Badger's Moon

to the level of anruth. You need an ollamh of law. I would suspect that you have better qualified Brehons among the Cinél na Áeda than myself.’

‘But none with your reputation, cousin,’ replied Becc immediately.

‘What is it that you expect from me?’

Becc was silent for a moment and then he cleared his throat nervously.

‘Expect? Far be it for me to expect anything of you, Fidelma of Cashel. However, I would like to ask something of you. Would you come to Rath Raithlen, with Brother Eadulf of course, and solve this evil mystery which is afflicting our community?’

Eadulf glanced sharply at Fidelma. He had had a growing suspicion where this conversation was leading right from the start. Now, with foreboding, he saw the glint of excitement in her eyes. Fidelma’s features were animated. He knew that she could not refuse the stimulant that was being offered to her intellect. Since they had returned from the land of the South Folk, even during the months of her confinement and the birth of little Alchú, Eadulf realised that she had not been completely happy. Fidelma was not a person to whom marriage and maternity was everything. Indeed, he had a sneaking suspicion that he might possess more of the maternal spirit than she did.

For some time now he had realised that she longed to get back to the thing that impassioned her most — the solving of conundrums, and the application of law to the answers. These were the things that brought her alive and invigorated her senses. In short, during these last months he had realised that she was bored. Bored with life at Cashel, with looking after Alchú with nothing else to occupy her highly attuned intellectual faculties. Oh, he had a sense of guilt when he thought about it because it was not that she was a bad or indifferent mother. It was not that she did not love Alchú. He knew her too well to condemn her for being true to her nature. Eadulf was aware that he was losing her almost before he spoke. He cleared his throat quickly.

‘There is Alchú to consider,’ he said quietly.

Fidelma’s lips compressed in irritation.

‘Sárait is a good nurse,’ intervened Colgú before she could speak. ‘You would not be away more than a week, perhaps ten days at most. She could look after him until you return. It is not as if Cashel is a stranger to babies and children.’

‘We feel that you are our only hope in clearing up this mystery,’ added Becc, a pleading note in his voice. ‘We do not ask this of you as a mere whim of the moment.’

Fidelma looked at Eadulf with a faintly sad expression, as if she understood that he realised that the request provided an incentive that he could not displace — not even little Alchú could entice her to surrender this part of her life. It was what she had been born for, trained for, the thing she needed the way people need air to breathe, sleep by night and light during the day.

She turned back to Becc. ‘These three strangers whom you mention. When you say “strangers”, do you mean that they are strangers to the Cinél na Áeda, strangers to our kingdom of Muman or strangers to the five kingdoms of Éireann?’

‘They are strangers from over the seas, from some distant land that I have never heard of.’

‘Then, if they are unjustly accused or attacked, it becomes a matter of the honour of the kingdom and not just that of the Cinél na Áeda.’

Eadulf sighed softly in resignation. He had lost her.

Colgú was nodding in approval.

‘There is that aspect to be considered,’ he agreed. ‘It is an important aspect. That is why it is vital that this matter be resolved before there are any more attacks on the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr.’

‘Or, indeed, any other young girls are murdered,’ Fidelma added drily. She turned to Eadulf once again. ‘Then I must go. There is no choice. Will you come with me, Eadulf? I shall need your help. Sárait will be a good nurse to Alchú.’

Eadulf hesitated only a second and then surrendered completely.

‘Of course,’ he said gruffly. ‘As your brother says, Sárait is a good nurse. She will take care of the baby while we are away.’

Fidelma’s features broadened in a smile of satisfaction. ‘Then we shall be able to leave for Rath Raithlen at dawn tomorrow.’

Colgú had reached forward and rung the silver handbell once again. ‘Before we conclude this discussion, there is one more task I must accomplish.’

This time it was Colgús religious counsellor who entered. Ségdae was the elderly bishop of Imleach and comarb, official successor, of the Blessed Ailbe who first brought the Faith to Muman. The ageing but hawk-faced man, whose dark eyes missed nothing, carried a small, oblong box with him.

Colgú stood up and, as protocol demanded, they all stood. Ségdae’s stern features softened a little in brief greeting to them all before he handed the box to Colgú. The king turned to Fidelma.

‘In view of the nature of this matter, as you have already pointed out, Fidelma, we must treat it as a matter of concern for the honour of the kingdom. We have given hospitality to these strangers; if they are unjustly accused and harmed, it reflects on our honour. If they have abused our hospitality and committed these criminal acts, then it is we who are responsible for seeing that they answer for that abuse.’ He opened the box. ‘You have acted as my authority once before, Fidelma, and now you must act as my authority again.’

He took from the box a small wand of white rowan on which was fixed a figurine in gold in the image of an antlered stag. This was the personal symbol of the Eóghanacht princes of Cashel, the symbol of their regal authority. He handed it to Fidelma.

‘This is the symbol of my personal authority, sister. You have used it well in the past and will use it again in justice in the future.’

Fidelma took the wand of authority in her hand, inclining her head briefly. Then brother and sister embraced in the official manner of the court.

There was a solemnity between them for a moment and then both stood back and their features broke into grins like children sharing a secret. Colgú turned to them all, still smiling.

‘Now let us proceed into the feasting hall or the rest of our guests will be wondering what ails us.’

Chapter Three

The party left Cashel the next morning, but not at dawn as Fidelma had suggested. In fact, the sun was creeping towards its zenith before they left because the feasting had lasted late into the night and there had been music and dancing. Bards, accompanying themselves on small stringed instruments, which they plucked, had sung the praises of the ancestry of Colgú in what Fidelma explained to Eadulf was one of the oldest forms of poetry known to her people — the forsundud or ‘praise poem’. In all the time that he had been in the five kingdoms of Éireann, Eadulf had never heard this ancient form and found the words of the chants recited the various reigns of the kings of Cashel and their noble deeds. The recitation was accompanied by an exuberant music which, to Eadulf’s ears, was both strange and wild. The wine circled well among the company. When the party departed for the territory of the Cinél na Áeda, the palace of Cashel still had an air of sleep about it and Eadulf and Becc seemed strained and silent. Fidelma, knowing the alcoholic cause of their wretchedness, was not sympathetic.

It took three days of easy riding to reach the fortress of the Cinél na Áeda at Rath Raithlen. They rode in just after dark and were greeted in the courtyard by Accobrán, the tanist. He was a tall, muscular young man, with dark hair which he wore in the shoulder-length fashion but clean-shaven. His features were pleasant but there seemed some ruthless quality about his mouth. Something indiscernibly cruel. His eyes were dark and Fidelma distrusted his ability to smile too quickly. She identified the quiet vanity of his manner and the self-satisfaction of the consciously handsome.

‘Has all been quiet while I have been in Cashel?’ was Becc’s first question as he was dismounting.

The young man gestured with diffidence. ‘Brocc has recovered from his wound. He demands to be released.’