Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Exactly so, Brother Saxon. Exactly.’

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

The elderly man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What were you doing there?’ asked Eadulf.

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

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

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

‘Where had you been?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Some business drew me there,’ affirmed Liag.

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

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

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

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

The old man considered.

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

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

‘What was the nature of your business?’

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

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

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

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

Eadulf glanced at Fidelma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He paused for a moment.

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

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

‘And?’

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