Badger's Moon

Chapter Seven

When the door closed behind them, Fidelma turned back to the three Aksumites, who continued to sit impassively as if oblivious of what had just occurred.

‘Have you anything to say in answer to Brocc’s accusation?’ she asked quietly. There was a silence. They did not speak. Then Fidelma added: ‘The law does not oblige you to speak, but it might help our investigation. The sooner we can clear this matter up the better it will be for everyone.’

‘There is nothing to answer, Sister,’ Brother Dangila replied shortly. ‘You have already pointed out that the man made a claim against one of us but cannot say against which of us he is making it. Even if the claim were true, what does that prove? It does not prove what he ultimately asserts — that one or all of us were involved in the deaths that have occurred in this place.’

Fidelma had to admit that Brocc, as an eyewitness, was useless. He could offer no evidence of identification.

‘So you claim that you were all in the abbey on the night of the full moon?’

Brother Dangila sighed softly.

‘We sleep and study in this abbey,’ he replied quietly, without responding to her specific question.

‘And on the night of the previous full moon when Beccnat was slain?’ Fidelma asked wearily. ‘Can you remember that night and where you and the others were or what you were doing?’

‘We hardly ever move from the abbey,’ Brother Dangila replied in his quiet, dignified tones. ‘We have been applying ourselves to our studies here and trying to learn your language from the brothers of this community. Certainly, we are not disposed to wander abroad during the times of darkness lest we meet fear and prejudice on our path; the fear and prejudice which you have shown exists by bringing that man to confront us.’

‘Your studies?’ queried Fidelma, frowning at his explanation.

‘Is not your land a centre of learning?’ smiled Brother Gambela, having apparently grown confident of his ability to communicate in Greek. ‘The knowledge that we garner here will stand us in good stead when we return to our people.’

‘Is that why you came to this land?’ Fidelma decided to change tack.

Brother Dangila shook his head. ‘Our story is a long one, and, perhaps, it is tedious in the telling.’

‘It will grow less tedious if you start,’ Fidelma solemnly assured him.

‘Very well. If you wish to hear our story, I will tell it. We three are, as I have said, Aksumites. We are not from Adulis but from the interior of the kingdom. But we were summoned to Adulis for there was to be a conference between representatives of the Christian communities in Malqurra and Alwa, which border the kingdom. We had not been in Adulis before and were intrigued by the sights of the great city. We went down to the quaysides on the river to examine the ships that trade from all corners of the world. It was our undoing, for we were attacked and knocked unconscious, and when we awoke we were in a ship’s hold and out on the sea. Slave trading is one of the profitable means of commerce for those who have no conscience in our part of the world.’

He paused as if to reflect before continuing.

‘An eternity of suffering seemed our lot until we arrived in a strange port and were taken ashore. Our treatment was harsh but the Lord guided us and kept all three of us together. We eventually realised that we had been taken to Rome itself. Rome, a city that has proclaimed itself the centre of the Faith we cherished. But there was no sympathy there even though we were followers of the Christ. Indeed, as we were taken in chains through the city, we called out to the people that we, too, were Christians. When they heard that we were Aksumites, they jeered us and denounced us as non-believers and heretics.’

Fidelma frowned in puzzlement. ‘Why so?’

It was Brother Gambela who answered in his more stilted Greek. ‘We proclaim the monophysis of the Christ. We are taught that Christ had a single nature rather than a double nature.’

Fidelma’s eyes lighted in understanding. ‘Ah, I have heard of the Council of Chalcedon when this matter was discussed and Rome expelled those who believed that Christ was of a single nature.’ She turned to Eadulf, adding, ‘Hence the Greek words mono and physis. Rome believes that Christ was both divine and human. These were the two natures. The Council of Chalcedon said it was heretical to proclaim that Christ had only one nature.’

Brother Dangila was shaking his head. ‘We never believed in monophysis as it was portrayed by the Chalcedon Council. We Aksumites argued that Christ was perfect in his divinity and perfect in his humanity but his divinity and humanity were united in one nature — that is, the nature of the incarnate word. Did not the Blessed Cyril of Alexandria say that human and divine natures were united in one, without mingling, without confusion and without alteration? Those two natures were not separate. Perhaps the pontiffs of Rome conspired to misconstrue our teachings as a punishment for the refusal of our Church to obey them or be politically influenced by them.’

‘Harsh words,’ muttered the abbot reprovingly.

‘Truth is often bitter,’ replied Brother Gambela.

‘So let us finish the story,’ intervened Fidelma, seeing they might be entering dangerous theological territory. ‘You were slaves in Rome, you say? And no one would raise a hand to help you?’

‘That is true,’ Brother Dangila agreed. ‘We were used as labourers to load cargoes into the ships that docked along the river in Rome. Then we were sold to a Frankish merchant and forced to work as crew on his ship which undertook a long and terrible voyage from the Middle Sea and through a narrow strait, which we were told was called the Pillars of Hercules. Then came a terrible voyage along the coast of Iberia. A great storm came up and our ship was driven away from the coast, off its course. The captain began to panic and believed that we were going to be driven to our doom over the edge of the world.’ The Aksumite smiled lopsidedly. ‘The man believed that the earth was a flat shape and the horizon marked the edge over which none may venture. This idea we found a quaint teaching. Is such a belief current here?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Our astronomers have long taught that the world is spherical, Brother Dangila. Martialis writes that even in the days of our pagan ancestors, the Druids taught us that the world was in the shape of a ball.’

Brother Dangila nodded approvingly. ‘This captain was from a country called Frankia and seemed uncertain how to navigate his ship once we lost sight of land. While he and his crew panicked, we three prayed. The ship foundered in that terrible storm but God smiled on us for we three were among several who were then washed ashore into this kingdom. Your people fed, clothed and gave us hospitality. We were made welcome and made even more welcome when we revealed that we were of the Faith. Your people did not condemn us because we were Aksumites-’

Brother Gambela interrupted. ‘We were blessed when we discovered that the followers of Christ in this kingdom do not slavishly follow the dictates of Rome but retain many of the original rituals and the teachings of the early Faith just as we have done. We felt that God had ordained our journey for a purpose — that we were meant to learn here and take back that knowledge to our people. From the place where we were washed ashore we were taken to an abbey called the house of Molaga where we spent some time.’

‘Yet in spite of these adventures, or rather misadventures, you appear in clothing and with ornaments that are of your own country.’ Eadulf suddenly pointed out with suspicion, speaking for the first time in what had been, for him, a long period of silence. His knowledge of Greek was less than his knowledge of Latin and he had been struggling to follow the nuances of the conversation. ‘How were you able to keep those crucifixes of valued silver during your slavery?’

Brother Dangila turned to him, not in the least put out by his question. ‘These robes were woven here on our instruction. But you are right; Aksumite silversmiths made these crucifixes. Alas, we cannot claim them as our own. The abbot of the house of Molaga gave them to us. They were apparently part of some spoils taken from shipwrecks. We noticed them when staying with the abbot and identified their provenance. The charitable man felt it just that we should have them.’

‘After staying at the house of Molaga, what then?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Then we came here, to this abbey, where we have applied ourselves to our studies.’

‘Out of interest, may I ask what these studies are?’ enquired Eadulf.

It was Brother Nakfa, not having spoken before, who surprised everyone by suddenly speaking in reply. His voice was low and soft and yet his tone was quite musical, making his Greek sound like an incantation rather than speech.

‘We are interested in the way you perceive the heavens. Interested in the interpretation that you give to the sun, the moon, the stars and their courses across the sky. We have discovered that within your land dwell many learned men who have studied and written on such matters. Our people pride themselves on their knowledge of the heavens and the celestial beings but we did not think to find others beyond our known world who have pondered such matters.’

Brother Dangila added: ‘We have found the works of a learned brother named Augustine…’

Here Abbot Brogán, who had been following the Greek conversation with a frown of concentration, muttered: ‘He means Brother Aibhistín who dwells on Carthaigh’s Island. Aibhistín has devoted his life to studying the heavens.’

‘But specifically the moon and the tides,’ added Brother Dangila, ‘which is of great importance for he has clearly observed that the astrorum splendidissimum, that most splendid of the heavenly bodies, the moon, governs the tides of the oceans and is therefore one of the great mysteries of the universe.’

Brother Gambela raised his head a little, his face, like his companions’, lighting up with enthusiasm.

‘We discovered, while we were at the house of Molaga, that this abbey possesses a copy of De Mirabilius Sacrae Scripturae in which the good Brother Augustine speaks of the importance of the moon. He argues that it was at the full moon that the Passion of Christ took place…’

Eadulf suddenly leant forward with a suspicious frown.

‘You Aksumite brothers seem extremely interested in the full moon,’ he said pointedly.

Brother Dangila turned to him with a disarming smile. ‘What person can ignore the full moon and its consequences?’

‘Its consequences?’ Fidelma spoke sharply, suddenly alert to a possible significance in his words.

‘Isn’t that why you are interested in these deaths, Sister?’ countered Brother Dangila impassively. ‘I am told that your people place great weight on the fact that these local deaths have occurred at the full of the moon.’

‘What consequences do you speak of, Brother Dangila?’ demanded Fidelma, feeling that the impassive face of the Aksumite hid more than he was revealing.

‘The flood tide begins three days and twelve hours before the full moon, and after completing its course it comes to an end after an equal length of time. This fact is according to your scholar, the Brother Aibhistín. Now if the tides are drawn into such intensity at the time of the full moon, then how much are the emotions of man so roused to flood and ebb? Is there not liquid that flows within our bodies that might respond to the moon as does the liquid of the seas?’

Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.

‘It is possible,’ she admitted. ‘And so, with such interests, one of you might have been seated on the hillside making observations that night of the full moon when Brocc happened to come along.’

Brother Dangila’s mask almost slipped into a grin, but only for a moment.

‘That is also possible,’ he answered gravely.

‘And was any of you doing so?’

‘We have dealt with that matter, Sister. Let us avoid playing such games as catch as catch can.’

Fidelma knew that she would be unable to move forward on the matter and so she tried another tack.

‘Do the local people here know that you have this interest in the moon and its behaviour?’ she queried.

Brother Dangila stretched his arms in an eloquent gesture of indifference. ‘We have made no attempt to hide our studies. Abbot Brogán is well aware of our interests.’

The abbot nodded swiftly in confirmation. ‘It is so, Sister Fidelma. The brothers here have never hidden from me, nor anyone in this abbey, their passion for examining the celestial bodies.’

‘But if this be known,’ Eadulf pointed out, ‘then it would add to the suspicions of the local people. The sight of one or other of you seated on a hill making observations of the moon would fuel such suspicions. Surely you should now explain the reasons for this, to avoid mistrust? I think this is what you are telling us. That Brocc did see one of you on the hill and that this was what you were doing. Why not tell us who it was? We will hear your explanation.’

‘In our land of Aksum we have a saying that it is only lack of knowledge that makes people suspicious,’ Brother Dangila replied gravely. ‘The local people would not have your knowledge of why we study the celestial orbs. So if it was admitted that one or other of us might — and I only say might — have been on that hillside examining the full moon, then they would not understand and our admission would be fuel for their suspicions.’

Fidelma conceded the point. ‘There is truth in that, Brother. However, Publilius Syrus points out that suspicion begets suspicion. They are already suspicious and it would be better to quell that suspicion before it outgrows our ability to do so.’

Brother Nakfa suddenly rose from his seat in a smooth unhurried motion which a moment later was copied by his companions.

‘Sister, we are in your hands,’ Brother Nakfa assured her solemnly. ‘We have told you what we know of the matter you inquire into. We know little except that these deaths came at the full of the moon, and because we are strangers, alien in the colour of our skins as well as language and demeanour, and because we are studying the celestial motions, so we are suspects in these terrible crimes. All we can offer in defence is the truth. If we can offer nothing else, then we would seek permission to return to our studies.’

Fidelma found herself rising with a feeling of irritation. She disguised her feelings with an expression equally as bland as the three men’s.

‘There is nothing more I need ask of any of you at this moment,’ she agreed reluctantly.

The three tall strangers bowed in unison and moved silently from the room. When they had gone, Fidelma resumed her seat.

Abbot Brogán was looking troubled.

‘I fear that instead of dispelling suspicion, Sister Fidelma, they have ignited thoughts that were not there before,’ he observed.

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘The purpose of questioning, Abbot, is to provoke new thoughts and possibilities. And it is my duty as a dálaigh to ask questions. It would be better for the three strangers if they could be more specific about where they were on the nights of the full moon. I am inclined to believe Brocc when he says he saw one of them but his evidence is useless if he cannot be specific about which of the three he saw. As Eadulf says, we can consider the strangers’ interest in the study of the heavens once the matter is admitted. However, by not admitting it, they merely create suspicion.’

Abbot Brogán was unhappy and said so.

‘Brother Dangila was correct when he said that even if Brocc’s testimony was true, it did not mean that whoever he saw was responsible for the slaughter of any of the girls,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘So do not fret on that account. You are acting correctly in continuing to offer them hospitality and refuge from the anger of others. Yet I find your guests most intriguing, Abbot. I shall certainly return to question them further.’

‘Well,’ the abbot replied, rising to escort his guests to the door, ‘I would keep a careful watch on Brocc, for what he has tried once, he might try again.’

‘Even with his wound?’ asked Eadulf.

‘A flesh wound, soon healing. Brocc is someone who lives revenge. And he has a friend, a smith called Gobnuid at Rath Raithlen. Gobnuid was among those who tried to attack the abbey. The two might plot some mischief.’

‘Gobnuid? I seem to have heard that name but I can’t place it. No matter. We shall take heed of your warning, Abbot Brogán,’ Fidelma assured him.

Accobrán was waiting outside for them but there was no sign of Brocc, who had apparently departed back to his brother’s mill.

The hour was growing late when they left the abbey and Fidelma decided that it was not worth while making a further journey across the valley to find Goll and his son Gabrán. It looked as though Accobrán was thankful for this, for he excused himself almost immediately they returned to the fortress and headed towards the stables. It was not long before they saw him ride out.

Eadulf wanted his evening wash immediately. He had grown used to the Irish custom of having a bath every evening, although it had taken some time, for he had found it strange both to wash in the morning and then to bathe in the evening. Fidelma decided to stroll around the rath by herself before having her own wash. While the October day was gloomy and growing dark, it was still early and there were sounds of activity through the fortress. She could hear the smash of metal against metal that showed that some of the forge workers were still hard at work, and a thought stirred in her mind. She made her way towards the sound, which came from a group of buildings towards the back of the rath.

A smith was busy shaping a metal pot in the glowing charcoal of a fire, holding the tongs in one hand while the other pounded the soft metal with a flat hammer. A few people were passing by and now and again someone would acknowledge him, but he would only grunt a reply without looking up. He did not look much like the way one might imagine a smith. He was a thin, wiry individual, with fox-like features. But the thin arms and torso, the taut muscles, belied strength greater than his appearance suggested. His glistening body was clad in a sleeveless leather jerkin and breeches.

Fidelma stood and watched him, admiring the dexterity of his work. She waited until he turned to plunge the pot into his water bucket before speaking. She had to pause for the hiss and cloud of steam, which arose as the metal cooled, to evaporate.

‘Good evening, smith.’

He glanced at her and tossed his strands of sandy hair back from his face. In spite of his thin, foxy appearance, his expression was pleasant. His bright blue eyes were close set in a deeply tanned face which enhanced their colour and made them appear brighter than they were.

‘Good evening to you, lady.’

She raised an eyebrow. Usually strangers addressed her as ‘Sister’. That he called her ‘lady’ implied knowledge.

‘You know who I am?’

The smith grimaced pleasantly. ‘Doesn’t everyone in the rath know that you are a dálaigh and sister to the king at Cashel?’

Fidelma sighed. She supposed it was natural that everyone would know the reason for Becc’s journey to Cashel and the identity of those with whom he had returned.

‘You are working late, smith,’ she commented.

‘I had need to finish this pot for Adag the steward. But I am done now.’

He took out the cold metal from the water barrel, placed it on the shelf, and began to return his tools to the rack.

‘When I was here many years ago as a young girl, there were numerous forges working in this rath,’ Fidelma reflected. ‘There do not seem to be so many now.’

The smith smiled briefly.

‘Not so many,’ he agreed. ‘Our mines used to make this rath one of the great metal-working centres of the kingdom. First the gold ran out and then the silver and now there is little left. There is still a lead mine over at Dún Draighneáin. That’s but a short ride from here.’

‘I hear that copper and iron are still produced in fair quantity,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘Indeed, lady, but not enough to bring the Cinél na Áeda back to the prosperity they once had. Our gold and silversmiths used to turn out work for the High Kings in distant Temhair but they do so no more. I started out as an apprentice to a silversmith. We turned out many a bejewelled chalice for the abbeys in the district. Now, I shoe horses, and turn out ploughshares and metal pots.’ He grimaced towards his forge with a wry expression. ‘Ah, if only someone would find another rich gold vein or a silver mine…but that’s a forlorn hope.’

Fidelma laughed softly.

The smith frowned with curiosity.

‘What amuses you, lady?’ he demanded.

‘Today I came across two small boys sitting in the river…what do you call it? The Tuath? The boys were panning for gold.’

The smith shook his head. ‘A child’s game, no more. There’s been no gold found in that river since our chieftain’s father was a small boy.’

‘Well, they did tell me that one of their fellows had found a gold nugget there.’

The man glanced up in surprise.

‘Who found such a thing?’ he asked sharply. ‘Did they say?’

‘The name of the child? They called him Síoda.’

The smith was chuckling grimly. ‘Of course, it would be young Síoda.’

‘Do you know him?’

‘I know him well enough. He’s the son of Becc’s shield-bearer. In fact, it was only a few days ago when the young scamp came running to me proclaiming that he had found gold and asked me to buy it from him.’

He suddenly turned and reached up to a shelf and took something down. Then he held out his palm towards Fidelma. A piece of metal the size of the top of a man’s thumb. It glistened with a yellow tinge.

Fidelma frowned.

‘It looks like gold,’ she hazarded.

‘Iron pyrites. It is not worth anything.’

‘Fool’s gold?’

The smith nodded appreciatively at her knowledge. ‘Fool’s gold, indeed, lady. I gave Síoda something to assuage his disappointment. So I wish the two lads you saw the best of luck, but they may sit there until the crack of doom and not come near to finding a grain of gold in that river, nor anywhere else round here.’

‘Until the crack of doom…’ sighed Fidelma reflectively.

The smith turned for a moment as his forge fire began to hiss, some manifestation of the coal causing a blue flame to shoot out of it. Fidelma seized the moment to pick up a sharp implement and scrape at the metal and examine the golden glint the scratch caused. As the smith turned back to her, she handed it back to him.

‘It is a shame that the Cinél na Áeda have fallen on lean times,’ she said. ‘But metal apart, this is a rich land and the people will not starve. You have trees in abundance, well-watered fertile soil, and some good grazing. Also you are only twelve miles from the seaport at the house of Molaga.’

‘True enough, lady,’ agreed the smith, replacing the metal on his shelf. ‘People have to adapt to new conditions, for nothing lasts for ever. We have a saying: even the road to Temhair has turnings and twists.’

Fidelma smiled appreciatively. Then she became serious as she remembered the purpose of her exploration of the rath.

‘There is no need to tell you why I am here, smith.’

‘No need at all,’ agreed the smith. ‘Becc brought you here to investigate the strangers at the abbey.’

The word he used for ‘strangers’ was actually a legal term — murchoirthe, which literally meant one thrown up by the sea. It was an interesting term for the smith to use as it also implied that the person so referred to was one who might have been a criminal beyond redemption who had been punished by being set adrift on the sea and subsequently washed ashore. Everyone had previously used the term deorad or outsider, which was also a legal term but implied that the outsider had a legal standing. Fidelma hid her interest at the smith’s choice of word.

‘So, do I take it that you believe Brocc is right when he accuses these strangers?’

‘Have you spoken with Brocc?’

‘Of course.’

‘And have you seen the strangers?’

‘I have.’

The smith shrugged indifferently as if he had made a case.

‘So what is your conclusion?’ prompted Fidelma.

‘They are not men as we know men. They are alien and ugly to us. Like the nocturnal animals, they are dangerous being let loose near our womenfolk at the full of the moon. Brocc’s word is good enough for me. They should be driven from our land or punished for what they have done. Only Becc’s interference saved them. Oh yes, lady, I admit that I was one of the crowd that went to the abbey to demand their punishment and visit it upon them if no one else would.’

Fidelma pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘Then you must know, smith, that your action is not condoned in law. What if you had killed or injured the strangers?’

The smith laughed and his prejudice was made clear.

‘A murchoirthe is without an honour price in law. Brocc told me that much. So there would be no fine or compensation to pay.’

‘Indeed? Brocc should have told you that the abbot had taken the strangers in and given them hospitality. In law, therefore, the strangers are judged as having half the honour price of the abbot.’ She glanced at his forge. ‘I doubt whether your forge would raise the amount of compensation.’

She turned angrily away. Her anger was directed at the blind prejudice that the smith had displayed. She was about to storm away when she hesitated and turned back to the man. She realised that her anger was as destructive as the prejudice itself. She should be able to understand the origin of his prejudice and by that understanding seek to overcome it instead of allowing her anger to increase his righteous belief in his cause.

‘What is your name, smith?’

‘Gobnuid,’ he replied defiantly.

She had begun to suspect this was his name, having remembered what the abbot had told her. It was ironic that she had met him when she merely wanted to ask any smith about the possibility of gold in the area.

‘Then heed some advice, Gobnuid. Let not fear of that which is different create hatred in your soul. Hatred is but a weak man’s vengeance for being intimidated and made fearful by what he does not understand.’

She still felt anger but now controlled it and made an effort to keep her voice even. Anger was going to be no way to discover truth at Rath Raithlen, and there was enough anger, hate and prejudice here without adding to it. She remembered where she had first heard Gobnuid’s name. It had been from Sirin the cook.

‘I believe that you knew Sirin’s niece, Ballgel?’

The smith shrugged.

‘Who did not know her in Rath Raithlen?’ he responded. ‘We are a small community.’

‘Indeed you are. I have heard that there was some friction between you.’

Gobnuid stared at her in annoyance. ‘Who says this?’

Fidelma’s eyes fell on his nervously clenching hand. ‘Is it not true then? You asked her to dance at the feast of the Blessed Finnbarr and she refused. You were angry and displayed your anger to all there.’

The smith’s mouth compressed into a thin line. ‘It was not anger at the girl. It was anger at those silly youths with whom she consorted. They decided to mock my age and looks because I dared asked her to dance with me. My anger was aimed at them.’

‘So you felt no animosity to the girl when she refused?’

‘I was upset to hear of her death. I had warned her that the night sky could be treacherous.’

Fidelma stared at him.

‘What makes you say that?’ she demanded.

‘Ballgel and the others, they were all going to Liag who filled their minds with silly tales of the moon and the stars. Brocc told me that Escrach was so full of Liag’s silly stories that she was going to consult with the strangers.’

Fidelma tried to hide her amazement. ‘Consult them about what?’

‘About the powers of the moon. Liag told Escrach that the strangers had the power of knowledge and knew many things of the moon’s properties. That is why I believe the strangers should be driven from here.’

Fidelma swallowed hard. So Liag knew about the Aksumites’ interest in star lore?

‘Tell me, Gobnuid. You say that Liag taught star lore to Ballgel and to Escrach. Who else did he teach it to?’

‘To many over the years. Even I often went to sit and listen to his stories.’

‘So boys went as well?’

‘Even Accobrán our tanist,’ agreed the other. ‘But remember that the strangers had the power of knowledge and knew many secrets of the moon. That is evidence enough for me that there was evil afoot in the abbey.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Not evidence at all. Remember that, Gobnuid the smith. Remember, I am concerned only in getting to the truth. Let no one try to pre-empt the decision of my investigation, otherwise the law will be made clear to them and the punishment will fit their transgression of it.’

She had walked a short distance from the forge when some instinct made her glance back. Gobnuid was apparently examining something in his hand with a frown of concentration. It sparkled in the glinting light of the forge fire. It was the nugget that he had told her was iron pyrites. Fidelma turned and hurried away.

Eadulf glanced up as Fidelma entered the guestroom. He had already bathed and dressed ready to attend the evening meal in Becc’s feasting hall.

‘You’ll have to hurry,’ he began and then saw her expression. ‘What has happened?’

‘I have just had an interesting conversation with a smith called Gobnuid. There is certainly fear and prejudice against the strangers in this community. I fear that it will not be enough to exonerate them to say that there is no evidence that they are guilty. It must be demonstrated that they are innocent.’

‘Do you really think that they are innocent?’ Eadulf demanded. Fidelma looked sharply at him. ‘Thought has nothing to do with it. Where is the evidence?’

Eadulf’s eyebrows rose at her sharp tone. ‘I would reserve my judgement on their innocence or guilt until I have heard all the evidence. So far there are many questions that remain unasked, let alone unanswered.’

Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment and then slumped on the bed, realising that, perhaps, she was being too sensitive. Of course, Eadulf was right. Was she now beginning to see prejudice where there was none?

‘The Aksumites as good as admitted that one of them was on the hillside that night,’ went on Eadulf. ‘The fact that Brocc could not identify which one of the three is no absolution of guilt. It is, however, an admission of lying and why do people lie? Only when they have something to hide.’

Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘You are right, Eadulf. I am sorry if I was sharp. It is a matter that we must deal with in our search for the truth. But blind prejudice is something I cannot deal with.’ She rose suddenly as she realised the growing lateness of the hour. ‘I must bathe. Go to Becc’s hall and tend my apologies. Say that I shall be there directly.’