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Eadulf turned his head slightly.
    ‘Do you know why we are heading there?’
    Archú contrived to shrug on his perch behind the monk.
    ‘The Father Abbot did tell us the news from Araglin,’ he replied.
    ‘Did you know Eber?’ asked Fidelma. The youth had not seemed unduly alarmed that his chieftain had been murdered. She was interested by his lack of concern.
    ‘I knew of him,’ Archú admitted. ‘Indeed, my mother was related to him. But most people in Araglin are related in some way. My mother’s farm was in an isolated valley known as the valley of the Black Marsh, which is some miles from the rath of the chieftain. We had little cause to go to the rath of the chieftain. Nor did Eber ever come to see my mother. Her marriage to my father was not approved of by her family. Father Gormán came to visit us now and then but never Eber.’
    ‘And you, Scoth? Did you know Eber?’
    ‘I was an orphan, raised as a servant on Muadnat’s farm. I never was allowed to go to the rath of the chieftain, though I saw Eber several times when he came to feast or hunt with Muadnat. And once he came to Muadnat’s farmstead some years ago to raise the clan to battle against the Uí Fidgente. I remember him as being in the same mould as Muadnat. I have seen him drunken and abusive.’
    ‘My father, Artgal, answered his call and went off to fight the Ui Fidgente but never returned,’ added Archú angrily.
    ‘So there is little you can tell me about Eber?’
    ‘What is it that you wish to know?’ asked Archú with interest.
    ‘I would like to know about the sort of person he was. You say that you have seen him drunk and abusive. But was he an able chieftain of his people?’
    ‘Most people spoke well of him,’ Archú offered. ‘I think he was well-liked but when I sought advice from Father Gormán, about making a legal claim against Muadnat, he advised me to take the claim to Lios Mhór rather than appeal directly to Eber.’
    Fidelma found this a curious piece of advice for a priest to give. After all, the first step in any litigation was an appeal to the clan chieftain; even a petty chieftain of a small sept had the right to make an initial judgment. She was reminded that Beccan had mentioned that Araglin did not have a Brehon to advise on the law, so perhaps Father Gormán’s advice was sound enough and not a reflection on the prejudice of Eber.
    ‘Did Father Gormán offer any reason why you should appeal directly to Lios Mhór?’ she asked.
    ‘None.’
    ‘Isn’t it curious that two people can be raised in a clan territory yet hardly see the chieftain of their clan?’ Eadulf questioned.
    Archú laughed disarmingly.
    ‘Araglin is not some small territory. You could easily get lost among the mountains. Indeed, you might dwell all your life there and not meet the neighbour on the other side of the hill. My farmstead,’ the boy paused and savoured the phrase, ‘my farmstead, as I have said, is in an isolated valley and there is only one other farmstead in it, the farm of Muadnat.’
    Scoth sighed deeply.
    ‘It is to be hoped our lives will be different now. I hardly knew the countryside beyond Muadnat’s kitchen.’
    ‘Why didn’t you run away from Muadnat then?’ asked Fidelma.
    ‘I did as soon as I was of legal age. But where could I go? I was soon brought back to his farmstead.’
    Fidelma raised her eyebrows in astonishment.
    ‘Were you taken back by force? By what right did Muadnat 28
force you back? You were not one of the unfree class?’
    ‘Unfree class?’ interposed Eadulf. ‘Slaves, you mean? I did not think there were slaves in the five kingdoms.’
    ‘There are not,’ replied Fidelma immediately. ‘The “unfree class” is the class who have no rights at all within the clan.’
    ‘What are they but slaves?’
    ‘Not so. They consist of those who were prisoners, taken in war, hostages and cowards who deserted their clan in time of need. They also include law breakers who could not or would