‘You know what Selene represents?’ queried Fidelma.
‘I know that she was the goddess of the moon among the pagan Greeks.’
‘Indeed. Selene was the daughter of Hyperion and Theia and she was the moon goddess. Her sister was Eos, goddess of the dawn. Selene fell in love with Endymion, the human king of Elis, and rather than watch him wither and decay she caused him to fall into sleep in a cave so that he would remain for ever young.’
Brother Solam stared at her in awe. ‘I do not have your learning, Sister. Yet I knew that they were talking about the moon that night.’
‘What then?’ prompted Fidelma. ‘What did you do?’
‘Then I returned to the abbey.’
‘You did not report this to the abbot, nor tax either the strangers or Accobrán to find out what they had been doing?’
‘I did not.’
‘Yet the very next day, Escrach was found murdered on that hill. When that news reached you, why did you not report this matter to Abbot Brográn?’
Brother Solam shook his head. ‘I am a coward, perhaps. But how was I to be certain that my own life was not in danger if I revealed what I had seen and heard that night? Feelings have been running high against this abbey and its brethren. I could not reveal that I was alone on the hill or spoke with Escrach that night. If a stranger was involved in her slaughter and I came forward as the only witness, perhaps my life might be forfeit to them. Then there is the fact that Accobrán was driving the wagon and talking of the work they had to do by the light of the moon. He was the one who talked of “the sacrifice of the night”. I remember his words clearly. I might not have your knowledge of the literature of the Greeks but I know the language well enough.’
Fidelma sat in thought for a moment and then sighed. ‘You have been most helpful, Brother Solam. I will keep what you have said between us until I believe it can prove useful. I will not repeat our conversation to anyone except Brother Eadulf who assists me. I can vouch for his discretion. Dismiss any anxiety that you have.’
Brother Solam looked relieved and broke into a speech of gratitude but Fidelma cut him short by holding up a hand and rising from the seat.
‘Thank you for being so honest, Brother Solam. Now, I wished to have another word with Brother Dangila.’
‘Brother Dangila?’ The steward stood up, looking uncomfortable. He glanced nervously about him. ‘I said I did not recognise who the stranger was that night.’
‘It is not about your story that I wish to see Brother Dangila. I came to see him on another matter.’
Brother Solam continued to look worried.
‘I do not know…’ he began.
‘Is there a problem?’ Fidelma asked, puzzled by the look of guilt on his face.
Brother Solam licked his lips nervously. ‘Brother Dangila is not here.’
Fidelma examined the man closely. ‘Not here? Where then?’
‘Brother Dangila insisted that he needed exercise and demanded permission to leave the abbey for a walk.’
‘If I recall correctly, Abbot Brogán had ordered that the three strangers should remain within the walls of the abbey until matters were resolved. People have tried to kill him and his companions because they think that they were responsible for the killings here. If nothing else, Brother Dangila’s life could still be in danger if he is found wandering the countryside. It was your duty to prevent the stranger’s putting himself in the way of harm.’
Brother Solam grimaced helplessly like a small child being told off unjustly. ‘I did try, Sister. But it is hard to argue with Brother Dangila. He insisted on taking a walk.’
‘Was the danger properly explained to him? You should have told me immediately. If Brother Dangila is found alone and unprotected…’ Fidelma lost no more time but turned to where she had left her horse. ‘Which way did he go?’ she called as she mounted up.
‘He has often gone to the hillside there,’ Brother Solam said, pointing to the shadowy Thicket of Pigs rising above the abbey. ‘He has often…’
But before the words were out, Fidelma had mounted and sent her horse into a canter along the path from the abbey and through the woods up the hillside track in the direction the steward had indicated.
It was simply irresponsible on the part of Brother Solam to allow the man to wander on his own, especially in view of what had recently happened. Such lack of thought infuriated her. She gave the horse its head and allowed it to follow the ascending track through the trees, climbing the hill at its own pace. She found that the trees quickly thinned and soon she emerged on the bald bluff not far up the slopes. There were some boulders there, grey stones, as if some ancients had hauled them there with the intention of building a stone circle but then abandoned the idea, leaving the stones lying in confusion, the circle half finished. She saw Brother Dangila immediately, a tall still figure seated on one of the stones, his chin resting on a cupped hand, the elbow balanced on his knee. He seemed to be staring into space.
However, he turned at the sound of her blowing mare as it clambered upward towards him. He rose and awaited her. His features were impassive.
When she slid from her horse, he greeted her in his accented Irish. ‘Blessings on you, Fidelma of Cashel.’
‘It is not wise to be out alone, Brother Dangila,’ she replied in Greek without preamble. ‘The people are still afraid and we are no closer to resolving the matter of culpability. You should not have strayed beyond the boundaries of the abbey.’
Brother Dangila inclined his head gravely.
‘I thank you for your concern, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he replied, now using Greek. ‘The God of Solomon will watch over me. I do not fear.’
Fidelma looped the reins of her horse around a small shrub, turned to one of the stones which lay lengthwise and seated herself. The tall Aksumite resumed his previous position and regarded her without curiosity.
‘The abbot gave me assurance that you would not wander abroad from the abbey so that your safety would be guaranteed until this matter was resolved.’ she said irritably.
‘Is it solely in concern for my safety that you have come seeking me?’ he asked. There was a faint smile on his lips, which seemed to imply a hidden knowledge. For a moment, Fidelma felt awkward. Her eyes suddenly focused on his white woollen robe.
‘You are not wearing your beautiful silver crucifix today,’ she observed.
Brother Dangila’s hand went immediately to his neck. He hesitated and then he nodded gravely. ‘I must have left it in the dormitory. Have no fear. It will be safe, for I believe I know where I left it. As I said, is it concern for me that has brought you hither?’
‘It is true that I wanted to speak to you anyway. So much was left unsaid when we last spoke.’
An eyebrow lifted in interrogation was the only motion of the man’s features that indicated a reaction.
‘Are these the stones called the Ring of Pigs?’ she asked.
‘I believe that is the local name for them,’ replied the other gravely. ‘The stones do look like a litter of piglets around a sow.’
‘And this is where…?’ She left the question unfinished.
‘So I am told.’
She waited a few moments and when the man did not speak she asked: ‘Do you often come to sit on this hillside and meditate?’
‘It is in the nature of my people to contemplate the works of the God of Solomon from whose seed my people descended,’ replied Brother Dangila. ‘Is it not written in the Book of Psalms — “When I look up at Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars set in their place by Thee, what is man that Thou should remember him?”?’
The words of the psalm sounded beautiful in his Greek.
‘So you come at night to look upon the moon and the stars?’ she countered quickly, trying not to get diverted.
Brother Dangila glanced at her with a smile. ‘You have a quick mind, Fidelma of Cashel.’
‘I presume that you were the one seen by Brocc that night?’