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‘My wife and I had great hopes for her. Having reached the age of choice we had hoped that she would marry and…’

‘I believe that Escrach and Gabrán were serious about each other at one point?’

The miller looked surprised for the moment and then shook his head. ‘They were childhood friends, that’s all I know. Escrach was friendly with many of the local boys and girls. Beccnat and Ballgel for example. They all went to the old one to learn of the ancient wisdom. A lot of our youth used to go to hear the tales. Gabrán and Creoda for example.’

‘The old one?’ queried Eadulf.

‘Liag the apothecary. He teaches star lore.’

‘Ah yes. Who is Creoda?’

‘A youth who works at Lesren’s tannery.’

‘So Escrach was not a girlfriend of Gabrán?’

‘It was Beccnat he was to marry. We are a small community. I do not think Escrach was friendly with anyone at Rath Raithlen in that way. We were going to send her to my brother, who is a miller at the seaport that is called the Stone of the Woods. He had told us that he could make a desirable match for Escrach.’ There was a sudden catch in his voice and he hesitated. Then his voice resumed in a harsh tone. ‘Whoever killed our child, killed my wife that day.’

Fidelma was startled by the statement and glanced towards Accobrán.

‘You did not tell me that…’ she began.

‘But this is not so,’ admonished the tanist defensively. ‘Your wife is alive, miller.’

Seachlann laughed angrily. ‘I do not mean a physical death. Since Escrach’s death, my wife sits in front of the fire. She does not move. Her mind is dead to the world about her. The shock has reduced her to a living death. If you must have proof, I will take you and show you the shell of my wife.’

‘Can you tell us the circumstances of Escrach’s death as you know them?’ intervened Fidelma gently.

‘I can never forget them. It was the night of the full moon of last month. Escrach should never have been out on her own. But she had been visiting my mother’s sister, her great-aunt, who lives just a short distance away along this river, beyond that hill you see to the south.’

‘The hill which you call the Thicket of Pigs?’ interrupted Eadulf.

‘Just so. She should have returned earlier but I knew that the old woman was not well and supposed that Escrach had stayed as late as she could. The next morning, when she had not returned, I immediately took the route across the Thicket of Pigs to my aunt’s bothán and found no trace of her along the path. When my aunt told me that Escrach had not even been there, I could not understand it. Had she lied to me? I retraced my steps down through the woods. Along the path I met Goll, the woodcutter. He was looking shocked and told me to prepare myself. I knew what he meant. He had been going into the woods about his day’s work and not far from the path, near the stone circle…’

‘Which you call the Ring of Pigs?’ Eadulf intervened.

This time the millwright did not acknowledge him. ‘…Goll had found Escrach’s mutilated form.’ Seachlann swallowed hard. ‘It was either a madman or wild beasts that destroyed her young life, lady. After Liag had made his examination, we brought home her poor body for burial and since then her mother has not moved nor spoken.’

There was a silence.

‘Why is it that you believe the religious strangers in the abbey are responsible?’ queried Eadulf, returning to practical matters.

Seachlann raised his head to stare at him with a hostile gaze. ‘You seek to protect them? You are one of them yourself. You speak our language but your accent is foreign.’

‘Brother Eadulf is my companion, an emissary at the court of Cashel. He is here to help me uncover the truth, not to hide it,’ interrupted Fidelma snappishly. ‘What he asks is a valid question. He asks it in my name.’

Seachlann stood up, moving to the door of the mill. ‘Brocc! Come here and answer this dálaigh’s question.’

A moment later, Brocc entered and glanced about him.

‘What question must I answer?’ he demanded in surly tone.

‘We have heard what your brother has to say about what he knows of the circumstances of the death of Escrach,’ Eadulf said. ‘What we have not heard is why you are convinced, and have convinced him, that the murder was carried out by one of the brethren visiting the abbey.’

Brocc turned angrily to his brother. ‘I knew it. They are here to protect those at the abbey.’

Fidelma was about to respond when the millwright held up his hand.

‘I believe that the sister of our king is here to see justice done, Brocc. She has given me her word as a dálaigh. She also vouches for the Saxon stranger.’

‘And the abbot vouches for the strangers at the abbey!’ snapped Brocc. ‘Why should we believe her any more than the abbot? These religious are all in the same service, owing no allegiance but to one another.’

‘That is not true, Brocc,’ Fidelma reprimanded him. ‘If you do not accept my word then accept your brother’s.’

Brocc chuckled sarcastically. ‘My brother is a good man. He believes the best of people and can be easily fooled.’

Seachlann shook his head sadly and showed no anger at his brother’s words. ‘Whether I am fooled by these words or not, Brocc, what is the harm in telling them the truth? Why withhold the evidence of your eyes now?’

Brocc sniffed in irritation. ‘My word was not accepted before, why should it be accepted now?’

Fidelma leant back on her seat so that she could examine Brocc by the sunlight that shone through the breaks in the mill’s wooden walls.

‘In matters as grave as this, Brocc, it is not simply a person’s word that is scrutinised, otherwise we might all make accusations against people we do not like and have them punished simply because we say it is so. We need more than words, Brocc.’

The burly man turned towards his brother with a sneer of triumph. ‘See, Seachlann? Already my word is set at nothing.’

Fidelma exhaled angrily. ‘Words are cheap, Brocc. We are concerned with truth. How can we judge your word as truth if you will not utter it?’

‘My own chieftain shot and maimed me. Was he interested in the truth?’ cried Brocc.

‘He was. And he was interested in the law and the observance of the law. You were taking the law into your own hands. You had become judge and executioner of the law and it was the law as you thought it should be given. Now, enough. I shall not argue longer. Either tell me why you accuse the people at the abbey or I will see to it that you are brought before a Brehon on a charge of spreading malicious stories as well as inciting riot.’

Brocc blinked at the harshness in her tone.

‘The murders began when the three strangers arrived at the abbey,’ he said.

Fidelma waited impatiently.

‘The three strangers are not like us. They are not men.’

‘What do you mean?’ countered Eadulf. ‘If they are not men, what are they. Beasts, spirits — what?’

‘Go to the abbey and look upon them, that is all I say. Come back and tell me if they are men as we know them.’

‘You are being mysterious. Whatever you think of these religious is not the point,’ Fidelma said. ‘Tell me how you know that these strangers are the murderers of these girls, specifically the killers of Escrach. I do not want to know circumstantial matters; I do not want to hear about coincidences; I want to have facts, no more nor less.’

Accobrán the tanist, who was clearly bored with the whole proceedings, rose and stretched. ‘Just tell the dálaigh why you believe the strangers had a hand in the murder of Escrach and we can make an end to this matter.’

‘Why?’ A crooked smile spread over the face of Brocc. ‘Why? Because I saw the murderer!’

Chapter Six

There was shocked silence in the mill room.

Accobrán the tanist was the first to recover.