Badger's Moon sf-13

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Or she might have been unconscious or dead,’ pointed out Accobrán, ‘then she would not have been able to struggle. She could have been carried here.’

  ‘That is true,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But, if so, there ought to be have been some sign of that such as deep tracks in the earth showing someone was carrying a heavy weight. However, the movement of the people who found the body has destroyed any useful traces. But I am inclined to believe that she did come along here of her own accord. She might even have known her killer.’

  Accobrán grimaced indifferently. ‘That sounds like speculation. I did not think a dálaigh would indulge in speculation.’

  Fidelma regarded him seriously and answered, ‘A dálaigh does not make judgements on speculation alone, but it behoves anyone considering or reflecting on a set of possible events to theorise or make conjectures to see if the evidence fits the known facts. Let us move on, for I do not think we shall find much in this spot to help us. It has been too long since the event and too many people have trodden here, including animals — I think I see the marks of a wild boar of which you spoke.’

  Accobrán hesitated a moment but then turned and continued to lead the way. The path rose over the lower slope of a tree-strewn hill and then began to descend again. After a while the trees and the undergrowth began to thin as the path opened out. There were even a few grassy glades into which the sun penetrated. The tanist pointed ahead.

  ‘The river is a short distance away and that rise on our right is called the Hill of the Sacred Tree. That is where Liag, the apothecary, dwells.’

  There was a small wooded hillock rising before them to the right, almost sheltering in the shadow of the large, spreading hill whose footings they had crossed with its thickly covering forest of oaks and alders.

  ‘Then perhaps you had better announce our presence,’ Fidelma suggested.

  Accobrán unslung his hunting horn, licked his lips, paused a moment and then gave three short blasts.

  ‘If he is nearby, he will know that we need to speak to him,’ he said, and resumed his steady pace towards the rise. The sound of running water now came to their ears, announcing a stream gushing over a stone bed. The trees thinned even more and they were able to see a moderate-sized stretch of river to their left.

  ‘That is the Tuath. It flows around the base of the hill on which Rath Raithlen is situated and then it moves south from here,’ explained the tanist.

  They reached the base of the small rise and now they could see a wooden building amongst the trees near its top. The trees grew thickly and protectively around it.

  ‘Identify yourselves!’

  The shout startled them. Fidelma looked in the direction of the sound but could discern nothing in the dark shadows among the trees.

  ‘Strangers, identify yourselves!’

  The voice was male, strong and vibrant; a voice that seemed used to command.

  Accobrán glanced at Fidelma before he raised his voice in answer. ‘It is Accobrán the tanist, Liag. I bring some friends who wish to speak to you.’

  ‘Your friends, not mine. Who are they and what do they seek?’ came the uncompromising response.

  ‘I am Sister Fidelma,’ cried Fidelma. ‘With me is Brother Eadulf.’

  ‘I have no need of religious here in my sanctuary.’ The voice was still unresponsive.

  ‘We do not come as religious. I am a dálaigh and come representing the authority of the law.’

  There was a silence and it seemed the speaker contemplated this information for a moment. Then a shadow seemed to detach itself from the trees. It was the figure of an elderly man clad in a woollen robe dyed saffron. He wore a silver chain around his neck and he had long snow-white hair that was fixed in place with a headband of green and yellow beads. A leather strap across one shoulder supported a satchel, which Eadulf recognised as the traditional apothecary’s lés or medicine bag. In his right hand he carried what looked like a whip.

  ‘Come forward, dálaigh. Let me see you who call yourself lawyer rather than religieuse.’

  Fidelma moved a little way up the path, motioning the others to remain where they were. The man’s face was etched with deep lines of age but his eyes were icy blue like glittering stones. He regarded Fidelma with deep suspicion.

  ‘You seem young to be an advocate of the law,’ he finally observed.

  ‘And you seem old to be the only trustworthy apothecary in this area,’ replied Fidelma solemnly.

  The old man indicated the whip-like object in his hand. ‘You recognise this?’

  She nodded quickly. ‘The echlais is your badge of office, showing that you are a lawful physician.’

  ‘That is so. I hold the authority of my profession. I am no mere herb doctor.’

  ‘I did not think you were.’ She moved a hand to her marsupium and drew forth the rowan wand of office that her brother had given her. ‘And do you recognise this?’

  The old man’s eyes widened slightly. ‘The wand of office of the Eóghanacht, kings of Cashel, rulers of Munster, descendants of Eber Fionn, son of Golamh, the soldier of Spain who brought the children of the Gael to this place. I see the stag emblem and recognise it.’

  Fidelma returned it to her marsupium. ‘I am, as I have said, a dálaigh and sister to Colgú, king of Cashel.’

  The old apothecary was silent for a moment.

  ‘Why have you come to me?’ he demanded at length.

  ‘My companion and I are charged to investigate the deaths of the three girls who were killed here.’

  The suspicious look still did not leave the old man’s face.

  ‘By whom charged?’

  ‘By my brother, Colgú, king of Cashel, and by the invitation of Becc, lord of the Cinél na Áeda.’

  The old man grimaced. ‘One Eóghanacht name is good enough for your authority, Fidelma of Cashel. Let you and your companions sit awhile. I can offer you miodh cuill, the cool hazel mead that I distil myself.’

  Fidelma seated herself on a fallen tree trunk and gestured for the others to come forward and do likewise.

  Liag the recluse set down his bag and moved a short distance to where a spring was gushing over some rocks. He reached forward and tugged on a leather thong that appeared to be hanging in the water. As it came out they saw that a jug was tied to the end of it. It had been cooling in the crystal splashing water. The old man took a pottery bowl from his apothecary’s bag and poured some of the liquid into it.

  ‘I am afraid you will have to share,’ he said without sounding apologetic. ‘I neither expect nor encourage visitors.’

  ‘Then we will not keep you long,’ Fidelma assured him, accepting the bowl from him and taking a sip for politeness’ sake before handing it on to Eadulf. The mixture was too strong for her and even Eadulf gasped a little as the first drop of the fiery liquid hit his throat. He coughed and hurriedly passed the bowl to Accobrán, who seemed more used to the strong liquid.

  ‘I understand that you examined the bodies of the girls who were killed here during the last two months. You believed that all three were murdered.’

  ‘I take my calling seriously, Fidelma of Cashel,’ the old man said, seating himself before her.

  ‘I am sure you do.’

  ‘I know the law of Dian Cecht, so do not try to question my ability.’

  ‘Is there a reason why I should do so?’ demanded Fidelma so sharply that the old man looked startled for a moment.

  ‘None,’ he replied defensively.

  ‘That is good. For I see no need to bring in the medical laws of Dian Cecht. I am here not to question your findings but to seek facts.’

  The old man had composed himself and gestured for her to proceed.

  ‘I am told that you examined all three bodies,’ she repeated.

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘And I am told that you guided people away from the original idea that some animal had attacked the first of these poor women. Tell me why.’

  Liag spoke thoughtfully. ‘
I could understand why such a notion sprang to mind. The first of the victims…Beccnat, was her name…was horribly mutilated. It was difficult to see from the dried blood and there was some decomposing for the body must have lain out in the woods for two or three days. It was only when the body had been bathed for the funeral rites that I realised that while the flesh was badly ripped, the wounds were not made by teeth but by the jagged edge of a knife.’

  ‘And this was so in the other two cases?’

  ‘It was so.’

  ‘Tell me.’ Fidelma hesitated, trying to formulate the question carefully. ‘Was anything removed from the bodies?’

  Liag was puzzled by the question. ‘Removed?’

  ‘Were the bodies intact apart from the mutilations?’

  ‘No physical part was missing,’ confirmed the old man, realising what she meant. ‘Do not look for some ancient ritual here, Fidelma of Cashel. The three girls were simply stabbed to death by some madman.’

  Fidelma looked up quickly. ‘A madman? Do you choose your words carefully?’

  ‘Who but someone with a demented soul could have done such a deed?’

  ‘Do you subscribe to the idea that a lunatic is loose within the community, striking at the full of the moon?’

  ‘I believe that is self-evident. Examine the time of the last killing, for example. It took place upon the Badger’s Moon.’

  Eadulf frowned and leant forward quickly.

  ‘The Badger’s Moon? What is that?’ he demanded.

  Liag turned to him in disapproval as he heard his accent.

  ‘A Saxon? You surely travel in strange company, sister to King Colgú of Cashel,’ he said to Fidelma. Before she could reply, he had turned to Eadulf. ‘The October full moon is called the Badger’s Moon, my Saxon friend. It is so bright that, according to the ancients, it was said that the badgers dried the grass for their nests by its light. The October moon is a sacred time and the light of the Badger’s Moon shines benevolently on all who accept its powers…or so the ancients thought.’

  Eadulf shivered slightly. He had converted to the New Faith in his early manhood and still remembered the superstitions of his pagan background.

  Old Liag smiled appreciatively at his reaction. ‘The ancients said the moon goddess, whose name must not be uttered, cleansed the earth at the time of the Badger’s Moon, especially if one sacrificed a badger to her and ate the meat.’

  ‘I have heard that you teach star lore,’ Fidelma observed. ‘So you know all about the legends associated with the full of the moon?’

  Liag appeared indifferent. ‘Such legends are our cultural birthright. We should all know the stories told by countless generations of our forefathers. It has fallen to my lot to impart these tales to the young of the Cinél na Áeda, is that not so, Accobrán?’

  The young tanist flushed momentarily. ‘You are a good teacher, Liag. Your knowledge is unsurpassed. But sacrificing a badger…I have not heard that. Surely badger’s meat was said to be one of the delicacies favoured by Fionn mac Cumhail? In the ancient tales, it is recounted that one of Fionn’s warriors, Moling the Swift, was charged to bring him such a dish.’

  Liag did not contradict him.

  ‘I have also heard it said that the Blessed Mo Laisse of the Isle of Oaks, in Uí Néill country, wore a hood of badger skin which is now cherished as a relic on the island,’ Fidelma added softly.

  Liag laughed cynically. ‘I do not understand why those of the New Faith revert to worshipping objects while claiming not to do so. Veneration of the cross, holy objects and icons…what is the difference between that and the veneration of anything else?’

  The comment elicited no response from anyone.

  Fidelma waited a moment or two and then asked Liag: ‘While examining the bodies, did you see anything other than the jagged wounds that you felt was unusual, something that might lead you to speculate on who the author of the attacks might be?’

  The apothecary shook his head. ‘Only that which I have told you.’

  ‘Accobrán has shown us where Ballgel was found. Where, in relation to that site, were the other bodies discovered?’

  ‘Beccnat’s body was at a spot called the Ring of Pigs. It is a small stone group further up the hill.’ He indicated the tall wooded slopes behind them. ‘It overlooked the abbey. Escrach was discovered almost at the same place.’ The old man suddenly rose. ‘And if this is all the question you have to put to me…?’

  Fidelma rose awkwardly in surprise at the sudden termination of the conversation, as did her companions.

  ‘I may need to speak to you again,’ she called after him as he turned abruptly away.

  Liag glanced back at her in disapproval. ‘You have found me once, sister of the king. Doubtless, you may find me again, but there is nothing in your questions that could not have been answered by the words of others. If you wish to waste your time, that is your affair. I have better things to do with mine. Therefore, if you come again have more pertinent questions or you may not find me willing to play the host and squander precious time.’

  The old man strode away, leaving Fidelma gazing at his vanishing figure in amazement.

  ‘A man who has no manners,’ muttered Eadulf sourly.

  Accobrán grimaced wryly. ‘I did warn you that Liag was a person who prefers his own company. He does not obey the accepted rules of behaviour in the society of others.’

  ‘You did forewarn us,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But in one thing Liag did speak the truth. Every question I put, I could have heard the answer from others. The one thing that was necessary, however, was to hear them given in the mouth and manner of Liag. Eadulf knows my methods. It is always important to hear the individual witness rather than rely on hearsay.’

  Eadulf glanced at her in surprise. ‘And did you learn anything?’

  Fidelma smiled softly. ‘Oh yes. Yes, indeed. And perhaps, Accobrán, you could now lead us to the father of the first of these sad victims, Lesren the tanner.’

  Accobrán was looking more perplexed at her words than Eadulf but he shrugged. ‘Lesren’s place is but a short distance along the river, lady. It is upstream under the hill on which Rath Raithlen stands.’

  As Accobrán started to walk ahead Fidelma reached forward and placed her mouth close to Eadulf’s ear.

  ‘Mark this spot well, Eadulf,’ she whispered. ‘We may have to return here alone.’

  Once again the path Accobrán took was narrow and difficult even though it ran as near the river as was possible. For most of its length trees and underbrush grew all the way down to the banks, which were crumbling and unsafe. They were reduced to moving in single file once again. Eadulf had come to realise that Becc’s country was very hilly indeed.

  ‘That hill Escrach and Beccnat were found on,’ Fidelma suddenly asked, ‘I seem to recall that it had a name?’

  Accobrán nodded. ‘It is a wooded and hilly area which is called the Thicket of Pigs. The same name applies to the hill.’

  Fidelma remembered that Becc had mentioned the name.

  ‘The killer seems to strike in the same place,’ she reflected.

  Eadulf, behind Fidelma, said: ‘Is that significant? After all, it seems that we are dealing with a madman whose killing would be random.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right. But, perhaps, the choice of place has not been entirely random.’

  Eadulf was about to question her further but she turned to him with an impassive expression that he knew well. She wanted to say no more on the subject for the moment.

  They had walked for some distance when the narrow path suddenly joined a broader stretch of track along which the banks of the river became shallow and sloped into a shingle-like beach which ran into the river bed itself. Fidelma had heard them before she saw them. The sound of children is always shrill enough to be heard even above the rushing waters. Two boys were crouching in the shallows, apparently intent on examining something in the river.

  ‘Local lads, fishing,’ Accobrán explained b
rusquely to Fidelma and Eadulf and would have walked on.

  ‘Not fishing,’ Fidelma corrected. She turned aside and moved towards the riverbank. ‘What luck, lads?’ she called.

  They turned. Two tousled-haired youngsters of about eleven or twelve. One of them, who held a metal pan in his hand, shrugged and gestured towards it.

  ‘No luck at all, Sister. But Síoda claimed that he had found a genuine nugget the other day.’

  ‘Oh? Who is Síoda?’

  ‘A lad we know. That’s why we came down here. Although he won’t tell us exactly where he found it. So far, we haven’t seen anything, just mud and stones.’

  ‘Well, good luck, lads.’

  Fidelma rejoined Eadulf and Accobrán on the main path. Eadulf was frowning.

  ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘It is what we call washing the ore,’ Fidelma explained. ‘Sometimes metals like gold are washed along the river bed. You place the sediment in a pan, as those boys are doing, and wash it with the hope of finding a gold nugget in the bottom of your pan.’

  Accobrán laughed loudly and somewhat bitterly. ‘It has been a hundred years, back in the time of the Blessed Finnbarr, since gold was last discovered in these hills, lady. Those boys will be there until the crack of doom if they are intent on finding gold nuggets.’

  ‘You do not think that they spoke the truth when they said a boy called Síoda had made such a find?’ Fidelma asked with interest.

  ‘If a child found a nugget in that river, it will be sulfar iarainn.’

  Eadulf frowned, for while he recognised the word ‘iron’ he did not understand the exact meaning of the Irish term.

  ‘Iron pyrites,’ explained Fidelma. ‘Fool’s gold, for it looks like gold but is not and many a fool has thought that he had struck lucky by picking it up.’ She turned to Accobrán. ‘Are you knowledgeable about such matters?’

  The young tanist shrugged and shook his head. ‘This was once mining country and the Cinél na Áeda grew rich and powerful through it. Now the gold and the silver are all worked out and we have only copper left, and some lead to the north of here.’