Peter Tremayne - Badger's Moon

Liag thought for a moment. ‘I said that once I examined the body, it was clear that a jagged knife had been used. It had been difficult to examine the wounds at first.’

‘Exactly, and why?’

‘I told you that it was difficult to see beyond the dried blood, and there was some decomposing for the body must have lain out in the woods for two or three days.’ His eyes widened as he realised what he was saying.

Fidelma turned to the hall. ‘Two or three days! That is what everyone was overlooking. The body had been found on the morning after the full moon but Beccnat had been killed two or three days beforehand.’ She swung round to Bébháil. ‘Lesren told me, and you confirmed it, that Beccnat had gone out one night to tell Gabrán that she was ending the betrothal and that was the last you saw of her until her body was found three days later .’

Bébháil looked shocked. ‘It is true. I had not thought…’

‘So where did you think that she had been for that time?’

‘She often went to stay with friends after rows with her father. We thought she might have gone somewhere with one of her girl friends. I don’t know. Everyone said she was killed on the night of the full moon and we did not question it. The question of where she had been before that did not occur to us once she was dead.’

Fidelma had turned back to Fínmed with a sad expression. Then she looked directly at Goll.

‘When I first spoke to you and your son, I asked Gabrán in your hearing when he had last seen Beccant and he gave one of his few honest answers — he said it was about two days before the full of the moon.’

Goll was standing with his shoulders hunched, tired and defeated as the truth dawned on him. Fínmed was sobbing silently again.

‘Just confirm for me one other thing that you told me, Goll,’ Fidelma said gently. ‘Was it your idea or Gabrán’s that he go to the house of Molaga a day before the full moon following the feast of Lughnasa?’

Goll raised haggard features to face her. ‘You know the answer well enough, Sister. It was he who suggested that he take the goods that day.’

Fidelma turned back to where Gabrán was still being held under restraint.

‘A killer influenced by the moon?’ she mused sadly. ‘Not in the case of Beccnat. The murder was coldly and cunningly planned. Having killed Beccnat, he made for Molaga to establish an alibi. He even started the story of the moon killer, for Adag told us that he had pointed out this fact to Aolú, the Brehon, when being questioned following Lesren’s accusation. It was only later, with the second murder, that Liag pointed out it had been committed on the night of the next full moon.’

The youth regarded her calmly. He even smiled.

‘I am avenged and have come to power. Knowledge is power and I have the knowledge.’ He intoned the words like a priest giving a blessing before beginning to giggle hysterically. At a gesture from Becc, he was led away.

A small flock of choughs, flying with their wild excited call — ‘keeaar…keeaar…keeaar!’ — rose in the air above the mountain crags. Masters of the air, they soared high before, as if in unison, they rolled and dived towards the ground, performing aerobatics that entranced Fidelma and Eadulf as they crossed the shoulder of Cnoc Mhaoldhomhnigh and began their descent towards the plain below.

‘They are a little far inland,’ Fidelma observed, indicating the birds that were easily identified by their glossy purple-black plumage and long, red curved bills and red legs.

Eadulf knew that the chough — the cosdhearg, or red shanks as the Irish called it — was usually a coastal bird, nesting on sea cliffs, but sometimes they were found in mountains not far from the sea. However, he was not concerned with the birds. His gaze was focusing across the long, lower slopes of the mountains through which they had passed. From there, the plains below spread to where he could, in the bright late October sunlight, see the broad glinting strip of the River Siúr, the ‘Sister River’ as it was named. He could see where it joined the Tar to curve eastwards on its journey to the sea. It was not far to Cashel now.

‘Do you think that Gabrán is truly sane?’ he asked.

‘Thankfully, that is not my task to ascertain,’ Fidelma replied. ‘He is being sent to the house of Molaga where there are trained men of medicine who will see whether he can be adjudged fit to answer for his crimes.’

Eadulf was silent for a few moments.

‘Well, at least you have averted another conflict with the Uí Fidgente. And Accobrán will be a long time working to repay compensation to all he has wronged.’

‘At least he will never hold any other position of trust again,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘I feel sorry for the three Aksumites, though. Brother Dangila and his companions probably did not know about the law of hospitality and the extent to which they transgressed it.’

‘At least they have their freedom and have been sent to the seaports to look for a ship back to their own country. I hope they make it. What happened to Gobnuid, the smith? I am not clear.’

‘He was forced to sell his forge and implements to pay his compensation and has already entered the abbey of Finnbarr. They needed a good smith.’

Eadulf laughed. ‘I cannot see him as one of the brethren devoted to a holy life.’

Fidelma’s mouth thinned in answer.

‘There are many I cannot see as suitable to follow that calling either,’ she said.

They had descended the hill and entered along a stretch of open road through tilled fields. Eadulf glanced at Fidelma and grinned happily.

‘We will soon be in Finan’s Height. We can cross the Siúr there and seek hospitality at the abbey of Finan the Leper for midday refreshment. By this evening we should be in Cashel.’

Fidelma smiled at his enthusiasm but there was sadness in her smile.

She had given little thought to her feelings about the prospect of being cooped up in her brother’s fortress again during these last few days. She had been too busy enjoying the freedom of the chase, the inexorable coming together of the threads which would join into a solution of the puzzle. The burst of adrenalin as she revealed that solution. Above all, the wonderful feeling of freedom which she experienced in her quest for the answers; in her quest for the truth. And now — now she was faced with the return to Cashel from which she had had her few days’ escape. Now, as she had promised Eadulf, there would be no avoiding the problem that faced her. She would have to come face to face with her self and her own problems.

Behind her smiling mask Fidelma felt a terrible sense of guilt at the thoughts passing through her mind. She felt that she was betraying Eadulf. Not for the first time in recent months was she questioning her thoughts and strange feelings that she had been experiencing with the birth of Alchú. She felt in a constant state of depression, even questioning her relationship with her Saxon companion. It had taken her a long time to agree to become his ben charrthach less than a year ago. The term was not used for a legally bound wife in Brehon Law but one whose status and rights were recognised under the law of the Cáin Lánamnus: a trial marriage lasting a year and a day, after which, if unsuccessful, both sides were able to go their separate ways without incurring penalties or blame.

The trial marriage had been Fidelma’s decision. She had been concerned that, under the law, her marriage with Eadulf would have been a marriage between unequal persons. Fidelma was of royal rank and Eadulf would not have had equal property rights with his wife. Knowing Eadulf’s character, she had believed that such a marriage might not be a good prescription for happiness if Eadulf felt less than her equal.