Badger's Moon sf-13

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘That is Tómma. Lesren’s assistant. It is he who reported the death and he whom we left looking after it,’ the tanist explained, waving back to the man.

  ‘Am I to presume that Tómma left the body unattended when he came to tell you at the fortress?’

  ‘He told us that he and Creoda had discovered it and then he called Bébháil. She said she would stay with the body while Tómma came to the fortress to find me.’

  They left the horses hitched to the rail outside the main building and Accobrán led the way towards the waiting man.

  ‘Where is Bébháil?’ asked Fidelma, glancing quickly around. There was no sign of the woman. Accobrán shrugged by way of reply.

  As they neared Tómma, Fidelma saw that Lesren’s body was lying on its back by the edge of the trees. It was stretched out in repose as if waiting for burial. In fact, it was clear that someone had carefully laid Lesren’s body out on the grass, straightening the limbs and folding the arms across the chest. Indeed, as Fidelma peered closer she realised that the corpse had already been washed.

  Fidelma suppressed a hiss of irritation. She knew that clues could have been destroyed in the process. She glanced angrily at the man who stood there.

  ‘Did you do this?’ She indicated the body and then, realising that her question was open to misinterpretation, she added: ‘Did you lay the body out and wash the limbs?’

  Tómma was a man of about the same age as Lesren but with curly black hair. He looked surprised at her question and shook his head rapidly.

  ‘Not I, Sister. It was Bébháil who did this.’

  ‘You should have stopped her,’ admonished Eadulf, who realised what was passing through Fidelma’s mind. ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘Resting in the bothán,’ Tómma replied. ‘The woman was in shock and it would be pointless to rebuke her for ministering to her dead husband.’

  ‘You were right to treat her gently, Tómma, but this makes my task the more difficult,’ Fidelma said with a tightness in her voice which showed that she was still annoyed. She bent down and began to examine the corpse. There was little she could tell at first glance.

  ‘Do you recall how the body was lying when you first came upon it, Tómma?’ she asked. ‘And how did he die? In fact, what were the circumstances of your finding his body?’

  The man shuffled his feet uneasily. ‘It was just after midday. There was only drying to be done and Lesren had sent most of the other workers back to their homes. That was the last time I saw him alive, Sister. I went home but I was to return this afternoon to help Lesren and Creoda take the bigger skins down from the frames-’

  ‘Creoda? What is his position?’

  ‘He is one of the young workers at the tannery. I called at his cabin on my return here, so we came together. Lesren was nowhere to be found and so I went to his bothán. Bébháil was there but said she had not seen her man since the midday meal. Creoda and I went looking around to see if we could find him.’

  ‘And you did?’

  ‘We found him.’

  ‘And he was dead?’

  Tómma hesitated and looked unhappy. ‘Not quite.’

  Fidelma raised her head to look squarely at him. ‘You mean that he was alive?’

  ‘He was dying and delirious.’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  The man hesitated again. ‘He was muttering something. All I heard was the name Biobhal.’

  Fidelma frowned. ‘Biobhal? Not Bébháil? Was he asking for his wife?’

  ‘He was not. The name was clearly Biobhal. I remarked on that to Creoda, for Lesren died while uttering it. I know of no one by that strange name.’

  ‘Where is this Creoda, by the way?’

  ‘He returned to his bothán.’ Tómma paused and gestured apologetically. ‘Creoda is barely eighteen years old and lives nearby. I suppose with what has happened he was naturally fearful, and…’

  ‘No matter. We will see Creoda later. Where may we find him?’

  Tómma indicated with his hand. ‘Westward, along the river track. His bothán lies back in the trees about twenty-five yards from the river. If you head in that direction, you can’t miss it.’

  ‘Very well. Now, where was Lesren lying when you found him?’

  ‘He was just here by these trees. He was lying there but in a more untidy fashion. The legs spread out, one under his body. The arms stretched out — so.’ He demonstrated with his own arms.

  ‘And, when he had muttered this name that you say you do not recognise, you knew that he had then died?’

  The man considered for a moment. ‘I was fairly sure. Blood was everywhere. Creoda had run off. So I went to fetch Bébháil. She told me to run to the fortress.’

  ‘When did she start to clean the body?’

  It was Eadulf who answered Fidelma. ‘When we left Tómma and Bébháil, she had not begun.’

  The assistant tanner nodded. ‘Liag told her that she could do so after the tanist and this brother had ridden off to bring you here.’

  Fidelma was genuinely startled. ‘Liag the apothecary? Was he here? How does he come into this drama?’

  She glanced at Eadulf and Accobrán but their astonished looks gave the answer to her question. Liag’s arrival was news to them.

  ‘As soon as the Saxon brother and our tanist had left, Liag came out of the woods and examined Lesren,’ explained Tómma. ‘He instructed Bébháil to begin the funereal ministrations.’

  Fidelma almost cursed the apothecary under her breath. ‘And she did so?’

  ‘As you can see.’

  ‘You do not know when Liag arrived here?’

  Tómma shrugged. ‘All I know is that I was here alone with Bébháil when he appeared from that woodland path and that was after the tanist and the Saxon brother had left.’

  Fidelma found herself having to undo the clothing of the corpse in order to make her examination. It became obvious that Lesren had been stabbed several times, judging from the wounds about the neck and chest. The jagged wounds spoke of a frenzied attack with a blunt knife. The wounds were not the clean cuts which one might expect from a hunting knife or — the thought came unbidden into her mind — a physician’s scalpel. Lesren had been stabbed twice in the back of the neck, once in the throat and once in the chest.

  She stood up and shook her head slowly. It was useless trying to learn anything further from the corpse. Fidelma gave only a cursory glance around but it was obvious that there were no signs of the discarded weapon or any other significant item, and too much movement had taken place after Lesren’s death for there to be any meaningful clues.

  ‘Let us find Bébháil,’ she said. ‘You’d best stay here, Tómma. Make sure that no one does anything further with this corpse until I say so.’

  When they were out of earshot of Tómma, Accobrán moved to her side and said with quiet vehemence: ‘Upon reflection, there are only a couple of real suspects in this case. I think I should go to apprehend them.’

  Fidelma glanced at him, knowing what was in his mind but wishing him to make his thoughts clear. ‘Who may these suspects be?’

  The tanist gestured in impatience. ‘As we have already discussed, lady. Who but Goll or his son Gabrán? Having heard how Lesren still accused Gabrán, and the hurtful contempt in which he held that family, I know what I would do if I was filled with youthful pride and anger.’

  ‘What you might do does not mean that someone else has done it.’

  ‘I believe the killer of Lesren will be found at the woodcutter’s homestead.’

  ‘You may well be right, Accobrán,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘However, I shall conduct my investigation in my own way, adhering to the priorities that I have set.’

  They found Bébháil sitting in a chair before her hearth. She looked up, dry-eyed but with pinched, strained features, as they entered. Then she turned her gaze back to the embers of the fire.

  ‘It is sorrowful to me to be in life after Lesren has departed from this world,’ she mutter
ed.

  Her voice was wooden, without feeling. Fidelma glanced at her companions and motioned, them to withdraw, for she felt it best if she talked to the widow by herself. When they had done so, she seated herself opposite the woman.

  ‘Bébháil, I am sorry to ask these questions, but if we are to find the killer of Lesren, then they must be asked. When did you last see your husband?’

  The woman stared at her for some time as if not recognising her. It took several times of asking before she formed a proper answer. Lesren had had his midday meal and gone outside to continue his work. Some time later, Bébháil did not know how long, Tómma had called to say he and Creoda were looking for Lesren. They had gone off to search. Then Tómma had returned with the news of their discovery. She had stayed with the body while Tómma had gone to find Becc or Accobrán at Rath Raithlen.

  Fidelma listened intently as the woman confirmed Tómma’s account.

  ‘Where was Liag during this time?’ she asked quickly.

  Bébháil blinked. ‘The apothecary?’

  ‘He was here, wasn’t he?’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘He came after the tanist had ridden off with your Saxon companion.’

  ‘How was that?’

  ‘Tómma and I were with the body when Liag suddenly emerged from the woods nearby. There is a small footpath that comes through the woods near where Lesren was found.’

  ‘Where does the footpath lead?’

  ‘Up to Rath Raithlen, to the fortress.’

  ‘Did Liag seem surprised to see the body?’

  ‘Surprised?’ The woman frowned and gave a quick shake of her head. ‘Liag never expresses surprise.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He examined Lesren and said that he was dead. Then he told me that I ought to lay out the body before the limbs grew cold. That I should prepare the body for the funereal rites.’

  Fidelma’s lips thinned. ‘So it was on the specific instructions of Liag that you washed and prepared the body?’

  ‘It was.’

  Fidelma wondered what had motivated Liag. Had he purposely set out to destroy evidence or had he done so from ignorance? She tried to put the questions to the back of her mind because there would be no answers until she spoke to Liag.

  ‘During the time between Lesren’s leaving the bothán and the finding of the body, did you hear or see anything unusual?’

  Bébháil shook her head. ‘I knew nothing until Tómma called me.’

  ‘You were not aware of anyone else here or around the tannery during this time?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Have you any idea who might have done this?’

  Bébháil regarded her with large, dark eyes.

  ‘My husband was not a man who was well liked, lady,’ she said softly. ‘You must already know that he had several enemies. However, I will not lift a finger to point in any direction.’

  Fidelma was quiet for a moment or two, Then she said, ‘Have you ever heard the name of Biobhal spoken? It sounds very similar to your own name, I know. But it seems your husband was calling it out when he died.’

  Bébháil frowned and shook her head rapidly.

  ‘There is no one in these parts who has such a name,’ she said simply. ‘Biobhal? Are you sure that he was not calling out my name?’

  ‘Tómma was sure and apparently Creoda also heard it.’

  ‘I know of no such name, lady.’

  Fidelma gave her a smile of reassurance. ‘I have done with my questions. Can I do anything for you, Bébháil? Can you call on anyone to come and be with you? Is there anyone who is able to make the funeral arrangements for you?’

  ‘I have a sister who lives nearby. Tómma will fetch her for me.’ Her voice was low and measured and still without emotion. Fidelma rose, reached forward and laid a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder.

  ‘I will ask the tanist to do so. Tómma should stay here until your relatives arrive so that you are not alone.’

  ‘Alone?’ Bébháil sighed. ‘Ah! Let the days of lamentation begin for my man was alive and now is dead. Cry and clap your hands and sing the Nuall-guba, the lamentation of sorrow.’

  ‘It shall be done with all ceremony, Bébháil,’ Fidelma assured her solemnly in answer to the ritual instruction of one who has suffered the death of a near one. She called for Accobrán to come in to receive instructions from Bébháil.

  She was about to turn from the room when she caught sight of a small piece of glinting polished metal standing on a table. She frowned and took it up in her hand. It was heavy and there was a glint of metallic yellow about it.

  ‘You appear rich, Bébháil,’ she said quietly. ‘This is a large gold nugget.’

  ‘Let me see!’ Accobrán demanded, reaching out his hand and taking it from her. He seemed abruptly curt. He turned it over for a moment or two and then put it carelessly back in place. ‘It’s only iron pyrites — fool’s gold,’ he said. Was it relief that Fidelma heard in his voice?

  ‘Ah,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘Non teneas aurum totum quod splendet ut aurum.’

  Bébháil continued to sit without moving as if she no longer saw nor heard them.

  Outside, Fidelma told Tómma what was intended and while she was speaking to him Accobrán followed her out and informed her that he had agreed to undertake the task of arranging the funeral obsequies.

  ‘I’ll also alert Bébháil’s sister and her family,’ he agreed. ‘When can the funeral go ahead, lady?’

  ‘As soon as custom allows,’ replied Fidelma. ‘There is nothing more to be learnt from the body. Eadulf and I will meet you at the rath on your return.’

  Accobrán raised an eyebrow. ‘Your return? Return from where, lady?’

  Fidelma was already moving back to her horse with Eadulf trailing in her wake. She mounted up quickly.

  ‘We will have a word with this youth Creoda and then I want to see Liag to find out how he just happened to be passing by here. Perhaps he noticed something.’

  Accobrán looked uncomfortable. ‘I should go with you. I have told you that he-’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Fidelma interrupted him. ‘Eadulf and I will find the way. You concentrate on finding the sister of Bébháil.’

  She knew well enough that Accobrán had not meant that they needed to be guided to Liag’s hermitage but that he was worried for their safety. However, she had begun to feel that she had now had enough of being chaperoned. She needed freedom to continue her own investigations now she knew the lie of the land.

  Side by side, she and Eadulf rode silently along the bank of the river, retracing their route of the previous day towards the place where Liag dwelt. Accobrán stood staring after them a few moments before he mounted his own horse and rode off in the opposite direction.

  After a while, Eadulf said: ‘We should have asked Accobrán for his hunting horn. Didn’t he say that he had to use it to summon the hermit?’

  Fidelma glanced at him with amusement. ‘If our upraised voices do not summon Liag then nothing will.’

  Eadulf grimaced without humour. ‘What do you think the old apothecary was doing so close to the tannery?’

  ‘That is what I hope to find out.’

  ‘And destroying evidence?’ added Eadulf.

  ‘The question has occurred to me,’ she replied quietly.

  Eadulf fell silent. It was obvious that Fidelma had considered all the matters he had wondered about.

  It was not long before they spotted a log cabin through the trees.

  ‘This must be Creoda’s bothán,’ Fidelma said as she turned her horse towards it.

  They were some distance away when a youth emerged and called shrilly: ‘What do you want here?’ He was clearly nervous.

  ‘Are you Creoda?’

  The youth was clad in a tanner’s traditional leather apron. He wore a sharp leather-worker’s knife in his belt and had one hand on the handle. His features displayed his anxiety. He regarded them with suspicion.

  ‘I am C
reoda,’ he replied. Then he seemed to relax. ‘Ah, you are the dálaigh. I saw you at Lesren’s tannery yesterday.’

  Fidelma and Eadulf dismounted.

  ‘We have come to ask you a few questions about Lesren,’ Fidelma told him.

  The boy thrust out his lower lip in a grimace. ‘Lesren is dead.’ He jerked his head towards Eadulf. ‘He was there with the tanist. He saw the body.’

  ‘I know. We have come from the tannery.’

  ‘I can tell you little more.’

  ‘I just need to hear your version of the events.’

  Creoda hesitated before commencing his story. ‘I had finished my noonday meal when Tómma called for me. We went to the tannery together. There was some work for us to do but everyone else had been sent home. We arrived at the tannery but there was no sign of Lesren. We asked at the bothán but he was not there and so we went looking for him. We found him by the edge of the woods. That is all.’

  ‘I gather that he was still alive,’ said Fidelma.

  ‘Alive? Aye, barely; alive but rambling.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Tómma was bending down by him. He will tell you.’

  ‘We would like to know what you heard — just to clarify things.’

  Creoda pursed his lips. ‘Nothing that made sense. I heard some snatches of words and a name…it was indistinct. Tómma turned to me and asked me if I had heard the name before.’

  ‘What was the name? And had you heard it?’

  Creoda shook his head once more. ‘Tómma clarified the name for me because, at first, I thought he was calling for his wife, Bébháil. But the name was apparently Biobhal. It is not a name that I know or have heard the like of here.’

  ‘Biobhal,’ repeated Fidelma. ‘Are you sure that was the name?’

  ‘I asked Tómma to repeat it. I have never heard of its like,’ affirmed the tannery worker.

  ‘Then we will trouble you no more,’ Fidelma said gravely, turning to remount her horse.

  ‘Will you find this killer who threatens our peace, Sister?’ demanded the boy. ‘Three of my friends have been slaughtered by this moonlight maniac and now comes the death of him who was training me in the art of tannery.’