‘Let us come to that later, Gabrán,’ Fidelma said. ‘In what way did Lesren became a nuisance to you, Goll?’
‘He began to spy on me and reported me to Aolú, the Brehon at Rath Raithlen, for felling the ash tree. I know. I was in the wrong. I was fined a screpall for the illegal act. I have no complaints as to the judgement. It was the pettiness of Lesren that I felt anger over. That’s when my thoughts turned to revenge; I just wanted Lesren to know that two could play at that game. I had heard he was bark-stripping at the wrong time. I set to watch him in the woods and that’s when I saw him stripping apple-tree bark during the killing month.’
‘And he, too, was fined before the Brehon. Did that bring an end to this childish feuding?’
Goll shook his head. ‘Lesren went insane with anger. He tried everything to turn Beccnat from my son. He told appalling stories about my wife.’
‘Did you report this to the Brehon Aolú?’
‘Of course, I did. Aolú told me to forget it.’
Fidelma looked shocked. ‘Aolú, a Brehon, told you to forget that someone was spreading lies about you?’ There was an incredulous tone in her voice.
Eadulf was again reminded that verbal assaults on a person were treated with the utmost seriousness under the law. That a judge would advise such assualts to be ignored was the reason for Fidelma’s shock. She had already warned Lesren the previous day that his words might be seriously interpreted. A victim’s entire honour price might be the fine involved against the person who spread such tales.
‘Aolú, the Brehon, told me not to pursue this matter. He said that he would have a quiet word with Lesren and put a stop to it.’
‘Did it stop?’
Goll grimaced. ‘Lesren lost no opportunity to spread lies and rumours about us.’
‘Beccnat was very upset,’ interposed Gabrán, who had been quiet since his outburst. ‘She told me that life was becoming unbearable with her father, and her mother was too weak to do anything about the situation. Lesren dominated Bébháil. We decided that we would elope.’
Fínmed nodded quickly. ‘We supported our son in this matter. It was not illegal.’
‘I know,’ agreed Fidelma. There were two forms of legal marriage that involved a girl’s eloping with a man without the consent of her kin. ‘So when was this elopement to be?’
Gabrán looked pained for a moment or so. ‘As soon as I returned from the coast.’
‘You were at the coast when Beccnat was killed?’ enquired Eadulf.
‘He was staying at the house of Molaga,’ Fínmed said swiftly.
‘And Beccnat was in total agreement with this plan?’ Fidelma pressed. ‘She did not tell you that she had changed her mind? That she no longer wanted to marry you?’
‘You have been listening to Lesren.’ snapped Gabrán angrily.
‘I just want to clarify all the facts,’ Fidelma was unperturbed by his anger.
‘Everything was well when I last saw Beccnat,’ Gabrán said with quiet vehemence.
‘And when was that?’
‘About two days before the full moon.’
‘Why did you go to the coast?’
It was Goll who replied. ‘There was a wagon of holly wood that had been bought by the abbot at the house of Molaga. It was specially cut for the new altar that was being constructed in the chapel there. I was going to take it but there was much work to be done here. So Gabrán said he would drive the wagon to the coast. Rather than returning with an empty wagon and the payment from the abbey, he decided to return with some goods that we needed to purchase. The ship with these goods had not arrived and so my son waited a few days until it put into the port. By the time he returned, it was a few days after the full moon.’
‘Is that so?’ Fidelma demanded sharply of Gabrán.
The young man nodded.
‘So you returned — when?’
‘Two days after…after…’
The boy had a catch in his throat and his mother rose from her chair to put an arm round his shoulders.
‘And, of course, this was checked when Lesren made his accusation against you?’ Fidelma went on, as if ignoring the boy’s emotion.
Her matter-of-fact voice seemed to quieten the boy. He nodded slowly.
‘Ask Accobrán there,’ he replied. ‘Aolú asked him to confirm my story.’
‘Which I did, as I have already told you, lady,’ the tanist pointed out. ‘Gabrán was at the house of Molaga over the period of the full moon. Aolú accepted that.’
‘Lesren is a beast,’ Fínmed interrupted in a slightly shrill tone. ‘An evil beast that he would descend so low as to suggest…’
Gabrán patted his mother’s hand for she was not able to finish. Her voice had choked with emotion.
‘Aolú has pronounced that I could not have…have done what Lesren claimed I did,’ he insisted.
‘Nevertheless,’ Goll added, ‘this evil beast Lesren has continued to spread his lies. Aolú is dead and as you are now acting as our Brehon, I want his mouth closed and compensation paid to me for his wickedness.’
‘I am only a dálaigh, not a Brehon,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Nevertheless, I hear you. When this investigation is concluded, then action shall be taken against all who have not told the truth.’ She turned to Gabrán again. ‘I believe that you knew the other girls who were killed — Escrach and Ballgel?’
The youth nodded sadly. ‘The Cinél na Áeda is not such a large population that there are strangers among them, lady. I knew Escrach. We were childhood friends and more recently I would often take grain to her father, the miller, for grinding. Ballgel I did not know so well.’
‘We knew all the girls and their families,’ Fínmed added, a little defensively. ‘As my son says, we are not such a large community. Why do you ask?’
‘I am wondering if there was some common factor between them as to why they should become victims,’ replied Fidelma.
Goll rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘If you were to ask me, lady, the common factor was that they were alone in the woods at night when the moon was full,’ he replied quietly.
‘All the mothers of the Cinél na Áeda have instructed their daughters to remain inside their homes during the hours of darkness,’ Fínmed said.
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment. ‘A difficult policy when the feast of Samhain is fast approaching and the hours of darkness are getting longer.’
‘Apparently, people believe a maniac stalks the woods.’ Eadulf addressed himself to Goll. ‘Who do you think is responsible for the tragic deaths in these last few months?’
The woodcutter hesitated, staring at the floor.
‘You suspect the strangers?’ pressed Eadulf quickly. ‘Those at the abbey?’
Goll sighed and shook his head. ‘I have no knowledge of those strangers. I have heard that Brocc favours the idea that they are responsible. He has been able to persuade others.’
‘Others such as Gobnuid, the smith at Rath Raithlen?’
‘Such as Gobnuid,’ agreed Goll.
‘And you?’
‘All I know is that there is someone who is…’
It took Eadulf a moment to translate the phrase do bhíodh tinn lé goin an ré as someone suffering from lunacy; someone affected by the power of the full moon.
‘And that someone not being one of the Cinél na Áeda?’ suggested Fidelma. ‘We are back to the strangers.’
To her surprise, Goll shook his head.
‘You have a suspicion who it is?’
‘I am not like Lesren. I would not spread a story for the sake of spreading a story. All I know is that it is easy to find a person who forsakes the New Faith, who lives a life following the old ways and thus knows the forbidden names of the sun and the moon. I objected when my son went with the others to learn of such things.’
Fidelma looked thoughtful and when Eadulf, who was puzzled by the woodcutter’s words, opened his mouth, she turned and frowned quickly at him. He shut his mouth.