Brocc turned angrily to his brother. ‘I knew it. They are here to protect those at the abbey.’
Fidelma was about to respond when the millwright held up his hand.
‘I believe that the sister of our king is here to see justice done, Brocc. She has given me her word as a dálaigh. She also vouches for the Saxon stranger.’
‘And the abbot vouches for the strangers at the abbey!’ snapped Brocc. ‘Why should we believe her any more than the abbot? These religious are all in the same service, owing no allegiance but to one another.’
‘That is not true, Brocc,’ Fidelma reprimanded him. ‘If you do not accept my word then accept your brother’s.’
Brocc chuckled sarcastically. ‘My brother is a good man. He believes the best of people and can be easily fooled.’
Seachlann shook his head sadly and showed no anger at his brother’s words. ‘Whether I am fooled by these words or not, Brocc, what is the harm in telling them the truth? Why withhold the evidence of your eyes now?’
Brocc sniffed in irritation. ‘My word was not accepted before, why should it be accepted now?’
Fidelma leant back on her seat so that she could examine Brocc by the sunlight that shone through the breaks in the mill’s wooden walls.
‘In matters as grave as this, Brocc, it is not simply a person’s word that is scrutinised, otherwise we might all make accusations against people we do not like and have them punished simply because we say it is so. We need more than words, Brocc.’
The burly man turned towards his brother with a sneer of triumph. ‘See, Seachlann? Already my word is set at nothing.’
Fidelma exhaled angrily. ‘Words are cheap, Brocc. We are concerned with truth. How can we judge your word as truth if you will not utter it?’
‘My own chieftain shot and maimed me. Was he interested in the truth?’ cried Brocc.
‘He was. And he was interested in the law and the observance of the law. You were taking the law into your own hands. You had become judge and executioner of the law and it was the law as you thought it should be given. Now, enough. I shall not argue longer. Either tell me why you accuse the people at the abbey or I will see to it that you are brought before a Brehon on a charge of spreading malicious stories as well as inciting riot.’
Brocc blinked at the harshness in her tone.
‘The murders began when the three strangers arrived at the abbey,’ he said.
Fidelma waited impatiently.
‘The three strangers are not like us. They are not men.’
‘What do you mean?’ countered Eadulf. ‘If they are not men, what are they. Beasts, spirits — what?’
‘Go to the abbey and look upon them, that is all I say. Come back and tell me if they are men as we know them.’
‘You are being mysterious. Whatever you think of these religious is not the point,’ Fidelma said. ‘Tell me how you know that these strangers are the murderers of these girls, specifically the killers of Escrach. I do not want to know circumstantial matters; I do not want to hear about coincidences; I want to have facts, no more nor less.’
Accobrán the tanist, who was clearly bored with the whole proceedings, rose and stretched. ‘Just tell the dálaigh why you believe the strangers had a hand in the murder of Escrach and we can make an end to this matter.’
‘Why?’ A crooked smile spread over the face of Brocc. ‘Why? Because I saw the murderer!’
Chapter Six
There was shocked silence in the mill room.
Accobrán the tanist was the first to recover.
‘You have never said this before, Brocc,’ he said accusingly. ‘You have never said that you actually saw the murderer.’
The heavy-featured man returned his look defiantly.
‘I was never asked before, tanist of the Cinél na Áeda. I know what I know. Did you think that I would go to the abbey for no apparent reason?’
‘Others certainly thought that you did,’ replied Fidelma quietly. ‘Most people believe that you were simply prejudiced against the strangers. Your own words seemed to imply that you were. Now for the first time you say you saw the murderer.’
Brocc’s sneer was comment enough on what he thought of other people.
‘So tell us, Brocc,’ Eadulf took up the questioning again, ‘tell us about this murderer and why you did not come forward to explain your evidence before. You saw the murder but you let your brother go looking for his missing daughter. We were told that it was Goll the woodcutter who found the body. Explain all this, for I am confused.’
Fidelma glanced appreciatively at Eadulf. The discrepancy between Brocc’s actions and the story he now told was clear.
Brocc was not put out by the question.
‘I said, I saw the murderer not the murder,’ he said with emphasis.
Eadulf shook his head slightly, as if bewildered. ‘Now what are you saying? How can you see the one without the other?’
‘You’d better tell us your story in detail,’ instructed Fidelma slowly and deliberately. ‘Make it simple and clear. I do not want to play some game of semantics.’
Brocc scowled. ‘I have no understanding of what you are saying.’
‘I want no word games. Either you saw the killer or you did not. Which is it?’
‘On the day Escrach was killed, I was doing some trade up on the River Bride, to the north of here,’ Brocc replied. ‘My brother will confirm it. By the time I returned, it was night. I was coming over the hill we call the Thicket of Pigs, which you can see from the doorway here, and the moon was full.’
‘As a matter of clarification, as I am a stranger here, where were you heading?’ asked Fidelma.
‘To my bothán, which is on the edge of the clearing here.’
‘Had you known that Escrach was supposed to be visiting her aunt and have taken the path over the same hill?’
‘Not at that time,’ replied Brocc.
‘So you came across the hill?’
‘The path I was following came over the shoulder of the hill, overlooking the abbey below.’
‘Where is that in relation to the place where Escrach’s body was found?’
‘Escrach was found among some boulders, a ring of rocks, which is further up the hill on the same side. They are called the Ring of Pigs.’
Fidelma motioned him to continue when he hesitated.
‘There is little else to tell. I came over the hill and I saw one of the strangers, one of those from the abbey.’
‘What was he doing?’ demanded Eadulf curiously.
‘What was the stranger doing? Why, nothing. Just sitting there at the Ring of Pigs. His face was towards the moon. I should have known that this was unusual. I gave him greeting but he did not even reply to me. There was something sinister about the man. Just sitting there on the hillside in the moonlight, as if bathing his face in the light of the moon.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I said a quick prayer and hurried on home to my cabin. It was the next morning that I heard that Escrach’s body had been discovered.’
There was a silence as Fidelma considered what she had been told.
‘From what you say, you saw this stranger seated on the hill. You did not see Escrach. However, the next day Escrach’s body was found at the same spot. Is that a fair summary?’
‘Exactly as I told you.’
Fidelma sighed. ‘It raises questions that need to be asked. But there is no evidence that Escrach and the man met, far less that the man killed her. The law requires evidence not theories. And did you tell your brother this story? You did not arouse the people to march on the abbey on that same day, did you? Why did you wait a month until another young girl had met her death before you acted?’
Brocc shook his head like a large shaggy dog. ‘I did not tell my brother. Not then. It was only after Ballgel’s death last week that I realised the significance of the full of the moon. Only with Ballgel’s murder on the night of the Badger’s Moon did I realise that
there was a killer among us striking on each full of the moon. It was then that I suddenly realised what I had seen…the stranger sitting on the hillside bathing in the rays of the moon. Only then did it become obvious to me.’
‘Did you go to the abbey and identify the stranger?’ demanded Fidelma, still sceptical.
Seachlann intervened in support of his brother. ‘After Brocc had told me what he had seen that night, we all went then. The people went to demand that the strangers be handed over.’
‘Was that when you all attacked the abbey, when Brocc, here, was shot?’
‘It was.’
‘Why did you demand that all the strangers be handed over for punishment? Why not demand to see the strangers, identify the one you saw and ask for an explanation?’
‘The strangers are all alike,’ interposed Seachlann angrily. ‘They are all as guilty as each other.’
‘That is not a sound philosophy,’ pointed out Fidelma.
‘You have not met them.’
‘Then we will do so presently,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘But what you are saying is that you are not an eyewitness to Escrach’s death or, indeed, any of the deaths. When you saw the stranger in the moonlight he was alone.’
‘No man without evil intention would be sitting on a hillside in the full of the moon, just sitting and staring at the moon,’ protested Brocc.
‘There are many reasons why people do things that, to an outsider, may seem odd behaviour,’ Eadulf assured him. ‘Would it not have been better to have sought explanations rather than attempt to visit violence on the man…indeed, on him and his companions whom you did not see? The man might have a good enough reason for being on the hill at that time.’
‘What reason?’ sneered Brocc.
Eadulf smiled thinly. ‘Exactly! None of us knows if reason there be. And we should find out before leaping to conclusions. Escrach’s body was found at the same place, but where is the evidence that Escrach was even on the hill at the same time as the stranger?’
Seachlann shook his head in disgust. ‘You speak like all religious. A honey tongue coaxing us away from seeing things as they are.’
‘You should not fear truth, Seachlann,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘False tales are eventually discovered so we have no cause to protect that which is untrue.’
Eadulf nodded swiftly. ‘May I suggest this? Perhaps Brocc will accompany us to the abbey. It is high time that we spoke to these strangers against whom so much suspicion and anger are directed. Then Brocc can tell what he saw in front of the stranger and the stranger, whichever one of the three it was, can present his reasons if he has any. Is that not a better, civilised way to proceed than running armed into the abbey baying for blood?’
The tanist Accobrán, who had sat quietly for a long time, rose with a positive smile. ‘Well said, Brother Saxon. That sounds an excellent idea. Do you object to this, Brocc?’
The millwright’s brother hesitated and kicked at the ground.
‘Whatever way gets to the truth,’ he growled in annoyance.
Fidelma looked relieved.
‘It is only the truth that we are all wanting to find, Brocc,’ she said quietly but firmly.
The abbey dedicated to the Blessed Finnbarr, nestling in the shelter of the tall hill about which they had heard so much, was not large. A wooden wall or palisade surrounded several buildings dominated by a large wooden chapel. The gates were shut and two stern-looking Brothers stood sentinel at a watchtower. Only when Accobrán was recognised did one of them shout down and the gates swung inwards.
A young, anxious-looking religious, a thin, wiry individual with fair hair and features, came out to greet them. He saw Brocc and immediately scowled at the millwright’s brother. Brocc stood slightly behind the tanist as if seeking shelter. The young man’s glance encompassed them all and then he addressed himself to the tanist.
‘Deus tecum, Accobrán. What brings you here — and in the company of that man?’ He indicated Brocc.
‘God be with you, Brother Solam. I bring the dálaigh from Cashel,’ Accobrán said. ‘This is Fidelma of Cashel and her companion, Brother Eadulf.’
The young man turned to Fidelma and Eadulf and smiled shyly in greeting. ‘Fidelma of Cashel?’ He almost stuttered in his nervousness.
‘This is Brother Solam, the steward of the abbey, lady,’ Accobrán announced.
The young man was bowing nervously to Fidelma. ‘Fidelma of Cashel.’ His voice was breathless. ‘Who has not heard of you?’
Fidelma looked positively embarrassed at the young man’s obsequiousness.
‘I should imagine that a great many people have not,’ she assured him with a serious expression, although something sparkled in her eyes. ‘We have come to see Abbot Brogán.’
‘I will inform him of your presence directly, lady. Please enter.’ Brother Solam hesitated a moment and glanced suspiciously towards Brocc and then at Accobrán. ‘Who will be responsible for the good behaviour of that man?’
‘I will,’ said the young tanist, shifting his hand ostentatiously to the hilt of his sword. ‘The brethren need have no fear of him while I am here.’
They followed Brother Solam into the courtyard beyond the gates as they swung shut behind them.
‘Please wait here a moment, and I will inform the abbot,’ Brother Solam instructed them.
‘Only Brother Eadulf and I want to see the abbot initially,’ Fidelma told him. ‘Accobrán and Brocc can wait here.’
‘It is warm at the smith’s forge,’ the Brother volunteered, indicating across the courtyard, where there was a seat and some shelter.
‘Good enough,’ agreed Accobrán. ‘Let me know when you require our presence, lady.’
Brother Solam frowned slightly, not understanding. Fidelma did not enlighten him of the proposal that she had discussed with Accobrán on their way to the abbey, and in a moment he hurried away.
A few minutes later, he was showing them into the presence of Abbot Brogán.
The abbot was still a handsome man in spite of his age and he welcomed them with a grave smile and courtesy.
‘This is an honour, Sister Fidelma. I have heard much of your work. I am told that even in Tara your name is known.’
‘I have done some small service for the High King,’ Fidelma acknowledged, as the abbot then extended his hand to Eadulf.
‘Welcome also, Brother. Forgive me, I find difficulty pronouncing Saxon names. They seem so difficult. Yet I have heard of you. You were at the great Council of Whitby, I believe?’
‘You have been well informed, abbot,’ said Eadulf.
‘Well, I am pleased that you have both accepted Becc’s invitation to come to Rath Raithlen. There is much evil in this place and panic has seized our people so that they forget all sense of proportion and shame and even attack us, the religious.’
‘Brother Solam has probably told you that we have brought Brocc, the millwright’s brother, with us?’
The abbot inclined his head gravely. ‘Indeed. And he has told me that the tanist Accobrán attends him with his sword, so we are not alarmed.’ He waved them to seats and asked Brother Solam to fetch wine or mead in accordance to their preference.
‘I am told that the abbey shelters three strangers, and that it is fear of these strangers that cause the people to attack you,’ began Fidelma.
‘Alas, people always fear the unknown, and hate is born out of that fear,’ said Abbot Brogán, after a pause to allow Brother Solam to distribute the beverages.
‘We would agree,’ Fidelma acknowledged. ‘Our task in coming here today is simply to assure ourselves that there is no other cause for the three visitors now under this roof to be suspected of involvement in the three deaths.’
Abbot Brogán stared at her for a moment in surprise. ‘Then you would have me send for the strangers to question them?’
‘That would be for the best,’ Fidelma said softly.
The abbot turned to his steward and gave orders for the strangers to be soug
ht out and asked to attend him.
‘How long have you known these men?’ Eadulf asked.
‘They came here two months ago,’ the abbot responded. ‘I am not sure that I can say that I know any of them. They arrived here from Molaga’s house on the coast. They had been saved from a shipwreck, recovered and expressed a wish to study here. We have a library which some are envious of.’ He smiled when he saw Fidelma look surprised. ‘It is true that we are a poor community. No more than twenty of us at this house. But we have saved many wand-books and manuscripts which is our wealth and our claim to respect among the larger houses.’
‘So these visitors are strangers from beyond the seas?’
Abbot Brogán smiled broadly. ‘That you will see for yourselves.’
Just then Brother Solam entered again and stood aside, holding the door open.
‘The three guests are here, lord abbot,’ he intoned solemnly.
Three tall men entered the room, dwarfing the rest of the company. They were lean and muscular and wore their simple undyed white woollen robes with elegance, like royal apparel. Each wore an ornate crucifix of silver on a chain which was unlike any Fidelma had seen before, even in Rome. Their faces were strikingly handsome, their eyes watchful, but Fidelma found their expressions unfathomable, as if they had purposely eliminated all emotion from their features. They halted in a line before the abbot and, as if at a hidden signal, all three inclined their heads in deference at precisely the same time with one brief movement. They were physically intimidating but both Fidelma and Eadulf could not hide their momentary surprise at the ebony blackness of their skins against the white and silver of their apparel.
‘You summoned us, lord abbot?’
It was the man in the middle who spoke. He used the language of Éireann, although his tones were heavily accented.
‘I did. This is Fidelma of Cashel, sister to our King Colgú. She is what we call a dálaigh — a judge of our law courts.’
Fidelma was about to intervene to make the interpretation more accurate but realised that the abbot was speaking in very simple terms, doubtless so that the foreigners would understand.
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