Badger's Moon (29 page)

‘I believe that Accobrán had been one of your group? You do not mention him. What was his view?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Accobrán was—’

The sound of a horn blast cut through the air in a long and almost plaintive tone. It came again, sounding more urgently. Puzzled, Fidelma raised her head.

‘The sound came from Rath Raithlen,’ muttered Eadulf apprehensively, glancing towards the hill which was obscured by the trees. ‘What does it mean?’

‘It is the sound of an alarm,’ old Liag said, rising calmly and hauling in his fishing line. ‘I have not heard it in many a year. Usually, it is blown to summon people to the fortress as the territory is under attack.’

Eadulf sprang to his feet. ‘Uí Fidgente. I wager a
screpall
on it.’

Liag’s face was grim as he turned towards his
bothán
. ‘I fear that you will find no takers for that wager. After the raid of yesterday, retribution for Accobrán’s enthusiasm may well be the result.’

Fidelma was already mounting her horse with Eadulf following her example.

‘We’ll return to the rath. An attack by the Uí Fidgente might well be an opportune event for some here,’ she said to the old apothecary.

‘Let us hope that it is not a barrier to the course of truth,’ he called in reply as they rode off.

‘Our sentinels report a
sluaghadh
of the Uí Fidgente encamped on our borders,’ Becc explained as Fidelma, followed by Eadulf, burst into the great hall and asked the reason for the sounding horn. The harassed chieftain was surrounded by several of his retinue. There was no sign of Accobrán among them.

‘A
sluaghadh?
’ Eadulf was not familiar with military terms and asked what was meant by the word.

‘A war band,’ explained Fidelma quickly. ‘Is it reported how big this hosting is?’ she asked, turning to Becc.

‘Not large, but too large for us in our present circumstances. The sentinels report that it looks like a
lucht-tighe
, a house company of no more than four score warriors. However, I doubt whether we can muster a score of fighting men at this moment. I’ve sent for Accobrán and ordered the alarm to be sounded.’

‘He did a foolish thing in not finding out whether the raiding party was an advance guard of a larger band,’ Fidelma muttered. ‘Now we know. Doubtless they are here to avenge their dead.’

Becc was clearly worried. ‘What can we do? We are mostly farmers and woodsmen, with very few warriors left among us. If they are professional warriors then we are outnumbered.’

At that moment, Accobrán entered noisily. He had a grim look.

‘Have you heard the news?’ Becc demanded of him.

The tanist nodded curtly. ‘I can probably raise thirty-five men to face them but of that number only a dozen have been under arms before. Perhaps we can delay them until we have sent out to other parts of our territory and raised more men.’

‘Where are the Uí Fidgente now?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘No more than a mile from here, perhaps less,’ replied Becc.

‘We can find a place to ambush them,’ Accobrán said. ‘We can cut them down before they know it.’

‘And if you don’t surprise them?’ queried Fidelma. ‘Are you prepared to take the risk that you will leave your people defenceless? That is not a good decision for a tanist to make.’

‘What is your proposal, Fidelma?’ Becc asked quietly.

‘Let us go and talk to them and discover what brings them here and what, if any, are their demands. Then we may see if there is any means of ending this matter by talking rather than bloodshed.’

Accobrán laughed harshly. ‘That is a woman’s answer and not a warrior’s way.’

Becc wheeled round on his tanist, his face grim. ‘Remember to whom you are talking, Accobrán. And remember also that some of our great warriors were women. Scáthach was the one who instructed Cúchullain in the martial arts at her academy – was she not a woman? Was not Creidne a woman, one of the most relentless warriors of the Fianna? Did not Medb of Connacht choose a female champion, Erni, to guard her treasures? Here, among the Eóghanacht, was not Mugháin Mhór our greatest warrior queen? Shame on you, Accobrán, that you can forget your inheritance so quickly that you insult your own people by your thoughtless words!’

The tanist flushed angrily but was silent.

Becc turned back with an apologetic look to Fidelma. ‘You are right, cousin. We should first seek the way of peace before resorting to the way of sorrow and bloodshed.’

‘Good. Then perhaps—’

The door burst opened and Adag the steward came in breathlessly.

‘Becc!’ he gasped, without apologising for his entrance which contravened the etiquette of a chieftain’s house. ‘A rider has come to the gates of the fortress. He rides under the
méirge
, the banner of the Uí Fidgente.’

Accobrán had clasped his hand to his sword hilt and was moving to the door.

‘I’ll deal with this,’ he shouted. ‘Sound the alarm!’

‘Stop!’ cried Fidelma harshly. ‘Have all your senses left you, Accobrán?’ Having caught their attention, she turned to Adag. ‘I presume this rider is a herald from the Uí Fidgente?’

Adag nodded swiftly. ‘He is indeed a
techtaire
bearing a message to our chieftain.’

Fidelma looked at Becc with grim satisfaction. ‘This saves us having to ride out and find the Uí Fidgente. Let us go and speak to this
techtaire
and find out what it is that his hosting seeks here.’

They left the chieftain’s hall and moved to the courtyard, where a couple of Becc’s warriors stood nervously, arms at the ready, before a horseman. The man was still seated in his saddle and carried nothing more lethal than a banner of red silk on which was a design of a ravening wolf. It was the symbol of his people. He wore his hair long and had a bushy sandy beard. His close-set bright eyes watched them approach impassively.

‘I am Becc, chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda,’ Becc announced as he came to a halt before the
techfaire
.

‘I see you, Becc,’ intoned the herald ritually. ‘I am here as a voice of Conrí, King of Wolves, war chieftain of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘I see you, herald of the Uí Fidgente,’ replied Becc in return ritual. ‘Why are you so far from your own lands?’

‘I am told to say these words to you – Conrí enters this country with a
sluaghadh
, a hosting, more in sorrow than in anger. He has encamped at the place you call the Marsh of the Birch and will await you or your representatives there to discuss why he should leave the land of the Cinél na Áeda without spilling the blood of its people.’

Becc inclined his head. ‘Why would your chieftain contemplate spilling that blood?’

‘I have been told to say, should you ask that question, that our
sluaghadh
was on its way to the lands of the prince of the Corco Loígde, where we were invited to take part in the games.’

Fidelma knew that most of the larger principalities held annual games to prepare themselves for the three great festivals at Tailltenn, Tlachtga and Uísneach. It would not be unheard of for the ruler of the Corco Loígde to invite a band of young men from the Uí Fidgente to participate in the local games there. The herald was continuing.

‘While we were passing near the borders of your land, a small foraging party from our
sluaghadh
went missing. We sent out scouts and they found the bodies of our men – all had been slaughtered. The arrows we found bore the marks of the Cinél na Áeda. Some of the party had been cut down by sword blows: many had wounds in their backs that spoke plainly of how they came by their deaths. Thus, chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda, was it decided that our
sluaghadh
would turn from its path to the Corco Loígde and enter your territory to demand an explanation. We will see whether that explanation allows us to continue in peace or whether it forces us to invoke the law which demands
dígal
– blood vengeance.’

Fidelma frowned. She tried to hide the fact that she was appalled that Accobrán had not even buried the slain Uí Fidgente but had abandoned the bodies to the elements and ravering beasts. She drew herself together.

‘The futility of vengeance has been censured by the New Faith,’ she pointed out in a sharp voice.

The
techfaire
glanced at her as if to dismiss her. ‘Those of your cloth would say so. However, it is written in the
Crith Gablach
that the blood feud has legal standing and that a party of avengers may pursue such a feud in the territory of those who have wronged them.’

Fidelma smiled grimly at being lectured on the law.

‘However, that law says that the
dígal
can only be carried out a month after the collapse of any attempt to negotiate compensation if culpability is proved,’ she replied quickly.

The herald’s features twisted in a sneer. He was about to speak when Becc said gruffly: ‘Have a care,
techtaire
. It is a
dálaigh
of the courts who addresses you.’

The man blinked and hesitated for a moment. ‘I am not here to debate points of law but to tell you the intentions of my lord, Conrí. He awaits you, Becc, or your representatives, at the Marsh of the Birch. Tell me, chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda, will he wait in vain?’

Becc shook his head immediately. ‘You can tell your war chieftain that while it is improper for the chieftain of any
tuath
or tribe to come to him at his demand, nevertheless I shall send representatives to demand his withdrawal from our lands without the spilling of blood on either side.’

‘Brave words. My part is now over. Your part has begun.’

The horseman wheeled swiftly about and rode off through the gates of the fortress.

‘Let me send him back to his war chieftain with an arrow in him,’ muttered Accobrán, his hand clenching on his sword.

Fidelma turned to him with a sour expression.

‘Had you been a little less concerned with slaughter, Accobrán, then this confrontation need never have happened,’ she snapped.

‘And Suanach and even you might not be alive.’ retorted the tanist.

Becc raised a pacifying hand.

‘Let us confront the common enemy,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Fidelma, this Conrí is only a war lord and, as I am chieftain here, I cannot be seen going to him now that he has invaded our territory.’

‘I should go as tanist!’ said Accobrán quickly.

‘Your going with your current attitude would guarantee more bloodshed,’ said Fidelma waspishly. ‘No, I shall go as negotiator.’

Becc looked horrified. ‘But you are the king’s sister. If it is not right for me to go and negotiate with a warlord, then how much less fitting is it for you…’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘I am here as a
dálaigh
. Indeed, my relationship to the king might prove useful for the Uí Fidgente might then know that they may once again have to deal with Cashel. A memory of their defeat at Cnoc Áine might cause them to reflect on any precipitous action.’

‘It is like presenting the Uí Fidgente with a hostage,’ protested Accobrán in irritation.

‘Better than presenting them with a dozen corpses still warm from the slaughter! The warrior’s code respects the bodies of slain enemies.’

Accobrán flushed at her retort. Becc was worried and held up a hand to still any response from his tanist.

‘I believe that you are right, Fidelma,’ he said. ‘But you cannot go alone.’

‘I’ll go with her,’ interposed Eadulf quickly.

‘But there should be a representative of the Cinél na Áeda present,’ protested Accobrán. ‘If she is to speak for us, how do we know what she will say?’

‘Are you saying that I am not to be trusted?’ Fidelma asked quietly. There was an ominous tone in her softly spoken words.

Becc moved forward hurriedly and laid a pacifying hand on her arm.

‘Accobrán has fallen into the habit of speaking with impulsiveness. He did not mean that. Yet he does raise a pertinent point. Let Adag my steward accompany you and Brother Eadulf. Then everyone will be satisfied.’

Fidelma smiled in agreement. ‘I have no objection if Adag is willing.’

The steward was not looking happy but he stepped forward quickly enough. His chubby features were firmly set.

‘It is the will of my chieftain. I shall go with you, lady,’ he affirmed.

‘How will you proceed?’ asked Becc, turning back into his hall. They followed him in while someone was sent off to the stables to order the horses to be saddled for them.

‘I think that we will have to see what this Conrí’s intentions are,’ Fidelma said. ‘We know that this foraging party came to the
bothán
of Menma and Suanach. They kidnapped Suanach, and burnt the cabin. That is hardly in keeping with the behaviour of what the herald described as a peaceful foraging party. For our part, we have to admit that these Uí Fidgente were all slaughtered instead of being made captive.’

Accobrán muttered angrily: ‘Them or me. The choice was obvious.’

‘Are you saying that the messenger was lying when he said that some of the bodies showed that they had been shot or stabbed in the back?’

‘Back or front. An enemy is an enemy and we did right to slaughter the vermin.’

Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment.

‘It might be that compensation will have to be offered for this slaughter, Becc,’ she pointed out.

‘Never!’ snapped Accobrán, his voice rising in his anger.

‘It is surely true, Fidelma,’ Becc said, waving his tanist to be silent, ‘that it is lawful to kill a thief caught in the act of stealing who does not surrender and threatens violence.’

‘That is so, just as it is permitted that a death resulting from defending oneself against an attack is not subject to punishment. Everyone is entitled to self-defence. The problem is whether a case may be made out that a person who has been shot or stabbed in the back was a threat to the life of the person who killed him in this fashion.’ She stared briefly at Accobrán who scowled back at her but made no reply.

‘I think,’ ventured Eadulf hurriedly, seeing the anger in the tanist’s eyes, ‘we had better leave any decisions on culpability until we see what the Uí Fidgente have to say.’

‘Agreed,’ sighed Becc in relief. ‘In the meantime, I do not think it will harm us if we prepare the defences of this fortress.’

‘That would be an obvious course,’ agreed Fidelma solemnly. ‘Also you might enquire how this war band came so near to Rath Raithlen without an alarm being raised. I thought you had ordered a watch yesterday?’

Becc glanced at his tanist. The young man flushed again.

‘I called it off once we had returned here triumphant after pursuing and defeating the raiders.’

Becc did not say anything but his features were like granite as he turned to give instructions, ordering that defences be prepared as they rode out of the gates and down the hill. It was Adag who led them to the area called the Marsh of the Birch, which was scarcely an hour’s ride away. There was no mistaking the area because they were soon in sight of an encampment marked by posts from which red silk banners bearing the wolf symbol fluttered. The wolf symbol was always associated with the Uí Fidgente. Watchful sentinels challenged their party and then allowed them to pass into an area sheltered by trees beside a small stream.

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.