Badger's Moon sf-13

by Peter Tremayne

  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?’

  ‘And for Sirin the cook,’ added Fidelma.

  Adag glanced towards her and then turned back to Becc.

  ‘Sirin is waiting outside,’ he replied directly to his chief.

  ‘Then bring him in,’ instructed Fidelma sharply.

  The steward continued to look at Becc who nodded slightly to confirm the order.

  Sirin was almost the double of Adag the steward. He was a roundfaced, rotund figure with thinning hair. His features were lugubrious. At first Fidelma thought his mournful, joyless countenance reflected his grief for the death of his niece, but she soon learnt that his melancholy was a permanent expression.

  The corpulent man shuffled forward to stand before his chief while Adag stood quietly in the background.

  ‘Sirin, this is Fidelma of Cashel. She is a dálaigh and has come to inquire into the murders. She has questions to ask of you and you must answer them to the best of your knowledge.’

  ‘I will do so, lord,’ replied the man in a sonorous tone that matched his plumpness. He turned with a questioning expression to Fidelma.

  ‘Sirin, let me begin by saying that I am sorry for the tragedy that has befallen your family.’

  Sirin inclined his head towards her but said nothing.

  ‘There are some questions that I need to ask you. Tell me something of your niece and her background.’

  Sirin spread his hands in a gesture which seemed to give him the appearance of an almost comic, doleful figure.

  ‘She was young, seventeen years old. Her parents died from the Yellow Plague two years ago. That terrible scourge almost wiped out our family. My sister and I and poor Ballgel were the only ones who remained alive. Now…now Ballgel is gone.’

  ‘I understand that she lived with her aunt?’

  ‘With my sister, Berrach…she did so. She came to work with me here in the kitchens of the fortress two years ago.’

  ‘She was not married, or betrothed? Did she have a young male friend?’ queried Fidelma.

  Sirin shook his head. ‘She used to say that she had never met the right one. It is true that many of the young boys sought her company. But she was not interested.’

  ‘Any young boys in particular?’

  Sirin smiled sadly. ‘She was an attractive girl. I could name most of the lads of Rath Raithlen. There was no one in particular.’ A sudden frown crossed his brow. Fidelma saw it.

  ‘You have had a thought?’

  Sirin shrugged. ‘It was only an incident. Gobnuid, who is one of the smiths working in the fortress — well, it was nothing.’

  Fidelma leaned forward encouragingly. ‘L
et me be the judge.’

  ‘Well, it was at a feasting a month ago.’ He glanced at Becc. ‘It was the feast day of the Blessed Finnbarr who founded our little abbey here,’ he said, as if feeling a need to explain.

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘Nothing really. Gobnuid wanted to dance with Ballgel and she refused and Gobnuid seemed mortified. Ballgel was with some of her young friends and, frankly, Gobnuid is old enough to be her father. I am afraid that the young lads mocked him and he turned away with a few angry words. That’s all.’

  ‘I see. So, returning to the night she died, I understand that she left the fortress at midnight or soon after on that night?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘When was her body discovered?’

  ‘Early next morning by one of the villagers gathering mushrooms.’

  ‘And the abbey was immediately attacked. Why was that?’

  ‘I did not attack the abbey.’ Sirin’s voice was unexpectedly harsh. ‘I was in grief and so was my sister Berrach. It was my cousin Brocc who roused the people to that action. Brocc had already lost his own niece to this evil.’

  Becc intervened. ‘It is true that Sirin was not among those who threatened the abbey. He and Berrach were certainly not there.’

  Fidelma nodded but continued to address herself to Sirin.

  ‘Do you believe that the strangers at the abbey could have done this?’

  Sirin looked blank. ‘I do not know. Many claim that they did. I have yet to see proof of Brocc’s assertions.’