Badger's Moon

Accobrán led the way through the ramparts, beyond the last great wooden gates, and turned down the hill. They followed the broad path for a short while and then the tanist turned off into a thickly wooded area through which a very narrow path twisted between the trees.

‘Old Liag, the apothecary, dwells within these woods,’ Accobrán informed them, speaking over his shoulder as there was only room for them to walk in single file with the growth towering on either side. ‘He is usually to be found along the banks of the Tuath. That is the river that runs around the hill here.’

‘It is an odd name for a river,’ Eadulf commented. He liked to improve his knowledge of the language of Éireann whenever he could. ‘Doesn’t the name simply signify a territory?’

The young tanist smiled briefly. ‘One of the septs of our people, south of here, was ruled by a chieftain named Cúisnigh and his district was called Tuath an Cúisnigh. Soon the original name of the river that divided his territory was forgotten. People referred to it as the river that runs through the territory of Cúisnigh and gradually even that was foreshortened into the “territory river” or Tuath. It is as simple as that.’

Fidelma had other things on her mind than to listen to his folklore.

‘If this apothecary, Liag, is so reclusive, how do we make contact with him without fear that he will hide at our approach?’ she enquired.

Accobrán tapped the bone horn that was slung at his belt. ‘He is not really so reclusive. I will simply blow my hunting horn when we near his bothán and he will know that it is the tanist of the Cinél na Áeda who seeks him.’

The woods had become very dense indeed, a compressed mixture of thick-trunked oaks, lofty holly trees and alders and yews, as if someone had taken a handful of seeds and thrown them indiscriminately about so that they grew in a mixed profusion. Accobrán seemed very much at home as he conducted them through the woods and guided them easily along the twisted path. Suddenly he halted, turned and indicated a small area like a glade to one side. Fidelma’s keen eye had already discerned that it had been lately disturbed by a human presence. The grass and shrubs had been trodden down, ferns had been bent and branches broken, showing signs of several people’s having moved about the little area.

‘That is where they found Ballgel’s body, lady.’

Fidelma frowned as she inspected the area. ‘Was this Ballgel’s usual path home?’

The young tanist shrugged. ‘I would not have thought so. A young girl does not usually take to this forest path alone at night. However, it is a short cut to her aunt’s bothán where she lived. There is no denying that. The safe way would have been to follow the main track, which goes around the hill beyond the abbey, but this one would take some time off her journey. Perhaps if she were in a hurry she might have decided to chance it.’

‘Chance?’ Eadulf asked. ‘That sounds as if she would know that some danger lurked here?’

Accobrán regarded him with a serious expression. ‘Wolves and other animals, which would normally shun people during the day, sometimes haunt the woods at night and are not above attacking humans, especially if they can smell fear in them. There are some wild boars here that are very aggressive if disturbed.’

‘You think that Ballgel would have exuded such fear?’ Eadulf asked reflectively. ‘Surely, if she grew up here she would have known the local dangers and not been fearful. Fear is usually to be reserved for the unknown.’

‘She was young, Brother Eadulf. A girl. What young girl is unafraid of the woods in darkness?’

Fidelma smiled softly. ‘Apparently Ballgel was not afraid to venture along this path on her own…’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘Or maybe she did not start down this path alone or of her own accord?’

Eadulf, who had been examining the ground, shook his head. ‘There is no sign that anyone was compelled unwillingly along the path to this point. Obviously, several people have been here, presumably to recover her body. Surely, if she had been waylaid on the main path and killed there or dragged to her death here, there would be signs of a struggle. It appears to me that she came along this path willingly.’

‘Or she might have been unconscious or dead,’ pointed out Accobrán, ‘then she would not have been able to struggle. She could have been carried here.’

‘That is true,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But, if so, there ought to be have been some sign of that such as deep tracks in the earth showing someone was carrying a heavy weight. However, the movement of the people who found the body has destroyed any useful traces. But I am inclined to believe that she did come along here of her own accord. She might even have known her killer.’

Accobrán grimaced indifferently. ‘That sounds like speculation. I did not think a dálaigh would indulge in speculation.’

Fidelma regarded him seriously and answered, ‘A dálaigh does not make judgements on speculation alone, but it behoves anyone considering or reflecting on a set of possible events to theorise or make conjectures to see if the evidence fits the known facts. Let us move on, for I do not think we shall find much in this spot to help us. It has been too long since the event and too many people have trodden here, including animals — I think I see the marks of a wild boar of which you spoke.’

Accobrán hesitated a moment but then turned and continued to lead the way. The path rose over the lower slope of a tree-strewn hill and then began to descend again. After a while the trees and the undergrowth began to thin as the path opened out. There were even a few grassy glades into which the sun penetrated. The tanist pointed ahead.

‘The river is a short distance away and that rise on our right is called the Hill of the Sacred Tree. That is where Liag, the apothecary, dwells.’

There was a small wooded hillock rising before them to the right, almost sheltering in the shadow of the large, spreading hill whose footings they had crossed with its thickly covering forest of oaks and alders.

‘Then perhaps you had better announce our presence,’ Fidelma suggested.

Accobrán unslung his hunting horn, licked his lips, paused a moment and then gave three short blasts.

‘If he is nearby, he will know that we need to speak to him,’ he said, and resumed his steady pace towards the rise. The sound of running water now came to their ears, announcing a stream gushing over a stone bed. The trees thinned even more and they were able to see a moderate-sized stretch of river to their left.

‘That is the Tuath. It flows around the base of the hill on which Rath Raithlen is situated and then it moves south from here,’ explained the tanist.

They reached the base of the small rise and now they could see a wooden building amongst the trees near its top. The trees grew thickly and protectively around it.

‘Identify yourselves!’

The shout startled them. Fidelma looked in the direction of the sound but could discern nothing in the dark shadows among the trees.

‘Strangers, identify yourselves!’

The voice was male, strong and vibrant; a voice that seemed used to command.

Accobrán glanced at Fidelma before he raised his voice in answer. ‘It is Accobrán the tanist, Liag. I bring some friends who wish to speak to you.’

‘Your friends, not mine. Who are they and what do they seek?’ came the uncompromising response.

‘I am Sister Fidelma,’ cried Fidelma. ‘With me is Brother Eadulf.’

‘I have no need of religious here in my sanctuary.’ The voice was still unresponsive.

‘We do not come as religious. I am a dálaigh and come representing the authority of the law.’

There was a silence and it seemed the speaker contemplated this information for a moment. Then a shadow seemed to detach itself from the trees. It was the figure of an elderly man clad in a woollen robe dyed saffron. He wore a silver chain around his neck and he had long snow-white hair that was fixed in place with a headband of green and yellow beads. A leather strap across one shoulder supported a satchel, which Eadulf recognised as the traditional apothecary’s lés or medicine bag. In his right hand he carried what looked like a whip.

‘Come forward, dálaigh. Let me see you who call yourself lawyer rather than religieuse.’

Fidelma moved a little way up the path, motioning the others to remain where they were. The man’s face