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roadway, they could see that the buildings of the village appeared to be all on fire. Great consuming flames leapt skyward and debris and smoke spiralled upwards in a black column above the buildings. Fidelma dragged her horse to a halt with Cass nearly colliding into her. The reason for her sudden concern was that there were a dozen men running among the flames with swords and burning brand torches in their hands. It was clear that they were the incendiaries. Before she could react further, a wild shout told them that they had been spotted.
    Fidelma turned to warn Cass and suggest they withdraw in case the men be hostile, but she saw a movement behind them by the trees that lined the road.
    Two more men had emerged onto the road with bows strung and aimed. They said nothing. There was nothing to be said. Cass exchanged a glance with Fidelma and simply shrugged. They turned and waited patiently while two or three of the men, who had obviously been putting the village to the torch, came running up the hillock to halt before them.
    â€˜Who are you?’ demanded their leader, a large, red-faced individual, soot and mud staining his face. He carried a sword in his hand but no longer held the brand torch in the other. He had a steel war bonnet on his head, a woollen cloak edged in fur and wore a gold chain of office. His pale eyes were ablaze as if with a battle fever.
    â€˜Who are you?’ he shouted again. ‘What do you seek here?’

    Fidelma gazed down at his threatening figure as if she were unperturbed. Her artificial disdain hid her fears.
    â€˜I am Fidelma of Kildare; Fidelma of the Eóganachta of Cashel,’ she added. ‘And who are you to halt travellers on a highway?’
    The big man’s eyes widened a fraction. He took a step forward and examined her closely without answering. Then he turned to examined Cass with equal attention.
    â€˜And you? Who are you?’ He asked the question with a brusqueness that implied he had not been impressed to learn that Fidelma was related to the kings at Cashel.
    The young warrior eased his cloak so that the man might look on his golden torc.
    â€˜I am Cass, champion of the king of Cashel,’ he said, putting all the cold arrogance he could muster into his voice.
    The red-faced man stood back and gestured to the others to lower their weapons.
    â€˜Then be about your business. Ride away from this place, do not look back, and you will not be harmed.’
    â€˜What is happening here?’ Fidelma demanded, nodding towards the burning habitations.
    â€˜The curse of the Yellow Plague sits on this place,’ snapped the man. ‘We destroy it by flame, that is all. Now, ride off!’
    â€˜But what of the people?’ protested Fidelma. ‘On whose orders do you do this thing? I am a dálaigh of the Brehon Court and sister to the heir-apparent of Cashel. Speak, man, or you may have to answer before the Brehons of Cashel.’
    The red-faced man blinked at the sharp tone in the young woman’s voice. He swallowed for a moment, gazing up at her as if he could not believe his ears. Then he said angrily,
    â€˜The kings of Cashel have no right to give orders in the land of the Corco Loígde. Only our chieftain, Salbach, has that right.’

    â€˜And Salbach has to answer to the king at Cashel, fellow,’ Cass pointed out.
    â€˜We are a long way from Cashel,’ replied the man stubbornly. ‘I have warned you that there is Yellow Plague here. Now begone lest I change my mind and order my men to shoot.’
    He motioned with his hand to the bowmen. They raised their weapons again and extended the bowstrings. The arrow flights were firm against their cheeks.
    Cass’s features were taut.
    â€˜Let us do as he says, Fidelma,’ he muttered. If even a finger slipped, the arrow would find a sure target. ‘This man is one who does not reason except with force.’
    Reluctantly Fidelma drew away and followed