Badger's Moon

Chapter Two

Eadulf entered the chamber where Fidelma was stretched out in a chair in front of a fire. There was an autumnal chill in the early evening air which permeated the great grey stone halls of the palace of Cashel in spite of the woollen tapestries that covered the walls and the rugs that cushioned the flags of the floors and were supposed to give warmth to the rooms. Eadulf wore a scowl of annoyance on his face and he swung the heavy oak door shut behind him none too gently.

Fidelma glanced up from the book that she was reading with a frown of irritation. Her book was one of the small satchel books, called a tiag liubhair, intended to be carried easily on pilgrimages and missions to far-off countries. She liked to read beside the fire and such small books could be held in the hand and were ideal for the purpose.

‘Hush! You’ll wake Alchú,’ she said reprovingly. ‘He’s only just gone to sleep.’

Eadulf’s scowl deepened as he crossed the room to the fire.

‘Is something wrong?’ enquired Fidlema, suppressing a sudden yawn and laying aside the book. She could recognise the signs when Eadulf was annoyed.

‘I have just encountered that old fool, Bishop Petrán,’ Eadulf said tersely, dropping into a chair opposite her. ‘He started giving me a lecture on the benefits of celibacy.’

Fidelma gave a tired smile. ‘He would, wouldn’t he? Bishop Petrán is a leading advocate of the idea that all members of the religious should be celibate. He holds that celibacy is the ideal of the Christian victory over the evil of worldly things.’

Eadulf’s expression was moody.

‘Such an ideal victory would see humankind disappear from the earth within a few generations.’

‘But why did you get involved in argument with old Petrán?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘Everyone knows that he is a woman hater and that is probably the cause of his own celibacy. No woman would look at him anyway,’ she added uncharitably.

‘He does not approve of our marriage, Fidelma.’

‘That is his personal choice. Thanks be to God that there is no law which demands celibacy among the religious…not even among those who give their allegiance, like Petrán, to the rules and philosophies now accepted in Rome. There are certain groups in the New Faith who argue that those who serve and give their love to the Christ cannot give their love to a single, fellow human being as well. They are misguided. If there were laws telling us to put our natural emotions in chains, the world would be so much the poorer.’

Eadulf grimaced dourly. ‘Bishop Petrán claims that Paul of Tarsus demanded the practice of celibacy among his followers.’

Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘Then you should have quoted to him Paul’s letter to Timothy — “Some will desert from the Faith and give their minds to subversive doctrines inspired by devils, through the specious falsehoods of men whose own conscience is branded with the devil’s sign. They forbid marriage and inculcate abstinence from certain foods, though God created them to be enjoyed with thanksgiving by believers who have inward knowledge of the truth. For everything that God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected when it is taken with thanksgiving, since it is hallowed by God’s own word and by prayer.” Ask Petrán if he denies that God created man and woman and whether marriage is made an honourable estate by him.’

‘I don’t think Petrán was disposed to discuss the finer points of the matter with me.’

Fidelma stretched slightly in her chair. ‘I suspect that Petrán also disapproves of many things that we of Éireann do since he has spent some years in a Frankish monastery among those advocating and practising celibacy. The only chaste men and women are those who are unable to find love with their fellows and so they wrap themselves in cloaks of chastity and pretend they love the intangible, shying away from people of real flesh and blood. If people are forced to suppress the emotion of love for their fellow human beings then they certainly can’t have love for anything else, including God. Anyway, it probably does not matter to us what Petrán thinks as he is shortly to leave on a pilgrimage to the city of Lucca, which is north of Rome, where the Blessed Fridian of Éireann was bishop about a hundred years ago.’

Eadulf was torn a little between admiration for her philosophical arguments and a feeling of inadequacy. He wished he had the retentive knowledge to quote entire sections of the scriptures, as Fidelma was able to do. The scholars of Éireann had, for centuries, practised the art of memorising entire passages of learning. Indeed, Fidelma had told him that in the times before the New Faith had come to the country, it was traditional that no philosophies of the old religious should be written down. Men and women would spend as many as twenty years learning the ancient codes and practices solely by memory.

‘I suppose we are twice damned in Bishop Petrán’s eyes,’ Eadulf said, rising and moving to the corner of the room where a crib stood.

‘Don’t wake him,’ Fidelma instructed sharply.

‘I won’t,’ Eadulf assured her. He gazed down at the baby that lay asleep there. There were fine strands of red hair across its forehead. Eadulf’s features lightened in a smile of paternal pride. ‘It is still difficult to realise that we have a son,’ he said softly, half to himself.

Fidelma rose swiftly to join him, laying a hand on his arm. ‘You’ve had four months to grow used to the fact of little Alchú’s arrival in this world.’

‘Gentle hound.’ Eadulf translated the name softly as he gazed down at the baby. ‘I wonder what he will grow up to be?’

Fidelma’s mouth turned down almost in disapproval. ‘There is a great deal of growing ahead of him before we can begin to ask that question, Eadulf.’ She turned back to the fire and sat down again. ‘Sárait should be here soon to look after him for we have been asked to attend a feasting in my brother’s hall this evening.’

Eadulf rejoined her at the fire. Sárait was Fidelma’s servant, who also occupied the position of nursemaid to little Alchú. While living in her brother’s palace of Cashel, Fidelma was not treated as a religieuse of the Faith but, according to her right, as an Eóghanacht princess, sister to the king of Muman.

‘What is the occasion for this feasting?’ Eadulf asked.

‘I am told that the chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda arrived this afternoon and is seeking my brother’s help. Colgú has asked us to join him at the meal.’

‘Help? What sort of help?’

Fidelma shrugged indifferently. ‘I do not know, and have been wondering what brings him to Cashel at this time. Doubtless, our curiosity will be assuaged at the feasting.’

‘And who are the Cinél na Áeda? I thought I knew most peoples of your kingdom but I cannot recall hearing of them.’

‘They dwell in the hills south of the River Bride. That’s an easy two-day ride to the south-west of here. The chieftain’s fortress is a place called Rath Raithlen. The chieftain is called Becc and he is a distant cousin of mine, for his people are a sept of the Eóghanacht. Becc’s grandfather Fedelmid was king of Cashel some four score years ago. I haven’t seen Becc or been in his territory since I was a little girl.’

‘So, it is not often that he visits Cashel?’

‘He visits rarely,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Except for important convocations of the assembly of the kingdom, Becc never comes here on social visits.’

In fact, Fidelma was more curious about the reason for her distant cousin’s visit than Eadulf. She was still turning the matter over in her mind when she and Eadulf made their way to the private chambers of Colgú, king of Muman. The king’s steward had informed them that Colgú wanted to see them in his private chambers before going into the feasting hall. The young king was waiting alone to receive them. There was no doubt as to the relationship of Colgú and Fidelma for both had the same tall build, the same red hair and changeable green eyes. They shared the same facial structure and the same indefinable quality of movement.

Colgú came quickly to meet them with a warm smile and embraced his sister before reaching out a hand to Eadulf.

‘The little one is well?’ he enquired.

‘Alchú is well, indeed. He is in the safe hands of Sárait,’ replied Fidelma. She glanced quickly round the room. ‘I see that your guest is not here, brother. This means that you have some news that you wish to discuss with us before we greet him.’

Colgú grinned. ‘As ever, you have a discerning sense, Fidelma. In fact, I did want a word with you before the feasting. However, the news is something that I want you to hear directly from the mouth of our cousin. I want to bring him in to speak with you before we go into the feasting hall where the atmosphere will not be congenial to anything but the most superficial discussion.’

Eadulf coughed awkwardly. ‘Perhaps I should withdraw, if this is a matter concerning your family?’

Colgú threw out a hand towards him in a staying motion. ‘You are part of this family now. Husband to my sister and father to her child. Besides, this matter also concerns you, so stay.’

Fidelma seated herself in one of the chairs before the fire and Eadulf waited for Colgú to indicate that he could also be seated before he sank into another. This was protocol, because Fidelma, aside from being sister to the king, was also qualified to the level of anruth and thus could sit unbidden in the presence of provincial kings and even speak before they did. She could even seat herself in the presence of the High King, if invited to do so. Eadulf, as a stranger in the kingdom, albeit the husband of Fidelma, had to wait until invited to be seated.

‘From your remarks. Colgú, I presume that the matter Becc wishes to discuss is not some superficial family concern?’ said Fidelma.

‘Far from it,’ agreed Colgú. ‘He brings talk of evil and death. There is a great fear abroad among the Cinél na Áeda.’

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in surprise.

‘Evil and death?’ she repeated softly. ‘Evil is an emotive word but death is always with us. How do they come together?’

‘He talks of superstition and, perhaps, the spectre of unholy rituals among the dwellers in the dark woods that surround his people.’

‘You intrigue me, brother. Tell us more.’

‘I will bring Becc in to tell his story,’ replied Colgú. ‘It is best, as I say, that you hear his tale at first hand.’ He reached forward to a side table and took up a small silver bell. Scarcely had the sharp peal of the bell died away when the king’s steward opened the door and, on receiving a nod from Colgú, stood aside to usher in an elderly man, with a bushy beard, whose face retained the good looks of his youth and whose general appearance showed the well-muscled figure of a warrior which age had not yet diminished.

‘Becc, chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda,’ announced the steward before withdrawing and closing the door.

Only Eadulf stood up awkwardly as the handsome chieftain, his tall frame belying the meaning of the name he bore — for Becc meant ‘small one — came forward. He bowed formally to Colgú before turning to Fidelma with a soft smile and the faintest forward motion of his head.

‘Fidelma, I scarcely recognise you as the little girl whom I met many years ago. Now your fame precedes you in all the corners of our kingdom.’

‘You are kind, cousin Becc,’ replied Fidelma gravely. ‘Allow me to present my companion, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, in the land of the South Folk.’

Becc tumed to acknowledge Eadulf. The chieftain’s quizzical blue-green eyes examined the other humorously.

‘I have heard Brother Eadulf’s name mentioned in the same breath as that of Fidelma of Cashel. They are names synonymous with law and justice.’

Eadulf was not looking exactly happy. He had a vague suspicion of something prompting these compliments and a hidden purpose behind this meeting.

‘Be seated,’ invited Colgú and both men obeyed. ‘I have asked Fidelma and Eadulf to come here and listen to your story before we go in to the feasting, Becc.’

The chieftain pursed his lips and a dark shadow seemed to cross his features.

‘It may well be that you can point the way out of the mire into which the Cinél na Áeda have descended,’ he said hopefully.

Fidelma gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘Tell your story, Becc, and we will see how best we may help you.’

‘The first killing was two months ago,’ Becc began without preamble. ‘The victim was Beccnat, the daughter of Lesren who is our tanner and leather worker. She had just reached her seventeenth summer. A young, innocent girl.’

He fell silent, apparently meditating on the event.

‘In what manner was she killed?’ prompted Fidelma, after a few moments.

‘Brutally,’ returned Becc at once. ‘Brutally.’ His voice was suddenly sharp. ‘Her body was found one morning in the woods not far from my fortress. She had been stabbed many times, almost as if the flesh was ripped apart in some unspeakable ritual way.’

‘You said that this was the first killing. So I deduce that there have been others?’

‘A month ago, another young girl was slain. This time it was Escrach, the daughter of our miller. She was found in a similar manner. She, too, was no more than seventeen or eighteen years of age.’

‘Was she found in the same woods?’

Becc nodded. ‘And not far from where the first body was found. Then a few nights ago the third girl was found. Her name was Ballgel. She was of the same age as the others. She worked in the kitchens at my fortress. She, too, was slaughtered in an unspeakable manner.’

‘Unspeakable?’ Fidelma grimaced dourly. ‘When things are unspeakable I often find that they are best described in words.’

Becc sighed and gave a shake of his head.

‘I do not choose my words lightly,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Have you ever seen the results when a butcher has slaughtered a hog?’

Eadulf’s mouth was tight. ‘That bad?’

Becc gazed evenly at him.

‘Perhaps worse, Brother Saxon,’ he agreed quietly.

There was a silence for a moment or so. Then Fidelma spoke again.

‘You say that this was the third girl? And each killing was spaced a month apart?’

‘At each full of the moon.’

Fidelma let out a soft breath and glanced quickly towards Eadulf.

‘At the full of the moon,’ she repeated softly.

Becc nodded to emphasise the significance.

‘That is an implication which has not been lost on myself, or on Abbot Brogán,’ he said.

‘Abbot Brogán?’

‘Nearby is the abbey where the Blessed Finnbarr was born.’ Becc glanced at Eadulf. ‘Finnbarr founded a school in the marshlands by the River Laoi and taught many years there.’

‘We know well who Finnbarr was,’ interposed Colgú roughly, ‘for was not our father, Faílbe Fland mac Aedo Duib, king at Cashel during those days?’

Becc inclined his head, not bothering to explain that he was addressing his remarks to Eadulf.

‘I had not forgotten. Anyway, Abbot Brogán is a venerable man who was trained at Finnbarr’s college by the River Laoi. He took over the stewardship of the abbey near to us two decades ago. The abbey stands just below the wooded hill where these killings took place. We call the woods the Thicket of Pigs and now the hill bears that name.’

Fidelma leant back in her chair. ‘So, from what you say, there have been three young girls murdered, each killing made on the full moon? Has your own Chief Brehon investigated this matter? I fail to understand why you bring this tale to Cashel.’

Becc shifted in embarrassment. ‘My Chief Brehon was Aolú. A man of wit and wisdom who served the Cinél na Áeda for forty long years in that office. He was old and frail and three weeks ago he died from a fever produced from a chill.’

‘Who succeeded him?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘Alas, I have not been able to appoint a successor. We have several judges of lower rank and ability, none of them of sufficient experience to be appointed as Chief Brehon. Until such an appointment can be made, we are without the wisdom of an experienced judge.’

Fidelma let out a sighing breath. She now realised what lay behind Becc’s arrival at Cashel.

‘When Aolú was alive was he able to take evidence and investigate the early deaths?’

‘He was.’

‘Are there any clues as to who would perpetrate such acts?’

Becc raised his shoulders and let them fall in an eloquent symbolism. ‘None that Aolú considered worthy of pursuing. My tanist, Accobrán, made some inquiries for Aolú was infirm at the time and could not move from my rath. Alas, he learnt nothing. But as for suspects…’ His expression became suddenly serious.

Fidelma caught the expression and her eyes narrowed. ‘You appear troubled, cousin? There is a suspect?’

Becc hesitated for a moment and then made a gesture with one hand that seemed to express a sense of helplessness. ‘It is that which prompted me to come here, Fidelma, and as a matter of urgency. There was a riot at the gates of the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr. I had to use my warriors to save the religious from being attacked and I had to wound a man as an example to prevent the inevitable injury and destruction of the religious community.’

‘The religious? At the abbey?’ Fidelma could not conceal her surprise. ‘Why there? Are you saying that the religious are suspected of these killings?’

‘Not exactly the religious of the abbey. Brocc, who works with his brother at our local mill and is related to two of the victims, persuaded many of our people that some strangers who are staying in the abbey are responsible for the murders.’

‘On what evidence?’

‘I fear on no more evidence than his own prejudice. The strangers arrived and were given hospitality at the abbey only days before the first killing. As such a thing had never happened before, Brocc argues that it was undoubtedly the work of these visitors. It is unfortunate that something about them generates the fear and prejudice of our people. Brocc tried to lead the people in storming the gates of the abbey with the idea of seizing the strangers. Had he done so, they would undoubtedly have been killed and the brethren would have been harmed for trying to protect them.’ Becc smiled grimly and shrugged. ‘I thrice told them of the Law of Riots and its consequences. When Brocc still refused to depart to his home, I shot him in the thigh with an arrow. This caused everyone to pause for thought.’

Eadulf pursed his lips in an expression without humour.

‘I should imagine it would. Drastic but effective,’ he said with clear approval.

‘And these strangers are under the protection of the abbey?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Were the people informed?’

‘They are and they were. The strangers reside there under the sacred laws of hospitality as well as the rule of sanctuary that the New Faith has adopted.’

‘Is there not a danger of the abbey’s being attacked in your absence?’ Edulf queried.

‘Brocc, the main trouble-maker, will not be active for a while yet.’ Becc smiled grimly. ‘Also, I have left Accobrán, my tanist, in command. He will protect the abbey and the strangers.’

‘Are you and Abbot Brogán totally satisfied of the innocence of these strangers?’ Fidelma asked.

‘We only know that you cannot punish strangers on no other evidence than suspicion. We lack a fully qualified Brehon to resolve the matter.’

There was a silence while Fidelma leant back in her chair, her eyes almost shut in thought. She gave a long sigh.

‘I am only a minor Brehon. I am merely a dálaigh or advocate and qualified to the level of anruth. You need an ollamh of law. I would suspect that you have better qualified Brehons among the Cinél na Áeda than myself.’

‘But none with your reputation, cousin,’ replied Becc immediately.

‘What is it that you expect from me?’

Becc was silent for a moment and then he cleared his throat nervously.

‘Expect? Far be it for me to expect anything of you, Fidelma of Cashel. However, I would like to ask something of you. Would you come to Rath Raithlen, with Brother Eadulf of course, and solve this evil mystery which is afflicting our community?’

Eadulf glanced sharply at Fidelma. He had had a growing suspicion where this conversation was leading right from the start. Now, with foreboding, he saw the glint of excitement in her eyes. Fidelma’s features were animated. He knew that she could not refuse the stimulant that was being offered to her intellect. Since they had returned from the land of the South Folk, even during the months of her confinement and the birth of little Alchú, Eadulf realised that she had not been completely happy. Fidelma was not a person to whom marriage and maternity was everything. Indeed, he had a sneaking suspicion that he might possess more of the maternal spirit than she did.

For some time now he had realised that she longed to get back to the thing that impassioned her most — the solving of conundrums, and the application of law to the answers. These were the things that brought her alive and invigorated her senses. In short, during these last months he had realised that she was bored. Bored with life at Cashel, with looking after Alchú with nothing else to occupy her highly attuned intellectual faculties. Oh, he had a sense of guilt when he thought about it because it was not that she was a bad or indifferent mother. It was not that she did not love Alchú. He knew her too well to condemn her for being true to her nature. Eadulf was aware that he was losing her almost before he spoke. He cleared his throat quickly.

‘There is Alchú to consider,’ he said quietly.

Fidelma’s lips compressed in irritation.

‘Sárait is a good nurse,’ intervened Colgú before she could speak. ‘You would not be away more than a week, perhaps ten days at most. She could look after him until you return. It is not as if Cashel is a stranger to babies and children.’

‘We feel that you are our only hope in clearing up this mystery,’ added Becc, a pleading note in his voice. ‘We do not ask this of you as a mere whim of the moment.’

Fidelma looked at Eadulf with a faintly sad expression, as if she understood that he realised that the request provided an incentive that he could not displace — not even little Alchú could entice her to surrender this part of her life. It was what she had been born for, trained for, the thing she needed the way people need air to breathe, sleep by night and light during the day.

She turned back to Becc. ‘These three strangers whom you mention. When you say “strangers”, do you mean that they are strangers to the Cinél na Áeda, strangers to our kingdom of Muman or strangers to the five kingdoms of Éireann?’

‘They are strangers from over the seas, from some distant land that I have never heard of.’

‘Then, if they are unjustly accused or attacked, it becomes a matter of the honour of the kingdom and not just that of the Cinél na Áeda.’

Eadulf sighed softly in resignation. He had lost her.

Colgú was nodding in approval.

‘There is that aspect to be considered,’ he agreed. ‘It is an important aspect. That is why it is vital that this matter be resolved before there are any more attacks on the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr.’

‘Or, indeed, any other young girls are murdered,’ Fidelma added drily. She turned to Eadulf once again. ‘Then I must go. There is no choice. Will you come with me, Eadulf? I shall need your help. Sárait will be a good nurse to Alchú.’

Eadulf hesitated only a second and then surrendered completely.

‘Of course,’ he said gruffly. ‘As your brother says, Sárait is a good nurse. She will take care of the baby while we are away.’

Fidelma’s features broadened in a smile of satisfaction. ‘Then we shall be able to leave for Rath Raithlen at dawn tomorrow.’

Colgú had reached forward and rung the silver handbell once again. ‘Before we conclude this discussion, there is one more task I must accomplish.’

This time it was Colgús religious counsellor who entered. Ségdae was the elderly bishop of Imleach and comarb, official successor, of the Blessed Ailbe who first brought the Faith to Muman. The ageing but hawk-faced man, whose dark eyes missed nothing, carried a small, oblong box with him.

Colgú stood up and, as protocol demanded, they all stood. Ségdae’s stern features softened a little in brief greeting to them all before he handed the box to Colgú. The king turned to Fidelma.

‘In view of the nature of this matter, as you have already pointed out, Fidelma, we must treat it as a matter of concern for the honour of the kingdom. We have given hospitality to these strangers; if they are unjustly accused and harmed, it reflects on our honour. If they have abused our hospitality and committed these criminal acts, then it is we who are responsible for seeing that they answer for that abuse.’ He opened the box. ‘You have acted as my authority once before, Fidelma, and now you must act as my authority again.’

He took from the box a small wand of white rowan on which was fixed a figurine in gold in the image of an antlered stag. This was the personal symbol of the Eóghanacht princes of Cashel, the symbol of their regal authority. He handed it to Fidelma.

‘This is the symbol of my personal authority, sister. You have used it well in the past and will use it again in justice in the future.’

Fidelma took the wand of authority in her hand, inclining her head briefly. Then brother and sister embraced in the official manner of the court.

There was a solemnity between them for a moment and then both stood back and their features broke into grins like children sharing a secret. Colgú turned to them all, still smiling.

‘Now let us proceed into the feasting hall or the rest of our guests will be wondering what ails us.’