Badger's Moon

He responded with a troubled sigh.

‘I have been through many such hearings, Fidelma. I have little doubt that you will be successful in this matter as you have been in the past.’

‘I fear you take too much for granted,’ she replied seriously. ‘Don’t we have a saying — the end of the day is a good prophet? You are usually interested to know how I plan to approach a hearing,’ she continued when he did not respond. ‘Yet tonight you have scarcely asked me any questions about who is the guilty party and how I will set about demonstrating it.’

Eadulf turned to her with a quick movement, his gaze fixed on her face as if examining her expression closely.

‘Have you thought any more about our discussion involving little Alchú?’ he asked brutally.

Fidelma’s face altered slightly, becoming an impassive mask.

‘Of course I have thought about it,’ she replied, terseness in her tone.

‘And?’ Eadulf delivered the word like a blow.

‘I would have thought that we had other matters to consider as of this moment,’ she responded. ‘Once we have finished, then we can…’

Eadulf rose from where he had been sitting with a shake of his head. He strode across the room and back again, his movements demonstrating his agitation. When he spoke again his voice was tense.

‘Each time I have raised the matter, you have tried to put it off. What has happened since you had our child, Fidelma? You have become almost a different person.’

Fidelma was about to launch into a scathing attack on his insensitivity at this particular time when she suddenly realised that such an outburst would be no more than camouflage on her part. She was prevaricating. She was putting off the time when she had to deal with the matter.

‘You are right, Eadulf. I do feel a different person,’ she replied quietly.

Eadulf stood still for a moment, her words suddenly deflating him, and then he reseated himself. She sounded so vulnerable.

‘Is it something I have done?’ he asked.

Fidelma shook her head, frowning. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we returned to Cashel and I gave birth to Alchú, it seems that things have changed.’

‘In what way? All that has happened is that we now have a son. I know that you are not concerned by the likes of those who are trying to make the religious celibate. You have always denounced those ascetic religious before.’

‘I am not at all concerned with them,’ Fidelma assured him firmly. ‘There is plenty of room in the Faith for those who pursue the ascetic path as well as we who pursue a religion based firmly on society as it is and not as it is envisioned by those who would suppress all emotion and human instinct. Let the celibates live in their caves or island hermitages. We are here to minister to society as part of society.’

‘Then if that is not the concern, can it be that you feel ashamed of Alchú because his father is a Saxon?’

‘Ashamed?’ Fidelma almost spat the word. Her eyes flashed as she spun round on him. For a moment, Eadulf thought she would strike him. ‘How dare you think that I am ashamed of…of…’ Her voice faltered and she ended with a sob.

Eadulf shrugged helplessly. ‘I do not mean to upset you, but I am simply at a loss to understand. You are troubled. You are behaving differently. What am I to make of it? What has gone wrong?’

Fidelma sat, head bowed, for a few moments. Then she sniffed and tried to draw herself up.

‘Can I make a bargain with you, Eadulf?’ Her voice was controlled and very quiet.

Eadulf regarded her with suspicion.

‘What sort of bargain?’ he demanded.

‘A bargain that you allow me to concentrate on this matter which will be resolved one way or another tomorrow. After that, we shall immediately return to Cashel. There I promise that we will discuss these problems and sort matters out.’

Eadulf compressed his lips and thought for a moment or two. ‘It would be better if I had even an idea of what it is that needs to be sorted out.’

Fidelma looked at him sorrowfully. ‘If I could give you that information now, Eadulf, there would be no problem to sort out. Can we make that bargain?’

Eadulf remained silent. Then he said: ‘I have been aware of some changes in you since the birth of Alchú. I have had to live with these changes during the last few months. I don’t suppose that one more day will make a great difference, will it? Very well. I agree. We will leave this matter between us in abeyance until the present case has been sorted and finalised.’

Fidelma reached forward and laid a hand on Eadulf’s arm.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘You are always there for me when I need a staff to rely on, Eadulf. Although you may not appreciate it, I value that support.’ There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments and then she forced a smile. ‘Now, before we retire for the night, I want to go over what I shall say tomorrow and you may see, as you always do, if there are flaws in my logic.’

Eadulf gave in with reluctance.

‘Where will you begin?’ he asked, trying to put enthusiasm in his voice.

Fidelma relaxed and sat back.

‘I’ll begin with the gold mine,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘The gold mine? Who is your main suspect for the murders of the girls?’

When she told him, Eadulf swallowed in amazement.

‘I hope you can demonstrate that,’ he whispered doubtfully. ‘If not, things could go very badly for us tomorrow.’

Fidelma slowly began to explain her case.

Chapter Eighteen

The Great Hall of Becc, chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda, was packed so that there was little room for anyone except officials of the clan to find seats. So many people had sought entrance to hear the findings of the famous dálaigh from Cashel that some of Becc’s warrior guards had to hold people back at the doors. Becc was seated in his chair of office which, as usual on such occasions, was placed on a wooden dais at the far end of the hall. Fidelma was seated to his right and on the same level. Behind her chair stood Eadulf while Accobrán, the tanist, was standing behind his chieftain’s left shoulder. Immediately to the left sat Abbot Brogán, as senior cleric of the clan, attended by his steward, Brother Solam.

In the first row facing them was a small group of petty chieftains and religious representing the abbey. At Fidelma’s request, the three Aksumite brothers were among them. Behind them, attended by two of his warriors, was the tall, dark-faced warlord of the Uí Fidgente, Conrí the Wolf King. They had ridden into the fortress that morning under their banner of truce, protected by Fidelma’s guarantee that no harm would be visited on them. She had ordered Adag to ensure that Accobrán and his warriors were kept as far away from them as possible. Even so, everyone treated the Uí Fidgente with deep suspicion and scowls and they appeared to form a vulnerable and isolated group.

As Fidelma examined the waiting crowd she could see all those she had especially requested to attend in the hall itself. Even Liag had been persuaded to come after Menma had put some pressure on the old recluse. Menma and Suanach sat near him. Gobnuid was scowling in the crowd, seated near Seachlann the miller. Seachlann’s brother Brocc had been brought from his cell and stood to one side, against a wall, between two watchful warriors. Goll and his family were there. Tómma and Creoda, the assistant tanners, with Sirin the cook, were pressed into a corner. In fact, all Rath Raithlen was represented.

Adag the steward moved forward and, unnecessary as it was, called for attention and silence. He glanced at Becc who, in turn, inclined his head towards Fidelma. She rose and gazed thoughtfully at the crowded hall for a moment before speaking. She spoke slowly and deliberately.