Badger's Moon (4 page)

Becc nodded to emphasise the significance.

‘That is an implication which has not been lost on myself, or on Abbot Brogán,’ he said.

‘Abbot Brogán?’

‘Nearby is the abbey where the Blessed Finnbarr was born.’ Becc glanced at Eadulf. ‘Finnbarr founded a school in the marshlands by the River Laoi and taught many years there.’

‘We know well who Finnbarr was,’ interposed Colgú roughly, ‘for was not our father, Faílbe Fland mac Aedo Duib, king at Cashel during those days?’

Becc inclined his head, not bothering to explain that he was addressing his remarks to Eadulf.

‘I had not forgotten. Anyway, Abbot Brogán is a venerable man who was trained at Finnbarr’s college by the River Laoi. He took over the stewardship of the abbey near to us two decades ago. The abbey stands just below the wooded hill where these killings took place. We call the woods the Thicket of Pigs and now the hill bears that name.’

Fidelma leant back in her chair. ‘So, from what you say, there have been three young girls murdered, each killing made on the full moon? Has your own Chief Brehon investigated this matter? I fail to understand why you bring this tale to Cashel.’

Becc shifted in embarrassment. ‘My Chief Brehon was Aolú. A man of wit and wisdom who served the Cinél na Áeda for forty long years in that office. He was old and frail and three weeks ago he died from a fever produced from a chill.’

‘Who succeeded him?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘Alas, I have not been able to appoint a successor. We have several judges of lower rank and ability, none of them of sufficient experience to be appointed as Chief Brehon. Until such an appointment can be made, we are without the wisdom of an experienced judge.’

Fidelma let out a sighing breath. She now realised what lay behind Becc’s arrival at Cashel.

‘When Aolú was alive was he able to take evidence and investigate the early deaths?’

‘He was.’

‘Are there any clues as to who would perpetrate such acts?’

Becc raised his shoulders and let them fall in an eloquent symbolism. ‘None that Aolú considered worthy of pursuing. My tanist, Accobrán, made some inquiries for Aolú was infirm at the time and could not move from my rath. Alas, he learnt nothing. But as for suspects…’ His expression became suddenly serious.

Fidelma caught the expression and her eyes narrowed. ‘You appear troubled, cousin? There is a suspect?’

Becc hesitated for a moment and then made a gesture with one hand that seemed to express a sense of helplessness. ‘It is that which prompted me to come here, Fidelma, and as a matter of urgency. There was a riot at the gates of the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr. I had to use my warriors to save the religious from being attacked and I had to wound a man as an example to prevent the inevitable injury and destruction of the religious community.’

‘The religious? At the abbey?’ Fidelma could not conceal her surprise. ‘Why there? Are you saying that the religious are suspected of these killings?’

‘Not exactly the religious of the abbey. Brocc, who works with his brother at our local mill and is related to two of the victims, persuaded many of our people that some strangers who are staying in the abbey are responsible for the murders.’

‘On what evidence?’

‘I fear on no more evidence than his own prejudice. The strangers arrived and were given hospitality at the abbey only days before the first killing. As such a thing had never happened before, Brocc argues that it was undoubtedly the work of these visitors. It is unfortunate that something about them generates the fear and prejudice of our people. Brocc tried to lead the people in storming the gates of the abbey with the idea of seizing the strangers. Had he done so, they would undoubtedly have been killed and the brethren would have been harmed for trying to protect them.’ Becc smiled grimly and shrugged. ‘I thrice told them of the Law of Riots and its consequences. When Brocc still refused to depart to his home, I shot him in the thigh with an arrow. This caused everyone to pause for thought.’

Eadulf pursed his lips in an expression without humour.

‘I should imagine it would. Drastic but effective,’ he said with clear approval.

‘And these strangers are under the protection of the abbey?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Were the people informed?’

‘They are and they were. The strangers reside there under the sacred laws of hospitality as well as the rule of sanctuary that the New Faith has adopted.’

‘Is there not a danger of the abbey’s being attacked in your absence?’ Edulf queried.

‘Brocc, the main trouble-maker, will not be active for a while yet.’ Becc smiled grimly. ‘Also, I have left Accobrán, my tanist, in command. He will protect the abbey and the strangers.’

‘Are you and Abbot Brogán totally satisfied of the innocence of these strangers?’ Fidelma asked.

‘We only know that you cannot punish strangers on no other evidence than suspicion. We lack a fully qualified Brehon to resolve the matter.’

There was a silence while Fidelma leant back in her chair, her eyes almost shut in thought. She gave a long sigh.

‘I am only a minor Brehon. I am merely a
dálaigh
or advocate and qualified to the level of
anruth
. You need an
ollamh
of law. I would suspect that you have better qualified Brehons among the Cinél na Áeda than myself.’

‘But none with your reputation, cousin,’ replied Becc immediately.

‘What is it that you expect from me?’

Becc was silent for a moment and then he cleared his throat nervously.

‘Expect? Far be it for me to expect anything of you, Fidelma of Cashel. However, I would like to ask something of you. Would you come to Rath Raithlen, with Brother Eadulf of course, and solve this evil mystery which is afflicting our community?’

Eadulf glanced sharply at Fidelma. He had had a growing suspicion where this conversation was leading right from the start. Now, with foreboding, he saw the glint of excitement in her eyes. Fidelma’s features were animated. He knew that she could not refuse the stimulant that was being offered to her intellect. Since they had returned from the land of the South Folk, even during the months of her confinement and the birth of little Alchú, Eadulf realised that she had not been completely happy. Fidelma was not a person to whom marriage and maternity was everything. Indeed, he had a sneaking suspicion that he might possess more of the maternal spirit than she did.

For some time now he had realised that she longed to get back to the thing that impassioned her most – the solving of conundrums, and the application of law to the answers. These were the things that brought her alive and invigorated her senses. In short, during these last months he had realised that she was bored. Bored with life at Cashel, with looking after Alchú with nothing else to occupy her highly attuned intellectual faculties. Oh, he had a sense of guilt when he thought about it because it was not that she was a bad or indifferent mother. It was not that she did not love Alchú. He knew her too well to condemn her for being true to her nature. Eadulf was aware that he was losing her almost before he spoke. He cleared his throat quickly.

‘There is Alchú to consider,’ he said quietly.

Fidelma’s lips compressed in irritation.

‘Sárait is a good nurse,’ intervened Colgú before she could speak. ‘You would not be away more than a week, perhaps ten days at most. She could look after him until you return. It is not as if Cashel is a stranger to babies and children.’

‘We feel that you are our only hope in clearing up this mystery,’ added Becc, a pleading note in his voice. ‘We do not ask this of you as a mere whim of the moment.’

Fidelma looked at Eadulf with a faintly sad expression, as if she understood that he realised that the request provided an incentive that he could not displace – not even little Alchú could entice her to surrender this part of her life. It was what she had been born for, trained for, the thing she needed the way people need air to breathe, sleep by night and light during the day.

She turned back to Becc. ‘These three strangers whom you mention. When you say “strangers”, do you mean that they are strangers to the Cinél na Áeda, strangers to our kingdom of Muman or strangers to the five kingdoms of Éireann?’

‘They are strangers from over the seas, from some distant land that I have never heard of.’

‘Then, if they are unjustly accused or attacked, it becomes a matter of the honour of the kingdom and not just that of the Cinél na Áeda.’

Eadulf sighed softly in resignation. He had lost her.

Colgú was nodding in approval.

‘There is that aspect to be considered,’ he agreed. ‘It is an important aspect. That is why it is vital that this matter be resolved before there are any more attacks on the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr.’

‘Or, indeed, any other young girls are murdered,’ Fidelma added drily. She turned to Eadulf once again. ‘Then I must go. There is no choice. Will you come with me, Eadulf? I shall need your help. Sárait will be a good nurse to Alchú.’

Eadulf hesitated only a second and then surrendered completely.

‘Of course,’ he said gruffly. ‘As your brother says, Sárait is a good nurse. She will take care of the baby while we are away.’

Fidelma’s features broadened in a smile of satisfaction. ‘Then we shall be able to leave for Rath Raithlen at dawn tomorrow.’

Colgú had reached forward and rung the silver handbell once again. ‘Before we conclude this discussion, there is one more task I must accomplish.’

This time it was Colgús religious counsellor who entered. Ségdae was the elderly bishop of Imleach and
comarb
, official successor, of the Blessed Ailbe who first brought the Faith to Muman. The ageing but hawk-faced man, whose dark eyes missed nothing, carried a small, oblong box with him.

Colgú stood up and, as protocol demanded, they all stood. Ségdae’s stern features softened a little in brief greeting to them all before he handed the box to Colgú. The king turned to Fidelma.

‘In view of the nature of this matter, as you have already pointed out, Fidelma, we must treat it as a matter of concern for the honour of the kingdom. We have given hospitality to these strangers; if they are unjustly accused and harmed, it reflects on our honour. If they have abused our hospitality and committed these criminal acts, then it is we who are responsible for seeing that they answer for that abuse.’ He opened the box. ‘You have acted as my authority once before, Fidelma, and now you must act as my authority again.’

He took from the box a small wand of white rowan on which was fixed a figurine in gold in the image of an antlered stag. This was the personal symbol of the Eóghanacht princes of Cashel, the symbol of their regal authority. He handed it to Fidelma.

‘This is the symbol of my personal authority, sister. You have used it well in the past and will use it again in justice in the future.’

Fidelma took the wand of authority in her hand, inclining her head briefly. Then brother and sister embraced in the official manner of the court.

There was a solemnity between them for a moment and then both stood back and their features broke into grins like children sharing a secret. Colgú turned to them all, still smiling.

‘Now let us proceed into the feasting hall or the rest of our guests will be wondering what ails us.’

The party left Cashel the next morning, but not at dawn as Fidelma had suggested. In fact, the sun was creeping towards its zenith before they left because the feasting had lasted late into the night and there had been music and dancing. Bards, accompanying themselves on small stringed instruments, which they plucked, had sung the praises of the ancestry of Colgú in what Fidelma explained to Eadulf was one of the oldest forms of poetry known to her people – the
forsundud
or ‘praise poem’. In all the time that he had been in the five kingdoms of Éireann, Eadulf had never heard this ancient form and found the words of the chants recited the various reigns of the kings of Cashel and their noble deeds. The recitation was accompanied by an exuberant music which, to Eadulf’s ears, was both strange and wild. The wine circled well among the company. When the party departed for the territory of the Cinél na Áeda, the palace of Cashel still had an air of sleep about it and Eadulf and Becc seemed strained and silent. Fidelma, knowing the alcoholic cause of their wretchedness, was not sympathetic.

It took three days of easy riding to reach the fortress of the Cinél na Áeda at Rath Raithlen. They rode in just after dark and were greeted in the courtyard by Accobrán, the tanist. He was a tall, muscular young man, with dark hair which he wore in the shoulder-length fashion but clean-shaven. His features were pleasant but there seemed some ruthless quality about his mouth. Something indiscernibly cruel. His eyes were dark and Fidelma distrusted his ability to smile too quickly. She identified the quiet vanity of his manner and the self-satisfaction of the consciously handsome.

‘Has all been quiet while I have been in Cashel?’ was Becc’s first question as he was dismounting.

The young man gestured with diffidence. ‘Brocc has recovered from his wound. He demands to be released.’

‘He has a hide like a bull,’ muttered Becc. ‘I thought he might have learnt his lesson and stopped trying to provoke discord.’

Accobrán smiled quickly but there was no humour in the expression. ‘There is no need for him to provoke what is already in the people’s hearts, Becc. But his incarceration is creating disaffection among the people.’

‘Have him released into the care of his brother, Seachlann the millwright,’ Becc said. ‘Seachlann must stand ready to pay for any misbehaviour until we have dealt properly with this matter.’

The young tanist acknowledged the order before turning to where Eadulf was assisting Fidelma to dismount. There was a frown of disapproval on his face.

‘I thought that you were going to return with a Brehon? The last thing we need here is more religious. The people are suspicious and angry enough.’

Becc clucked his tongue in annoyance at the young man’s discourtesy to his guests.

‘This is Fidelma of Cashel, sister to the king, and our cousin. You should also know that she is a qualified
dálaigh
…and this is her companion, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

The tanist’s eyes widened a fraction and then he recovered from his surprise.

‘Forgive me, lady.’ Accobrán’s expression changed to a disarming smile of welcome. ‘I did not know you by sight but I have heard much of your reputation. Your name has been spoken much in this kingdom.’ His easy charm was something to which Fidelma felt an immediate aversion. The tanist went on, oblivious of the expression of dislike on the Saxon monk’s face. ‘You do us much honour in coming here.’

‘There is little honour in having to respond to crime, tanist of the Cinél na Áeda,’ replied Fidelma softly, gazing keenly at the young man. His face was like some pliable mask. She felt distrust towards someone who could assume emotions and abandon them with lightning facility. ‘My companion Eadulf is well versed in law, and he is also my
fer comtha
.’

Accobrán must have been astonished at this statement of her marital relationship to the Saxon but his features remained respectful.

‘I shall order your rooms and bathing facilities to be prepared immediately,’ he muttered. ‘Excuse me.’ He turned and made his way into the complex of buildings that constituted the great hall of Becc within the fortress.

The elderly chieftain had observed Fidelma’s irritated expression and grimaced defensively.

‘My tanist is young, cousin. He was only elected to the office a year ago and therefore is not yet fully polished in the ways of chiefly etiquette. He is my nephew. When the time comes to replace me and he takes over guiding the fortunes of the Cinél na Áeda, his manners will hopefully become more considerate.’

‘You do not have to apologise,’ muttered Fidelma, slightly embarrassed that her reaction had been so obvious.

The old chieftain smiled quickly.

‘I am only offering an explanation, not an apology,’ he replied quietly. ‘And now, come into my hall and take refreshment while your rooms are being prepared.’

They followed him into a hall of moderate size with a log fire crackling away in the hearth and wine already heated for their comfort. They seated themselves before the blazing wood. Servants had carried their bags in while others went to attend to their horses.

‘When will you begin your investigation?’ asked Becc after he had given all the necessary orders, mulled wine had been served and they were joined once again by the youthful tanist, Accobrán, who announced that bathing water would be ready heated within the hour.

Fidelma paused a moment to savour the inner warmth of the wine.

‘I will begin at once,’ she replied, to everyone’s surprise.

‘But it is dark—’ began Becc in protest.

‘I mean that I will begin in terms of gathering some background details about the victims,’ she responded patiently. ‘I would like to know some precise details about each of the girls.’

Becc frowned and glanced at Accobrán before returning his gaze to Fidelma.

‘There is little more I could tell you. I could summon Lesren the tanner and Seachlann the miller to the fortress tomorrow.’

‘They are the fathers of Beccnat and Escrach, the first and second victims,’ interposed Accobrán by way of explanation.

‘In the circumstances, I would rather visit them where they live or work,’ replied Fidelma. ‘However, I thought that perhaps you, tanist, might be able to give me some of the information I need.’

Accobrán looked astonished. ‘I am not sure that I…’

‘Come, Accobrán. You are a young man and would surely know most of the young girls in the territory?’

The tanist frowned for a moment before he shrugged and forced a soft smile to part his lips. ‘That depends on what information you need, lady.’

‘Well, let us begin with the first victim, Beccnat. This was the daughter of the tanner named Lesren?’

‘She was. Lesren works on the far side of the hill, in the valley by the river there.’

‘What do you know about her? Was she attractive?’

Accobrán lifted a shoulder slightly and let it fall without expression.

‘She was young. She had just celebrated reaching her seventeenth year. She was due to wed the son of Goll the woodcutter.’

‘That’s right,’ Becc intervened. ‘Lesren didn’t like the boy – the son of Goll, that is – and, at first, it was thought that the boy might have been the murderer. Well, Lesren accused the boy, anyway.’

‘What did you say his name was?’

‘The name of the son of Goll? His name is Gabrán.’

‘And you say that he was suspected? Then what evidence cleared him?’

‘I doubt whether Lesren has stopped suspecting him,’ Accobrán intervened. ‘But the boy had a sound enough alibi. He was away from the territory on a journey to collect some supplies. At the time of the full moon he was twelve miles from here staying at the house of Molaga on the coast.’

‘I know the abbey of Molaga,’ nodded Fidelma. ‘So what were the circumstances of Beccnat’s murder?’

‘As I mentioned before, lady,’ intervened Becc, ‘her body was found in the woods less than a quarter of a mile from here. It looked as if it had been torn to pieces by a pack of wolves.’

Fidelma leaned forward, her brows raised in interrogation. ‘What, then, made the community suspicious of murder and made Lesren suspicious of Gabrán, the son of Goll? Is it not conceivable that wolves or some other wild animals could have attacked the girl?’

‘Conceivable but unlikely,’ replied the tanist. ‘Wolves do not usually attack humans, and adult humans at that, unless they are driven to it by dire necessity. However, Liag, our apothecary, pointed out that the wounds could only have been inflicted by a knife. It was after he had examined the body that we were alerted to the facts.’

‘Did this apothecary, Liag…did he examine all three victims?’

‘He did,’ affirmed Becc.

‘Then we shall want to see him,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘Does he reside at the fortress?’

Accobrán shook his head. ‘He dwells in the woods on a hillock by the River Tuath. He is something of a strange person who dislikes the company of others. He is almost a hermit. Yet he is a good apothecary and has cured many of various ailments.’

‘Very well. Did he arrive at any conclusions as to any commonality between the victims?’

Becc again shook his head, a little puzzled. ‘I am not sure that I understand you.’

‘I refer to the manner of their deaths. Were they all killed in the same manner? Was there a similarity in the way in which all the victims died?’

‘Oh, Liag certainly felt that they had all died by human hand and not from attacks by beasts. He also told me that he felt it was by the same human hand because of the frenzied manner of the attacks.’

‘I think you said that the second victim was about the same age?’ Fidelma seemed to change her train of thought.

Becc nodded sadly. ‘Escrach, the youngest daughter of Seachlann. She was a lovely young girl.’

‘Seachlann has taken his grief badly,’ added Accobrán. ‘His brother is Brocc, the one who has been stirring up the people against the religious.’

‘The one who claims that these visiting religious are the killers?’ Fidelma sought clarification.

‘That is so.’

‘Does Seachlann share his brother’s views?’

‘He does.’

‘Then we must certainly question them both and try to find out their reasons for accusing the religious. What did you say is Seachlann’s profession?’

‘He is the miller. His mill is on the hill due south of us.’

‘And what of the third victim? Can you tell me something of this girl Ballgel?’

‘Indeed we can,’ Becc said. ‘We knew her very well. She worked here in my kitchen with her uncle, Sirin, who is the cook.’

‘Did she live here?’

Accobrán answered with a shake of his head. ‘She did not. She lived with Berrach, an elderly aunt—’

‘Sirin’s wife?’ interposed Eadulf.

‘Sirin is unmarried. No, Berrach is Sirin’s sister but was also sister to Ballgel’s mother. Both of Ballgel’s parents are dead. Berrach looked after her. Berrach has a small
bothán
more than half an hour’s walk away. It was doubtless wrong of our steward, Adag, to let the girl walk home alone after midnight in view of the previous two killings.’

Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at Accobrán.

‘A logical observation,’ she replied, before turning to Becc. ‘Why was she allowed to walk home alone? In fact, why was she here so late on that night?’

Becc pursed his lips defensively. ‘I was entertaining guests that night. The services of Sirin and Ballgel were essential and they were needed until late. It was not unusual and nothing had ever happened before. I was concerned with my guests and had no knowledge of the time when the girl left…’ He paused and added, almost with a tone of affronted dignity, ‘I
am
the chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda.’

Fidelma smiled softly. ‘I was not suggesting that you were personally in charge of the arrangements for those who serve in your fortress, Becc. However, it might help if you send for your steward, who would know the arrangements.’ She paused and then added, ‘Is Sirin within the fortress at present?’

Accobrán uttered an affirmative.

‘Then ask him to come here.’

After Accobrán rose and left to carry out the task, Fidelma turned again to Becc.

‘I presume that all your guests spent the night at the fortress and that you were up until late into the night?’

‘We were up until dawn’s first glimmering. Oh, with the exception of Abbot Brogán who returned to the abbey early and, indeed, was the first to leave the company.’

‘What time did he leave? Before or after Ballgel?’

Becc shrugged. ‘That I cannot say. You will have to ask my steward. It was only the next morning that Adag told me that Ballgel had left soon after midnight. I did not observe the time when the abbot left. Perhaps Adag could tell you.’

‘Apart from the abbot, who were the other guests?’

‘Local neighbouring chiefs. There were three. They slept well and were not disturbed, even though Adag my steward had to rouse me early. That was when the people, having found Ballgel’s body, were marching on the abbey. As I have told you.’

Fidelma was frowning. ‘It occurs to me that Accobrán is younger and stronger than you, Becc. Why didn’t he go to deal with this disturbance instead of you?’

‘He was not here,’ Becc explained.

‘Oh? He did not attend this meal?’

‘He was not at the fortress that night.’

Accobrán re-entered at that moment and announced that Adag and Sirin would join them shortly.

‘I am told that you were not in the fortress on the night of Ballgel’s death,’ Fidelma said, turning to him.

The tanist nodded as he resumed his seat. ‘I had duties that took me to the border of our territory on the River Comar. Some cattle had been stolen and I went to sort the matter out. I returned the following day, some time about mid-morning, just before Becc departed for Cashel.’

‘The Comar is a confluence to the west of our territory,’ explained Becc. ‘It forms our western boundary.’

‘These duties – did anyone accompany you?’ asked Fidelma.

‘I went alone,’ replied the tanist.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door and the steward, Adag, entered. ‘Did you send for me, lord Becc?’