Cass, pulling rein. âBehind those trees, quickly!'
He was thankful that for once Fidelma did not question him but obeyed his orders immediately.
They drew up behind the cover of a copse of amber-yellow leafed aspens with a surrounding dense thicket.
âWhat did you see?' Fidelma commanded.
Cass simply pointed down the hill.
She narrowed her eyes and saw a band of armed horsemen breaking through the fragile fences which surrounded the small community of Molua and AÃbnat. A squat man sat on his horse before the burning buildings as if surveying the handiwork of his men. There were a dozen of them. They completed their grim business and then went riding away through the trees on the far side of the river. The squat rider, who was obviously their leader, turned with a final glance at the burning buildings and galloped after them.
Fidelma suddenly gave vent to a cry of impotent rage. She had heard Salbach say, as he rode away from the cabin in the forest, âI know where they might be ⦠I'll give you my instructions for Intat.' She had heard and not understood. She should have realised. She could have prevented ⦠At the back of her raging mind a voice told her it was the second major mistake she had made.
âWe must get down there!' cried Fidelma in fury. âThey may be hurt.'
âWait a moment,' snapped Cass. âWait for the assassins to leave.'
His face was grey, his jaw was tight set, the muscles clenched. He already knew what they were bound to find in the inferno that was the once the prosperous farm settlement.
However, Fidelma was already urging her horse from the cover and racing down the hill.
Cass gave a cry after her but, realising that she would not obey, even though there might be danger from the attackers, he drew his sword and urged his horse after her.
She galloped down the hill, splashing through the ford at speed and tore to a halt in front of the buildings.
She flung herself from the saddle and, raising an arm, to protect herself from the fierceness of the heat, she ran forward towards the burning buildings.
The first bodies that she saw, sprawled by the entrance, were those of AÃbnat and Molua. An arrow had transfixed AÃbnat's breast while Molua's head was almost severed by a sweeping sword cut. They were quite obviously beyond help.
She saw the first child's body nearby and a cry stifled in her throat. She was aware that Cass had ridden up and dismounted behind her. He still had his drawn sword in hand and he stared about him impassively but with horror mirrored in his eyes.
One of the two sisters who had been helping Sister AÃbnat to take care of the children was slumped against the chapel door. Fidelma realised in revulsion that she was held there by a spear which had been run through her body to transfix her to the wooden door. Half a dozen little bodies were clustered at her feet, some of the children's hands still clinging to her skirts. Each one of the children had been stabbed or had their tiny skulls shattered by blows.
Fidelma held an overwhelming urge to be sick. She turned aside and could not quell the bile that rose to her throat.
âI ⦠I am sorry,' she mumbled as she felt Cass's comforting arm on her shoulders.
He said nothing. There was nothing one could say.
Fidelma had seen violent death many times in her life but she had seen nothing so heartrending, so poignant as these dead little bodies who, a few moments ago, she had seen happy and laughing, singing and playing together.
She attempted to quell her loathing, pull herself together and move on.
There was the body of the other sister of the Faith who had been playing the pipes, lying still under the same tree where Fidelma had seen her, the pipes now broken in two and lying near her outstretched and lifeless hand, obviously crushed by the foot of some maniacal assassin. There were more bodies of children near her.
The buildings were burning fiercely now.
âCass.' Fidelma had to force the words, through the tears and heartache she felt. âCass, we must count the bodies. I want to know if the children from Rae na ScrÃne are among them ⦠whether everyone is accounted for.'
Cass signalled his acknowledgment.
âThe little boy certainly is,' he said quietly. âHe lies just over there. I'll look for the girls.'
Fidelma went forward to where Cass had indicated and found the twisted body of Tressach. His head had been cleaved with one blow. Yet he lay as if asleep, a hand carelessly flung out before him with the other still held tightly to his wooden sword.
âPoor little warrior,' muttered Fidelma, kneeling down and letting her slim hand stroke the fair hair of the child.
Cass appeared after a while. His face was even more grim than ever.
Fidelma raised her eyes to his.
His expression was enough.
âWhere are they?'
The warrior jerked his thumb behind him.
Fidelma rose and went round the corner of the chapel. The two little copper-haired girls, Cera and Ciar, were clasped in one another's arms, as if trying to protect each other from the cruel fate which crushed both their skulls without any compassion.
White-faced, Fidelma stood and stared at the once idyllic farmstead which AÃbnat and Molua had given over to the purposes of an orphanage.
Tears gathered in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
âTwenty children, three women religieuses, including Sister AÃbnat, and Brother Molua,' reported Cass. âAll dead. This is senseless!'
âEvil,' agreed Fidelma vehemently. âBut we will find some twisted sense behind it.'
âWe should get back to Ros Ailithir, Fidelma.' Cass was clearly worried. âWe dare not tarry in case that barbaric horde returns.'
Fidelma knew that he was right but she could not resist carrying the body of little Tressach over to the side of the chapel so that he could be with the two little girls from Rae na ScrÃne. There she said a prayer over them and then she turned and said a prayer for all who had met their deaths at Molua's farm.
At the gate she paused and gazed down at Molua's body.
âWas there a just cause in the minds of the people who perpetrated this infamy?' she whispered. âPoor Molua. We will never discuss philosophy now. Were you just animals to be driven out from the land under some terrible plough-share working for some mysterious greater good?'
âFidelma!' Cass's voice was fearful but his fear was for her safety alone. âWe should leave now!'
She clambered back on her horse while he mounted his and they cantered away from that place of death.
âI cannot believe that there are such barbarous people in
this land,' Cass said as they paused on the top of the hill and gazed back to the burning settlement.
âBarbarous!' Fidelma's voice was a whiplash. âI tell you, Cass, that this is evil. There is a terrible evil at work here and I swear by those tiny, mangled remains down there that I shall not rest until I have rooted it out.'
Cass shivered at the vehemence in her voice.
âWhere to now, sister?' Cass demanded as Fidelma, instead of turning her horse along the track that led to the abbey of Ros Ailithir, continued westward.
âBack to Salbach's fortress,' Fidelma replied, tight-mouthed. âWe shall confront him with this atrocity.'
Cass looked troubled.
âThis might be a dangerous course, sister. You say that Intat is Salbach's man. If so, then Salbach himself has ordered this crime.'
âSalbach is still chieftain of the Corco LoÃgde. He would not dare harm a
dálaigh
of the courts and sister of his king!'
Cass did not respond. He did not point out to the angry young woman that if Salbach had sanctioned Intat's violence then that same violence proved that he had forgotten his honour and oath of chieftainship. If he was involved, and could condone the slaughter of innocent children and religious, he would not hesitate to harm anyone else who threatened him. Only after they had continued for a while along the path to Cuan Dóir did Cass venture to suggest: âWouldn't it be better to wait until your brother, Colgú, arrives with his bodyguard and then question Salbach from a position of strength?'
Fidelma did not bother to grace the question with an answer. At that moment, her mind was too filled with anger and a determination to track down Intat. If Salbach stood behind Intat, then he, too, must fall. She allowed anger to
blind her to logic and in her anger she was not prepared to pause and reflect.
Cuan Dóir seemed as peaceful as ever as they rode directly up to the entrance of Salbach's fortress. It seemed impossible that a short ride away an entire farmstead and over twenty people, adults and children, had just been massacred.
The same disinterested warrior, still standing nonchalantly leaning against the gatepost, was keeping guard. Once more he denied that Salbach was in the fortress but this time he gave a knowing wink at Fidelma.
âHe is probably out hunting in the woods again, sister.'
Fidelma restrained her bubbling anger.
âKnow me, warrior, for a
dálaigh
of the courts,' she said tightly. âKnow me also for the sister of Colgú, king of Cashel.'
The warrior stirred uneasily and shifted his stance into one of respectful attention.
âThat information does not change my answer, sister,' he replied defensively. âYou may dismount and explore the halls of Cuan Dóir yourself but you will not find Salbach. He was here for a while earlier but rode back towards the forest of Dór again.'
âWhen was this?' demanded Cass.
âNo more than a few minutes ago. I presume he had an assignation in the woodsman's hut. But that is all I know.'
Fidelma dug her heels into the sides of her horse, signalling Cass to follow.
âBack to the woodsman's cabin?' called Cass as they cantered along the track.
âWe will start there first,' agreed Fidelma. âSalbach obviously went back to find Grella.'
They cantered swiftly along the path, northwards to the woods, crossing the river at the ford and turning along the bank towards the small cabin in the forest clearing. It did not take them long. Fidelma, this time, made no pretence of
hiding herself. She rode straight towards. the cabin and halted in front of it.
âSalbach of the Corco LoÃgde! Are you in there?' she cried, without dismounting. She did not think that there would be an answer for there was no sign of Salbach's horse.
A silence greeted them.
Cass swung off his horse and taking out his sword moved cautiously to the cabin. He pushed open the door and disappeared inside.
After a moment he returned, sword in hand.
âThere is no sign of anyone,' Cass reported in annoyance. âWhat now?'
âLet us looked around the cabin,' Fidelma replied. âThere might be something which may suggest where else we can look for Salbach.'
Fidelma dismounted. They hitched their horses to the rail and went into the cabin.
It was deserted as Cass had said. It was left exactly as it had been when they had taken Grella from it.
âI doubt that Salbach will be far away,' muttered Fidelma. âIf he has reasoned out that we have taken Grella, and he cares that much about her, he may have gone to the abbey to demand her release.'
Cass was about to reply when they heard the clatter of horses' hooves resounding outside the cabin. Cass started for the door but before he could reach it it had burst open.
A large, red-faced individual, clad in a steel helmet and woollen cloak edged in fur, wearing a gold chain of office and with his sword drawn, stood in the doorway; behind him were half a dozen warriors. His tiny eyes blazed triumphantly as they fell on Cass and Fidelma.
His image had long been burnt into Fidelma's memory. It was Intat.
âWell now,' he chuckled delightedly, âif we do not have the mischief-makers. And where is Salbach?'
âNot here, as you can see,' replied Cass evenly.
âNot here?' Intat looked round as if to confirm his statement. âI told him â¦' he began and then clamped his jaw shut, standing glowering at them from the threshold of the cabin.
âSo there is no one here but the two of you?'
Fidelma stood quietly, regarding the man with narrowed eyes.
âAs you can see, Intat. Put up your sword. I am a
dálaigh
of the courts and sister to Colgú, your king. Put up your weapons and come with us to Ros Ailithir.'
The red-faced man's eyes widened as if in astonishment. He half turned his head to the men standing behind him outside the cabin.
âHear this woman?' He laughed sourly. âShe tells us to lay down our arms. Have a care, men, for this slip of a girl is a mighty
dálaigh
of the law as well as a woman of the Faith. Her words will wound and destroy us unless we have a heed.'
His men guffawed at the crude wit of their leader.
Intat turned back to Fidelma and gave a humorous grimace which made his face ugly.
âYou have disarmed us, lady. We are your prisoners.'
He made no effort to lower his sword.
âDo you think that you are not accountable for your deeds, Intat?' she asked quietly.
âI am only accountable to my chieftain,' sneered Intat.
âThere is a greater authority than your chieftain,' snapped Cass.
âNone that I recognise,' returned Intat, turning to him. âPut down your own weapon, warrior, and you shall not be harmed. That I promise.'
âI have seen how you treat those who are defenceless,' replied Cass with a sneer. âThe people of Rae na ScrÃne and the little children at Molua's farmstead had no weapons. I have no illusions about the value of your promises.'
Intat gave another loud chuckle, as if amused by the warrior's defiance.
âThen it seems that you have written your own destiny, whelp of Cashel. You had best consult with the good sister and reflect on your fate. Be killed now or surrender and live a while longer. I will let you discuss the matter for a moment or two.'
The red-faced man drew back to his grinning cronies crowding in the doorway.
Cass also moved back a few paces, further into the cabin, still in the ready position, sword held before him.
âMove back behind me, sister,' he instructed quietly, speaking almost out of the side of his mouth in a tone so low that she could hardly hear him. He kept his eyes, gimlet-like, on Intat and his warriors.
âThere is no way out,' she whispered in reply. âDo we surrender?'
âYou saw what this man is capable of. Better to die defending ourselves than be slaughtered like sheep.'
âBut there are several warriors. I should have listened to you, Cass. We have no means of escaping.'
âOne has but not two,' Cass quietly replied. âBehind me and to the left there is a stair to a loft. There is a window up there. I noticed it a moment or so ago. While I engage them, run for the stairs and get out of the window. Once outside, seize a horse and attempt to reach the sanctuary of the abbey. Intat cannot attack there.'
âI can't leave you, Cass,' Fidelma protested.
âSomeone has to try to make it to Ros Ailithir,' Cass replied calmly. âThe High King is already there and you can bring his troops. If you do not do so, then we shall have both perished in vain. I can hold them off for a while. This is our only chance.'
âHey!'
Intat took a pace forward, his red face grinning with a smile that caused Fidelma to shiver.
âYou have spoken enough. Now do you surrender?'
âNo, we do not,' replied Cass. Then he suddenly yelled: âGo!'
The latter word was meant for Fidelma. She turned and leapt for the stairs. Most days she spent time practising the
troid-sciathagid,
the ancient form of unarmed combat, and this physical discipline had made her body supple and well-muscled beneath the seemingly soft exterior. She reached the top of the stairs with easy strides and launched herself, without pausing, for the window, grasping its ledge and hauling itself upwards in a frenzied motion.
Below her, in the cabin, she could hear metal clashing against metal and the terrible animal cry of men intent on killing each other.
Something struck the wall nearby. She realised it was an arrow. Another shaft grazed her forearm as she hauled herself over the bottom ledge of the window.
She paused a second, fighting an impulse to peer back. Then she hung her full length from the window ledge and dropped onto the soft, muddy ground behind the cabin. She landed almost as agilely as a cat, crouching on all fours. She was up and running in a split second; around the cabin to the front of it where the horses had been left. As well as the horses belonging to her and Cass, there were three other horses belonging to Intat and his men who were crowding in through the door of the cabin from where she could hear the sounds of combat.
She increased her pace for the nearest horse.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of Intat's men disengage himself from the mêlée at the door of the cabin and turn in her direction. He saw her and gave a cry of rage. Another man turned as well. Instead of a sword, like his companion, he was armed with a bow and already he was trying to fix an arrow to it. The first man came on towards her with hesitation, his sword raised.
Fidelma realised that she could not reach the horse before her attacker, so she halted, spun around to face his charge, quickly positioning her feet into a firm position.
The last time Fidelma had practised the
troid-sciathagid
in earnest had been against a giant of a woman in a Roman brothel. She hoped that she had not lost her skill. She let the man run in upon her, ducking and grabbing at his belt, using his forward momentum to pull the surprised ruffian over her shoulder.
With a cry of astonishment, the man went flailing head first and crashed into a nearby wooden barrel, splitting it with the impact of his head so that the water gushed into a spurt.
Fidelma rose quickly to her feet, ducking as she heard the twang of a bow string and felt the breath of an arrow in its flight past her cheek. Then she was hauling herself up into the saddle and thumping her heels against the horse's belly. With a startled whinny, the beast sprang forward across the clearing and into the woods.
She was aware of renewed cries behind her and she knew that at least one of Intat's men had mounted up and was in pursuit of her. Whether others had joined in, she did not know. She had only identified Intat and three men at the cabin. She did not think that the one she had thrown into the barrel would have been in condition to give chase for a while. And surely Cass was dealing with Intat in person. She had to keep in advance of her pursuer. It would not take her long to reach the abbey.
She took the road for Ros Ailithir through the woodland, praying that the High King would not delay giving the order to his men to accompany her back to the rescue of Cass. She also hoped that her escape would draw Intat away from Cass and give Cass an opportunity to make his own escape as Cass had given her that opportunity.
Now she began to bitterly regret her impetuosity born of rage. She should have taken notice of Cass's advice.
Head low along the neck of her horse, she found herself uttering sharp cries which would have brought a blush to her superior, the Abbess of Kildare, had that pious woman heard her young charge conjuring a rich variety of curses to urge her steed to further efforts.
She glanced back across her shoulder.
There were a couple of riders strung out behind her. She could see the leading pursuer was none other than Intat himself. Her heart went cold. She tried not to think what that signified. There was no question that Intat rode a stronger horse than Fidelma for he was gaining on her with ease.