Badger's Moon (21 page)

‘I am glad to see you back safely, Fidelma. Accobrán was worried that you had gone off by yourself.’

‘I had Eadulf with me,’ she replied shortly, glancing around. ‘What is the excitement about? Where is your tanist?’

‘Gone,’ replied Becc with satisfaction. ‘He’s gone in chase of Lesren’s killer.’

Fidelma stood for a moment, staring at the chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda as if she had not heard him.

‘Lesren’s killer? Does that mean that the identity of the killer has been discovered?’

‘A farmer came into the rath not so long ago and said that he had encountered Gabrán on the road. The young man was heading for the coast and told the man that he was going to find a ship and sign on as one of the crew.’

Fidelma glanced quickly at Eadulf, her face a mixture of surprise and irritation. Then she turned back to Becc.

‘Did this farmer say any more?’

Becc nodded. ‘The young man as good as admitted that he was fleeing from justice. Anyway, Accobrán has taken some warriors and will take the road to the coast. They should be able to overtake him soon enough and bring him back for trial. At least we have solved one murder. Maybe Gabrán will be the means of solving the others. Perhaps Lesren was right after all?’

‘The boy may be stupid,’ replied Fidelma in an exasperated tone, ‘but to run away does not mean to say he is responsible for any deaths.’

Becc regarded in her astonishment. ‘But the very act of running away proclaims his guilt.’

‘A stupid act, I warrant you, but not a proclamation of guilt,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It can also imply fear. Let me know immediately Accobrán returns.’

Then, motioning Eadulf to follow, she led the way to their chambers. Once inside the room, she closed the door with a sharp thud behind her.

‘The stupid, stupid boy!’ she exploded.

Eadulf stood observing the anger on her features as she began to pace the room. ‘You really think that he is innocent?’

Fidelma did not even bother to answer the question.

‘I fear for the boy’s life now,’ she said quietly. ‘Remember there is enmity between him and Accobrán.’

‘But that is all on the part of Gabrán,’ replied Eadulf. ‘A silly suspicion that Accobrán was trying to seduce his betrothed.’

Fidelma did not say anything for a moment. Then she said softly: ‘Let us hope that if Accobrán and the boy meet up on the road, they may come back to us living and not as corpses.’

There was no further news of the tanist and his pursuit by the time they retired for the night.

The next day, as the early grey October light filtered through the windows, Fidelma was already at her morning ablutions. In the distance she could hear the tolling of a bell, presumably from the abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr. She found Eadulf waiting for her in the kitchen of Becc’s great hall where they normally broke their fast. He had been up and washed before her.

Becc came in while they were finishing their meal and looked uneasy.

‘Accobrán came back in the middle of the night,’ he announced without preamble. ‘He overtook Gabrán.’

Fidelma was immediately concerned.

‘I asked you to inform me immediately Accobrán returned,’ she replied sharply. ‘Is the boy alive?’

Becc blinked in surprise at the abruptness of her tone.

‘Accobrán brought him back for trial, cousin. Not for execution,’ he said defensively.

‘So the boy is in good health?’ she insisted.

‘He may be bruised a little but he should not have resisted his capture.’

Fidelma’s features were immobile. ‘No, he should not – especially when he is innocent of the murder of Lesren.’

Becc showed his irritability. ‘You will have to present the evidence to prove it then.’

‘That I shall do,’ Fidelma replied. She made to rise, and paused. The distant bell from the abbey was still tolling. ‘What is that bell sounding for?’

The chieftain looked surprised, as if hearing the bell for the first time. ‘It will be for Lesren’s funeral.’

Fidelma sprang to her feet with an exclamation. ‘I had forgotten the funeral in all that has transpired. Eadulf, come. We must attend it.’

Eadulf grabbed a piece of cold meat and some bread and went quickly after her as she headed for the door. On the threshold she halted with such abruptness that Eadulf bumped into her. She was looking back at Becc.

‘Are you not coming?’ she demanded.

The chieftain had seated himself at the vacated table.

‘I was never a friend of Lesren or of his family. He was a good tanner, that is all. Accobrán has gone there to ensure all is as it should be. But it would be insincere should I attend.’

Fidelma had not waited for the chieftain to finish. She was through the door and instructing their horses be saddled and brought without delay.

‘I don’t understand why you want to attend this funeral,’ Eadulf protested, trying to finish his bread and meat.

‘At funerals one may gather information,’ she replied mysteriously.

It did not take them long to reach the abbey. A few other stragglers were hurrying in answer to the bell’s summons and it was still tolling as the gatekeeper admitted them and pointed to the chapel.

Lesren’s body had been taken to the abbey chapel and it was here that the funeral obsequies were to take place. As Fidelma and Eadulf entered the chapel, they found it surprisingly crowded with many from Rath Raithlen. They immediately saw Accobrán, and by his side Adag the steward. Fidelma nudged Eadulf and indicated that Gobnuid the smith was also there. There were many others who had probably traded with the tanner or were relatives of Lesren and Bébháil. Bébháil herself sat at the front of the chapel with a woman who looked remarkably like her. Fidelma remembered that the widow of Lesren had a sister who was to have been summoned to look after matters. There was Tómma close by. Even a frightened-looking Creoda was standing just behind Tómma. Among the religious, however, the three strangers were not present. There was no reason why they should be and, indeed, Abbot Brogán told Fidelma afterwards that he had thought it wise that they should not attend in case of trouble.

The congregation was subdued by the ominous tones of a new bell. The solemn baritone of the
clog-estechtae
, or death bell, which was always rung to mark the death of a Christian, replaced the tenor of the summoning bell. The religious who were gathered began to sing their requiem, the
écnairc
, an intercession for the soul’s repose. Members of Bébháil’s household had probably watched over Lesren’s body for the entire night. Eadulf knew all about the custom. In some cases, he knew, the relatives and their guests indulged in the
cluiche cainrech
or funeral games that preceded the
fled cro-lige
, the feast of the deathbed.

The body had been wrapped in a
recholl
, a winding sheet, and placed on a
guat
or wooden bier. Eadulf wondered whether the body had been accompanied to the chapel by the wailing cries of the relatives, and hired mourners who wept aloud in a strange fashion called the
caoidneadh
accompanied by the slow clapping of hands, said to emphasise despair.

When the prayers and psalms were over, the bier was lifted by four men and carried out of the chapel. Fidelma and Eadulf followed the mourners as they moved behind the bier. Outside, a grave had been dug and the body was gently lowered into it while the women set up cries that, although Eadulf had heard them before, made his blood run cold.

Then, to Eadulf’s surprise, a man came forward with an axe, and broke up the bier. The pieces were thrown into the grave. Seeing his puzzled look, Fidelma leant close and whispered: ‘It is the custom to destroy the bier, for if it is left whole then the evil demons, the fairy folk, might use it to carry off the corpse on their nightly excursions. The bier is destroyed so that the corpse might obtain peace.’

Eadulf thought it not the time or place to comment disapprovingly on the continuance of a pagan ritual as part of a Christian ceremony. Then he saw that everyone was lining up before a Brother of the Faith who stood next to a great pile of broom. Each person was handed a branch of broom and took it to the grave and dropped it in.

‘This is just to protect the body from the clay,’ explained Fidelma. ‘But each person who drops the broom in does so as a sign of respect.’

When this was done, the grave was closed. Bébháil’s sister held up her hands and the lamentations stilled.

‘The
Amra
– the elegy – will be spoken by my husband.’

A man, looking every inch a farmer, came forward. He appeared very uncomfortable. It was clear that he was unhappy at the task he had been asked to perform. He spoke in a swift, mumbling tone.

‘We have interred the body of Lesren who was married to my wife’s sister.’ He hesitated and coughed. ‘Lesren was a tanner. He was a
súdaire
, a craftsman, whose worth was well known to all who are here today. He now lies beside his daughter, Beccnat.’ He paused again and sniffed. ‘Beccnat was killed, even as he was, and so this is the second time in as many months that the
laithi na canti
– the days of lamentation – have been visited on us who were related to Lesren. Sorrow is the load we must bear.’

Yet again he paused and looked across to Bébháil who stood, dry-eyed and stony-faced, supported by her sister on one side and Tómma on the other. He set his jaw as though he had made up his mind to follow through an unpleasant task.

‘There is little I can say. I cannot pretend I liked Lesren or made him welcome at my threshold. But I suffered him for the sake of my sister-in-law. He was not a good father; he was not a good husband. But they are truly good who are faultless. I will not call praise on him, for that would be insincere, false and pretending. I will say only this – he was my wife’s sister’s husband and I am sorry that his passing has made her a widow.’

Eadulf studied the faces of those around him with surprise, expecting some to react at this curious elegy. It seemed that no one wanted to articulate any criticism for what had been said. More important, Bébháil was standing with her face devoid of emotion. Eadulf realised that few people could have liked Lesren in the community. That fact caused him some consternation. He wondered how many had a motive to kill Lesren. He realised that it was not just Goll and his son. Lesren had made enemies of many people. He wondered if Fidelma was relying on this fact to defend Gabrán.

The people had begun dispersing from the graveside. Accobrán was approaching them with a smile of satisfaction.

‘Have you heard the news, lady?’ he began, seeming pleased with himself. ‘The news about my capture of Gabrán?’

Fidelma did not match his smile.

‘I shall go to see him shortly,’ she said. ‘While the boy was stupid to run away, I do not believe he was guilty of Lesren’s murder.’

Accobran’s jaw dropped in surprise.

‘Not guilty…?’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Well, I think he was, and guilty of Beccnat’s murder as well.’

‘Yet you were the one who found the evidence to prove otherwise,’ pointed out Eadulf quickly.

Accobrán flushed. ‘Perhaps he fooled me. Perhaps he was not at the house of Molaga on that night of the full moon.’

‘I spoke to Brother Túan from the house of Molaga.’ Fidelma cut him short. ‘You were not mistaken. He was there at the night of the full moon.’

The young tanist looked glum. ‘Well, at least he showed his guilt of Lesren’s death by running away.’

‘He showed his fear of being blamed for it,’ Fidelma pointed out. She turned and made her way across to where Bébháil was standing with her sister and Tómma.

Tómma greeted her with a grim smile. ‘The tanist has told us that young Gabrán has been caught and imprisoned for Lesren’s death.’

Fidelma examined the downcast features of Bébháil for a moment before replying.

‘He has been captured because he was running away. If he were guilty, it would be stupid to run away and draw attention to himself. There has been too much innocent blood shed in this place for another innocent to have his life destroyed.’

Tómma frowned and cast a nervous glance at Bébháil. ‘But the tanist said…’

‘I am returning to the fortress to question Gabrán. I am hoping that the innocent will go free and that the guilty may come forward.’

She returned to Eadulf, aware that Bébháil had taken an involuntary step after her and that Tómma had reached out a hand to stay her.

Accobrán accompanied them as they rode back to the fortress. Fidelma and Eadulf went immediately to the place where Gabrán had been confined. Fidelma gently declined the tanist’s offer to attend the questioning of the youth. She wanted to speak with Gabrán without Accobrán there.

The young woodcutter rose as they entered the dark stone cell in which he had been confined. He had a cut across one eye and a bruise on his cheek.

‘You have done a stupid thing,’ Fidelma told him after a moment or two.

The boy shrugged, trying to be indifferent. It was clear that he was nervous.

‘I did not kill Lesren,’ he said quietly.

‘Is running away designed to make us believe that?’ she asked, motioning Eadulf to shut the door so that they would not be overheard. He did so.

‘What else could I do? No one here appeared to believe that I did not exact revenge for what Lesren was saying about me.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Why, Creoda said—’

‘Creoda? And he said – what?’

‘That everyone believed that I had killed Lesren because he accused me of murdering Beccnat. I knew I had to leave.’

‘You should place your trust in the law.’

‘Law and injustice are often the same thing,’ the boy replied quickly. ‘I often heard old Aolú say as much before he died.’

‘That may be true, but it is the interpretation of the law which balances the account.’ Fidelma indicated that the boy should reseat himself on the wooden bench that served as a bed. Then she took a chair while Eadulf stood by the door. ‘When did you first hear of Lesren’s death?’

‘I was returning home from cutting wood.’

‘And Creoda told you?’

The boy nodded.

‘Is Creoda a friend of yours?’

‘I know him.’

‘Did he tell you to run away?’

‘He advised it.’

‘So you ran away at Creoda’s behest. Did you not think that you were doing a foolish thing, if you were innocent?’