Badger's Moon

Chapter Eleven

Liag, the apothecary, had emerged from the trees behind them. He appeared as he had on their previous meeting, with his saffron-dyed woollen robe, the snow-white hair held in place by the green and yellow bead headband and the silver chain around his neck. The elderly apothecary still carried his traditional apothecary’s lés, the satchel containing his cures and implements, and the echlais, his whip-like wand of office.

‘You seem startled to see me, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He smiled thinly. He did not even acknowledge Eadulf.

‘You came up behind us quietly,’ returned Fidelma, dismounting from her horse.

Liag raised his eyebrows in a bland expression. ‘Did you not hear my approach? When I was young, one was taught to attune one’s ears to the sounds of the forest. One was taught to hear the lizard avoiding the hungry eye of the kestrel, the badger slinking through the undergrowth and the stoat splashing homewards. Hark!’ The old man tilted his head to one side and cupped a hand to an ear in an exaggerated stance.

Eadulf glowered in annoyance. He had succeeded in dismounting from his nervous beast and was tying the reins to a bush.

‘You don’t mean to tell me that you can hear anything?’ he sneered.

Liag turned to Eadulf. ‘I hear a rat grab a lizard by its tail and the sound of the lizard’s cry as it sheds its tail to fool the predator while it scurries off to its nest, for this is the month it sneaks into hibernation.’

Eadulf regarded the bland expression on the face of the old recluse and was not sure whether he was being made fun of or not. ‘I can hear nothing.’

‘Exactly so, Brother Saxon. Exactly.’

Fidelma regarded the apothecary cynically. ‘If you can hear such things, Liag, then you should be able to answer some simple questions.’

The elderly man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘It is said that those who ask questions cannot avoid the answers,’ he replied softly. ‘But it is not every question that is deserving of an answer.’

‘A good response. If your ears are so attuned, then you surely heard the death cries of Beccnat, of Escrach and of Ballgel.’

The apothecary’s cheek coloured hotly at the sarcasm. ‘I do not claim omniscience. I do not hear all that passes in the forests. Had I been near to where they perished…’ He lifted a shoulder and let it fall eloquently.

Fidelma’s lips thinned. ‘Then I presume that you heard the death gasp of Lesren? I understand that you were close by when he died?’

Liag’s brows came together in a frown. ‘Who said I was near?’

‘So you do know that Lesren has been killed?’ Eadulf pointed out quickly.

‘I do not deny that,’ replied the apothecary.

‘You emerged from the forest when Bébháil and Tómma stood by the body of Lesren?’

‘But Lesren was dead, my Saxon friend. In fact, so far as I could tell, he had been dead for some time.’

‘What were you doing there?’ asked Eadulf.

Liag wore a droll expression. ‘In case you have not perceived it, Saxon, if I crossed the hill of Rath Raithlen and returned in this direction, my path would pass through the forests that surround Lesren’s tannery.’

‘And you were crossing the hill and just happened to be passing at that time?’ said Fidelma.

‘I happened to be passing the tannery at that time, dálaigh,’ he responded with irony in his voice. It was the first time he had chosen to address her by the title of her profession and it was clear that he was being sardonic.

‘Where had you been?’

‘Rath Raithlen is the only place of importance on that hill.’

Fidelma hid her surprise. ‘Everyone says that you are a recluse, Liag. That you dwell in the forests and shun the outside world. Are you telling me that you were visiting the fortress of the chieftain?’

‘I believe that is exactly what I told you.’

Fidelma tried to stifle her irritation. ‘Why this change of character, Liag?’

‘There is no change of character. Whether I wish to see people or not is my own affair. I rule my life, not other people. If I want to see them, I see them. If I do not, I shall not.’

‘Are you saying that some business or some desire drew you to the chieftain’s fortress?’

‘Some business drew me there,’ affirmed Liag.

‘You are not being helpful,’ Fidelma replied impatiently.

Liag was amused. ‘I thought that I was obeying the law that says that one must answer the questions of a dálaigh. I am replying to your questions.’

Fidelma knew that the apothecary was right. He was answering her questions but to a minimum level.

‘Will you tell me what business took you to Rath Raithlen?’

The old man considered.

‘I had need to see a smith,’ he replied.

‘Gobnuid?’ The name shot out of Fidelma’s mouth, catching the apothecary by surprise. He was the only smith at Rath Raithlen that Fidelma knew. She thought it worth throwing out to see if it would force Liag into more explicit answers. He merely nodded affirmation.

‘What was the nature of your business?’

‘I cannot see that it bears any relationship to your inquiries, Fidelma of Cashel. Anyway, Gobnuid was not at his forge so I returned.’

‘Gobnuid has left Rath Raithlen driving a wagonful of hides to some river merchant. What was the nature of your business?’

Liag half closed his eyes as if the information surprised him, but he recovered in a split second.

‘Even a recluse who lives in the forest by himself sometimes has need of a smith. I had some knives and axes that needed sharpening.’

Eadulf glanced at Fidelma.

‘And these knives and axes…’ he began, but Liag’s features were wreathed with his mocking smiling again.

‘I am afraid that I was returning to my home after taking them to the smith. I was not carrying the sharpened implements. I left them at Gobnuid’s forge so that he might attend to them on his return. I did not use them to end Lesren’s life, if that is what you wish to imply, my Saxon friend.’

‘You might find this matter amusing, Liag,’ Eadulf said irritably, ‘but a man lies dead and also three young women. Corpses are not matters of amusement.’

The old man’s eyes were like gimlets. Cold and sparkling. ‘Indeed, they are not, Brother Saxon. Neither are accusations made by some stranger in this land.’ He jerked his head in Eadulf’s direction.

‘Brother Eadulf is making no accusations,’ Fidelma interposed. ‘Neither am I. We are seeking information, that is all. If there is an accusation to be made, it will be couched in terms so direct that no one will misunderstand it. Now, tell us your account of what happened. You were returning home when…?’

For several moments the old man stood staring into Fidelma’s eyes, his own cold eyes challenging. Fidelma did not waver. Her features were fixed. It was Liag who finally shrugged and accepted defeat.

‘I came through the woods, at first thinking to skirt round Lesren’s tannery. I do not particularly like Lesren and his workers. I noticed that there was a strange stillness to the place. Usually, Lesren has several people working for him, boiling the noxious brews for his tanning and stretching the skins to dry. In the stillness I heard a woman’s sobbing.’

He paused for a moment.

‘Go on,’ prompted Fidelma, still feeling irritable with the man.

‘I found both Bébháil and Tómma standing by the corpse of Lesren. I decided that the woman was so distraught that she might need my help. It seemed that Tómma was unable to calm her.’

‘And?’

‘I managed to calm her but Bébháil seemed to be unsure whether her husband was dead or not. I made an examination and realised that not only was he dead but that he had been dead some time.’

‘How did you know that?’ demanded Eadulf.

Liag looked pityingly at him. ‘The body grows cold after a while.’

‘Why did you advise Bébháil to wash the body and prepare it for burial?’ demanded Fidelma abruptly.

Liag replied immediately. ‘It seemed to me that in her emotional state she needed something to do which would awake her to the finality of the situation. It would be wrong to allow her to think that her husband might be somehow resuscitated. It was an act of charity to get her to concentrate her mind…’

‘An act of charity that probably destroyed all the clues to Lesren’s killers,’ pointed out Fidelma.

Liag stared at her thoughtfully and then shook his head. ‘I doubt it. There was nothing I could see that would have constituted a clue.’

‘Ah, as well as hearing lizards in flight, I presume that you are also a trained dálaigh?’ Eadulf sneered.

Liag looked at him. A spasm of anger distorted his features for a moment and then he seemed to relax and smiled broadly.

‘You have a right to be angry, my Saxon friend. I have been unkind to you and that is unworthy of me. You have been unworthy in return. Let us make an end to it. I am competent enough as an apothecary to say that there was nothing about the corpse that could lead to the killer.’

Eadulf swallowed in annoyance at the condescension in the other’s tone, but he could not think of a suitable response.

‘Tell me, Liag, having now observed all four deaths in this place, have you discerned any similarities between them?’ queried Fidelma.

‘Only in as much as all met their deaths by a knife — and a knife that was jagged and blunt.’

‘If that was the only similarity, what were the dissimilarities?’ Fidelma pressed.

Liag shot her an appreciative glance. ‘I would say that there was a distinct difference between the way the first three victims came by their deaths and the way that Lesren came by his.’

‘How so?’

‘The first three victims were, of course, young girls. They were savagely attacked and mutilated. The fourth, Lesren, was a male. While there was savagery in the number of wounds he sustained, being stabbed several times in the neck and chest, there was no mutilation. Indeed, Tómma told me that Lesren was still alive when he reached him and was able to breathe a few words that did not make sense.’

Fidelma nodded slightly.

‘He was able to breathe a name,’ she conceded.

‘A name that makes little sense, if Tómma has reported it correctly. It may well be that the wounds inspired some delirium. Who knows what passed through his mind in the last moments before death?’

‘You are a man of knowledge, Liag,’ Fidelma said. She spoke simply, without sounding as if she was paying the apothecary any compliments. ‘You must know about the old days when gold and silver were worked in this area.’

Liag inclined his head a little, although he was clearly puzzled by her apparent change of subject. ‘I have some knowledge. The ore raised here was rich and excellent and was once produced in abundance. Now, alas, gold of such quality is only found in the eastern mountains of Laighin.’

‘Did Lesren ever work in the mines?’

Liag shook his head quickly. ‘Never. What makes you ask that?’

‘Do you recall who, according to the ancients, first brought gold to Ireland?’

The apothecary looked surprised. ‘Is this to be a discussion on our ancient lore and history? Well, it was Tigernmas, the twenty-sixth High King of Éireann, after the coming of the children of the Gael. He first smelted gold in this land. During his reign it is said that golden goblets and brooches were plentiful and that his chief artificer was Uchadan.’

Eadulf was also regarding Fidelma with a bewildered frown at her seeming irrelevant line of questioning. She seemed momentarily disappointed at Liag’s answer.

‘I have heard it said that the mines here are all in disuse now.’

‘You have heard it said correctly, lady,’ agreed Liag. ‘There are some lead workings not far from here but the old wealth is gone.’

‘I suppose things would greatly change if the precious metals were found again?’

Liag grimaced distastefully. ‘They would indeed change, but probably not for the better. For myself, I prefer the quiet and peace that solitude and a degree of indigence brings. Wealth brings greed, greed brings hate, and crime spreads-’

‘Crime such as murder?’ snapped Eadulf, losing patience with the conversation. ‘Have not such crimes already been visited on your idyll, master apothecary?’

Liag’s mouth tightened as he turned on Eadulf. ‘You are direct, Brother Saxon. There is no denying that you come to the point with a directness that others might not use. Yet I prefer my idyll, as you call it. The place is not responsible for the evil in men’s hearts. There is an old saying that wealth does not improve character but always changes it for the worse.’

Eadulf was about to open his mouth to retort when Fidelma moved forward to her horse, unloosening the reins.

‘Thank you for your time, Liag. We have much to do and must now return to the rath. But one question more. When was it that you were asked to examine the body of Beccnat?’

The apothecary looked surprised. ‘On the morning after the full moon. I thought that was understood.’

‘And both Escrach and Ballgel were also examined on the morning after the full moon?’

Liag confirmed it.

‘Thank you once again, Liag. You have been most helpful.’

Liag did not respond but stood motionless as they mounted their horses and rode away. Once out of earshot and sight of the old apothecary, Eadulf learned forward to Fidelma.

‘Why are you so interested in the mines? What has gold to do with this case?’ he demanded, perplexed.

‘Perhaps I should have mentioned to you earlier that it is interesting that the subject of gold often appears in this case. Now, if the name that was on Lesren’s lips really was Biobhal, then it becomes of particular interest.’

‘How so?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘Because there has been only one Biobhal that I know of. It is the name of a character out of our ancient times. The ancients say that long, long ago, before even the children of the Gael came to these shores, there were many invaders of our land. Partholón, the son of Sera, who had killed his father in the hope of obtaining his kingdom, led one of the invasions. But he was driven into exile and he and his followers came to this very kingdom of Muman. Partholón is said to have introduced ploughing into the kingdom and cleared plains and established agriculture and built hostels. Then a plague descended on the land and he and all his people were wiped out.’

Eadulf was looking baffled. ‘So what of this Biobhal?’

‘Biobhal was one of Partholón’s followers. He it was who is claimed as having discovered the first gold in the kingdom.’

Eadulf smiled in amusement. ‘That is a story for old folks and young children told before a blazing hearth on a winter’s night. I see nothing relevant.’

Fidelma gave a patient sigh. ‘I am not arguing the relevance of it, Eadulf. To anyone who is blessed with knowledge of the legends of the old ones, the name of Biobhal is synonymous with gold in this kingdom. I just wonder why Lesren would die with that name on his lips?’

Eadulf shrugged indifferently. ‘Well, now I know why you asked Liag your question, but he did not seem to know who Biobhal is. He mentioned someone called Tigernmas.’

Fidelma nodded with a frown.

‘Indeed, that is curious,’ she agreed. ‘He would surely know the name Biobhal but he chose to name Tigernmas. Tigernmas was certainly the High King in whose reign it is said that smelting of gold began in Ireland. But the ancient story tells that Biobhal discovered gold in the land. Yet Liag claimed not to recognise the name which Tómma said Lesren had on his dying breath.’

‘I can’t see any connection,’ repeated Eadulf.

‘Nor I. We have much talk of gold. I want to see this Thicket of Pigs.’

‘The place where the young boy found his fool’s gold?’

‘The place where he found genuine gold and was fooled out of it by Gobnuid the smith,’ corrected Fidelma.

‘Very well,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘But what shall we find in some disused mine in this Thicket of Pigs that will help us solve these killings?’

‘Who knows?’

Eadulf stared at her and then shrugged. ‘Are you saying that you see a link with the deaths of Beccnat, Escrach and Ballgel?’

Fidelma did not reply. Silently, Eadulf admired her. It was her ability to remember all the salient facts that constituted Fidelma’s exceptional ability as an investigator and solver of conundrums. But he could see no relation at all between the gold and the murders.

He was aware that Fidelma was glancing about her and peering up at the sky through the canopy of trees. Abruptly she pointed to a track which led directly away from the riverbank.

‘Follow me, Eadulf.’

She turned her horse along the narrow path and Eadulf was forced to follow her.

‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘Where are you heading?’

‘We should be able to strike through these woods to join the main track and then head westwards towards the summit of the Thicket of Pigs.’

Eadulf was at once anxious. ‘But we have only a short while of daylight left. What can we achieve in that time?’

Fidelma glanced over her shoulder.

‘I am not a prophet, so I cannot answer your question,’ she said waspishly.

Eadulf fell silent. He realised that his questions were interrupting some thought process and antagonising her.

They rode on for a while, the path narrowing to a cutting through which it was difficult for their horses to pass even in single file. Then, at last, they burst out of the woods onto the main track which led from the distant gates of Rath Raithlen, beyond the turning to the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr, and south-west over the wood-covered hill that was called the Thicket of Pigs. They continued on until the track began to rise sharply up the hill. Trees, shrubland and rocks spread in all directions around them with nothing to indicate any mines or metal workings at all. Fidelma looked in vain for some signs. Only someone who knew the area would be able to spot them.

Fidelma felt disappointed. However, she was not so egocentric that she refused to admit that she had, perhaps, made an error in trying to find the location of the metal workings without anyone to guide them. She halted her horse and gazed around. There was a chill in the air now and the skies were darkening in the east. She let out a sigh of irritation.

Eadulf knew better than to state the obvious but it seemed his diplomatic silence agitated her just as much.

‘You can observe that I was too enthusiastic, Eadulf,’ she said sharply.

Eadulf lifted a hand in a gesture of peace and let it fall.

‘A search is always the better for a guide when it is made in a strange land,’ he quoted quietly.

Fidelma pressed her lips together in annoyance. ‘Then we’d best return to the fortress and when we come back it will be with a guide.’

She was about to turn back along the track when they heard a loud whistling sound and a moment later a dog came bounding out of a thicket close by. It was a small hunting hound, not a wolfhound but a short, bristle-haired dog. It skidded to a halt, placing its paws apart and uttering a growl before letting loose a series of yapping barks.

The whistle came sharply. Then they heard a voice calling.

A moment later a young man appeared out of the cover on the slope just below them. He came to a halt as he caught sight of them. It was quite easy to see what the man was. On his broad shoulders he carried the carcass of a dead boar. He balanced it with one hand while his other held a bow of yew. His quiver of arrows hung from his belt alongside a great hunting knife. His clothes were of finely worked buckskin. His hair was auburn and fell to his shoulders though fastened by a band around the forehead. He had fair features and a ready smile.

He stood for a moment in indecision and then snapped sharply to his still barking hound. ‘Quiet, Luchóc!’

The dog immediately sat down, looking contrite.

‘God be with you, Sister, and with you, Brother,’ the young hunter greeted them. ‘Pay no mind to my dog. He is more bark than bite.’

Fidelma responded with a smile.

‘A strange name for a hunting dog, master huntsman,’ she replied.

The young man nodded. ‘Good mouser? Aye, I’ll grant you that it is an odd name for a working dog. But, in truth, the poor hound is better at catching mice than catching game.’

‘But you do not appear to have done too badly,’ Eadulf pointed out, indicating the boar slung on the man’s shoulders.

To the huntsman smiles seemed to come naturally.

‘A family will not go wanting for the next several days,’ he agreed. ‘You are obviously strangers in this district.’ The words were a statement, not a question.

‘Indeed we are,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Do you know this area, the Thicket of Pigs?’

‘I live on the far side of the hill there. I have done so all my life. But if you seek anyone other than myself, the place has been deserted these many years. They say the place was populated even in my grandfather’s time, but it is so no longer.’

‘They tell me there are metal workings there,’ Fidelma said.

The huntsman chuckled. ‘It is not in search of precious metals that two religious have come to this countryside, is it? I heard talk of a dálaigh and her companion staying with our chieftain, Becc. I suppose that you are that dálaigh?’

‘It is because of our investigation that I want to know about this hill and its mines.’

‘Well, there are deserted metal workings a-plenty, and some caves, but they are dangerous, Sister. It is not a place to go without fore-knowledge.’

‘You say that you dwell near here?’

A slight cast of suspicion came into the young man’s eye. ‘I do say so, Sister. And I pay allegiance to Becc, my chieftain.’

‘And your name is…?’

The quiet authority of Fidelma’s voice caused the young man to respond, even unwillingly, to her questions.

‘I am Menma the hunter. And, as I have told you my name, pray, what are your names and from what place do you come?’

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, Menma. This is my companion. Brother Eadulf.’

The young hunter sighed. ‘Then the talk among the Cinél na Áeda is true — the king of Cashel has a sister who is a famous dálaigh.’

‘We are proof of it, Menma,’ Fidelma assured him.

The young man dropped the carcass of the boar on the ground and bowed respectfully. ‘I am sorry for any discourtesy, lady.’

‘There has been none,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘You are right to be suspicious of us in view of what has transpired in this place in recent months.’

The hunter grimaced in agreement. ‘The lands of the Cinél na Áeda are not so large that I did not know those three girls. My wife was a friend to Escrach. It is a bad business.’

‘A bad business, indeed,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Tell me, Menma, do you know the mine and caves on this hill?’

‘Well enough, lady.’

She glanced up at the sky. ‘The hour grows late and it will soon be dark. However, should we want to go exploring there, would you be willing to serve as our guide?’

‘Willingly, lady. But the Thicket of Pigs is quite deserted. The mines are long closed.’

‘It is not people that I go in search of,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘I want to see something of the area, of the deserted mines. Are there mines near a spot called the Ring of Pigs?’

To her disappointment, he shook his head. ‘None near. But there is a cave above the Ring that used to be worked for gold. That is deserted and dangerous.’

‘If we wished to go exploring that cave, say tomorrow or the next day, how might we find you?’

The young man pointed to the far side of the track. ‘There is a path through those trees. A short distance along the path you will come across my bothán, lady. If I am out at the hunt, my woman will be there. She will show you how to find me by blowing three times on the horn that is hung by the hearth. When I hear its call, I will return. It is a signal that my wife and I have long arranged in case of need.’

‘You are a thoughtful man, Menma,’ observed Fidelma.

‘I would rather worry without need, lady, than live without heed. They have an old saying in these parts, that one should never test the depth of a river with both feet.’

‘There is wisdom in that,’ Fidelma agreed.

The young man bent and picked up the dead boar and flung it across his broad shoulders as if it weighed nothing. He smiled up at them, each in turn.

‘I will await your call then. Safe journey back to the fortress of the chief.’

He raised the hand that held his bow in farewell and turned with a sharp call to his dog, which bounded swiftly after him. Within a moment he had disappeared through the trees in the direction of his home.

‘Now we shall return to Rath Raithlen,’ Fidelma said, turning her horse back along the track.

Eadulf turned with her. ‘I still cannot understand what you expect to find among the deserted metal workings, even with a guide such as Menma.’

He was expecting some caustic response but Fidelma’s features softened a little.

‘In truth, Eadulf, I am not sure what I expect to find. Maybe nothing at all. It’s just that I have this nagging thought that there is some mystery that is mixed up with gold. Remember the ladder in the tower of the fortress, which had been damaged so that one of us might have fallen to injure or kill ourselves?’

‘You suspected that Gobnuid the smith was responsible.’

Fidelma looked at him in surprise. Sometimes she felt that she underestimated Eadulf’s perceptive qualities.

‘I did. Gobnuid had tried to tell me that the piece of real gold which Síoda found here was simply fool’s gold. Why?’

Eadulf pulled a wry face. ‘What makes you sure that it has something to do with the death of the three women? Have you not considered that this is but a wild goose chase?’

‘Their bodies were found near here,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘But does that signify anything? There are lots of places near here. The abbey, for example. The place of the apothecary, Liag.’

‘And there is Lesren’s last word…’

‘A name…which could be anything. It was a name that certainly did not strike a chord in the mind of Liag when you questioned him. I think that you should-’

‘Hush!’ Fidelma suddenly snapped, holding up her hand, while hauling on the bridle with the other. Her horse snorted in protest.

‘What…’ began Eadulf.

Fidelma was pointing down the hill to the oncoming gloom.

They had followed the track where it passed over the brow of the hill, overlooking the valley where, below and to the left of them, lay the buildings that constituted the abbey of Finnbarr. Some distance below was a clearing among the trees. Eadulf could just make out two small figures hurrying across this clearing. One was more obvious than the other for it was a tall figure and it was clear that it was clad in long white robes. They were visible for no more than a few moments before they vanished into the darkness of the trees beyond the clearing.

Eadulf cast a puzzled glance at Fidelma.

‘What was that all about?’ he demanded.

‘Did you recognise anyone?’ she asked.

‘I did not.’

‘I did. It was Gobnuid the smith. Back rather early from his trip. Did you not recognise the other, Eadulf?’

‘How could I recognise anyone?’

‘Think, Eadulf! The tall figure with white robes!’

Eadulf knew what she was getting at. ‘It could have been one of the three strangers at the monastery, I suppose. But which one? I have no idea. They were too far away.’

Fidelma was in agreement. ‘Yet it was one of them. But why would Gobnuid and one of the Aksumites be out together on this desolate hill at dusk?’

Eadulf gave a negative shake of his head. ‘To be honest, I can understand nothing of this. Never have I been so totally baffled by a mystery…by a series of mysteries, in fact.’

Fidelma was defiant. ‘The more the mystery deepens, the greater the challenge, Eadulf. I am determined not to let this overcome me. The Brehon Morann, my mentor, once said that no object nor puzzle is mysterious. The mystery is the eyes and what they perceive. So when the eyes see a mystery do not use the eyes to understand it.’

Eadulf smiled somewhat sceptically. ‘The heart always sees before the head can see?’

‘Exactly so. We will solve this mystery yet.’

It was growing dusk when they finally reached the gates of Rath Raithlen. A stable boy came running forward as they rode in and took charge of their horses as soon as they had dismounted. They noticed that there was some movement in the fortress. Brand torches were being lit to dispel the darkness and suddenly Becc appeared at the doorway of his great hall and came forward to greet them.

‘I am glad to see you back safely, Fidelma. Accobrán was worried that you had gone off by yourself.’

‘I had Eadulf with me,’ she replied shortly, glancing around. ‘What is the excitement about? Where is your tanist?’

‘Gone,’ replied Becc with satisfaction. ‘He’s gone in chase of Lesren’s killer.’