Fidelma listened intently as the woman confirmed Tómma’s account.
‘Where was Liag during this time?’ she asked quickly.
Bébháil blinked. ‘The apothecary?’
‘He was here, wasn’t he?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘He came after the tanist had ridden off with your Saxon companion.’
‘How was that?’
‘Tómma and I were with the body when Liag suddenly emerged from the woods nearby. There is a small footpath that comes through the woods near where Lesren was found.’
‘Where does the footpath lead?’
‘Up to Rath Raithlen, to the fortress.’
‘Did Liag seem surprised to see the body?’
‘Surprised?’ The woman frowned and gave a quick shake of her head. ‘Liag never expresses surprise.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He examined Lesren and said that he was dead. Then he told me that I ought to lay out the body before the limbs grew cold. That I should prepare the body for the funereal rites.’
Fidelma’s lips thinned. ‘So it was on the specific instructions of Liag that you washed and prepared the body?’
‘It was.’
Fidelma wondered what had motivated Liag. Had he purposely set out to destroy evidence or had he done so from ignorance? She tried to put the questions to the back of her mind because there would be no answers until she spoke to Liag.
‘During the time between Lesren’s leaving the bothán and the finding of the body, did you hear or see anything unusual?’
Bébháil shook her head. ‘I knew nothing until Tómma called me.’
‘You were not aware of anyone else here or around the tannery during this time?’
‘No one.’
‘Have you any idea who might have done this?’
Bébháil regarded her with large, dark eyes.
‘My husband was not a man who was well liked, lady,’ she said softly. ‘You must already know that he had several enemies. However, I will not lift a finger to point in any direction.’
Fidelma was quiet for a moment or two, Then she said, ‘Have you ever heard the name of Biobhal spoken? It sounds very similar to your own name, I know. But it seems your husband was calling it out when he died.’
Bébháil frowned and shook her head rapidly.
‘There is no one in these parts who has such a name,’ she said simply. ‘Biobhal? Are you sure that he was not calling out my name?’
‘Tómma was sure and apparently Creoda also heard it.’
‘I know of no such name, lady.’
Fidelma gave her a smile of reassurance. ‘I have done with my questions. Can I do anything for you, Bébháil? Can you call on anyone to come and be with you? Is there anyone who is able to make the funeral arrangements for you?’
‘I have a sister who lives nearby. Tómma will fetch her for me.’ Her voice was low and measured and still without emotion. Fidelma rose, reached forward and laid a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder.
‘I will ask the tanist to do so. Tómma should stay here until your relatives arrive so that you are not alone.’
‘Alone?’ Bébháil sighed. ‘Ah! Let the days of lamentation begin for my man was alive and now is dead. Cry and clap your hands and sing the Nuall-guba, the lamentation of sorrow.’
‘It shall be done with all ceremony, Bébháil,’ Fidelma assured her solemnly in answer to the ritual instruction of one who has suffered the death of a near one. She called for Accobrán to come in to receive instructions from Bébháil.
She was about to turn from the room when she caught sight of a small piece of glinting polished metal standing on a table. She frowned and took it up in her hand. It was heavy and there was a glint of metallic yellow about it.
‘You appear rich, Bébháil,’ she said quietly. ‘This is a large gold nugget.’
‘Let me see!’ Accobrán demanded, reaching out his hand and taking it from her. He seemed abruptly curt. He turned it over for a moment or two and then put it carelessly back in place. ‘It’s only iron pyrites — fool’s gold,’ he said. Was it relief that Fidelma heard in his voice?
‘Ah,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘Non teneas aurum totum quod splendet ut aurum.’
Bébháil continued to sit without moving as if she no longer saw nor heard them.
Outside, Fidelma told Tómma what was intended and while she was speaking to him Accobrán followed her out and informed her that he had agreed to undertake the task of arranging the funeral obsequies.
‘I’ll also alert Bébháil’s sister and her family,’ he agreed. ‘When can the funeral go ahead, lady?’
‘As soon as custom allows,’ replied Fidelma. ‘There is nothing more to be learnt from the body. Eadulf and I will meet you at the rath on your return.’
Accobrán raised an eyebrow. ‘Your return? Return from where, lady?’
Fidelma was already moving back to her horse with Eadulf trailing in her wake. She mounted up quickly.
‘We will have a word with this youth Creoda and then I want to see Liag to find out how he just happened to be passing by here. Perhaps he noticed something.’
Accobrán looked uncomfortable. ‘I should go with you. I have told you that he-’
‘Don’t worry,’ Fidelma interrupted him. ‘Eadulf and I will find the way. You concentrate on finding the sister of Bébháil.’
She knew well enough that Accobrán had not meant that they needed to be guided to Liag’s hermitage but that he was worried for their safety. However, she had begun to feel that she had now had enough of being chaperoned. She needed freedom to continue her own investigations now she knew the lie of the land.
Side by side, she and Eadulf rode silently along the bank of the river, retracing their route of the previous day towards the place where Liag dwelt. Accobrán stood staring after them a few moments before he mounted his own horse and rode off in the opposite direction.
After a while, Eadulf said: ‘We should have asked Accobrán for his hunting horn. Didn’t he say that he had to use it to summon the hermit?’
Fidelma glanced at him with amusement. ‘If our upraised voices do not summon Liag then nothing will.’
Eadulf grimaced without humour. ‘What do you think the old apothecary was doing so close to the tannery?’
‘That is what I hope to find out.’
‘And destroying evidence?’ added Eadulf.
‘The question has occurred to me,’ she replied quietly.
Eadulf fell silent. It was obvious that Fidelma had considered all the matters he had wondered about.
It was not long before they spotted a log cabin through the trees.
‘This must be Creoda’s bothán,’ Fidelma said as she turned her horse towards it.
They were some distance away when a youth emerged and called shrilly: ‘What do you want here?’ He was clearly nervous.
‘Are you Creoda?’
The youth was clad in a tanner’s traditional leather apron. He wore a sharp leather-worker’s knife in his belt and had one hand on the handle. His features displayed his anxiety. He regarded them with suspicion.
‘I am Creoda,’ he replied. Then he seemed to relax. ‘Ah, you are the dálaigh. I saw you at Lesren’s tannery yesterday.’
Fidelma and Eadulf dismounted.
‘We have come to ask you a few questions about Lesren,’ Fidelma told him.
The boy thrust out his lower lip in a grimace. ‘Lesren is dead.’ He jerked his head towards Eadulf. ‘He was there with the tanist. He saw the body.’