Badger's Moon

Chapter Thirteen

Eadulf easily found Mochta’s shop not only from Accobrán’s directions but also from the pungent odours of the dyes.

What was the flower he wanted called in Irish? He thought it was bruchlais something or other. In his own Saxon it was called a wort — those of the New Faith called it the wort of John the Baptist because it was said to bloom on that day in June which was celebrated as the Baptist’s birthday. It was the flower that the old apothecaries of Tuam Brecain had said was good for the condition he suspected Fidelma was suffering from. The trouble was that it only appeared in the summer months, otherwise he would have gone looking for it in the abundantly endowed countryside. He knew that there was only one place in which he might find some stored for the winter months, apart from an apothecary’s shop. The plant was used to dye cloth.

Mochta, the dye-master, greeted him warmly.

‘Greetings, Brother Saxon. I know who you are and why you are come to this place. I saw you and the king’s sister the other day. What can I do for you?’

Eadulf told him.

‘St John’s Wort?’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I use it. Most certainly I use it. I take a purple dye from the flower heads and extract a yellow dye from the plant tops. A useful plant for a dathatóir. But why would you have need of it?’

Eadulf leant forward eagerly. ‘Accept that I have a use for it also, my friend. If you would sell me some of the plants, what price would you put on them?’

Mochta rubbed his chin.

‘What use would you have for such a plant?’ he demanded again. ‘I swear that you are not going to indulge in the business of mixing dye.’

Eadulf laughed quickly. ‘That I am not, dathatóir. But plants are useful for other things apart from mixing dyes.’

‘Ah, I see. Are you by way of being an apothecary, eh?’

‘I have studied the art but am merely a herbalist rather than one who pretends to the medical skills.’

Mochta stroked his nose with a forefinger as he considered the proposition. ‘I can sell you a bunch for a screpall but certainly no more, for I have need for these colours soon.’

‘A bunch will do well enough,’ Eadulf agreed.

The Angelus bell had tolled its last chimes that evening when people began to gather in Becc’s great hall. Eadulf, taking an unobtrusive seat at the back of the hall, observed that most of the people were those who had been in attendance at the funeral that morning. There were also several of the religious from the abbey.

Bébháil and Tómma had been brought in to sit in front of those attending, facing the chieftain’s chair. Immediately behind them was a group of people whom Eadulf recognised as relatives of Bébháil come to support her. At either side of the chieftain’s chair of office were several other seats.

Accobrán entered bearing a staff of office which he thumped on the ground three times calling for quiet. Then Becc entered, followed by Fidelma and Abbot Brogán. The chieftain took his seat with Fidelma on his right hand side and the abbot on his left, with Accobrán seated on the abbot’s left.

Becc turned to Fidelma and motioned for her to proceed.

‘This is a sad matter,’ Fidelma began softly. ‘Thankfully, it is a simple one. Bébháil has confessed to the unlawful killing of her husband, Lesren the tanner. The obstruction of justice by giving false testimony has been confessed to by Tómma. Bébháil and Tómma have described the circumstances of this crime from their view. Your chieftain and I have discussed these circumstances in the presence of the abbot and the tanist. We are all agreed on a resolution to this matter.’

She paused and glanced down to where Bébháil and Tómma were seated with pale faces and eyes downcast.

‘The crimes being confessed, all that now remains is the announcement of the penalties. Does either of you have anything to say as to why we may not now impose such penalties upon you?’

The widow of Lesren shook her head quickly while Tómma looked up. He seemed about to open his mouth to say something but his companion laid her hand on his arm and he dropped his gaze again.

‘Very well. To the crime of fingal as charged against Bébháil, we have taken into account the circumstances of this act. The Cairde text, as I have already indicated to those who have confessed, takes into account that it is permitted to kill in self-defence and the text is clear — every counter-wounding is free from liability. We have fully taken into account that Bébháil was driven to a point where she was not in control of her actions and, in this condition, she killed Lesren. So she leaves this court without penalty as to that killing. However’ — Fidelma said the word quickly as the audible murmur began to gather throughout the hall — ‘we must impose a small fine for the delay before which she confessed the matter to me, which wasted time and could have led to a potentially harmful situation. For that Bébháil must pay her chieftain two screpalls.’

Bébháil was in tears now but smiling through them. It was a small sum for a tanner’s widow to pay. Members of her family were gathering round and patting her on the back.

Fidelma turned to Tómma, who had clearly been surprised and happy about the lightness of his companion’s punishment, and called for silence.

‘Tómma, I am afraid it is you who have committed the more serious of the offences that has to be judged this day. I have told you that a false witness is deemed beyond God’s forgiveness. If we do not have truth, then we have nothing. For this false testimony you must pay the consequences.’

Bébháil was clutching her companion’s hand now and she raised her tear-stained face to Fidelma. ‘But he did it for my sake, to protect me, lady. He was willing to perjure his soul to protect me. Can you not find mercy…can you…’

Fidelma regarded her coldly, causing her to hesitate and fall silent.

‘The law cannot admit to justification for lies,’ she replied firmly. ‘But as judges and interpreters of the law, we have taken into account the circumstances as, indeed, we must. But still the law demands its price for lies.’

Tómma patted Bébháil’s hand in pacification.

‘I am ready to answer to justice, lady.’

‘You will lose your honour price for a year and a day. In token of which you will pay a fine of that honour price.’

There was quiet in the hall as people tried to reckon up how much this would mean. Fidelma smiled grimly at their puzzled expressions.

‘Tómma, I believe that you are of the class that is not yet possessed of any land handed down from your father or family. You are of the Fer Midbad.’

The tanner nodded slowly.

‘You have been in this position for fourteen years?’

‘I have.’

‘Then your honour price in accordance with law is the value of a heifer cow of one year in age, which is four screpalls. Can you pay that sum?’

Tómma swallowed as he felt the relief surge through him. ‘That I can, lady.’

‘A year and a day from now, providing you give no further cause for legal action, your honour price will be returned to you.’

There came some muted cheering in the hall among those who had nursed a dislike for Lesren and had been sympathetic to Bébháil. The relatives were now leaning forward and congratulating both of them. No one argued that the judgement was harsh. No one took any notice of Accobrán’s stern remonstrance to be silent. Becc glanced at Fidelma, smiled and shrugged.

‘Let us leave them all to their moment of relief,’ Fidelma said, rising from her seat. ‘In their joy they have failed to remember that we still have a murderer to find.’

Fidelma and Eadulf paused to rest their horses on the brow of the hill and looked down the road along which the bothán of Menma the hunter lay.

Eadulf was irritable since his attempts to make Fidelma swallow a draught of the potion he had prepared from an infusion of St John’s Wort had come to nothing. She had instructed him to throw it away and no amount of cajoling could make her even taste it.

‘This is a waste of time,’ he said crossly.

‘I have never known you to have a feeling about an investigation that is not based on logical deduction from tested information,’ he replied moodily. ‘Usually, it is information that I have neglected to assess.’

Fidelma shook her head immediately.

‘I have no more information than you have,’ she replied firmly.

‘Very well.’ Eadulf was almost surly. ‘You do not convince me. I know you too well. Let us find Menma and explore this place, whatever it is. You will obviously explain it to me in your own good time.’

They halted in front of the log cabin that was Menma’s home. Before they dismounted, an attractive young woman with shoulder-length corn-coloured hair came out. She was wiping her hands on a cloth and looked from one to the other with a frown and then smiled abruptly.

‘You must be the lady Fidelma and her companion. My man Menma told me about you yesterday. Have you come in search of him?’

Fidelma bent across her horse’s neck with a smile. ‘We have. Are you Menma’s wife?’

‘I am. My name is Suanach, lady.’

‘Is it an inconvenient time to come in search of your husband?’

‘Not so, lady. I will call him.’

She went to one of the wooden beams of the porch, where hanging from a nail was a horn on a leather thong. The girl took it, tried a few experimental breaths and then blew into it, long and loud. While the sounds echoed away, she replaced it and stood for a moment or two with her head to one side. Eadulf started to say something but she raised a finger to her lips to stop him. A moment later, the sound of another horn echoed through the forest.

Suanach smiled at them. ‘He is not far away. He will be here shortly. Will you dismount and come in and take some mead?’

Eadulf was still in a grumpy mood and about to refuse when Fidelma assented. He realised that he had almost broken an essential rule of etiquette, for when hospitality is offered it must never be refused, even if accepted only in token form.

They were sitting at the table in the cabin and the drinks had been poured when the door opened and Luchóc came bounding in, yelping and sniffing suspiciously at them. Menma came in immediately behind the dog and greeted them.

‘I recognised your horses outside. Sit, Luchóc! Sit!’

‘We have come to ask if…’ began Fidelma.

‘…if I can show you the caves on the Thicket of Pigs?’ Menma smiled. ‘I recall our conversation. I will, indeed, escort you there. When will you be ready?’

‘We are ready-’ began Eadulf but was cut short by a surreptitious kick under the table from Fidelma.

‘We are ready after we have finished sampling Suanach’s excellent mead,’ she ended for him. ‘Then we should start with that cave you mentioned which is on the hill above the Ring of Pigs.’

The ritual of hospitality ended, Fidelma and Eadulf followed Menma and his dog on horseback up the forest-covered hill. Menma did not ride, but preferred to jog up the slope, and with such agility and stamina that he was able to keep in front of their horses. The animals had to walk, blowing and snorting as they ascended the rise. Fidelma soon realised that riding was a mistake and eventually, as they came to a clearing not far from the summit, she halted and dismounted. Eadulf, with a little prayer of thanks, followed her example.

‘It is probably best to tether the horses here in this glade and continue on foot with you,’ she said to Menma.

The hunter acknowledged her suggestion with a smile.

‘It is not really the terrain for horses,’ he assented, but that was as close as he came to criticism. He pointed towards the top of the hill, which was still fairly well obscured by the trees. ‘That is what you seek. The old mine has its entrance near the summit.’

‘Why is this place called the Thicket of Pigs?’ Eadulf asked as they began to ascend on foot. He was looking around in bemusement at the oak and alder groves that stretched across the hill on either side. ‘Why would anyone name it so?’

‘Have you not heard the tale of Orc-Triath, the King of Boars?’ asked Menma with a smile.

Eadulf disclaimed knowledge.

‘The boar was one of the prized possessions of the fertility goddess Brigid, daughter of the Dagda, Father of the ancient gods and goddess of Eireann.’

‘According to the old story, this boar represented a powerful Otherworld creature which symbolised plunder and destruction,’ explained Fidelma.

‘And many a huntsman has encountered the animal and not lived to tell the tale,’ added Menma with apparent seriousness.

Eadulf raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You really believe that?’

‘It is not a question of belief but knowledge, Brother Saxon,’ replied the hunter. ‘This was the area, according to legend, where Orc-Triath roamed and ruled.’

‘What is that place?’ demanded Fidelma, pointing to where some grey limestone rocks rose on their right like some curious fortress among the trees. She did not wish to dwell on the ancient legends for she wanted to concentrate on her purpose in coming to this place.

‘That stand directly above the Ring of Pigs? It used to be called Derc Crosda.’

Fidelma examined the great limestone outcrop with sudden interest.

‘The forbidden place of darkness?’ She translated the name. ‘Meaning the cave, I suppose?’

‘I should warn you that the mines are probably in a dangerous condition. They have long been abandoned,’ Menma said earnestly.

‘We will be careful. Let’s see this cave.’

Menma called his dog to him and led the way through the thicket towards the rocky outcrop.

‘This is what you are looking for, lady,’ the hunter said, pointing.

The entrance into the cave was fairly large. It was clear that many people had used it in times past and even widened it with tools, for there were marks on the walls that showed the application of axes and hammers, splitting the rock.

Inside, the light that came into the cave showed the rubble of the entrance levelled onto a floor of sand.

‘The dancing floor of the Síog,’ explained Menma in hushed tones.

‘The what?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘The fairies,’ admitted the hunter. ‘There is a legend that the fairies dance here, and that if you throw a stone onto the floor it will not remain there long, for the fairies clear the floor for their dances.’

Eadulf sniffed in disapproval. ‘It seems this whole hill is riddled with legends.’

Menma did not seem perturbed by his cynicism. ‘Of course it is, Brother Saxon. Each crack and crevice of the land is filled with a thousand years of life and experience. Do not your own people have such a folklore?’

Fidelma had turned impatiently. ‘Can we lay our hands on some torches? I would look further into this place. We should have thought to bring some with us.’

‘I will do my best, lady. I should have brought lamps or a candle. I didn’t think.’

Menma’s best proved good, for it was not long before he returned with two substantial brand torches, which he had cut and made from dry grasses.

The cave revealed itself to be large, with several passages leading off. It was clear that the place had once been a place of work and there were even the remains of a forge and rotting bellows to one side.

‘This was abandoned many generations ago,’ Menma pointed out. ‘I was told that it was once a rich mine.’

Fidelma peered around. A stalagmite with a hollow top stood in one corner. There was a small pool fed by drops from a dripstone on the wall above. A few blocks of stone almost concealed a fissure at the back and she immediately felt drawn to it.

‘Careful, lady,’ called Menma anxiously. ‘There are many loose stones and objects here.’

Fidelma did not acknowledge him. She moved forward and began to squeeze through the fissure.

‘Fidelma!’ cried Eadulf in alarm. ‘For heaven’s sake, be careful!’

‘This leads into another chamber,’ her voice came back in reply, as she and her torch vanished. ‘Come on.’

Eadulf exchanged a glance with Menma, who held the second torch. The hunter motioned him to go first. Gritting his teeth, Eadulf plunged into the darkness, turning sideways and trying to hold his breath as he squeezed through the narrow fissure. But a moment later he was, as Fidelma had said, in another chamber about the size of a wealthy chieftain’s hall, with dripstones on the walls and several stalagmite columns on the floor, while the roof, in parts, was almost obscured by stalactites that were quite spectacular.

Fidelma was already crossing this dramatic chamber when Menma joined them.

‘This way!’ she called and disappeared into another passageway.

They could do nothing but follow.

The passage was not as narrow as the fissure and was tall enough to take a man walking at ease, but it led downwards. Eadulf could feel the incline. He had the impression that this passage was manmade, for it seemed rectangular and even in shape, with the sides of its walls as smooth as the floor.

‘I hope we have enough light to find the fissure again to get back into the original cave,’ he muttered anxiously.

Menma, coming behind him, did not reply but his muttered prayer suggested that he was clearly unhappy with Fidelma’s heedless forward progress.

Suddenly the passageway ended and emerged into a high circular chamber in whose centre was a black pool of what looked like deep water. It was beautiful, with stalactites descending from the roof while stalagmites grew up from the floor at various points for a height of fully eighteen or twenty feet. What made it breathtaking was that the stalagmites and boulders were encrusted with a crystalline deposit which resembled small bunches of grapes.

‘There are several galleries leading off over there,’ Fidelma observed aloud.

Menma reached out a hand to hold her arm. ‘Forgive me, lady, but you must go no further. We are not equipped to do so. These torches will last only a little while longer.’

Fidelma was reluctant but realised that Menma was making good sense.

‘This part does not appear to have been worked for metal,’ she said, looking round one more time.

‘Maybe not,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘There was a lot of working up in the main cave. No one seems to have squeezed through the fissure to come as far as this.’

‘It is time we were heading back towards the light,’ insisted Menma again. ‘These torches…’

Before they realised it, Fidelma had taken several quick steps towards the dark pool, bent forward as if to reach for something at its edge, slipped, and fallen into the black water with a splash. Her torch was extinguished and only the light of Menma’s saved them.

‘Quick!’ cried the hunter. ‘Pull her out. The water down here is icy.’

Eadulf had needed no urging. He dashed forward even as Fidelma was falling.

‘Be careful!’ Menma admonished him needlessly.

Eadulf had to watch his step on the slippery stone but he saw Fidelma splashing vainly, her breath coming in great visible gasps in the ice-cold air. He knelt down and reached out his arms to her. The water must be almost freezing for her face was very pale in the gloom. A flailing hand gripped his. He caught it and began to pull. It took several long seconds, seconds that seemed an eternity to him, before he was able to tug her from the dark wetness.

‘No time to delay,’ cried Menma. ‘Quick, we must return to the main cave where there is more light and we can get some warmth.’

Half dragging, half carrying her, Eadulf followed the hunter as he hurriedly led the way back up the inclined passage into the hall-like chamber and straight across to the fissure.

At that point, his torch spluttered and gave out.

Eadulf, with the half-conscious Fidelma in his arms, found himself in total darkness and halted, unsure whether to continue or not. Menma’s voice came out of the blackness not far away.

‘I am at the fissure. Can you continue to come towards the sound of my voice?’

Eadulf hesitated but there was no other decision to make. ‘I’ll try. Keep talking.’

‘This way, then. I can feel the opening and will be able to squeeze through it into the main cave. Can you reach me?’

Eadulf began to edge forward step by step, slowly, slowly…Menma kept talking and after what seemed a great age he bumped into an obstruction. Menma’s voice came from his right.

‘I think you are at the wall. Move towards me.’

A moment later Eadulf felt the hunter’s outstretched hand. With Fidelma, now unconscious, hoisted over one shoulder, he found the opening to the fissure.

‘Thank God!’ came Menma’s voice. ‘I’ll squeeze in first; you push her in and come behind. Between the two of us we should be able to drag her through to the main cave.’

It was easier said than done. It seemed the longest period of Eadulf’s existence before a faint grey light began to replace the blackness and suddenly they were in the main cave with its hint of daylight coming from the distant entrance. Fidelma was still unconscious and Menma joined Eadulf in carrying her. Holding her on either side, they dragged her towards the entrance and out into the pale autumnal day.

‘She needs to be stripped off and dried and have some warmth put into her,’ Menma observed. ‘The water of that underground pool is cold enough to cause frostbite. The sun is not warm enough. We’ll have to get her to my bothán as soon as possible.’

‘Let’s get her to her horse,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘I’ll ride with her and you can take mine.’

Menma was not one to waste words. He helped Eadulf balance Fidelma’s inert form on his shoulder and they moved down the hill towards the clearing where they had tethered their mounts. By the time they reached it, the pain in Eadulf’s muscles was almost unbearable. Menma helped him raise her body onto her horse once Eadulf himself had mounted. Eadulf immediately sent the beast into a canter, praying that his poor horsemanship would suffice to take him to the bothán. Menma was following close behind on Eadulf’s mount. Luchóc, the hound, was barking, puzzled at the mystery.

Fidelma was still unconscious when they dismounted, and Suanach came out to greet them with a worried expression. Menma explained what had happened in terse tones and the woman immediately took charge of matters. Under her instructions, Fidelma was carried into the second room of the bothán that served as the sleeping quarters and laid on the bed. Suanach ushered the two men from the room while she began stripping her and wrapping her body in woollen blankets, rubbing warmth into her cold flesh. She called for Menma to bring a hot drink of corma, a strong ale, and then begin to heat water for bathing the frozen body. To Eadulf, it seemed an age before Suanach called him into the bedroom.

To his relief Fidelma was sitting on the bed, wrapped in blankets but conscious, and there was colour in her cheeks. She smiled almost apologetically.

‘It appears that I owe you and Menma thanks for saving my life.’

Eadulf sat by her side and reached out a hand.

‘What possessed you to reach out into that dangerous pool?’ he demanded, trying to hide his concern in gruffness.

‘I did not mean to overbalance into it,’ she replied with dry humour. ‘The rock was slippery. Anyway,’ she held out a hand, ‘this is what I saw. When I fell into the pool, I must have clenched it tight and my hand remained grasping it, for when Suanach revived me here she found it still clasped in my hand.’

Eadulf reached out a hand to take it. ‘It’s a piece of silver chain? Why risk your life for that?’

Fidelma glanced at him and shook her head.

‘Examine it carefully,’ she instructed.

He did so. It was a broken piece of finely wrought silver chain. He shrugged.

‘What am I suppose to see?’ he demanded.

Fidelma let out a breath of exasperation. She took it back.

‘Have you ever seen such workmanship in these lands?’

Eadulf grimaced.

‘I am not an expert on jewellery,’ he replied defensively.

‘Then by time everything will be revealed,’ she said. ‘I need to go back to that cave and explore further.’

Eadulf stared at her in surprise. ‘I would have thought that you might have had enough of caves. You nearly died back there.’

‘As I did not, it is a superfluous comment.’

‘Well, at least you need to take things easy for the rest of today,’ Eadulf said sternly. ‘Do you know how long you have been unconscious?’

Fidelma brought up her jaw pugnaciously. ‘People’s lives are at risk here, Eadulf. Surely I do not have to remind you of that?’

‘No, you do not. Nor do I have to be reminded that your life is at risk. It is my duty to prevent you putting yourself in harm’s way.’

Eadulf’s stubborn resistance matched Fidelma’s when he believed himself to be right. She glowered at him for a moment and then suddenly relaxed, realising that what he said was true. She was in no condition to return to the cave that day. In spite of the compulsion to pursue the lead that she knew existed in the cave, it would have to wait.

There was a gentle tap on the door and Suanach entered with a bowl of steaming broth.

‘You should have some of this soup and then rest, lady,’ she said, with a reproving glance at Eadulf.

Eadulf rose immediately. ‘I agree. You stay here and rest.’ He glanced at Suanach. ‘That is if it is all right with you?’

The hunter’s wife agreed at once. ‘Of course, the lady must stay here until she is recovered. At least she must stay for this night. She has been through a bad experience.’

Eadulf smiled in satisfaction. ‘That settles it. I will ride back to the fortress and inform Becc of your intentions. Then I shall return here tomorrow morning.’

Fidelma looked at him suspiciously. ‘Eadulf…you will go back to the fortress and…well, you will not go off on your own and do anything foolish? I think we may be facing some evil force that is even more dangerous than we think. I don’t want you moving without me.’

Eadulf was reassuring. ‘You have that broth and rest now. I’ll return in the morning.’

He found Menma outside the hut rubbing down the horses.

‘How is she?’ the hunter enquired anxiously.

‘Recovering and in good spirits,’ Eadulf informed him. ‘I shall be returning to Rath Raithlen to say that she is staying here this night, with your wife’s approval…’

‘Of course, the lady Fidelma will be our guest.’

Eadulf glanced at the sun, observing that it was still not far after midday. There was a whole afternoon that would go to waste.

‘She wants to go back to the caves tomorrow,’ he added quietly.

Menma looked astonished.

‘The lady is tenacious,’ he replied. ‘What does she hope to find there?’

Eadulf did not reply but a thought was stirring in his mind. ‘There are some hours before daylight ends. I wonder…?’

Menma was looking at him expectantly and read his thoughts. ‘Are you intending to go back yourself, Brother Eadulf?’

‘If we had proper lamps to see with…’

‘I have such lamps. When do you intend to go?’

‘There is no time like the present,’ Eadulf replied with confidence.

‘Then saddle the horses again. We can ride back to where you left them before. It will save time. I will go to fetch lamps and some rope, for we might need it if you intend to explore the lower caves.’

A short time later they were approaching the familiar rocky outline of the Derc Crosda. Menma had brought oil lamps and two long pieces of stout hemp rope that they carried between them. He had left his small hound, Luchóc, behind at the bothán, feeling that the animal would be a hindrance in view of the expected cave exploration.

‘What do you expect to find here, Brother Eadulf?’ asked Menma as they reached the dark entrance leading into the rocky cavern. Eadulf had to confess that he did not know and that he was merely pre-empting Fidelma’s exploration.

Menma lit the lamps and they moved through the main cave. This time Eadulf lost no time in moving to the fissure and into the next cave, finding the passageway and descending to the cavern with the circular pool. Things were much clearer now they had proper lights to see by. The stalactites and stalagmites were rather beautiful now they could view them properly. However, Eadulf had his mind on other things.

He walked to the edge of the pool and stood staring at the point where Fidelma had tumbled in. There were many times when he wished Fidelma was more open with her thoughts. What was the significance of the piece of silver chain?

Menma stood quietly behind, waiting patiently.

Then, moving around the dark pool, Eadulf suddenly realised that there were several tunnels leading off from this cave. He raised the lamp so that the light fell on their entrances and he saw that they appeared to be manmade.

‘When was this mine worked out, Menma?’ he asked.

The hunter shrugged. ‘In my grandfather’s day, or so I was told. Apparently, this was a rich mine once but like all mines it was eventually exhausted.’

Eadulf was frowning, trying to remember what it was that Fidelma had said about mining in the area. He was moving round the pool to examine the tunnels. One in particular caught his eye.

‘I would have thought that this had been worked fairly recently,’ he observed, pointing to the markings on the wall.

Menma came forward to examine it and whistled slightly in surprise.

‘It does looks new,’ he admitted. ‘But I should imagine that down here things are better preserved than in the open.’

‘Perhaps,’ Eadulf replied, not convinced. He bent to examine the marks in more detail, holding the lamp close. ‘Let’s explore this one further,’ he suggested, moving off without waiting for Menma’s assent.

Unlike the cavern with the pool, the tunnel seemed extraordinarily dry and it was clearly hewn by men. It seemed to move upwards at a gentle angle and as it did so it narrowed and the roof grew lower so that soon they were crouching.

‘We must be coming to a work face,’ Menma hazarded. ‘It will just lead into a dead end.’

Eadulf determined to press on to the end of the tunnel in spite of Menma’s conviction that it was a waste of time.

Before the tunnel ended it opened into a small area six feet in width by six feet high and nine feet long. There were tools stacked in this manmade cave and lamps ready for lighting. Even Menma was forced to blink at the sight.

‘This has not been deserted for any length of time,’ Eadulf pointed out unnecessarily. ‘Men have been mining here and recently.’

Something glinting on the rock face caught his eye. He moved forward, holding the lamp high. Then he took his knife from his belt and scratched at it.

‘Fool’s gold?’ he queried.

Menma, at his side, shook his head wonderingly.

‘I swear that is the real thing,’ he said. ‘My grandfather worked the mines before they were abandoned. I know something of this metal.’

He reached up a hand to touch it. Then, to Eadulf’s surprise, he rubbed his finger on the glinting surface and placed the finger to his tongue. Finally, he nodded vigorously.

‘It is a taste that you do not forget easily, Brother Eadulf,’ the hunter sighed. ‘It is genuine. You are right. It looks as if someone has been working the seam recently.’

Eadulf was deep in thought.

Could the boy — what had been his name? Síoda? — could the boy have taken his gold from here? But then Gobnuid had told Fidelma it was fool’s gold. Not genuine. Fidelma had not believed it. And what had this to do with the deaths of the three girls? He shook his head. The conundrum was too much for him. He did not have enough knowledge even to consider the questions that now presented themselves.

‘Is this what the lady Fidelma was looking for?’ asked Menma, interrupting his thoughts.

‘I believe so,’ Eadulf replied. But why, he thought to himself. What possible connection could this working have to do with the investigation into the murders of the three girls?

‘Are you absolutely sure that this is genuine gold?’ he pressed Menma.

For an answer the young hunter reached for one of the tools that had been stacked at the side of the cave.

‘It is easy enough to demonstrate,’ he said. ‘We will take a piece with us and show it to a smith. But I am positive it is real gold.’

He set to work on the rock face and within a short time had isolated a small round nugget, which he handed to Eadulf. Eadulf regarded it dubiously for a moment and then placed it in his marsupium.

‘Now let us return to the daylight, while there is daylight,’ he said, and noted the relief with which Menma accepted the suggestion.

It was not long before they were blinking in the pale autumn sunlight.

They had started to move down towards the tree line when Menma suddenly halted, laid a restraining hand on Eadulfs arm and placed a finger to his lips.

‘What is it?’ whispered Eadulf.

‘A sound, a stone falling…’ Menma whispered back. He turned, as if looking for something, and then pointed towards a clump of nearby trees and bushes. He hurried towards them with Eadulf on his heels. Eadulf allowed himself to be led into the cover of the undergrowth and followed Menma’s example in crouching down for better concealment.

Menma was holding his head to one side in a listening attitude.

‘Someone is coming up on the far side of the hill, from the direction of the abbey. I thought you might not want them to see us before you have seen them.’

Eadulf was just about to reply when the figure of a man came scrambling quickly over the rocks around the shoulder of the hill. He was moving swiftly, glancing behind him every so often almost as if he were being pursued. He reached the open area before the cave and stood hesitating for a moment. Then he turned. For a second or so Eadulf thought that he was going to make a beeline towards the undergrowth in which they were concealed. Then the man seemed to make up his mind and hurried towards a group of rocks that also gave cover at the side of the cave entrance. To Eadulf’s amazement the man concealed himself behind them, but not before Eadulf had realised who it was.

It was Goll, the woodcutter, father of Gabrán.

Eadulf turned to Menma with a frown but the hunter placed a finger to his lips. He did not move from his crouching position but peered with a frown of concentration on his face in the direction from which Goll had first emerged.

Then Eadulf heard the sound of new movement.

A youth came into view. Eadulf was astounded as he recognised him. It was Gabrán. The father was hiding and observing his own son. Eadulf glanced at Menma and shrugged in order to display his bewilderment. The young man sauntered along the path and did not seem at all interested in the cave. He went quickly on and disappeared into the encompassing thicket of oaks and alders. They saw Goll begin to rise to his feet as soon as the boy passed out of sight. Then a strange thing happened. Goll dropped behind the rocks again.

Eadulf was about to say something to Menma but the hunter put a finger to his lips and pointed again.

A tall man came into view and it was clear that his objective was the cave from which Eadulf and Menma had recently emerged.

Eadulf’s face fell in astonishment.

There was no mistaking the man — he was one of the strangers from the abbey. The tall figure of Brother Dangila, striding along with a comfortable, dignified gait, was unmistakable. He carried a bag of tools over one shoulder.

There was no hesitation until he reached the cave mouth. There he stopped and appeared to be doing something. It was soon obvious that he was lighting a lamp before moving inside.

After he had vanished, Eadulf glanced across to where Goll had concealed himself. There was no movement there. He turned to Menma and shrugged to indicate that he had no idea what was going on. He realised that Fidelma would want to know what was happening and it was obvious that neither Goll nor the stranger would be disposed to tell him, so there was nothing to do but sit and wait. He whispered his intention to his companion.

In fact, they did not have to wait long before there occurred a new development. It was clear that whoever was coming was not concealing themselves. Even Eadulf could hear the slap of leather on the rocks and the breaking of twigs as someone approached in a great hurry.

Again, the figure, when it came into sight, was familiar.

‘It’s Gobnuid, the smith from Rath Raithlen,’ whispered Menma only a split second before Eadulf himself realiaed who the burly man was.