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.’
‘He has a hide like a bull,’ muttered Becc. ‘I thought he might have learnt his lesson and stopped trying to provoke discord.’
Accobrán smiled quickly but there was no humour in the expression. ‘There is no need for him to provoke what is already in the people’s hearts, Becc. But his incarceration is creating disaffection among the people.’
‘Have him released into the care of his brother, Seachlann the millwright,’ Becc said. ‘Seachlann must stand ready to pay for any misbehaviour until we have dealt properly with this matter.’
The young tanist acknowledged the order before turning to where Eadulf was assisting Fidelma to dismount. There was a frown of disapproval on his face.
‘I thought that you were going to return with a Brehon? The last thing we need here is more religious. The people are suspicious and angry enough.’
Becc clucked his tongue in annoyance at the young man’s discourtesy to his guests.
‘This is Fidelma of Cashel, sister to the king, and our cousin. You should also know that she is a qualified dálaigh…and this is her companion, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
The tanist’s eyes widened a fraction and then he recovered from his surprise.
‘Forgive me, lady.’ Accobrán’s expression changed to a disarming smile of welcome. ‘I did not know you by sight but I have heard much of your reputation. Your name has been spoken much in this kingdom.’ His easy charm was something to which Fidelma felt an immediate aversion. The tanist went on, oblivious of the expression of dislike on the Saxon monk’s face. ‘You do us much honour in coming here.’
‘There is little honour in having to respond to crime, tanist of the Cinél na Áeda,’ replied Fidelma softly, gazing keenly at the young man. His face was like some pliable mask. She felt distrust towards someone who could assume emotions and abandon them with lightning facility. ‘My companion Eadulf is well versed in law, and he is also my fer comtha.’
Accobrán must have been astonished at this statement of her marital relationship to the Saxon but his features remained respectful.
‘I shall order your rooms and bathing facilities to be prepared immediately,’ he muttered. ‘Excuse me.’ He turned and made his way into the complex of buildings that constituted the great hall of Becc within the fortress.
The elderly chieftain had observed Fidelma’s irritated expression and grimaced defensively.
‘My tanist is young, cousin. He was only elected to the office a year ago and therefore is not yet fully polished in the ways of chiefly etiquette. He is my nephew. When the time comes to replace me and he takes over guiding the fortunes of the Cinél na Áeda, his manners will hopefully become more considerate.’
‘You do not have to apologise,’ muttered Fidelma, slightly embarrassed that her reaction had been so obvious.
The old chieftain smiled quickly.
‘I am only offering an explanation, not an apology,’ he replied quietly. ‘And now, come into my hall and take refreshment while your rooms are being prepared.’
They followed him into a hall of moderate size with a log fire crackling away in the hearth and wine already heated for their comfort. They seated themselves before the blazing wood. Servants had carried their bags in while others went to attend to their horses.
‘When will you begin your investigation?’ asked Becc after he had given all the necessary orders, mulled wine had been served and they were joined once again by the youthful tanist, Accobrán, who announced that bathing water would be ready heated within the hour.
Fidelma paused a moment to savour the inner warmth of the wine.
‘I will begin at once,’ she replied, to everyone’s surprise.
‘But it is dark-’ began Becc in protest.
‘I mean that I will begin in terms of gathering some background details about the victims,’ she responded patiently. ‘I would like to know some precise details about each of the girls.’
Becc frowned and glanced at Accobrán before returning his gaze to Fidelma.
‘There is little more I could tell you. I could summon Lesren the tanner and Seachlann the miller to the fortress tomorrow.’
‘They are the fathers of Beccnat and Escrach, the first and second victims,’ interposed Accobrán by way of explanation.
‘In the circumstances, I would rather visit them where they live or work,’ replied Fidelma. ‘However, I thought that perhaps you, tanist, might be able to give me some of the information I need.’
Accobrán looked astonished. ‘I am not sure that I…’
‘Come, Accobrán. You are a young man and would surely know most of the young girls in the territory?’
The tanist frowned for a moment before he shrugged and forced a soft smile to part his lips. ‘That depends on what information you need, lady.’
‘Well, let us begin with the first victim, Beccnat. This was the daughter of the tanner named Lesren?’
‘She was. Lesren works on the far side of the hill, in the valley by the river there.’
‘What do you know about her? Was she attractive?’
Accobrán lifted a shoulder slightly and let it fall without expression.
‘She was young. She had just celebrated reaching her seventeenth year. She was due to wed the son of Goll the woodcutter.’
‘That’s right,’ Becc intervened. ‘Lesren didn’t like the boy — the son of Goll, that is — and, at first, it was thought that the boy might have been the murderer. Well, Lesren accused the boy, anyway.’
‘What did you say his name was?’
‘The name of the son of Goll? His name is Gabrán.’
‘And you say that he was suspected? Then what evidence cleared him?’
‘I doubt whether Lesren has stopped suspecting him,’ Accobrán intervened. ‘But the boy had a sound enough alibi. He was away from the territory on a journey to collect some supplies. At the time of the full moon he was twelve miles from here staying at the house of Molaga on the coast.’
‘I know the abbey of Molaga,’ nodded Fidelma. ‘So what were the circumstances of Beccnat’s murder?’
‘As I mentioned before, lady,’ intervened Becc, ‘her body was found in the woods less than a quarter of a mile from here. It looked as if it had been torn to pieces by a pack of wolves.’
Fidelma leaned forward, her brows raised in interrogation. ‘What, then, made the community suspicious of murder and made Lesren suspicious of Gabrán, the son of Goll? Is it not conceivable that wolves or some other wild animals could have attacked the girl?’
‘Conceivable but unlikely,’ replied the tanist. ‘Wolves do not usually attack humans, and adult humans at that, unless they are driven to it by dire necessity. However, Liag, our apothecary, pointed out that the wounds could only have been inflicted by a knife. It was after he had examined the body that we were alerted to the facts.’
‘Did this apothecary, Liag…did he examine all three victims?’
‘He did,’ affirmed Becc.
‘Then we shall want to see him,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘Does he reside at the fortress?’