‘That the three killings had happened on the night of the full moon.’ The steward spoke to him with a little more courtesy than before. ‘I think it was young Gabrán, the woodsman, who first realised this and told our late Brehon Aolú…’
‘He did,’ intervened Becc in confirmation. ‘But he was not taken seriously until Liag pointed it out. That was after the second body was discovered. But the fact that he felt it was significant was no secret. Liag knows about these things. He teaches our young about the stars and the moon. Though what Adag says is true. In spite of young Gabrán, and then Liag, the fact that the killer struck at the full of the moon only became generally realised after the body of Ballgel was found.’
Fidelma considered for a moment before resuming her questions.
‘So Ballgel left for home and some time later the abbot also left?’
‘That is so,’ agreed the steward. ‘Then I went to bed, for I knew my lord Becc’s other guests would be staying the night.’
‘That will be all for the moment, Adag,’ Fidelma said with finality.
Adag glanced to his chieftain and Becc made a quick gesture of dismissal with his hand.
Fidelma waited until he had gone and then turned to Becc.
‘We will see the families of the other two victims tomorrow, but perhaps we should start with the reclusive apothecary. As he examined all three bodies, he might be able to tell us something of significance. Remind me of his name. Liag?’
‘Indeed. It is Liag,’ Becc confirmed. ‘I’d better send Accobrán with you as your guide, for these woods are wide and dark and deep. Liag dwells on a hillock by the river that is hard to find and he does not welcome visitors, especially strangers.’
‘If the man is a recluse,’ Eadulf pointed out, ‘then it sounds as if you should be considering finding another apothecary to minister to the needs of the people here. Is there no apothecary at the abbey?’
Becc nodded. ‘Indeed there is. But Liag is one of our community. He is not as reclusive as, perhaps, we have implied. He even accepts pupils.’
‘Pupils?’ mused Fidelma. ‘Ah yes. You said he taught your young. Does he train them in the art of being an apothecary?’
Becc shook his head. ‘As I have said, he teaches them star lore.’
‘Star lore?’
‘The symbolism of the sun and moon, of the gods and goddesses that rule them, and…’ Becc stopped and looked uncomfortable. ‘I do not mean to imply that he teaches anything that is contrary to the New Faith. But he is a repository of knowledge of the ancient beliefs and legends. He is a good apothecary. My people believe in him and have faith in his cures.’
‘For a hermit who dislikes visitors to be relied upon to tend the sick and injured is, indeed, a sign of his ability,’ Eadulf remarked. ‘What makes him attract such loyalty?’
Becc smiled knowingly. ‘His ability to cure. It is said that he is descended from those who were possessed of thorough knowledge. Those who practised the healing arts long before the coming of the New Faith.’
‘Then we shall look forward to meeting him,’ Fidelma assured the chieftain, as she rose to her feet. ‘And now…’
‘I will get Adag to show you to your quarters. I think your baths should be ready.’ Becc took the hint. ‘Afterwards, please join us in a small feast that has been prepared to welcome you to the land of the Cinél na Áeda.’
Later, as Fidelma and Eadulf, having washed away the dust of travel, eaten and imbibed well in the feasting hall and been entertained by poets and harpers, were preparing for bed, Eadulf succumbed to a contented smile. ‘Well, this distant cousin of yours — Becc — seems an amiable chieftain. He dwells in a comfortable and pleasant fortress.’
‘That may be,’ Fidelma replied and it was clear that she was far from sharing Eadulf’s content. ‘But remember why we are here, Eadulf. There is an evil in this place. An evil which strikes savagely at young women at the full of the moon. Do not let the pleasant food, or company or surroundings, coax your senses into a false complacency. That evil that lurks in the dark forests round here can strike…and maybe not just when the moon is full.’
Chapter Four
The autumn morning was bright and crisp, without any mist. The shapes of the hills and trees were sharply defined and the colours of the countryside were still lustrous with browns and reds streaking through the multi- shades of green. It was only in the morning light, when they had finished breakfasting, that Eadulf had looked out of the window which gave an overview of the fortress and realised that Rath Raithlen was not small at all. It was a complex that covered nearly a hectare, enclosed by triple ramparts. He tried to work it out in Irish measurements but gave up. Brought up among farmers, he estimated that a yoke of oxen would probably take more than two days to plough the area. It was large by comparison to the fortresses and strongholds he had seen previously. It compared even with Cashel.
The ramparts were typically built along the contours of a hill that rose 80 metres or more, overlooking other smaller hills in all directions. Through the surrounding valleys ran a series of streams, some worthy of being called rivers, such as the one that twisted around the foot of the hill on which Rath Raithlen stood. There were woods as far as the eye could see, although now and then smaller raths or fortresses could be made out atop adjoining hills. It was a rich-looking and fertile countryside, in spite of the oncoming grip of autumn which had the leaves changing colour but not, as yet, falling.
Within Rath Raithlen itself, apart from the chief’s hall and adjoining buildings, were several streets and alleys crowded with artisans’ workshops and several residential buildings. Eadulf assumed these were the habitations of the chieftain’s retinue. He realised that the walls of the fortress encompassed an entire village with several forges, saddle-makers’ shops and even an alehouse. Rath Raithlen must be a prosperous place.
‘I had not realised that the Cinél na Áeda were so wealthy,’ Eadulf remarked to Fidelma when she suggested that they go down to the courtyard and prepare for the morning’s work.
‘The scribes maintain that this was the capital of the Eóghanacht before our ancestor, King Conall Corc, discovered Cashel and made his capital on the Rock,’ Fidelma explained. ‘I told you that Becc, my cousin, was grandson of King Fedelmid, which is the masculine form of my name.’
‘It is an impressive place,’ agreed Eadulf, looking around him as they went out into the courtyard before Becc’s hall. ‘I see many memorial stones with inscriptions on them but they are carved in Ogham which I cannot decipher.’
‘If we have time, I shall teach you the ancient alphabet,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘When I was little and visiting here, I was told that they marked the tombs of great rulers of ancient times.’
‘What puzzles me is the number of forges in the rath. I saw them from the bedroom window. Only a few seemed to be used, though. Why does Becc need so many?’
‘This used to be a centre of metal working. The whole area is rich in metals: copper mines, lead and iron, even gold and silver. The Blessed Finnbarr, who was born at the abbey of which we have spoken, was the son of a metalworker.’
Eadulf frowned as he dredged a memory. ‘I have often heard you talk of Magh Méine, the plain of minerals. Is this it?’
‘That is not far from here, to the north-east. This countryside has a similar mining tradition.’ She broke off as Accobrán, the handsome young tanist, emerged from a doorway and came across to them. He greeted them pleasantly and seemed more accommodating than he had initially been on the previous evening; more helpful and friendly. Fidelma still felt a distrust of his charm. He asked whether they wanted to go on horseback to visit the people they needed to question. Hearing that none was located more than twenty-one
