Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

‘I am not at all concerned with them,’ Fidelma assured him firmly. ‘There is plenty of room in the Faith for those who pursue the ascetic path as well as we who pursue a religion based firmly on society as it is and not as it is envisioned by those who would suppress all emotion and human instinct. Let the celibates live in their caves or island hermitages. We are here to minister to society as part of society.’

‘Then if that is not the concern, can it be that you feel ashamed of Alchú because his father is a Saxon?’

‘Ashamed?’ Fidelma almost spat the word. Her eyes flashed as she spun round on him. For a moment, Eadulf thought she would strike him. ‘How dare you think that I am ashamed of…of…’ Her voice faltered and she ended with a sob.

Eadulf shrugged helplessly. ‘I do not mean to upset you, but I am simply at a loss to understand. You are troubled. You are behaving differently. What am I to make of it? What has gone wrong?’

Fidelma sat, head bowed, for a few moments. Then she sniffed and tried to draw herself up.

‘Can I make a bargain with you, Eadulf?’ Her voice was controlled and very quiet.

Eadulf regarded her with suspicion.

‘What sort of bargain?’ he demanded.

‘A bargain that you allow me to concentrate on this matter which will be resolved one way or another tomorrow. After that, we shall immediately return to Cashel. There I promise that we will discuss these problems and sort matters out.’

Eadulf compressed his lips and thought for a moment or two. ‘It would be better if I had even an idea of what it is that needs to be sorted out.’

Fidelma looked at him sorrowfully. ‘If I could give you that information now, Eadulf, there would be no problem to sort out. Can we make that bargain?’

Eadulf remained silent. Then he said: ‘I have been aware of some changes in you since the birth of Alchú. I have had to live with these changes during the last few months. I don’t suppose that one more day will make a great difference, will it? Very well. I agree. We will leave this matter between us in abeyance until the present case has been sorted and finalised.’

Fidelma reached forward and laid a hand on Eadulf’s arm.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘You are always there for me when I need a staff to rely on, Eadulf. Although you may not appreciate it, I value that support.’ There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments and then she forced a smile. ‘Now, before we retire for the night, I want to go over what I shall say tomorrow and you may see, as you always do, if there are flaws in my logic.’

Eadulf gave in with reluctance.

‘Where will you begin?’ he asked, trying to put enthusiasm in his voice.

Fidelma relaxed and sat back.

‘I’ll begin with the gold mine,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘The gold mine? Who is your main suspect for the murders of the girls?’

When she told him, Eadulf swallowed in amazement.

‘I hope you can demonstrate that,’ he whispered doubtfully. ‘If not, things could go very badly for us tomorrow.’

Fidelma slowly began to explain her case.

The Great Hall of Becc, chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda, was packed so that there was little room for anyone except officials of the clan to find seats. So many people had sought entrance to hear the findings of the famous dálaigh from Cashel that some of Becc’s warrior guards had to hold people back at the doors. Becc was seated in his chair of office which, as usual on such occasions, was placed on a wooden dais at the far end of the hall. Fidelma was seated to his right and on the same level. Behind her chair stood Eadulf while Accobrán, the tanist, was standing behind his chieftain’s left shoulder. Immediately to the left sat Abbot Brogán, as senior cleric of the clan, attended by his steward, Brother Solam.

In the first row facing them was a small group of petty chieftains and religious representing the abbey. At Fidelma’s request, the three Aksumite brothers were among them. Behind them, attended by two of his warriors, was the tall, dark-faced warlord of the Uí Fidgente, Conrí the Wolf King. They had ridden into the fortress that morning under their banner of truce, protected by Fidelma’s guarantee that no harm would be visited on them. She had ordered Adag to ensure that Accobrán and his warriors were kept as far away from them as possible. Even so, everyone treated the Uí Fidgente with deep suspicion and scowls and they appeared to form a vulnerable and isolated group.

As Fidelma examined the waiting crowd she could see all those she had especially requested to attend in the hall itself. Even Liag had been persuaded to come after Menma had put some pressure on the old recluse. Menma and Suanach sat near him. Gobnuid was scowling in the crowd, seated near Seachlann the miller. Seachlann’s brother Brocc had been brought from his cell and stood to one side, against a wall, between two watchful warriors. Goll and his family were there. Tómma and Creoda, the assistant tanners, with Sirin the cook, were pressed into a corner. In fact, all Rath Raithlen was represented.

Adag the steward moved forward and, unnecessary as it was, called for attention and silence. He glanced at Becc who, in turn, inclined his head towards Fidelma. She rose and gazed thoughtfully at the crowded hall for a moment before speaking. She spoke slowly and deliberately.

‘I came to this land of the Cinél na Áeda and found evil. What is evil?’ She paused as if expecting an answer. ‘Philosophers for many ages have argued over its precise nature. Evil is doing or intending to do harm, causing discomfort or pain in either a physical or a mental sense and creating trouble and anguish. It is the antithesis of good. Yet Brehon Morann, my mentor, once said that if we tried to abolish evil from the world, then we could know very little of the nature of our being. For often those who perform evil deeds are persuaded that what they do is honourable and necessary. Indeed, unless we all share the same moral codes of behaviour, we cannot propound a definition of evil and we must accept it as a natural part of the world in which we live.’

The people stirred, shuffling their feet, most of them not understanding her words.

‘If we wanted a sermon, Sister, we would have gone to the church,’ cried Brocc, still aggressive in spite of his bonds and not cowed by the warriors standing guard next to him. One of them pushed him roughly to make him quiet.

Fidelma smiled sadly. ‘Even the church does not possess a monopoly on goodness. Evil is to be found there just as it is found among those who do not follow the Faith.’

Abbot Brogán looked as if he were about to respond but snapped his mouth shut, while Liag was actually smiling with cynicism.

‘I have come here and found malevolence,’ continued Fidelma with emphasis.

‘We know that!’ cried Seachlann. ‘Have we not lost our daughters? Stop your sermon and tell us who is responsible.’

‘I shall come to it,’ promised Fidelma in a patient tone. ‘I shall come to it in the proper time. Our culture and our laws are our indication of evil and we must use that as our definition. We seek those responsible for evil, for Seneca once wrote that the most important evil is the evil of cringing to evil and surrendering to it. We must always defy evil and face any suffering before we give in to it.’

Becc leant forward and nodded approvingly. ‘This is true, Fidelma, but show us where this evil lies.’

Fidelma’s expression remained grim. ‘Three crimes have taken place here. The crime of murder, the crime of deception and theft, and the crime of abusing the laws of hospitality. From these three evils, several other small infractions of our law code have flown.’