Fidelma heaved a short sigh of impatience. ‘The information about the Thicket of Pigs, of course.’
‘You don’t mean that the raid was something to do with the gold, do you?’
‘I believe it had everything to do with the gold. But we must not let ourselves run before we walk. Ah, here is Brother Solam,’ she said, spying the approaching fair-headed young steward. ‘Now we will find Brother Dangila.’
A short time passed before the tall, dark figure of Brother Dangila joined them in the abbey garden and bowed gravely to each of them before accepting the invitation to seat himself on a bench before them. They had already taken seats beneath the apple tree in the courtyard for it was a warm day of late October and the sun shone out of a cloudless sky.
‘I am told that you wish to speak to me again, Sister,’ Brother Dangila said in his musical Greek.
‘I do. How do you know Liag the apothecary?’
The man’s face was impassive. He hesitated before responding.
‘He is an old soul. I am sure his lives on this earth have been many,’ the Aksumite finally replied. ‘Perhaps we have encountered one another in a past life and past age.’
Fidelma made a quick, impatient gesture with her hand. ‘Stick to this life, this time and this place.’
Brother Dangila looked steadily at her. ‘Then in this life, at this time and in this place, I met Liag when I was out contemplating the great work of the heavens. It was an interest that we both shared. I have already told you that my comrades and I are fascinated by star lore. That is the reason why we came here, as I told you. We came to see the manuscripts of Aibhistin.’
‘The
For the first time a slight look of uncertainty crossed the man’s bland features. He did not reply immediately.
‘You told me that you had worked in the mines of your country before you became a religieux,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘The gold mines.’
Brother Dangila gave a long sigh. ‘You are very astute, Sister.’
‘Leaving mining aside for the moment,’ Fidelma went on, much to the bewilderment of Eadulf, who was trying to follow her line of questions, ‘let me turn to another matter.’
‘Which is?’ asked Brother Dangila in mild surprise.
‘Were you ever asked to instruct any pupils of Liag?’
‘You mean those young ones who went to hear his teachings on star lore?’
‘That is precisely what I mean.’
‘I think you already know the answer. One young one, a girl, came seeking knowledge.’
‘Her name?’
‘I find your native names impossible to remember.’
‘In what language did you communicate, then?’ Eadulf interrupted. ‘We are speaking to you in Greek since we share no other fluency.’
‘I have said that I have some imperfect knowledge of your tongue. When the girl made clear what it was she wanted I was able to make her understand that I could not help her. We had not sufficient vocabulary between us for anything further.’
‘In what language did you communicate with Liag?’ asked Fidelma.
‘The old one knows Greek. You must have known that?’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I did not. Yet it does not surprise me. Tell me, does the name Escrach mean anything to you?’
Brother Dangila shook his head.
‘Did you ever see the girl who came to you to ask about star lore later? Say, on the night of the full moon last month?’
‘I did not.’
‘But that night of the full moon you were out on the hill.’ She gestured towards the Thicket of Pigs. ‘You were out with Accobrán.’ It was a statement, not a question.
Brother Dangila returned her gaze but did not say anything.
‘You realise that your involvement with Accobrán will have to be made public?’ she asked.
‘What is to be, must be. If I have transgressed your laws, then I am truly sorry, but I did not, nor did my companions, kill the girl or any other girl, as some of your people claim.’
Fidelma rose to her feet. ‘I will inform you and your companions when the official hearing into this matter will be. Until then, I would once again advise — indeed, would urge — you not to leave the shelter of these abbey walls.’
Riding through the woods towards the riverbank, Eadulf was still confused.
‘This mystery is getting beyond me. In the past, I could at least see the path that we had to tread. But this is one confusion after another.’
Fidelma glanced at him and smiled quickly. ‘That is because we are faced with several mysteries rather than a single one. Yet, I believe, they intertwine one with another. I am confident that we are nearly at a solution.’
Surprisingly, they found Liag seated on a rock by the river with a fishing line in his hand. He barely turned his head as they rode up, dismounted, and tethered their horses to a low branch of a tree.
‘Speak quietly, lest you disturb the fish,’ he said as they came near.
‘Are you seeking the Salmon of Knowledge, Liag?’ Fidelma asked mischievously as she walked down to the bank and seated herself on a nearby boulder.
The old apothecary glanced up indifferently. ‘I will settle for a trout, for the salmon is a noble fish. Yet I fear that it is a certain
Eadulf, nor understanding the meaning of this repartee, felt excluded and demanded to know what they meant. Liag glanced over his shoulder and saw his bewilderment.
‘A shared culture, my Saxon friend. That is all. Fintan was a great salmon who ate of the forbidden Hazelnuts of Knowledge before swimming into a pool in a great river to the north of here named after the cow goddess, Boann. The Druid Finegas eventually caught the salmon. By eating of the flesh of the fish he would imbibe all the knowledge of the world. So he began to cook it. But Finegas, being lazy, decided to have a nap and told his young assistant, a boy called Fionn, son of Cumal, to turn the spit but forbade him to eat of the fish. Fionn accidentally burnt his thumb on the flesh of the fish as he was turning the spit. He sucked his thumb and acquired great wisdom and grew up to be the most heroic leader of the Fianna, the bodyguard of the High Kings.’
Eadulf greeted the tale with a sniff of disapproval.
‘It is no folk tale that we are interested in,’ he snapped.
Liag glanced at Fidelma.
‘Is it not?’ he asked gently.
‘In a way, it is,’ said Fidelma. ‘I have been interested to hear about your classes on folklore, the lore of the moon and stars.’
Liag nodded slowly. ‘I thought you might be. I have taught these things to many generations.’
‘Is it true that all three of the girls who were slaughtered attended your teachings?’
‘Many others also attended.’
‘Others such as Accobrán?’
‘Indeed, Accobrán, Menma, Creoda, Gabrán and even their fathers before them. Others too numerous to count.’
‘I believe that you shared a common interest with Brother Dangila? I had not realised that you spoke Greek.’
‘One of my calling has to speak many languages, Fidelma, as you yourself do.’
‘And your relationship with Brother Dangila?’
‘An intelligent man, a man of wisdom of his people. We meet and talk of the moon and stars, for these are the maps of civilisation. Man raised himself from the earth by looking at the sky and found that it could tell him many things. When to get up and work and when to go to bed and sleep. As he watched the rolling map of the heavens he saw that it could tell him how time passed, when the seasons came, when to sow his seed, when to harvest it, when to expect warmth and when to expect coldness, when the days were growing longer and when they were growing shorter…all these things are written irretrievably in the sky if we would but look up as our
