Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

‘Can you be so sure?’

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

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

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

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

A dark frown crossed Brother Túan’s features.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You offered the strangers refuge?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘The tanist?’

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

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

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

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

Brother Túan looked uneasy.

‘Are you saying…?’ he began.

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

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

‘Why so?’

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

‘You speak of the blackness of their skins?’

Brother Túan made an affirmative gesture.

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

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

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

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

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