Badger's Moon sf-13

by Peter Tremayne

  Fidelma shook her head immediately.

  ‘I have no more information than you have,’ she replied firmly.

  ‘Very well.’ Eadulf was almost surly. ‘You do not convince me. I know you too well. Let us find Menma and explore this place, whatever it is. You will obviously explain it to me in your own good time.’

  They halted in front of the log cabin that was Menma’s home. Before they dismounted, an attractive young woman with shoulder-length corn-coloured hair came out. She was wiping her hands on a cloth and looked from one to the other with a frown and then smiled abruptly.

  ‘You must be the lady Fidelma and her companion. My man Menma told me about you yesterday. Have you come in search of him?’

  Fidelma bent across her horse’s neck with a smile. ‘We have. Are you Menma’s wife?’

  ‘I am. My name is Suanach, lady.’

  ‘Is it an inconvenient time to come in search of your husband?’

  ‘Not so, lady. I will call him.’

  She went to one of the wooden beams of the porch, where hanging from a nail was a horn on a leather thong. The girl took it, tried a few experimental breaths and then blew into it, long and loud. While the sounds echoed away, she replaced it and stood for a moment or two with her head to one side. Eadulf started to say something but she raised a finger to her lips to stop him. A moment later, the sound of another horn echoed through the forest.

  Suanach smiled at them. ‘He is not far away. He will be here shortly. Will you dismount and come in and take some mead?’

  Eadulf was still in a grumpy mood and about to refuse when Fidelma assented. He realised that he had almost broken an essential rule of etiquette, for when hospitality is offered it must never be refused, even if accepted only in token form.

  They were sitting at the table in the cabin and the drinks had been poured when the door opened and Luchóc came bounding in, yelping and sniffing suspiciously at them. Menma came in immediately behind the dog and greeted them.

  ‘I recognised your horses outside. Sit, Luchóc! Sit!’

  ‘We have come to ask if…’ began Fidelma.

  ‘…if I can show you the caves on the Thicket of Pigs?’ Menma smiled. ‘I recall our conversation. I will, indeed, escort you there. When will you be ready?’

  ‘We are ready-’ began Eadulf but was cut short by a surreptitious kick under the table from Fidelma.

  ‘We are ready after we have finished sampling Suanach’s excellent mead,’ she ended for him. ‘Then we should start with that cave you mentioned which is on the hill above the Ring of Pigs.’

  The ritual of hospitality ended, Fidelma and Eadulf followed Menma and his dog on horseback up the forest-covered hill. Menma did not ride, but preferred to jog up the slope, and with such agility and stamina that he was able to keep in front of their horses. The animals had to walk, blowing and snorting as they ascended the rise. Fidelma soon realised that riding was a mistake and eventually, as they came to a clearing not far from the summit, she halted and dismounted. Eadulf, with a little prayer of thanks, followed her example.

  ‘It is probably best to tether the horses here in this glade and continue on foot with you,’ she said to Menma.

  The hunter acknowledged her suggestion with a smile.

  ‘It is not really the terrain for horses,’ he assented, but that was as close as he came to criticism. He pointed towards the top of the hill, which was still fairly well obscured by the trees. ‘That is what you seek. The old mine has its entrance near the summit.’

  ‘Why is this place called the Thicket of Pigs?’ Eadulf asked as they began to ascend on foot. He was looking around in bemusement at the oak and alder groves that stretched across the hill on either side. ‘Why would anyone name it so?’

  ‘Have you not heard the tale of Orc-Triath, the King of Boars?’ asked Menma with a smile.

  Eadulf disclaimed knowledge.

  ‘The boar was one of the prized possessions of the fertility goddess Brigid, daughter of the Dagda, Father of the ancient gods and goddess of Eireann.’

  ‘According to the old story, this boar represented a powerful Otherworld creature which symbolised plunder and destruction,’ explained Fidelma.

  ‘And many a huntsman has encountered the animal and not lived to tell the tale,’ added Menma with apparent seriousness.

  Eadulf raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You really believe that?’

  ‘It is not a question of belief but knowledge, Brother Saxon,’ replied the hunter. ‘This was the area, according to legend, where Orc-Triath roamed and ruled.’

  ‘What is that place?’ demanded Fidelma, pointing to where some grey limestone rocks rose on their right like some curious fortress among the trees. She did not wish to dwell on the ancient legends for she wanted to concentrate on her purpose in coming to this place.

  ‘That stand directly above the Ring of Pigs? It used to be called Derc Crosda.’

  Fidelma examined the great limestone outcrop with sudden interest.

  ‘The forbidden place of darkness?’ She translated the name. ‘Meaning the cave, I suppose?’

  ‘I should warn you that the mines are probably in a dangerous condition. They have long been abandoned,’ Menma said earnestly.

  ‘We will be careful. Let’s see this cave.’

  Menma called his dog to him and led the way through the thicket towards the rocky outcrop.

  ‘This is what you are looking for, lady,’ the hunter said, pointing.

  The entrance into the cave was fairly large. It was clear that many people had used it in times past and even widened it with tools, for there were marks on the walls that showed the application of axes and hammers, splitting the rock.

  Inside, the light that came into the cave showed the rubble of the entrance levelled onto a floor of sand.

  ‘The dancing floor of the Síog,’ explained Menma in hushed tones.

  ‘The what?’ demanded Eadulf.

  ‘The fairies,’ admitted the hunter. ‘There is a legend that the fairies dance here, and that if you throw a stone onto the floor it will not remain there long, for the fairies clear the floor for their dances.’

  Eadulf sniffed in disapproval. ‘It seems this whole hill is riddled with legends.’

  Menma did not seem perturbed by his cynicism. ‘Of course it is, Brother Saxon. Each crack and crevice of the land is filled with a thousand years of life and experience. Do not your own people have such a folklore?’

  Fidelma had turned impatiently. ‘Can we lay our hands on some torches? I would look further into this place. We should have thought to bring some with us.’

  ‘I will do my best, lady. I should have brought lamps or a candle. I didn’t think.’

  Menma’s best proved good, for it was not long before he returned with two substantial brand torches, which he had cut and made from dry grasses.

  The cave revealed itself to be large, with several passages leading off. It was clear that the place had once been a place of work and there were even the remains of a forge and rotting bellows to one side.

  ‘This was abandoned many generations ago,’ Menma pointed out. ‘I was told that it was once a rich mine.’

  Fidelma peered around. A stalagmite with a hollow top stood in one corner. There was a small pool fed by drops from a dripstone on the wall above. A few blocks of stone almost concealed a fissure at the back and she immediately felt drawn to it.

  ‘Careful, lady,’ called Menma anxiously. ‘There are many loose stones and objects here.’

  Fidelma did not acknowledge him. She moved forward and began to squeeze through the fissure.

  ‘Fidelma!’ cried Eadulf in alarm. ‘For heaven’s sake, be careful!’

  ‘This leads into another chamber,’ her voice came back in reply, as she and her torch vanished. ‘Come on.’

  Eadulf exchanged a glance with Menma, who held the second torch. The hunter motioned him to go first. Gritting his teeth, Eadulf plunged into the darkness, turning sidew
ays and trying to hold his breath as he squeezed through the narrow fissure. But a moment later he was, as Fidelma had said, in another chamber about the size of a wealthy chieftain’s hall, with dripstones on the walls and several stalagmite columns on the floor, while the roof, in parts, was almost obscured by stalactites that were quite spectacular.

  Fidelma was already crossing this dramatic chamber when Menma joined them.

  ‘This way!’ she called and disappeared into another passageway.

  They could do nothing but follow.

  The passage was not as narrow as the fissure and was tall enough to take a man walking at ease, but it led downwards. Eadulf could feel the incline. He had the impression that this passage was manmade, for it seemed rectangular and even in shape, with the sides of its walls as smooth as the floor.

  ‘I hope we have enough light to find the fissure again to get back into the original cave,’ he muttered anxiously.

  Menma, coming behind him, did not reply but his muttered prayer suggested that he was clearly unhappy with Fidelma’s heedless forward progress.

  Suddenly the passageway ended and emerged into a high circular chamber in whose centre was a black pool of what looked like deep water. It was beautiful, with stalactites descending from the roof while stalagmites grew up from the floor at various points for a height of fully eighteen or twenty feet. What made it breathtaking was that the stalagmites and boulders were encrusted with a crystalline deposit which resembled small bunches of grapes.

  ‘There are several galleries leading off over there,’ Fidelma observed aloud.

  Menma reached out a hand to hold her arm. ‘Forgive me, lady, but you must go no further. We are not equipped to do so. These torches will last only a little while longer.’

  Fidelma was reluctant but realised that Menma was making good sense.

  ‘This part does not appear to have been worked for metal,’ she said, looking round one more time.

  ‘Maybe not,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘There was a lot of working up in the main cave. No one seems to have squeezed through the fissure to come as far as this.’

  ‘It is time we were heading back towards the light,’ insisted Menma again. ‘These torches…’

  Before they realised it, Fidelma had taken several quick steps towards the dark pool, bent forward as if to reach for something at its edge, slipped, and fallen into the black water with a splash. Her torch was extinguished and only the light of Menma’s saved them.

  ‘Quick!’ cried the hunter. ‘Pull her out. The water down here is icy.’

  Eadulf had needed no urging. He dashed forward even as Fidelma was falling.

  ‘Be careful!’ Menma admonished him needlessly.

  Eadulf had to watch his step on the slippery stone but he saw Fidelma splashing vainly, her breath coming in great visible gasps in the ice-cold air. He knelt down and reached out his arms to her. The water must be almost freezing for her face was very pale in the gloom. A flailing hand gripped his. He caught it and began to pull. It took several long seconds, seconds that seemed an eternity to him, before he was able to tug her from the dark wetness.

  ‘No time to delay,’ cried Menma. ‘Quick, we must return to the main cave where there is more light and we can get some warmth.’

  Half dragging, half carrying her, Eadulf followed the hunter as he hurriedly led the way back up the inclined passage into the hall-like chamber and straight across to the fissure.

  At that point, his torch spluttered and gave out.

  Eadulf, with the half-conscious Fidelma in his arms, found himself in total darkness and halted, unsure whether to continue or not. Menma’s voice came out of the blackness not far away.

  ‘I am at the fissure. Can you continue to come towards the sound of my voice?’

  Eadulf hesitated but there was no other decision to make. ‘I’ll try. Keep talking.’

  ‘This way, then. I can feel the opening and will be able to squeeze through it into the main cave. Can you reach me?’

  Eadulf began to edge forward step by step, slowly, slowly…Menma kept talking and after what seemed a great age he bumped into an obstruction. Menma’s voice came from his right.

  ‘I think you are at the wall. Move towards me.’

  A moment later Eadulf felt the hunter’s outstretched hand. With Fidelma, now unconscious, hoisted over one shoulder, he found the opening to the fissure.

  ‘Thank God!’ came Menma’s voice. ‘I’ll squeeze in first; you push her in and come behind. Between the two of us we should be able to drag her through to the main cave.’

  It was easier said than done. It seemed the longest period of Eadulf’s existence before a faint grey light began to replace the blackness and suddenly they were in the main cave with its hint of daylight coming from the distant entrance. Fidelma was still unconscious and Menma joined Eadulf in carrying her. Holding her on either side, they dragged her towards the entrance and out into the pale autumnal day.

  ‘She needs to be stripped off and dried and have some warmth put into her,’ Menma observed. ‘The water of that underground pool is cold enough to cause frostbite. The sun is not warm enough. We’ll have to get her to my bothán as soon as possible.’

  ‘Let’s get her to her horse,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘I’ll ride with her and you can take mine.’

  Menma was not one to waste words. He helped Eadulf balance Fidelma’s inert form on his shoulder and they moved down the hill towards the clearing where they had tethered their mounts. By the time they reached it, the pain in Eadulf’s muscles was almost unbearable. Menma helped him raise her body onto her horse once Eadulf himself had mounted. Eadulf immediately sent the beast into a canter, praying that his poor horsemanship would suffice to take him to the bothán. Menma was following close behind on Eadulf’s mount. Luchóc, the hound, was barking, puzzled at the mystery.

  Fidelma was still unconscious when they dismounted, and Suanach came out to greet them with a worried expression. Menma explained what had happened in terse tones and the woman immediately took charge of matters. Under her instructions, Fidelma was carried into the second room of the bothán that served as the sleeping quarters and laid on the bed. Suanach ushered the two men from the room while she began stripping her and wrapping her body in woollen blankets, rubbing warmth into her cold flesh. She called for Menma to bring a hot drink of corma, a strong ale, and then begin to heat water for bathing the frozen body. To Eadulf, it seemed an age before Suanach called him into the bedroom.

  To his relief Fidelma was sitting on the bed, wrapped in blankets but conscious, and there was colour in her cheeks. She smiled almost apologetically.

  ‘It appears that I owe you and Menma thanks for saving my life.’

  Eadulf sat by her side and reached out a hand.

  ‘What possessed you to reach out into that dangerous pool?’ he demanded, trying to hide his concern in gruffness.

  ‘I did not mean to overbalance into it,’ she replied with dry humour. ‘The rock was slippery. Anyway,’ she held out a hand, ‘this is what I saw. When I fell into the pool, I must have clenched it tight and my hand remained grasping it, for when Suanach revived me here she found it still clasped in my hand.’

  Eadulf reached out a hand to take it. ‘It’s a piece of silver chain? Why risk your life for that?’

  Fidelma glanced at him and shook her head.

  ‘Examine it carefully,’ she instructed.

  He did so. It was a broken piece of finely wrought silver chain. He shrugged.

  ‘What am I suppose to see?’ he demanded.

  Fidelma let out a breath of exasperation. She took it back.

  ‘Have you ever seen such workmanship in these lands?’

  Eadulf grimaced.

  ‘I am not an expert on jewellery,’ he replied defensively.

  ‘Then by time everything will be revealed,’ she said. ‘I need to go back to that cave and explore further.’

  Eadulf stared at her in surprise. ‘I would have thought that you m
ight have had enough of caves. You nearly died back there.’

  ‘As I did not, it is a superfluous comment.’

  ‘Well, at least you need to take things easy for the rest of today,’ Eadulf said sternly. ‘Do you know how long you have been unconscious?’

  Fidelma brought up her jaw pugnaciously. ‘People’s lives are at risk here, Eadulf. Surely I do not have to remind you of that?’

  ‘No, you do not. Nor do I have to be reminded that your life is at risk. It is my duty to prevent you putting yourself in harm’s way.’

  Eadulf’s stubborn resistance matched Fidelma’s when he believed himself to be right. She glowered at him for a moment and then suddenly relaxed, realising that what he said was true. She was in no condition to return to the cave that day. In spite of the compulsion to pursue the lead that she knew existed in the cave, it would have to wait.

  There was a gentle tap on the door and Suanach entered with a bowl of steaming broth.

  ‘You should have some of this soup and then rest, lady,’ she said, with a reproving glance at Eadulf.

  Eadulf rose immediately. ‘I agree. You stay here and rest.’ He glanced at Suanach. ‘That is if it is all right with you?’

  The hunter’s wife agreed at once. ‘Of course, the lady must stay here until she is recovered. At least she must stay for this night. She has been through a bad experience.’

  Eadulf smiled in satisfaction. ‘That settles it. I will ride back to the fortress and inform Becc of your intentions. Then I shall return here tomorrow morning.’

  Fidelma looked at him suspiciously. ‘Eadulf…you will go back to the fortress and…well, you will not go off on your own and do anything foolish? I think we may be facing some evil force that is even more dangerous than we think. I don’t want you moving without me.’

  Eadulf was reassuring. ‘You have that broth and rest now. I’ll return in the morning.’

  He found Menma outside the hut rubbing down the horses.

  ‘How is she?’ the hunter enquired anxiously.

  ‘Recovering and in good spirits,’ Eadulf informed him. ‘I shall be returning to Rath Raithlen to say that she is staying here this night, with your wife’s approval…’