Badger's Moon

suddenly fallen into an uneasy quiet. However, Brocc did not wish to lose the momentum he had gained.

‘Well, lord Becc,’ he called in a sneering tone, ‘have you come to sanction the punishment of the murderers or do you support those that would protect them?’ He flung out a hand and pointed accusingly at the abbot. ‘The abbot refuses to hand the murderers over to justice.’

‘I have come here to tell you that this is not the law,’ cried Becc sharply. ‘Disperse back to your homes.’

Brocc placed his feet apart and one hand remained on his hip while the other held his cudgel in easy fashion. He had his reputation as a strong man to maintain and his stance had more than a trace of a swagger to it.

‘So you seek to protect the murderers too, lord Becc?’ He raised his voice almost triumphantly.

‘It is enough that I am your chieftain for you to obey me,’ Becc snapped at him in irritation. ‘I say, go back to your homes lest you incur my displeasure.’

The crowd began to mutter uneasily and several of them turned away with pale, sullen faces.

‘Hold fast!’ Brocc yelled. He remained in his defiant position. His sharp voice halted those who were half- hearted among the mob. He turned insolently back to the chieftain. ‘Do not try to intimidate us, lord Becc. We will have justice.’

Becc’s face had become red with anger.

‘You do not seek justice, Brocc,’ he retorted. ‘What you seek is bloodshed and with no just cause but your prejudice against the strangers.’ He raised his voice again to the others. ‘I call on you once more to disperse to your homes. You currently stand in contravention of the Cáin Chiréib — the law of riot. The consequences of continuing your actions are dire. Do you understand?’

Once again the faint-hearted would have turned away, accepting the inevitable, but Brocc held up a hand to stay them yet again.

‘I am a céile, a free clansman. I work my land, pay my taxes for the upkeep of this community and am the first to join the chieftain’s troops in time of war and danger. I have a voice in the clan assembly and while I may not be of the derbfhine of your family, that band of relatives who elected you as chieftain, my voice should and shall be heard.’

Becc, sitting easily on horseback, continued to appear relaxed, only his eyes now narrowed slightly.

‘Your voice is being heard, Brocc,’ the chieftain pointed out softly. Only those who knew him well could appreciate the dangerous tone in his voice.

But Brocc did not know him so well. He turned to the crowd and appealed to those who had held their ground.

‘There have been deaths in this community. Violent, terrible deaths of young girls. Last night Ballgel, a cousin of mine who worked in the kitchens of our own chieftain’s fortress, was slaughtered on her way home. She is now the third young girl to be slaughtered at the time of the full moon. Did not Escrach, my brother’s only child, suffer this same terrible death last month? And when did these slaughters begin? They began at the time when Abbot Brogán first gave hospitality to the three dark strangers. Black is their colour and black are their deeds. We shall have justice. Bring them out to face punishment.’

There was a murmur of approval, slightly more muted than previously in view of the armed warriors. But it was clear that Brocc had strong support among the local people.

Becc leant forward a little in his saddle. ‘Where is your evidence, Brocc?’ His tone was reasonable, almost conversational.

‘Evidence was given to your Brehon Aolú,’ replied the man.

‘Which he found not to be any evidence at all.’

‘And now the old fool is dead. Bring forth a new Brehon and I will give my evidence again.’

‘Aolú told you that you had no evidence. What evidence do you now present against the strangers to charge them before a Brehon? Evidence is what is required under the law of this land.’

Brocc laughed harshly. ‘Their very appearance is the evidence against them!’

In spite of the growing mutters of approval, the chieftain sat back and smiled grimly.

‘So, you have no evidence save your own prejudice?’ he sneered. ‘It is as I have said. You do not want justice; you simply want a sacrifice to your own prejudice. I say again to you, Brocc, and to everyone who now remains before these gates, you stand under the shadow of the Cáin Chiréib. This is the second time that I have uttered this warning to you. I do not want to utter it a third time.’

Brocc would not be put off. He stood immovable, shaking his head.

‘We will not be frightened away from our intention. We aim to enter the abbey and take the strangers and no one will stop us, neither clergy nor you, Becc, and your warriors, if you stand in the way.’

He lifted his stout cudgel into a menacing position across his chest. He turned to the crowd and raised his voice. ‘Follow me and I will give you justice!’

No one moved. They were looking beyond Brocc to where Becc and his warriors were seated on their horses. When Brocc turned back he found that Becc had taken his bow and now an arrow was drawn against its string and aimed at him. Brocc was no coward. He blinked in surprise for a moment and then he smiled in his defiance.

‘You cannot shoot me down, Becc. I am a céile, a free clansman.’ Becc had lifted the bow slightly in order to bring the arrow flights to the level of his eye. The bow was now fully drawn.

‘For the third time, Brocc, I warn you that you stand in the shadow of the Cáin Chiréib. I ask for the third and last time that you proceed to your home and no harm shall come to you. Stay and you will meet the consequences of your disobedience to the law.’

‘May you fester in your grave! You would not kill your own people, Becc,’ sneered Brocc. ‘You would not kill us to protect strangers.’ He raised his cudgel and called to the crowd. ‘Follow me! Let us have just-’

His words ended in a scream of pain.

Becc had released his arrow, and it had embedded itself in Brocc’s thigh. For a moment the man stood, his eyes wide, an aghast expression on his features. Then he collapsed and fell writhing to the ground, groaning in agony. No one else moved. No one spoke.

Becc turned with an angry frown. ‘You have been warned three times. Now, disperse to your homes!’ His voice was harsh.

With a quiet muttering but with alacrity, the mob vanished. Within a moment there was no one left out of the menacing crowd but the crumpled figure of Brocc.

Becc swung down from his horse as Abbot Brogán came hurrying forward.

‘Thanks be to God that you came quickly, my lord Becc. I feared that the abbey would be violated.’

Becc turned to his steward, Adag, who was also dismounting. ‘Take Brocc to the forus tuaithe and have them tend his wound. It is only a flesh wound, painful but not debilitating. Ensure that he is confined there to await a hearing before a Brehon for his violation of the law.’

The forus tuaithe was, literally, ‘the house of the territory’, which served as the clan hospital. Each territory had such hospitals, either secular ones governed under the direct cognisance of the Brehons or monastic charitable institutions under the direction and management of the local abbot.

Adag hauled Brocc to his feet, perhaps a little too roughly. The burly man groaned and clutched at him for support. Blood was spurting from his wound.

‘May a great choking come on you,’ Brocc groaned, his eyes smouldering with hate at Becc. ‘May you die roaring!’

Becc smiled back into the man’s malignant features. ‘Your curses are not harmful to me, Brocc. And remember, when you pronounce your maledictions, that it is said that under a tree falls its own foliage.’

He glanced at Adag and nodded slightly. The steward began to drag the wounded man away in none too gentle a fashion.

‘In case you don’t know the old saying, Brocc,’ Adag, the steward, whispered in cheerful explanation, ‘it means that if you invoke a curse and it does not harm the person against whom you have aimed it, it will fall on your own head. I would seek an act of contrition before the abbot to avoid its consequence.’

Behind them, Becc had turned back to the old abbot.

‘This is a bad business, Abbot Brogán,’ the chieftain was saying as he unstrung his bow and hooked it onto his saddle.