The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,55

at the settlement and Scoth was currently in residence, insisting that Eadulf and Fidelma stay with her. Soon Fidelma was relaxing in a chair before a crackling log fire with a glass of mulled wine. Seated by her were Eadulf and Scoth.

Scoth was younger than Fidelma by five or six years; an attractive girl with golden-red hair who seemed to treat everything and everyone with an intense curiosity. Her family shared a common descent with the Eóghanacht of Cashel from Óengus – the first Christian King of Muman. Scoth was always lively and loved nothing more than to gossip.

“Scoth suggested that we should form a search party for you,” admitted Eadulf, Fidelma’s stoic partner, “for there were violent snowstorms across the peaks last night.”

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf with a quick, reassuring smile.

“There was no need to worry on my account. I found shelter for the night.”

“Where did you find hospitality?” demanded Scoth in surprise. “These mountains are sparsely populated and the tracks are few and far between.” When Fidelma explained the route she had taken, a worried expression formed on the face of her cousin. “I know where you went wrong. You must have left the main track in the valley and headed through the high pass between Sliabh Coimeálta and An Cnoc Fionn. You should have remained in the valley and followed the track to the east of An Cnoc Fionn.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and one of the female attendants entered.

“Excuse me, my lady,” she said, speaking directly to Scoth. “A messenger has arrived and needs a private word.”

Scoth looked irritable. “I am with my cousin. Can’t they wait?”

“They told me to tell you that it is news of Rechtabra.”

Scoth rose quickly with an apologetic expression. “Rechtabra is my wayward cousin,” she said to Fidelma. “You may remember him? I will be but a moment.”

She was, indeed, back before hardly any time had passed. “What were we talking about? You said that you missed the valley track east of An Cnoc Fionn.”

“It was in the blizzard that I lost the path. There was no track to follow,” countered Fidelma.

Scoth looked serious. “But no one lives up along that high pass. There is scarcely a track you can follow on foot, let alone one to ride.”

Fidelma smiled thinly. “I found that out for myself.”

Scoth seemed clearly worried. “So where did you find shelter? It is said that there are caves in those mountains but they are thought to be the lairs of wolves that haunt that area. Surely you didn’t shelter in a cave?”

Seated before the roaring fire with Scoth and Eadulf, and the warming mug of mulled wine in her hand, Fidelma felt rather embarrassed by some of the fears that had passed through her mind during the previous night. She relaxed and told her story with a smile.

“A curious tale,” Scoth commented reflectively.

“The place being so deserted, I am wondering if we could raise some people and ride back to the valley tomorrow to see if we can help with the search. I was considering passing back that way on my return to Cashel. Of course, with this weather it may well be bodies that we would be searching for, if the woman’s relative has not found them before.”

“There is no need for you to be troubled in that matter,” Scoth insisted. “A trip back through the high pass will take both you and Eadulf out of your way. It is not the best route back to Cashel.” She glanced through the window. “Nightfall will be on us soon otherwise I would suggest my warriors should go to help the search for this missing couple. Who did you say these hill-farmers were, Fidelma? Ciarnat and …?”

“Ciarnat and Cuilind,” repeated Fidelma. “And the man who was the brother of the woman said his name was Fáelur.”

Scoth started nervously. The involuntary movement was not lost on Fidelma.

“Do you know these people?” she asked with interest.

The girl shook her head. “In truth, I have never heard of Ciarnat and Cuilind before … except …”

“Except?” pressed Fidelma when she hesitated.

The girl regarded her with an odd expression.

“You know the meaning of the name Fáelur, surely?”

Fidelma shrugged. It had not occurred to her to think of its meaning. “It means …” she paused. A frown crossed her features as she realized what was passing through Scoth’s mind. “It means ‘wolfman’.”

“What of it?” asked Eadulf, curiously. “Our son is called Alchú – little hound. It’s common enough to use