Badger's Moon (20 page)

Eadulf was looking baffled. ‘So what of this Biobhal?’

‘Biobhal was one of Partholón’s followers. He it was who is claimed as having discovered the first gold in the kingdom.’

Eadulf smiled in amusement. ‘That is a story for old folks and young children told before a blazing hearth on a winter’s night. I see nothing relevant.’

Fidelma gave a patient sigh. ‘I am not arguing the relevance of it, Eadulf. To anyone who is blessed with knowledge of the legends of the old ones, the name of Biobhal is synonymous with gold in this kingdom. I just wonder why Lesren would die with that name on his lips?’

Eadulf shrugged indifferently. ‘Well, now I know why you asked Liag your question, but he did not seem to know who Biobhal is. He mentioned someone called Tigernmas.’

Fidelma nodded with a frown.

‘Indeed, that is curious,’ she agreed. ‘He would surely know the name Biobhal but he chose to name Tigernmas. Tigernmas was certainly the High King in whose reign it is said that smelting of gold began in Ireland. But the ancient story tells that Biobhal discovered gold in the land. Yet Liag claimed not to recognise the name which Tómma said Lesren had on his dying breath.’

‘I can’t see any connection,’ repeated Eadulf.

‘Nor I. We have much talk of gold. I want to see this Thicket of Pigs.’

‘The place where the young boy found his fool’s gold?’

‘The place where he found genuine gold and was fooled out of it by Gobnuid the smith,’ corrected Fidelma.

‘Very well,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘But what shall we find in some disused mine in this Thicket of Pigs that will help us solve these killings?’

‘Who knows?’

Eadulf stared at her and then shrugged. ‘Are you saying that you see a link with the deaths of Beccnat, Escrach and Ballgel?’

Fidelma did not reply. Silently, Eadulf admired her. It was her ability to remember all the salient facts that constituted Fidelma’s exceptional ability as an investigator and solver of conundrums. But he could see no relation at all between the gold and the murders.

He was aware that Fidelma was glancing about her and peering up at the sky through the canopy of trees. Abruptly she pointed to a track which led directly away from the riverbank.

‘Follow me, Eadulf.’

She turned her horse along the narrow path and Eadulf was forced to follow her.

‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘Where are you heading?’

‘We should be able to strike through these woods to join the main track and then head westwards towards the summit of the Thicket of Pigs.’

Eadulf was at once anxious. ‘But we have only a short while of daylight left. What can we achieve in that time?’

Fidelma glanced over her shoulder.

‘I am not a prophet, so I cannot answer your question,’ she said waspishly.

Eadulf fell silent. He realised that his questions were interrupting some thought process and antagonising her.

They rode on for a while, the path narrowing to a cutting through which it was difficult for their horses to pass even in single file. Then, at last, they burst out of the woods onto the main track which led from the distant gates of Rath Raithlen, beyond the turning to the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr, and south-west over the wood-covered hill that was called the Thicket of Pigs. They continued on until the track began to rise sharply up the hill. Trees, shrubland and rocks spread in all directions around them with nothing to indicate any mines or metal workings at all. Fidelma looked in vain for some signs. Only someone who knew the area would be able to spot them.

Fidelma felt disappointed. However, she was not so egocentric that she refused to admit that she had, perhaps, made an error in trying to find the location of the metal workings without anyone to guide them. She halted her horse and gazed around. There was a chill in the air now and the skies were darkening in the east. She let out a sigh of irritation.

Eadulf knew better than to state the obvious but it seemed his diplomatic silence agitated her just as much.

‘You can observe that I was too enthusiastic, Eadulf,’ she said sharply.

Eadulf lifted a hand in a gesture of peace and let it fall.

‘A search is always the better for a guide when it is made in a strange land,’ he quoted quietly.

Fidelma pressed her lips together in annoyance. ‘Then we’d best return to the fortress and when we come back it will be with a guide.’

She was about to turn back along the track when they heard a loud whistling sound and a moment later a dog came bounding out of a thicket close by. It was a small hunting hound, not a wolfhound but a short, bristle-haired dog. It skidded to a halt, placing its paws apart and uttering a growl before letting loose a series of yapping barks.

The whistle came sharply. Then they heard a voice calling.

A moment later a young man appeared out of the cover on the slope just below them. He came to a halt as he caught sight of them. It was quite easy to see what the man was. On his broad shoulders he carried the carcass of a dead boar. He balanced it with one hand while his other held a bow of yew. His quiver of arrows hung from his belt alongside a great hunting knife. His clothes were of finely worked buckskin. His hair was auburn and fell to his shoulders though fastened by a band around the forehead. He had fair features and a ready smile.

He stood for a moment in indecision and then snapped sharply to his still barking hound. ‘Quiet, Luchóc!’

The dog immediately sat down, looking contrite.

‘God be with you, Sister, and with you, Brother,’ the young hunter greeted them. ‘Pay no mind to my dog. He is more bark than bite.’

Fidelma responded with a smile.

‘A strange name for a hunting dog, master huntsman,’ she replied.

The young man nodded. ‘Good mouser? Aye, I’ll grant you that it is an odd name for a working dog. But, in truth, the poor hound is better at catching mice than catching game.’

‘But you do not appear to have done too badly,’ Eadulf pointed out, indicating the boar slung on the man’s shoulders.

To the huntsman smiles seemed to come naturally.

‘A family will not go wanting for the next several days,’ he agreed. ‘You are obviously strangers in this district.’ The words were a statement, not a question.

‘Indeed we are,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Do you know this area, the Thicket of Pigs?’

‘I live on the far side of the hill there. I have done so all my life. But if you seek anyone other than myself, the place has been deserted these many years. They say the place was populated even in my grandfather’s time, but it is so no longer.’

‘They tell me there are metal workings there,’ Fidelma said.

The huntsman chuckled. ‘It is not in search of precious metals that two religious have come to this countryside, is it? I heard talk of a
dálaigh
and her companion staying with our chieftain, Becc. I suppose that you are that
dálaigh
?’

‘It is because of our investigation that I want to know about this hill and its mines.’

‘Well, there are deserted metal workings a-plenty, and some caves, but they are dangerous, Sister. It is not a place to go without fore-knowledge.’

‘You say that you dwell near here?’

A slight cast of suspicion came into the young man’s eye. ‘I do say so, Sister. And I pay allegiance to Becc, my chieftain.’

‘And your name is…?’

The quiet authority of Fidelma’s voice caused the young man to respond, even unwillingly, to her questions.

‘I am Menma the hunter. And, as I have told you my name, pray, what are your names and from what place do you come?’

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, Menma. This is my companion. Brother Eadulf.’

The young hunter sighed. ‘Then the talk among the Cinél na Áeda is true – the king of Cashel has a sister who is a famous
dálaigh
.’

‘We are proof of it, Menma,’ Fidelma assured him.

The young man dropped the carcass of the boar on the ground and bowed respectfully. ‘I am sorry for any discourtesy, lady.’

‘There has been none,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘You are right to be suspicious of us in view of what has transpired in this place in recent months.’

The hunter grimaced in agreement. ‘The lands of the Cinél na Áeda are not so large that I did not know those three girls. My wife was a friend to Escrach. It is a bad business.’

‘A bad business, indeed,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Tell me, Menma, do you know the mine and caves on this hill?’

‘Well enough, lady.’

She glanced up at the sky. ‘The hour grows late and it will soon be dark. However, should we want to go exploring there, would you be willing to serve as our guide?’

‘Willingly, lady. But the Thicket of Pigs is quite deserted. The mines are long closed.’

‘It is not people that I go in search of,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘I want to see something of the area, of the deserted mines. Are there mines near a spot called the Ring of Pigs?’

To her disappointment, he shook his head. ‘None near. But there is a cave above the Ring that used to be worked for gold. That is deserted and dangerous.’

‘If we wished to go exploring that cave, say tomorrow or the next day, how might we find you?’

The young man pointed to the far side of the track. ‘There is a path through those trees. A short distance along the path you will come across my
bothán
, lady. If I am out at the hunt, my woman will be there. She will show you how to find me by blowing three times on the horn that is hung by the hearth. When I hear its call, I will return. It is a signal that my wife and I have long arranged in case of need.’

‘You are a thoughtful man, Menma,’ observed Fidelma.

‘I would rather worry without need, lady, than live without heed. They have an old saying in these parts, that one should never test the depth of a river with both feet.’

‘There is wisdom in that,’ Fidelma agreed.

The young man bent and picked up the dead boar and flung it across his broad shoulders as if it weighed nothing. He smiled up at them, each in turn.

‘I will await your call then. Safe journey back to the fortress of the chief.’

He raised the hand that held his bow in farewell and turned with a sharp call to his dog, which bounded swiftly after him. Within a moment he had disappeared through the trees in the direction of his home.

‘Now we shall return to Rath Raithlen,’ Fidelma said, turning her horse back along the track.

Eadulf turned with her. ‘I still cannot understand what you expect to find among the deserted metal workings, even with a guide such as Menma.’

He was expecting some caustic response but Fidelma’s features softened a little.

‘In truth, Eadulf, I am not sure what I expect to find. Maybe nothing at all. It’s just that I have this nagging thought that there is some mystery that is mixed up with gold. Remember the ladder in the tower of the fortress, which had been damaged so that one of us might have fallen to injure or kill ourselves?’

‘You suspected that Gobnuid the smith was responsible.’

Fidelma looked at him in surprise. Sometimes she felt that she underestimated Eadulf’s perceptive qualities.

‘I did. Gobnuid had tried to tell me that the piece of real gold which Síoda found here was simply fool’s gold. Why?’

Eadulf pulled a wry face. ‘What makes you sure that it has something to do with the death of the three women? Have you not considered that this is but a wild goose chase?’

‘Their bodies were found near here,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘But does that signify anything? There are lots of places near here. The abbey, for example. The place of the apothecary, Liag.’

‘And there is Lesren’s last word…’

‘A name…which could be anything. It was a name that certainly did not strike a chord in the mind of Liag when you questioned him. I think that you should—’

‘Hush!’ Fidelma suddenly snapped, holding up her hand, while hauling on the bridle with the other. Her horse snorted in protest.

‘What…’ began Eadulf.

Fidelma was pointing down the hill to the oncoming gloom.

They had followed the track where it passed over the brow of the hill, overlooking the valley where, below and to the left of them, lay the buildings that constituted the abbey of Finnbarr. Some distance below was a clearing among the trees. Eadulf could just make out two small figures hurrying across this clearing. One was more obvious than the other for it was a tall figure and it was clear that it was clad in long white robes. They were visible for no more than a few moments before they vanished into the darkness of the trees beyond the clearing.

Eadulf cast a puzzled glance at Fidelma.

‘What was that all about?’ he demanded.

‘Did you recognise anyone?’ she asked.

‘I did not.’

‘I did. It was Gobnuid the smith. Back rather early from his trip. Did you not recognise the other, Eadulf?’

‘How could I recognise anyone?’

‘Think, Eadulf! The tall figure with white robes!’

Eadulf knew what she was getting at. ‘It could have been one of the three strangers at the monastery, I suppose. But which one? I have no idea. They were too far away.’

Fidelma was in agreement. ‘Yet it was one of them. But why would Gobnuid and one of the Aksumites be out together on this desolate hill at dusk?’

Eadulf gave a negative shake of his head. ‘To be honest, I can understand nothing of this. Never have I been so totally baffled by a mystery…by a series of mysteries, in fact.’

Fidelma was defiant. ‘The more the mystery deepens, the greater the challenge, Eadulf. I am determined not to let this overcome me. The Brehon Morann, my mentor, once said that no object nor puzzle is mysterious. The mystery is the eyes and what they perceive. So when the eyes see a mystery do not use the eyes to understand it.’

Eadulf smiled somewhat sceptically. ‘The heart always sees before the head can see?’

‘Exactly so. We will solve this mystery yet.’

It was growing dusk when they finally reached the gates of Rath Raithlen. A stable boy came running forward as they rode in and took charge of their horses as soon as they had dismounted. They noticed that there was some movement in the fortress. Brand torches were being lit to dispel the darkness and suddenly Becc appeared at the doorway of his great hall and came forward to greet them.