The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,53

evening, she had managed to miss.

Outside the barn she stood and examined the shapes of the mountains but there was none she recognized. Not that she was expecting much, for she had only travelled this route a few times, but thought she might have retained some memory of the shape of the hills that were always an important guide to travellers.

She returned to the barn and saddled Aonbharr in readiness. The sooner she left, the sooner she might be able to find someone who could help either look after the animals or find the missing occupants.

She made her way back to the cabin to collect her sursaing-bholg, the girdle bag with her belongings. She opened the door and froze abruptly. In the chair before the fire – the chair where she had slept for a few uncomfortable hours – sat a man. He turned his head sharply in surprise at her entrance.

He was tall, thin and with a shock of white hair but without beard or moustache. His high-domed forehead accentuated a thin nose with strangely arched nostrils and high bridge. His pale skin stretched tightly over his sharply etched features. Indeed, there seemed no colour in his cheeks at all. He seemed a man who avoided the excesses of the weather but, in spite of his thin features, the pale hands that spread palm downward on his knees, bespoke strength.

Controlling his surprise, he rose from the chair and stood regarding her with pale, almost colourless eyes.

“Who are you?” Fidelma demanded, also recovering her poise.

“I should ask you that question first,” the man replied, with a thin smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you the owner of this farmstead?” she persisted, not put off by his counter question. Then she relented a little. “I am Fidelma of Cashel. I was on my way to Béal Átha Gabhann last night when I lost my way, saw this cabin and came here to seek shelter.”

At her name, the man showed some recognition.

“Fidelma the dálaigh?” he asked sharply. “The lawyer and sister to the King?”

“I am an advocate of the law courts,” she confirmed. “And now it is your turn to identify yourself.”

“I am … I am brother to Cianat, wife to Cuilind, who owns this farm,” he replied, shortly. “I came to visit them. I tend goats on the far side of this valley? You say that you came here last night?”

“I found this cabin deserted. There is no sign of the occupants. The animals were in need of tending and, most worryingly, the guard dog was laying by the cabin door, still tethered, but its skull crushed in.”

It was impossible to judge the man’s expression in the shadows of the cabin; he breathed out sharply but said nothing.

“You say that you are kin to the people here?” pressed Fidelma. “What is your name?”

“I am known as Fáelur,” he replied. “What do you know of … of the disappearance of Cianat and Cuilind?”

“I have told you all I know,” responded Fidelma. “I suppose that you know these mountains well? They might have had an accident in the snowstorm.”

Fáelur pursed his lips as he thought about it.

“Maybe they have gone to visit someone else in the valley. It would be unusual for anything to happen, because Cuilind knows the mountains well, as does my sister.”

“No matter how well a person thinks they know mountains, in a snowstorm mistakes can be made,” Fidelma assured him. “Cotidiana vilescunt,” she added the Latin phrase automatically, meaning that familiarity breeds contempt.

Fáelur nodded slowly in agreement.

“Perhaps you are right. One thinks one knows the land well but snow obliterates the features, no matter how familiar they have been. Indeed, they may have come to grief on the mountain in the snowstorm. Anything could have happened, a broken leg or some such accident.”

“I presume there are people here who could form a search party for them?”

“I can certainly raise some … some local people.”

“The one thing that bothered me was that I found the dog still tied up and killed, its skull smashed. I dragged it from the door and piled stones and snow over it as there were wolves in evidence in the mountains last night.”

Fáelur glanced at her quickly. “That is worrying. What do you make of it?”

“There is nothing I can make of it without information,” replied Fidelma. “Anyway, I suggest that if there are others living in this valley, you should organize a search for your sister and her husband. Alas, I cannot stay longer.