Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

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.

Eadulf stared at the man but nothing now surprised him. He just wished Fidelma had confided in him about her suspicions concerning the cave. Perhaps the matter had nothing at all to do with the deaths of the girls. They watched as the thick-set figure of the blacksmith approached the cave entrance. He did so quickly, surely footed as if he knew exactly where he was going. At the cave entrance he halted and gave a sharp call, apparently announcing his presence. Then he disappeared inside.

Eadulf glanced across to the rocks where Goll still lay hidden. He noticed a movement behind the rocks that indicated the woodsman’s presence and gave a quiet sigh of exasperation. He wished he had listened more carefully to what Fidelma had said about the mine. He could not see how it was at all relevant to the moonlight killings of the girls except that the bodies had been found in the vicinity. And what had Goll to do with it? He could not even think what questions to ask, let alone seek answers.