Badger's Moon (10 page)

‘I did. This is Fidelma of Cashel, sister to our King Colgú. She is what we call a
dálaigh
– a judge of our law courts.’

Fidelma was about to intervene to make the interpretation more accurate but realised that the abbot was speaking in very simple terms, doubtless so that the foreigners would understand.

The tall stranger spoke rapidly to his companions and all three turned towards Fidelma. This time each man laid his right hand upon his breast and all three bowed in unison towards her. She felt slightly embarrassed but decided to rise from her seat and reply in kind.

‘This is my companion, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ she said, to complete the introductions.

The three bowed again, but this time without the hands placed on their breasts.

‘Let us all be seated,’ she suggested.

Chairs were brought forward for the three strangers. When they were seated, Fidelma glanced towards Abbot Brogán.

‘Do I have your permission to continue?’

The abbot made a quick gesture of assent.

Fidelma turned back and addressed herself to the stranger who seemed to be the spokesmen.

‘Do you all speak the language of my people?’ she asked.

The man’s expression did not change. ‘I have learnt only a little of your language. My knowledge is limited. My companions do not speak it.’

‘What language do you speak?’

‘Our language is called Ge’ez. It is the language of the kingdom of Aksum.’

He spoke with some pride. Fidelma had to confess to herself that she had never heard of either the language or the country. The stranger saw her look of dismay, and still without a change of expression said: ‘While I have a limited knowledge of the language of your people, we all speak the language of the Greeks, and a little Latin, as well as several of the other languages which border our country.’

Fidelma felt relief. Greek was the language of the original movement of the New Faith, the language of the sacred texts. She had studied it for many years and delighted in reading the ancient philosophers of Greece in their original tongue. She knew that Eadulf also had command of the language and she glanced apologetically at the abbot.

‘Would there be any objection to continuing this conversation in Greek, that we may more quickly discover the information I require?’

The abbot shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘My knowledge of Greek is confined to the Holy Scriptures and may scarcely be competent to comprehend such a conversation. Nevertheless, I am content that you should continue as you wish, Fidelma of Cashel.’

Fidelma sat back, glancing briefly at Eadulf to assure herself that he had no objections.

‘That is good,’ she said, switching to Greek ‘Now let us introduce ourselves properly.’

The leading member of the trio inclined his head. ‘I am Brother Dangila and my companions are Brother Nakfa, on my left, and Brother Gambela, on my right.’

‘And are you all from this kingdom called Aksum?’

‘We are.’

‘Can you tell me where this kingdom is?’

‘It is a land beyond Egypt, situated between the Red Sea and the Atbara River. Have you not heard of Aksum’s great port Adulis with its churches and palaces? Adulis gives to the world gold, emeralds, obsidian, ivory and spices.’

Fidelma shook her head slowly. ‘I know nothing of the lands beyond Egypt. I have not heard of Aksum. Are there Christians in your land?’

For the first time the expressions on the handsome faces before her softened and almost broke into smiles.

‘Know this, Fidelma of Cashel, that it was well over four centuries ago that our King Ezana ordained that Aksum would be a Christian kingdom. We were the first kingdom in the history of the New Faith to become Christian. It was Frumentius from Syria who taught Ezana and brought light to us, for we are the true descendants of the Hebrews and David was our king. It is among us that the Ark of the Covenant resides in which the
Decalogue
is kept.’

Fidelma was hard pressed not to allow her features to stare in amazement at the words of Brother Dangila. The
Decalogue
was the religious and moral guidelines that God had given Moses on Mount Sinai.

‘Your kingdom sounds most fascinating and on some other occasion I would hear more of it. But I am here in my official capacity,’ she said regretfully.

Brother Dangila inclined his head slightly. ‘If I have interpreted correctly, you are a judge as well as being sister to the king of this land?’

‘It is so. When the laws of this kingdom are transgressed, my role is to inquire into the matter and discover who is the culprit.’

‘We understand.’

‘As you are aware, there have been three young women killed near this abbey.’

‘We have realised this,’ Brother Dangila replied. ‘Outside, the people believe that we have been the cause of these unfortunate deaths. We are blessed that Abbot Brogán has protected us within the walls of his abbey.’

‘Why do you think the people outside believe that you are responsible for the deaths?’

Now, for the first time, Brother Dangila smiled broadly. ‘You have looked upon us, Fidelma of Cashel. Therein is the reason.’

‘Explain.’

‘I would have thought no explanation was needed to one of your intelligence. Are we not physically different from you and your people?’

‘I cannot deny that. But, being so, why would that make you suspect?’

‘Come, diplomacy is not needed. Dogs bark at people they do not know.’

Fidelma responded with a smile. ‘So, you say that you are accused because it is obvious that you are strangers?’

Brother Dangila held out an arm and pushed back its sleeve to reveal bare flesh.

‘Hold out your arm, Fidelma of Cashel, and place it next to mine.’

She did so, also drawing back her sleeve.

The black and white skins were side by side.

‘Need we say more about the differences? Ignorance breeds prejudice, prejudice breeds fear, fear breeds hate.’

Fidelma grimaced and withdrew her arm.

‘It is a sad fault of man,’ she agreed. ‘Nevertheless, I am constrained by law to investigate this matter to the point where evidence must be the deciding factor. My people have an old saying – the lie will pass away and the truth will remain.’

Brother Dangila sat back. ‘Ask of us what you will.’

‘Let us start at the time of the last full moon, when the girl Ballgel was killed. Where were you and your fellows that night?’

‘Here in the abbey,’ came the swift reply.

‘And were there witnesses to this?’

‘Brother Dangila looked swiftly at his fellows in turn before returning his unfathomable gaze to her.

‘We were in the guests’ dormitory, having retired to bed after the midnight Angelus, and we did not stir until the morning Angelus bell,’ he said.

‘That is not exactly true.’

For the first time, Brother Gambela spoke. A soft, almost feminine voice. Brother Dangila swung round, a slight irritation on his face.

‘Not exactly true?’ queried Fidelma. ‘Explain, please, Brother Gambela.’

‘I could not sleep immediately and while I can testify that my companions fell asleep on retiring I could not. My mouth was dry and so I went in search of water in the hope that I would settle to sleep after a drink to quench my thirst.’

‘And did you find water?’ asked Fidelma.

‘I went to the kitchens and drank my fill and then returned to bed.’

‘What time was this? Did anyone see you?’

‘I do not know. It could not have been more than an hour after midnight. And, yes, someone saw me.’

‘Who?’

‘I did.’ It was Abbot Brogán who spoke. ‘I returned from Becc’s feasting some time after midnight. I think I left the chief’s fortress shortly after midnight and it would take me no more than half to three-quarters of an hour to walk back to the abbey. I entered and saw Brother Gambela coming from the direction of the kitchen and we bade one another a good night.’

‘Last month, at the time of the full moon, the girl Escrach was killed. Where were you all then?’

‘I believe that we were all in the abbey once again that night,’ replied Brother Dangila.

Fidelma paused, looking from one to the other of the bland expressions on the faces of the three men.

‘Is that so?’ she asked quietly.

‘You doubt it?’ demanded Brother Gambela.

‘How would you answer if I were to say that someone saw one of you on the night that Escrach was killed, sitting on the hillside that rises above the abbey? Sitting on the hillside and staring up at the full moon?’

The expressions on the three faces did not alter. They continued to be bland and unresponsive. For a moment or two in the silence, Fidelma felt that there was going to be no response. Then Brother Dangila spoke.

‘We would answer, who is the someone who claims such a thing and which one of us does he claim he saw?’ he replied softly. ‘Even if it were true, when is sitting on a hillside regarding the stars in their courses considered a crime? Is this someone claiming that the murdered girl was seen in the company of whoever it was who was seen sitting on the hill?’

‘A logical reply,’ acknowledged Fidelma, feeling that the strangers were very astute. Turning to the abbot, she said, ‘Let Accobrán bring Brocc in.’

The abbot rang his silver handbell.

After a quiet word with Brother Solam, Accobrán came in escorting the sullen and resentful Brocc who glowered angrily at the company.

‘Now, Brocc, repeat your story before this company,’ Fidelma instructed before she turned to the three strangers and added in Greek: ‘If there is anything that you are unclear of, I will translate for you.’

The three sat impassively while Brocc went through his story. Curiously, in their quiet, dignified presence, Brocc seemed to be drained of his aggression, of his bravado. He spoke softly, almost politely.

‘Last month I was returning home having conducted some business with a merchant on the River Bride. It was midnight as I came over the hills towards Rath Raithlen. I was crossing the Thicket of Pigs about that time. It was at the full of the moon and very bright. Suddenly I saw a figure seated at the Ring of Pigs on the hillside along which my path lay. It was a figure of a tall man, sitting on a rock. He did not see me. He was gazing up at the moon with an extraordinary expression on his face.’

‘Did you speak to him?’

‘I did. “What are you doing here, stranger?” I asked. I called him stranger for indeed I recognised him not.’

‘Did he reply?’

‘He did not, and I doubt whether he even knew the meaning of my words, for he was one of these fierce-looking strangers from beyond the seas whose skins are black. He was clearly not of our people.’

‘Was he alone or with someone?’

‘He appeared to be alone.’

‘And you saw no one with him? Are you certain?’ pressed Fidelma.

Brocc replied with a positive gesture. ‘I did not.’

‘On this we must be firm so that the one you accuse may answer?’

‘I did not see anyone with the stranger,’ Brocc admitted sullenly. ‘But I believe he was not alone.’

‘The stranger would only have to answer to what you actually saw and not what you believed,’ Fidelma pointed out sharply. ‘However, you say that you spoke to him and he did not reply. What did you do?’

Brocc swallowed nervously. It was a new side to his character which Fidelma and Eadulf had not seen before. He was a man embarrassed.

‘A fear seized me,’ he admitted. ‘I feared that he was a phantom, a spawn of the devil. He said nothing but the moon bathed his face, making it grey and awesome. He turned his face slowly to me and his eyes sparkled with a fierce fire. I turned and ran. It was the next morning when I heard that Escrach had been killed. As you know, it was not until Ballgel was murdered that I realised the significance of what I had seen. Then I tried to warn people about the strangers.’

‘You told me that the person you saw was one of these strangers. Do you still make that claim?’

‘Of course I do.’ Something of his old aggressiveness rose again in his manner.

‘Well, the three strangers are seated before you. Which of them was it who was seated in the moonlight?’

The three men sat impassively gazing upon rhe man.

Brocc scarcely bothered to examine them. He spoke directly to Fidelma.

‘I cannot tell one set of their dark features from another. They appear all the same to me. I could not say which one it was. It is your job to make one of them confess.’

Fidelma snorted in irritation. ‘I will tell you clearly what my job is, Brocc. My job is to interpret the law. The
Berrad Airechta
, which is the law of witnesses, is very precise. You come to me here as
fiadu
. that is “one who sees”. You can only give evidence about what you have seen or heard and you must be prepared to swear an oath in support of that evidence. You say that you saw a man. You claim that it was one of these three men seated before you. But which one? You cannot say. It is not up to these men to deny your accusation, it is up to you to prove it. So, Brocc, do you accuse one of these men, and if so which one do you accuse? Speak!’

Brocc shrugged his bull-like shoulders. ‘I tell you that I cannot tell them apart. I saw one of them. That is all I can tell you.’

Fidelma exhaled softly. Her mouth was set tightly. She turned to the tanist.

‘Accobrán, would you please escort Brocc from the abbey. Wait outside for us.’

Brocc turned angrily towards her.

‘So, you religious are all alike. You take their word in preference to mine?’ he cried.

Fidelma returned his sneering gaze impassively.

‘In law, Brocc, you have no word to take. You make no specific accusation that can be entered in law. I am here to assess facts, not accusations without substance.’ Fidelma dismissed him with a gesture of her hand and, without a word, Accobrán, rather roughly, propelled Brocc from the chamber.

When the door closed behind them, Fidelma turned back to the three Aksumites, who continued to sit impassively as if oblivious of what had just occurred.

‘Have you anything to say in answer to Brocc’s accusation?’ she asked quietly. There was a silence. They did not speak. Then Fidelma added: ‘The law does not oblige you to speak, but it might help our investigation. The sooner we can clear this matter up the better it will be for everyone.’

‘There is nothing to answer, Sister,’ Brother Dangila replied shortly. ‘You have already pointed out that the man made a claim against one of us but cannot say against which of us he is making it. Even if the claim were true, what does that prove? It does not prove what he ultimately asserts – that one or all of us were involved in the deaths that have occurred in this place.’

Fidelma had to admit that Brocc, as an eyewitness, was useless. He could offer no evidence of identification.

‘So you claim that you were all in the abbey on the night of the full moon?’

Brother Dangila sighed softly.

‘We sleep and study in this abbey,’ he replied quietly, without responding to her specific question.

‘And on the night of the previous full moon when Beccnat was slain?’ Fidelma asked wearily. ‘Can you remember that night and where you and the others were or what you were doing?’

‘We hardly ever move from the abbey,’ Brother Dangila replied in his quiet, dignified tones. ‘We have been applying ourselves to our studies here and trying to learn your language from the brothers of this community. Certainly, we are not disposed to wander abroad during the times of darkness lest we meet fear and prejudice on our path; the fear and prejudice which you have shown exists by bringing that man to confront us.’

‘Your studies?’ queried Fidelma, frowning at his explanation.

‘Is not your land a centre of learning?’ smiled Brother Gambela, having apparently grown confident of his ability to communicate in Greek. ‘The knowledge that we garner here will stand us in good stead when we return to our people.’

‘Is that why you came to this land?’ Fidelma decided to change tack.

Brother Dangila shook his head. ‘Our story is a long one, and, perhaps, it is tedious in the telling.’

‘It will grow less tedious if you start,’ Fidelma solemnly assured him.

‘Very well. If you wish to hear our story, I will tell it. We three are, as I have said, Aksumites. We are not from Adulis but from the interior of the kingdom. But we were summoned to Adulis for there was to be a conference between representatives of the Christian communities in Malqurra and Alwa, which border the kingdom. We had not been in Adulis before and were intrigued by the sights of the great city. We went down to the quaysides on the river to examine the ships that trade from all corners of the world. It was our undoing, for we were attacked and knocked unconscious, and when we awoke we were in a ship’s hold and out on the sea. Slave trading is one of the profitable means of commerce for those who have no conscience in our part of the world.’

He paused as if to reflect before continuing.

‘An eternity of suffering seemed our lot until we arrived in a strange port and were taken ashore. Our treatment was harsh but the Lord guided us and kept all three of us together. We eventually realised that we had been taken to Rome itself. Rome, a city that has proclaimed itself the centre of the Faith we cherished. But there was no sympathy there even though we were followers of the Christ. Indeed, as we were taken in chains through the city, we called out to the people that we, too, were Christians. When they heard that we were Aksumites, they jeered us and denounced us as non-believers and heretics.’

Fidelma frowned in puzzlement. ‘Why so?’

It was Brother Gambela who answered in his more stilted Greek. ‘We proclaim the monophysis of the Christ. We are taught that Christ had a single nature rather than a double nature.’

Fidelma’s eyes lighted in understanding. ‘Ah, I have heard of the Council of Chalcedon when this matter was discussed and Rome expelled those who believed that Christ was of a single nature.’ She turned to Eadulf, adding, ‘Hence the Greek words
mono
and
physis
. Rome believes that Christ was both divine and human. These were the two natures. The Council of Chalcedon said it was heretical to proclaim that Christ had only one nature.’

Brother Dangila was shaking his head. ‘We never believed in monophysis as it was portrayed by the Chalcedon Council. We Aksumites argued that Christ was perfect in his divinity and perfect in his humanity but his divinity and humanity were united in one nature – that is, the nature of the incarnate word. Did not the Blessed Cyril of Alexandria say that human and divine natures were united in one, without mingling, without confusion and without alteration? Those two natures were not separate. Perhaps the pontiffs of Rome conspired to misconstrue our teachings as a punishment for the refusal of our Church to obey them or be politically influenced by them.’

‘Harsh words,’ muttered the abbot reprovingly.

‘Truth is often bitter,’ replied Brother Gambela.

‘So let us finish the story,’ intervened Fidelma, seeing they might be entering dangerous theological territory. ‘You were slaves in Rome, you say? And no one would raise a hand to help you?’

‘That is true,’ Brother Dangila agreed. ‘We were used as labourers to load cargoes into the ships that docked along the river in Rome. Then we were sold to a Frankish merchant and forced to work as crew on his ship which undertook a long and terrible voyage from the Middle Sea and through a narrow strait, which we were told was called the Pillars of Hercules. Then came a terrible voyage along the coast of Iberia. A great storm came up and our ship was driven away from the coast, off its course. The captain began to panic and believed that we were going to be driven to our doom over the edge of the world.’ The Aksumite smiled lopsidedly. ‘The man believed that the earth was a flat shape and the horizon marked the edge over which none may venture. This idea we found a quaint teaching. Is such a belief current here?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Our astronomers have long taught that the world is spherical, Brother Dangila. Martialis writes that even in the days of our pagan ancestors, the Druids taught us that the world was in the shape of a ball.’

Brother Dangila nodded approvingly. ‘This captain was from a country called Frankia and seemed uncertain how to navigate his ship once we lost sight of land. While he and his crew panicked, we three prayed. The ship foundered in that terrible storm but God smiled on us for we three were among several who were then washed ashore into this kingdom. Your people fed, clothed and gave us hospitality. We were made welcome and made even more welcome when we revealed that we were of the Faith. Your people did not condemn us because we were Aksumites—’

Brother Gambela interrupted. ‘We were blessed when we discovered that the followers of Christ in this kingdom do not slavishly follow the dictates of Rome but retain many of the original rituals and the teachings of the early Faith just as we have done. We felt that God had ordained our journey for a purpose – that we were meant to learn here and take back that knowledge to our people. From the place where we were washed ashore we were taken to an abbey called the house of Molaga where we spent some time.’

‘Yet in spite of these adventures, or rather misadventures, you appear in clothing and with ornaments that are of your own country.’ Eadulf suddenly pointed out with suspicion, speaking for the first time in what had been, for him, a long period of silence. His knowledge of Greek was less than his knowledge of Latin and he had been struggling to follow the nuances of the conversation. ‘How were you able to keep those crucifixes of valued silver during your slavery?’

Brother Dangila turned to him, not in the least put out by his question. ‘These robes were woven here on our instruction. But you are right; Aksumite silversmiths made these crucifixes. Alas, we cannot claim them as our own. The abbot of the house of Molaga gave them to us. They were apparently part of some spoils taken from shipwrecks. We noticed them when staying with the abbot and identified their provenance. The charitable man felt it just that we should have them.’

‘After staying at the house of Molaga, what then?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Then we came here, to this abbey, where we have applied ourselves to our studies.’

‘Out of interest, may I ask what these studies are?’ enquired Eadulf.

It was Brother Nakfa, not having spoken before, who surprised everyone by suddenly speaking in reply. His voice was low and soft and yet his tone was quite musical, making his Greek sound like an incantation rather than speech.

‘We are interested in the way you perceive the heavens. Interested in the interpretation that you give to the sun, the moon, the stars and their courses across the sky. We have discovered that within your land dwell many learned men who have studied and written on such matters. Our people pride themselves on their knowledge of the heavens and the celestial beings but we did not think to find others beyond our known world who have pondered such matters.’

Brother Dangila added: ‘We have found the works of a learned brother named Augustine…’

Here Abbot Brogán, who had been following the Greek conversation with a frown of concentration, muttered: ‘He means Brother Aibhistín who dwells on Carthaigh’s Island. Aibhistín has devoted his life to studying the heavens.’

‘But specifically the moon and the tides,’ added Brother Dangila, ‘which is of great importance for he has clearly observed that the
astrorum splendidissimum
, that most splendid of the heavenly bodies, the moon, governs the tides of the oceans and is therefore one of the great mysteries of the universe.’

Brother Gambela raised his head a little, his face, like his companions’, lighting up with enthusiasm.

‘We discovered, while we were at the house of Molaga, that this abbey possesses a copy of
De Mirabilius Sacrae Scripturae
in which the good Brother Augustine speaks of the importance of the moon. He argues that it was at the full moon that the Passion of Christ took place…’

Eadulf suddenly leant forward with a suspicious frown.

‘You Aksumite brothers seem extremely interested in the full moon,’ he said pointedly.

Brother Dangila turned to him with a disarming smile. ‘What person can ignore the full moon and its consequences?’

‘Its consequences?’ Fidelma spoke sharply, suddenly alert to a possible significance in his words.

‘Isn’t that why you are interested in these deaths, Sister?’ countered Brother Dangila impassively. ‘I am told that your people place great weight on the fact that these local deaths have occurred at the full of the moon.’

‘What consequences do you speak of, Brother Dangila?’ demanded Fidelma, feeling that the impassive face of the Aksumite hid more than he was revealing.

‘The flood tide begins three days and twelve hours before the full moon, and after completing its course it comes to an end after an equal length of time. This fact is according to your scholar, the Brother Aibhistín. Now if the tides are drawn into such intensity at the time of the full moon, then how much are the emotions of man so roused to flood and ebb? Is there not liquid that flows within our bodies that might respond to the moon as does the liquid of the seas?’

Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.

‘It is possible,’ she admitted. ‘And so, with such interests, one of you might have been seated on the hillside making observations that night of the full moon when Brocc happened to come along.’

Brother Dangila’s mask almost slipped into a grin, but only for a moment.

‘That is also possible,’ he answered gravely.

‘And was any of you doing so?’

‘We have dealt with that matter, Sister. Let us avoid playing such games as catch as catch can.’

Fidelma knew that she would be unable to move forward on the matter and so she tried another tack.

‘Do the local people here know that you have this interest in the moon and its behaviour?’ she queried.

Brother Dangila stretched his arms in an eloquent gesture of indifference. ‘We have made no attempt to hide our studies. Abbot Brogán is well aware of our interests.’

The abbot nodded swiftly in confirmation. ‘It is so, Sister Fidelma. The brothers here have never hidden from me, nor anyone in this abbey, their passion for examining the celestial bodies.’

‘But if this be known,’ Eadulf pointed out, ‘then it would add to the suspicions of the local people. The sight of one or other of you seated on a hill making observations of the moon would fuel such suspicions. Surely you should now explain the reasons for this, to avoid mistrust? I think this is what you are telling us. That Brocc did see one of you on the hill and that this was what you were doing. Why not tell us who it was? We will hear your explanation.’

‘In our land of Aksum we have a saying that it is only lack of knowledge that makes people suspicious,’ Brother Dangila replied gravely. ‘The local people would not have your knowledge of why we study the celestial orbs. So if it was admitted that one or other of us might – and I only say might – have been on that hillside examining the full moon, then they would not understand and our admission would be fuel for their suspicions.’

Fidelma conceded the point. ‘There is truth in that, Brother. However, Publilius Syrus points out that suspicion begets suspicion. They are already suspicious and it would be better to quell that suspicion before it outgrows our ability to do so.’

Brother Nakfa suddenly rose from his seat in a smooth unhurried motion which a moment later was copied by his companions.

‘Sister, we are in your hands,’ Brother Nakfa assured her solemnly. ‘We have told you what we know of the matter you inquire into. We know little except that these deaths came at the full of the moon, and because we are strangers, alien in the colour of our skins as well as language and demeanour, and because we are studying the celestial motions, so we are suspects in these terrible crimes. All we can offer in defence is the truth. If we can offer nothing else, then we would seek permission to return to our studies.’