Badger's Moon

Chapter Nine

Fidelma left Eadulf and Accobrán on the road to Rath Raithlen and in spite of their strenuous protests she proceeded by herself the short distance to the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr.

‘It is midday,’ she had pointed out to a perturbed Eadulf. ‘What harm can come to me at midday when we are looking for a killer who strikes at the full of the moon and the next such moon is not for some weeks yet?’

Accobrán had agreed with Eadulf’s protest.

‘I am responsible for your safety while you are in the territory of the Cineél na Áeda, lady,’ the young tanist had argued. ‘I should stay with you at least.’

‘There is nothing for either you or Eadulf to do,’ she replied. ‘I shall go to the abbey alone and shall return to the fortress thereafter. And, if it mattered, I shall be back well before sunset.’

It was only after some more cajoling of Eadulf and then using her authority over Accobrán that Fidelma found herself alone on the track to the abbey of Finnbarr again. In fact, as soon as Eadulf and Accobrán were out of sight, Fidelma gave her horse its head and nudged the animal into a canter, feeling the cool wind on her face. She smiled in genuine pleasure. She had learnt to ride almost as soon as she could walk and, unlike Eadulf who was still a nervous rider, enjoyed the synchronisation of rider with the muscular and powerful beast. For Fidelma, there was little to match the thrill of a gallop or a canter. She had been so long cooped up in Cashel, confined with her child, that she rejoiced to be out in the open again and feeling free. Fidelma had always been a lover of solitude. Not all the time, of course, but now and then she needed to be alone with her thoughts.

She felt a sudden sense of guilt.

During the last few days she had not thought once of little Alchú. Did that mean that she was a bad mother? She halted her horse and sat frowning as she considered the matter. She remembered something that her mentor, the Brehon Morann, had once said when judging the case of a neglectful father. ‘For a woman, giving birth to a child is the path to omniscience.’ Ever since the birth of Alchú she had been having disturbing thoughts, thoughts which troubled her because she found she did not agree with her teacher. Fidelma had not felt her wisdom increase nor felt any of the joys that she had been told by her female relatives and friends should have been forthcoming. She felt vexed. It was as if she saw Alchú almost as a bond that ensnared her — a curtailment of her freedom rather than something which enriched her. Did she really desire the sort of freedom that she was now experiencing?

What was it Euripides had said? Lucky the parents whose child makes their happiness in life and not their grief, as the anguished disappointment of their hopes. Why didn’t she feel those emotions for little Alchú that she had been told to expect? It was not that she did not care about the child, nor feel anything at all, but she had been told that the birth of her child would be an earth-shattering event, one which would change her. It had not. Maybe it was this lack of the fulfilment of the expectation that was the problem and not the relationship with her baby.

A sudden anger at her own complex feelings came over her and she kicked viciously at her mount’s belly and sent it speeding once more along the track. This time she let the horse have its head completely. The wind sent her red-gold hair streaming out behind her and she raised her face into the welcoming coolness with a sensual smile of pleasure. Was it not Brehon Morann who had declared that a gallop on a bright, fresh day was the cure for all the evils that assailed the mind?

It was some time before she eventually decided to halt the animal and turn it, blowing and snorting, to walk gently back along the track, for she had ridden well past her proclaimed destination in her sudden delight at the freedom of the gallop. She was, at least, feeling some sense of equilibrium as she rode towards the gates of the abbey. The subject of her motherhood and her emotions had been dispelled and her mind was now able to concentrate on the matter in hand.

As she approached the track to the abbey, under the shadow of the hill, she was suddenly aware of a lumbering great wagon being pulled by two horses making its slow progress down the track towards her. The nun hunched on the driver’s seat seemed very familiar. She frowned for a moment and then recognised him.

‘We meet again, Gobnuid,’ she called.

The smith scowled as he drew abreast of her. Fidelma glanced at the wagon. It seemed packed with hides.

‘Transporting hides does not seem a task for a smith,’ she said. ‘You appear to be doing several jobs that are unsuited to your profession — messenger and now wagon driver.’

Gobnuid shrugged his broad shoulders. He did not rise to her sarcastic bait.

‘I take on whatever tasks there may be when there is no work for the forge,’ he said sourly.

‘Where do you sell the hides?’ she asked.

‘They eventually go down to the coast, to the house of Molaga or to the abbey of Ard Mhór where they make leather goods.’

‘You are taking them all the way there?’

‘I am only taking them to the Bridge of Bandan. From there they will go by river boat to the house of Molaga on the coast.’

It struck her as odd that his usual reticence had given way to a desire to answer her questions.

‘Do they fetch a good price?’

Gobnuid pursed his lips sourly. ‘Whether they do or not, my fee for transporting them is the same.’

‘So they are not your hides?’

‘I am a smith, not a tanner.’

Fidelma was curious. ‘So you are transporting the hides for Lesren?’

Gobnuid gave a gruff laugh. ‘Not for Lesren. I would do little for that son of a…’ He paused. ‘No, these hides belong to my lord Accobrán. Now, I need to be on my way.’

He flicked the reins and the cart began to move off, leaving deep tracks in the mud of the road. Fidelma stared at the tracks for a moment or two and then turned her horse again towards the abbey. She wondered why Gobnuid had been forthcoming with information. It was unlike his previous attitude and she was certain that he had been responsible for the so-called accident on the ladder that morning. She had not told Eadulf but she had clearly seen the way a sharp knife had cut into the rung of the ladder. There was no rotten wood there. The rung had been almost severed so that it would break under any heavy weight.

Brother Solam came to the gate to meet her as she swung down from her horse. She noticed that he had been standing with another religieux who had the dust of travel on him and had the reins of his horse still looped over his arm. The youthful steward of the abbey greeted her respectfully.

‘If you seek Abbot Brogán, Sister, you will have to wait awhile. He has gone to his cell to meditate. At such times, we are not allowed to disturb him.’

‘Then do not do so, for it was not the abbot that I particularly wanted to see,’ she replied.

Brother Solam was frowning over this when the other religieux left his horse and came quickly forward. There was a smile of greeting on his owlish features. Fidelma could not place him. He was a dark, lean-featured man.

‘Sister Fidelma? Fidelma of Cashel?’ the man asked. Even before Fidelma affirmed the fact, the man continued: ‘I am Túan, the steward of the house of Molaga. I was at the abbey of Ardmore when you were staying there last year. I don’t suppose you remember me…?’

Fidelma rejected the polite impulse to say that she did. It interested her to hear that the man was from the house of Molaga.

‘Have you just arrived?’ It was asking the obvious but she wanted to deflect from talking about an unremembered previous meeting.

Brother Túan indicated that he had. ‘Brother Solam was just telling me of the problems here and that you had arrived to resolve them.’

Fidelma decided that her original purpose in coming to the abbey could be delayed a moment or two longer and she glanced about. In the courtyard was a bench under an apple tree, conveniently by the warmth of the abbey blacksmith’s forge. She indicated it.

‘Let us sit there awhile, for I would seek your opinion, Brother Túan.’ She turned to Brother Solam with a bright smile. ‘Will you forgive us, for a moment?’

Still frowning, Brother Solam was clearly unhappy. But he simply said: ‘I will attend to the needs of Brother Túan’s horse. Do you want me to stable your own mount?’

‘There is no need. I do not plan to stay long.’

Brother Túan and Fidelma seated themselves on the bench beneath the shade of the shrub-like tree with its spiny branches. There was still fruit on it.

‘I suppose you have heard some details about what has been happening here?’ Fidelma asked without further preamble.

The steward of the house of Molaga grimaced. ‘They say that there is a lunatic abroad, Sister. One who strikes at the full of the moon.’

‘And do you know that a young woodcutter named Gabrán has been accused by the father of one of the victims?’

‘That was found to be false,’ replied Brother Túan immediately. ‘You must have been told that on the night of that murder, at the full moon of that month, the Month of Greenflies, this youth Gabrán was staying at the house of Molaga?’

Fidelma smiled at the confirmation. ‘And you can personally confirm that?’

‘I can indeed.’

‘Can you be so sure?’

Brother Túan thrust out his chin, a little defensively. ‘I am the rechtaire, the steward of the abbey, and it is my duty to know and record what passes from day to day. Would I not know the month and the full moon? I remember well that moon and I remember well the young boy’s stay because, and I tell you this in confidence, Sister, two of our brothers had to carry Gabrán back to the abbey. He had been found drunk and senseless in a dockside tavern. It seemed that it was his first time away from his parents and he had fallen in with bad company. It had been fortunate that he had left the money the abbey owed his father in our keeping until he started for home. He was robbed but, thanks be to God, he did not lose much.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘He did not tell me this story when I saw him this morning and questioned him with his parents.’

Brother Túan grinned broadly. ‘Are you surprised? I imagine that he would scarcely have told his father and mother. A young man’s foolishness. He will learn by it. I have told you this in confidence only to assure you that I can fix the date in my mind as to when young Gabrán was at the house of Molaga. He arrived in the daytime and that evening of the full moon he was drunk. I would not wish the young man to get into trouble with his parents but, as steward, I recorded the events for our records. However, you may be assured that there is no way that Gabrán could have been anywhere near where the girl was killed on that night.’

‘Thank you for this information, Brother. I will keep the young man’s secret. Has Brother Solam also told you about the suspicions held of the three strangers here?’

A dark frown crossed Brother Túan’s features.

‘Tales have reached us at the house of Molaga about this,’ he confirmed.

‘I am told that these strangers first sought refuge at the house of Molaga.’

‘Sought refuge? That is not entirely accurate. A slave ship foundered in a storm off our coast. Parts of the ship came ashore in the mud flats in the tidal estuary below the abbey. Some fishermen found the three strangers manacled to one another and attached to a spar. They were more dead than alive. They were fished out of the mud flats at low tide and brought ashore to our abbey.

‘As fate would have it, some of our community have a good knowledge of Greek and this was the only language we had in common with the three strangers. Communication was established and we found that they were religious followers of the Christ from some far-off land — a place called Aksum.’

‘Were there any other survivors from the ship?’ Fidelma asked.

‘A few. They were mostly Franks and they immediately took service on a Frankish merchantman which was in the bay.’

‘You offered the strangers refuge?’

‘We did so. We released their manacles and nursed them back to health, for they had clearly been badly treated. They stayed awhile with us, learning something of our language and telling us about their country and how the Faith reached them. Our scriptor took down many of the things they told us and, in return, they questioned him about our land, our culture and our learning. We even had some artefacts from their country. Some silver crucifixes which our abbot gave them as gifts to commemorate their safe delivery from the sea.’

‘I understand that they have become very interested in the work of Aibhistín of Inis Carthaigh.’

Brother Túan smiled slightly. ‘When they heard about the work Brother Aibhistín had done on the moon and its effects on the tides, they became very excited. Indeed, they seemed to find it impossible to concentrate on any other subject. Brother Dangila, in particular, was fascinated by the work relating to the studies of the moon and the stars. He devoured a lot of the works we had, such as Abbot Sinlán’s chronology and the astronomical tracts of Mo Chuaróc of Loch Garman.’

‘I believe that Brother Dangila was told that it was here, at the abbey of Finnbarr, that Aibhistín’s work on the moon and tides was kept?’

Brother Túan surprised her by shaking his head. ‘No one at the house of Molaga told Brother Dangila that for the simple reason that no one there knew. We all knew of Aibhistin’s work but no one knew where the manuscript was kept.’

‘How did Brother Dangila learn of its whereabouts then?’ queried Fidelma.

Brother Túan rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it must have been from Accobrán.’

‘The tanist?’

‘The same. I did not realise that he was knowledgeable on such matters, though, of course, he had studied for a time at Molaga. He is a good man. A fine warrior. Without the likes of him the Uí Fidgente might have asserted their power over Cashel a long time ago and the Eóghanacht might have been destroyed.’ Brother Túan suddenly flushed. ‘I mean no disrespect to your brother, Sister.’

Fidelma raised a shoulder and let it fall in a quick shrug. ‘It is well known that the Uí Fidgente have plotted for many years to gain power in this kingdom. They have often made attempts to displace the descendants of Eoghan at Cashel. There is nothing disrespectful in telling the truth. But what were you saying about Accobrán?’

‘Accobrán was staying at the house of Molaga some ten weeks ago, just about the time of the feast of Lughnasa…no, let me show you that I am precise as to days, for I know that as a dálaigh you require precision. It was the day after the feast when Accobrán arrived at our abbey. He met the strangers and spoke with them several times and the next thing I knew they announced that they had decided to come here to the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr to continue their studies of the astronomical manuscripts. They left for this place soon after Accobrán returned here. He must have been the one to tell Brother Dangila the manuscript was here.’

‘A few days after the feast of Lughnasa? And some days later the first slaughter of a young girl, Beccnat, took place,’ muttered Fidelma reflectively.

Brother Túan looked uneasy.

‘Are you saying…?’ he began.

Fidelma made a motion with her hand. ‘I am merely contemplating the facts, Brother Túan, and that is a fact. Tell me, what do you think of the strangers? I mean their general demeanour and so on.’

‘Think?’ Brother Túan shrugged. ‘They certainly have a profound knowledge. They are polite and considerate. They are aloof and keep themselves to themselves. I would not say that they are easy to get to know. It is easy to find prejudice against them.’

‘Why so?’

Brother Túan looked unsettled. ‘Well, they are so different from us.’

‘You speak of the blackness of their skins?’

Brother Túan made an affirmative gesture.

‘Let us forget the colour of their skins and judge them as we should judge everyone — on the content of their character.’

‘It is well said. Would that everyone were capable of rising above their fears of things and people that are different. I only say that this is the reason why people will judge the strangers harshly: because of their fear.’

‘Say they were strangers but, in appearance, no different from us. What would you say of them then?’

‘Intelligent, learned, but hard to get near. There is an aura of suspicion about them. Their fixation on star lore makes them subject to further suspicion in the light of the conditions surrounding the killings here.’

Fidelma did not mention that Brocc had claimed he had seen one of the strangers sitting gazing at the moon on the night that Escrach was killed or that the strangers had refused to identify which of them it was. That was the thing that made Fidelma suspicious of the strangers and, indeed, brought her back to the reason why she had come to the abbey.

‘Thank you, Brother Túan. You have been most helpful.’

She rose from the bench and he with her.

‘I am pleased to do whatever I can to help.’

‘Will you be staying here long?’

‘A few days. I have come bearing letters from my abbot to Abbot Brogán. I shall have to wait for answers before returning to the coast.’

He bade her farewell and went off to the main building of the abbey. Fidelma caught sight of Brother Solam walking back across the courtyard. She waved him forward.

‘I have finished with Brother Túan,’ she began.

The young steward interrupted her before she could go further. ‘I am glad, Sister. I had need to speak with you.’

Fidelma was slightly puzzled at the man’s apparent coyness. ‘About what matter?’

‘Why, the matter that you are investigating.’ He glanced round in a conspiratorial way. ‘It is this matter of the full moon that worries me.’

‘Why would it worry you, Brother Solam?’ she asked, guiding him back to the spot that she and Brother Túan had vacated and motioning him to be seated next to her. ‘Come, speak what is on your mind.’

‘Well, there has been much talk about the strangers, and claims that they might be attracted to the night skies and the moon…’

‘And it is the strangers that you wish to speak of?’

To her surprise, Brother Solam shook his head. ‘Not, I am afraid it is of someone who is close to our chieftain, Becc. And I tell you this in confidence. I would not like it to be known that I have told you.’

Fidelma pursed her lips. ‘Brother Solam, I cannot make any promises to you. If you have material evidence of wrong-doing…’

Brother Solam shook his head.

‘It is not that, not that,’ he said quickly. ‘It is no more than a report of suspicious behaviour.’

‘Well, if it turned out to lead to the guilty party then your anonymity could not be maintained. You would be called to appear before a Brehon and take an oath to support your evidence.’

Brother Solam was silent for a while and then he nodded slowly. ‘It is something that does not allow me to rest easily and I must tell you or live with a feeling of guilt. I have tried to keep this secret to myself but am unable.’

Fidelma struggled to keep her patience in the face of the moralising tone of the steward. ‘Very well. Proceed with your story.’

Brother Solam paused for a moment or two before continuing. ‘It was when the moon was at its fullest last month. It was the night that Escrach was killed. I was returning to the abbey across the lower slopes of the Thicket of Pigs. It was approaching midnight. In fact, as I came along the road I heard the chime of the midnight Angelus from the abbey bell.’

‘What took you out so late?’

Brother Solam leant forward confidentially. ‘I have a brother who lives over at the Pass of the High Wood, not far from here. I had permission that day to go to visit him. That I did and I was late returning.’

‘Very well. Go on.’

‘As I came along the road, I saw a figure approaching. That is, the figure was heading up the hill.’

‘And did you identify this figure?’

‘Of course. It was Escrach.’

Fidelma started. Of the people she expected Brother Solam to identify, she had not anticipated the name of Escrach. She had been sure that the young steward was about to confirm that he had seen Brocc crossing the hill.

‘Are you saying that you saw Escrach at a time which must have been shortly before her death?’

Brother Solam lowered his voice in affirmation. ‘That is why I have kept it to myself all these weeks.’

‘Did you speak to one another?’

‘Of course. I asked her what she was doing so far from her home and so late at night. She laughed at me. You know how insolent the young can be? Then she told me not to worry for she knew where she was going and whom she was meeting. Those were her very words.’

Fidelma waited while the steward paused and appeared to sink into his own thoughts.

‘What then?’ she prompted after a few moments.

Brother Solam raised his head. ‘Oh, then she went on her way, up the old track.’

‘Up the old track? Up the hill? Which led where?’

‘The old track eventually leads to the cave complex on the top of the hill. Only I presume she did not make it for I understand that her body was found below that, near a stone circle we call the Ring of Pigs. If only I had stopped her.’

‘Much power in that word “if”. You might not have been able to prevent what followed. Tell me, did you see anyone else — did you see Brocc, for example? Or anyone else?’

‘Brocc?’ The steward was clearly startled. ‘What would he have been doing on the hill?’

‘Or anyone else?’ repeated Fidelma.

Brother Solam nodded quickly. ‘And that is what troubles me.’

Fidelma regarded his expression closely.

‘Whom did you see?’ she asked sharply.

Not for the first time in the conversation, Brother Solam leant towards her in a conspiratorial manner. Fidelma could smell a faint odour of onions on the man’s breath and moved slightly backwards in distaste.

‘You must promise that you will treat this information with prudence.’

Fidelma compressed her lips in irritation.

‘I treat all information with prudence,’ she replied. ‘But you must realise how important this information is. You are speaking of someone who, if not the killer, may have been the last person to see Escrach alive.’

Brother Solam raised an arm in a curious gesture as if attempting to apologise. ‘You see, it is a matter that has caused me disquiet and I would like what I have to say treated with caution, in case of misinterpretation.’

‘Leave interpretation and circumspection to me. If the information warrants their use than I will judge how and when they should be used. Now what is this thing that causes you such anxiety?’

‘Escrach had left me and continued up the old path. I continued down the hill on my way towards the abbey.’

‘I am following,’ Fidelma said when the man paused again.

‘I was nearing the abbey when I heard the sound of a wagon coming along. The moon was bright and I could see the dark bulk coming up the track. I do not know what made me turn aside from the path and seek shelter among the trees that lined the pathway. I think it was the sight of one of the two men who were seated side by side on the driver’s seat.’

‘What sort of wagon was this?’

‘It was a normal fén, a common rough wagon with solid wheels drawn by two oxen. Why do you ask?’

‘Detail is everything, Brother Solam. You tell me that you see a cart and hide from it. Something disturbs you. What is this cart like? Does it have solid wheels or spoked wheels?’

‘I told you, it had solid wheels.’

‘Exactly. And solid wheels indicate that the owner might not be as wealthy as someone with a spoke-wheeled wagon. You have described a wagon that is quite ordinary. And you said that it was the sight of one of the two men that made you hide from its passing?’

Brother Solam nodded. ‘I did not recognise the passenger. I admit that. But I did recognise his robes.’

‘Robes?’

‘The man was one of the three strangers who reside in the abbey.’

Fidelma blinked. It was the only sign she gave that she was surprised by the revelation. So, Brocc had been right. One of the strangers was out on the hillside that night.

Brother Solam was continuing: ‘I saw the white robes that the Aksumites wear and noticed that the man was tall and his features were dark.’

‘And you say that he was a passenger on this wagon? Who was driving the wagon?’

‘This is what causes me disquiet.’

Fidelma stared at him. ‘The sight of one of the guests from your abbey abroad that night on this wagon did not disquiet you? But you express disquiet at the sight of the driver. Who was that driver? Tell me plainly.’

Fidelma’s angry expression caused Brother Solam to swallow hard and then continue hurriedly.

‘The driver of the wagon was the tanist.’

Fidelma’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Accobrán?’

‘Indeed, it was the tanist Accobrán,’ affirmed the steward.

There was a silence for a few moments and then Fidelma gestured for Brother Solam to go on with his story.

‘As I say, I was disturbed and this was the reason I did not make my presence known. What was the stranger doing abroad in the night? What was Accobrán doing at that hour driving a common wagon in which the stranger was a passenger? These questions assailed my mind. As the wagon approached, it being a clear night, I overheard snatches of their conversation. They spoke in Greek. The strangers seem proficient at that language and it is the language in which we communicate with them in the abbey.’

‘You speak Greek?’ asked Fidelma, resorting to that language.

‘I can construe Dio Chrysostom, Hippolytus, Diogenes Läertius, Herodotus of Halicarnassus-’ he replied in the same tongue.

Fidelma interrupted his recital. ‘And what did you hear of this conversation?’

‘The stranger was saying that the signs were auspicious. That as the daughter of Hyperion and Theia had power over that night, so would she cast her spell over Endymion once more.’

‘And did you know what was meant by that?’

‘I know only the Greek of the Christian texts. What was being referred to was some pagan concept to which all good Christians should shut their ears.’

‘Presumably you did not shut your ears?’

‘Accobrán replied that while Selene dominated the night there was much work to be done, for soon Eos would interrupt their labours and the sacrifice of the night must be made before that time. That was all I heard because the wagon went by and disappeared up the hill in the direction in which Escrach had gone.’

‘You know what Selene represents?’ queried Fidelma.

‘I know that she was the goddess of the moon among the pagan Greeks.’

‘Indeed. Selene was the daughter of Hyperion and Theia and she was the moon goddess. Her sister was Eos, goddess of the dawn. Selene fell in love with Endymion, the human king of Elis, and rather than watch him wither and decay she caused him to fall into sleep in a cave so that he would remain for ever young.’

Brother Solam stared at her in awe. ‘I do not have your learning, Sister. Yet I knew that they were talking about the moon that night.’

‘What then?’ prompted Fidelma. ‘What did you do?’

‘Then I returned to the abbey.’

‘You did not report this to the abbot, nor tax either the strangers or Accobrán to find out what they had been doing?’

‘I did not.’

‘Yet the very next day, Escrach was found murdered on that hill. When that news reached you, why did you not report this matter to Abbot Brográn?’

Brother Solam shook his head. ‘I am a coward, perhaps. But how was I to be certain that my own life was not in danger if I revealed what I had seen and heard that night? Feelings have been running high against this abbey and its brethren. I could not reveal that I was alone on the hill or spoke with Escrach that night. If a stranger was involved in her slaughter and I came forward as the only witness, perhaps my life might be forfeit to them. Then there is the fact that Accobrán was driving the wagon and talking of the work they had to do by the light of the moon. He was the one who talked of “the sacrifice of the night”. I remember his words clearly. I might not have your knowledge of the literature of the Greeks but I know the language well enough.’

Fidelma sat in thought for a moment and then sighed. ‘You have been most helpful, Brother Solam. I will keep what you have said between us until I believe it can prove useful. I will not repeat our conversation to anyone except Brother Eadulf who assists me. I can vouch for his discretion. Dismiss any anxiety that you have.’

Brother Solam looked relieved and broke into a speech of gratitude but Fidelma cut him short by holding up a hand and rising from the seat.

‘Thank you for being so honest, Brother Solam. Now, I wished to have another word with Brother Dangila.’

‘Brother Dangila?’ The steward stood up, looking uncomfortable. He glanced nervously about him. ‘I said I did not recognise who the stranger was that night.’

‘It is not about your story that I wish to see Brother Dangila. I came to see him on another matter.’

Brother Solam continued to look worried.

‘I do not know…’ he began.

‘Is there a problem?’ Fidelma asked, puzzled by the look of guilt on his face.

Brother Solam licked his lips nervously. ‘Brother Dangila is not here.’

Fidelma examined the man closely. ‘Not here? Where then?’

‘Brother Dangila insisted that he needed exercise and demanded permission to leave the abbey for a walk.’

‘If I recall correctly, Abbot Brogán had ordered that the three strangers should remain within the walls of the abbey until matters were resolved. People have tried to kill him and his companions because they think that they were responsible for the killings here. If nothing else, Brother Dangila’s life could still be in danger if he is found wandering the countryside. It was your duty to prevent the stranger’s putting himself in the way of harm.’

Brother Solam grimaced helplessly like a small child being told off unjustly. ‘I did try, Sister. But it is hard to argue with Brother Dangila. He insisted on taking a walk.’

‘Was the danger properly explained to him? You should have told me immediately. If Brother Dangila is found alone and unprotected…’ Fidelma lost no more time but turned to where she had left her horse. ‘Which way did he go?’ she called as she mounted up.

‘He has often gone to the hillside there,’ Brother Solam said, pointing to the shadowy Thicket of Pigs rising above the abbey. ‘He has often…’

But before the words were out, Fidelma had mounted and sent her horse into a canter along the path from the abbey and through the woods up the hillside track in the direction the steward had indicated.

It was simply irresponsible on the part of Brother Solam to allow the man to wander on his own, especially in view of what had recently happened. Such lack of thought infuriated her. She gave the horse its head and allowed it to follow the ascending track through the trees, climbing the hill at its own pace. She found that the trees quickly thinned and soon she emerged on the bald bluff not far up the slopes. There were some boulders there, grey stones, as if some ancients had hauled them there with the intention of building a stone circle but then abandoned the idea, leaving the stones lying in confusion, the circle half finished. She saw Brother Dangila immediately, a tall still figure seated on one of the stones, his chin resting on a cupped hand, the elbow balanced on his knee. He seemed to be staring into space.

However, he turned at the sound of her blowing mare as it clambered upward towards him. He rose and awaited her. His features were impassive.

When she slid from her horse, he greeted her in his accented Irish. ‘Blessings on you, Fidelma of Cashel.’

‘It is not wise to be out alone, Brother Dangila,’ she replied in Greek without preamble. ‘The people are still afraid and we are no closer to resolving the matter of culpability. You should not have strayed beyond the boundaries of the abbey.’

Brother Dangila inclined his head gravely.

‘I thank you for your concern, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he replied, now using Greek. ‘The God of Solomon will watch over me. I do not fear.’

Fidelma looped the reins of her horse around a small shrub, turned to one of the stones which lay lengthwise and seated herself. The tall Aksumite resumed his previous position and regarded her without curiosity.

‘The abbot gave me assurance that you would not wander abroad from the abbey so that your safety would be guaranteed until this matter was resolved.’ she said irritably.

‘Is it solely in concern for my safety that you have come seeking me?’ he asked. There was a faint smile on his lips, which seemed to imply a hidden knowledge. For a moment, Fidelma felt awkward. Her eyes suddenly focused on his white woollen robe.

‘You are not wearing your beautiful silver crucifix today,’ she observed.

Brother Dangila’s hand went immediately to his neck. He hesitated and then he nodded gravely. ‘I must have left it in the dormitory. Have no fear. It will be safe, for I believe I know where I left it. As I said, is it concern for me that has brought you hither?’

‘It is true that I wanted to speak to you anyway. So much was left unsaid when we last spoke.’

An eyebrow lifted in interrogation was the only motion of the man’s features that indicated a reaction.

‘Are these the stones called the Ring of Pigs?’ she asked.

‘I believe that is the local name for them,’ replied the other gravely. ‘The stones do look like a litter of piglets around a sow.’

‘And this is where…?’ She left the question unfinished.

‘So I am told.’

She waited a few moments and when the man did not speak she asked: ‘Do you often come to sit on this hillside and meditate?’

‘It is in the nature of my people to contemplate the works of the God of Solomon from whose seed my people descended,’ replied Brother Dangila. ‘Is it not written in the Book of Psalms — “When I look up at Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars set in their place by Thee, what is man that Thou should remember him?”?’

The words of the psalm sounded beautiful in his Greek.

‘So you come at night to look upon the moon and the stars?’ she countered quickly, trying not to get diverted.

Brother Dangila glanced at her with a smile. ‘You have a quick mind, Fidelma of Cashel.’

‘I presume that you were the one seen by Brocc that night?’

‘Have I admitted as much? Whoever Brocc saw, he must identify. Until he does, there is no more to be said.’

‘He is not able. You know that as well as I. What troubles me is that Escrach’s body was found close by here the next day, and before that the body of a girl called Beccnat.’

‘I give you my word that I did not kill them,’ came the quiet tone of the other.

‘Let us make a hypothesis then.’

‘Which is?’

‘Brocc concludes that someone sitting looking up at the night sky was probably doing so for a sinister purpose, especially on the night of the full moon, and especially on the night when a young girl, his niece, was killed.’

‘What stirs this man Brocc’s thoughts is that which is within him,’ replied Brother Dangila. ‘I am not responsible for what thoughts he has.’

‘You might contend, though, that there is another, innocent explanation. Let us continue to hypothesise and see what innocent explanation there can be.’

The Aksumite reflected for a moment in silence and then shrugged. ‘Let us say that the man might have been someone like myself, sitting gazing at God’s creation, and measuring the stars in their journeying across the heavens. His concern was what happened in the sky and not what happened on the earth. He might argue that he heard and saw nothing and, after a while, he went his way — in innocent ignorance of any evil-doing.’

‘You and your comrades are much concerned with the passage of the stars across the heavens?’

‘It is an ancient science, Fidelma of Cashel. Your people are adept at it, or so we have discovered. It may be — and we shall continue to hypothesise,’ he interspered with a smile, ‘it may be that what we have read in your ancient books, we might like to check with the practicality of the star map that God provides at night.’

‘Were you always a contemplative religieux?’ she asked abruptly.

For the first time the features of the Aksumite dissolved in a broad grin.

‘I was thirty when I decided to join the religieux and thirty-three when I was enslaved and sent to Rome.’

‘What were you before?’

‘I worked in the great gold mines — King Solomon’s mines.’

‘Gold mines?’

‘In the shadow of Ras Dashen, our highest peak,’ confirmed Brother Dangila. ‘It was from Aksum that the great treasure temples of Solomon were supplied and King Solomon’s fabulous wealth was accumulated. Menellk, the son of Solomon by the Queen of Sheba, became our ruler. Our mines still supply the wealth of Aksum. My father was a mineworker and I followed him in his work. But I was not satisfied, and from one of the Holy Fathers who lived on the slopes of Ras Dashen I learnt more than how to spot a rich vein of gold or copper. I learnt Greek and a few words of Latin and I read some of the holy texts. I left the mountains and went to Adulis and the rest I have told you.’

Fidelma was thoughtful, ‘I would like to know exactly how all three of you decided to come to the abbey of Finnbarr.’

‘I thought I had told you. The answer is simple. The abbey holds the works of your scholar Aibhistín and we wanted to study them, having seen references to his work in other tracts.’

‘Indeed, you have told me this before. How did you know that they were here?’

‘At the house of Molaga we learnt much about your culture and the fact that you, too, were fascinated by the courses of the stars in the heavens. Exactly as I say, we saw references to Aibhistín’s work. By some happy coincidence, a man from this place was staying in the house of Molaga and we spoke with him. It was he who persuaded us to come to the abbey.’

‘Oh? Was it one of the religious from the abbey?’ She decided to test out what Brother Túan had told her.

‘It was not,’ Brother Dangila said at once. ‘It was the young man…the prince, I forget what you call him in your own language. Accobrán is his name.’

‘He told you that the works of Aibhistín were held in the abbey?’

‘He did. We owe him much for that information. They are fascinating works, especially the tables on the moon and the tides. I have never seen another treatise that concisely explains the tides in relationship to the phases of the moon.’

Fidelma exhaled softly.

‘You seemed troubled, lady,’ remarked Brother Dangila astutely.

‘If young girls had been slaughtered in your land, Brother Dangila, in the way they have been slaughtered here, would you not also be troubled?’

The tall man inclined his head.

‘It is of little use to you, lady, but I would take an oath by the power of the Ark of the Covenant, which shelters in the nameless holy place of my land…I would take an oath that my comrades and I had nothing to do with these terrible killings in this place. Yet I would say that in my own land, we, too, would be suspicious of strangers in similar circumstances.’

‘An oath is of little use. While I might believe you the people here do not.’

‘They are fearful because the colour of our skin is different.’

‘More important, it is because you are strangers to this place and people are afraid of strangers. Are your own people, in Aksum, not afraid of strangers?’

‘Perhaps some are. Aksum stands at a crossroads of many cultures and many religions, lady. We have learnt to live in harmony with most of our neighbours whatever they look like and whatever language they speak or whatever god or gods they follow.’

‘That surely sounds like an ideal place to dwell,’ agreed Fidelma, a little sarcastically. ‘Yet if you have learnt to live in harmony with all your neighbours, how is it that you were taken, with your fellows, and sold as slaves?’

Brother Dangila shook his head with a slight smile. ‘Even in the Garden of Eden there was a serpent.’

‘There is much wisdom in your words, Brother Dangila.’

‘We are taught in the sayings of Solomon that there are seven things the Lord God hates: a proud eye, a false tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that forges thoughts of mischief, feet that run swiftly to evil, a false witness telling lies, and one who stirs up quarrels between brothers.’

‘Words of wisdom are meaningful in any language,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘One cannot be responsible for the dark thoughts of all one’s brothers and sisters. There are many in Aksum and along the seaports trading in human cargoes. Many owners of slaves are members of the Faith. In our world, Sister, there are many ways of becoming a slave. Sometimes people sell their children to escape debts. Then some people sell themselves into slavery to escape the insecurity of life or to seek a position in life. I was unlucky. My companions and I were kidnapped. Unfortunately we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, a bishop of the New Faith in Rome bought us.’

‘Ah, and he tried to set you free?’

Brother Dangila laughed uproariously. ‘He was a slave owner. No freedom for us. He preached the words of Paul of Tarsus to us. “Every man should remain in the condition in which he was called. Were you a slave when you were called? Do not let that trouble you but, even if a chance of liberty should come, choose rather to make use of your servitude.” He only decided to sell us to the Frank when we became too rebellious and attempted to strike for liberty. Perhaps you would like to see our backs where the leather whip lacerated us for our impertinence in believing that we should be free men?’ He acknowledged Fidelma’s momentary look of distaste. ‘I will not inflict the sight on you, Fidelma of Cashel. It is my cross to bear. As I have already told you, that is why we were on the high seas bound for some God-forsaken place called Frankia when the ship foundered and we found refuge on your shore.’

Fidelma was sad. ‘While our law refuses to allow men and women to be bound in servitude, transgressors often lose the rights to be as free men and women. Sometimes, unscrupulous merchants have been known to gather up people and sell them overseas to where the use of slaves is the way of life. I have been to the Saxon kingdoms, to Rome and even to Iberia, so I have seen something of the world beyond these shores. It is not a good world.’

‘You would do well to remember that this land is not separated from the rest of the world but shares the sins of humanity in equal proportion,’ commented Brother Dangila drily.

Fidelma smiled wanly. ‘Well spoken, Brother Dangila. You are right, and you remind me of our frailty and, indeed, of my task. Let us return to the hypothesis that we were discussing.’

‘I will not change my views.’

‘I do not ask that. I am simply going to work on the hypothesis that it was you that Brocc saw. You see, Brocc was not the only person abroad on this hillside that night who will be called to witness.’

Brother Dangila regarded her with a stony expression. ‘Let that witness also come forward and make identification. If so, we may drop this game of hypothesis for I was told that a Brehon only went by what was a proven fact.’

‘Let us say that I am speculating. I also speculate that your defence would be that you were merely looking at the stars out of your interest in such matters.’

‘As you please.’

Fidelma turned in seriousness towards him. ‘Then let me add this warning, Brother Dangila. If my speculation is found to be false in any point then I can become as a bolt of lightning striking a tall oak. No matter how tall the oak, lightning can be a powerful force. I think you understand me.’

‘You have made it clear, Fidelma of Cashel. You are a woman of firm belief and courage. I admire you for it.’

Fidelma was about ask why Brother Dangila had been in Accobrán’s wagon when there was a sudden cry from the edge of the woods. The next moment, a horse bearing Accobrán, sword in hand, came bounding out of the trees. A second horseman was following close behind. Eadulf was maintaining his seat with difficulty.

Brother Dangila sprang up. To Fidelma’s surprise, the tall Aksumite made to place himself before her in a protective attitude, ready to defend her from the attack.

‘Wait!’ cried Fidelma, grabbing hold of Brother Dangila’s hand in which a sharp throwing knife had appeared. Then she shouted to the oncoming tanist. ‘Put up your sword! Stop, I say!’

Accobrán drew rein, slid from his mount and stood, sword still in hand, ready to threaten Dangila. Eadulf came to a halt beside him and half tumbled, half dismounted from his own horse.

‘What does this mean, Accobrán?’

‘Are you all right, lady?’ demanded the tanist.

‘Of course I am,’ replied Fidelma in annoyance. ‘What are you doing threatening Brother Dangila with your sword? Sheathe it, I say. I am in no danger.’

Accobrán’s eyes were filled with suspicion.

‘How long have you been here with Brother Dangila?’ demanded the tanist, still not obeying.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Long enough to have a talk.’ She glanced at Eadulf, who had recovered his composure and now came to her. ‘Eadulf, can you explain this behaviour, since Accobrán will not?’

Eadulf had relief etched into every feature of his face as he grasped her hand.

‘We were worried for your safety…’

‘Why? I do not understand. Did I not tell you that I would be safe?’

‘Lesren has been found…’ Eadulf hesitated as if trying to find the right words.

‘Been found? For God’s sake, explain!’

It was Accobrán who finally answered. ‘Lesren the tanner was found a short time ago. His throat has been cut.’