Behind them, Becc had turned back to the old abbot.
‘This is a bad business, Abbot Brogán,’ the chieftain was saying as he unstrung his bow and hooked it onto his saddle.
The old religieux nodded. ‘I fear that the people are terror-stricken. If it was not Brocc, then someone else would put their terror to some ill use. Three young girls have been butchered and each one at the full of the moon.’ He shivered, crossed himself and mumbled, ‘Absit omen!’
‘What do the strangers have to say about their whereabouts last night?’
‘They each swear that they did not stir from the abbey and, in this matter, I do not know what to do. Should I tell them to be gone from the sanctuary of the abbey? That I can no longer give them protection and hospitality?’
Becc shook his head quickly. ‘If they are not guilty that would be an injustice and we would be guilty of a great crime for violating the law of hospitality. If they are guilty, then, equally, it would be wrong, for we would have dispersed them into the world without trial and, perhaps, to perpetuate their crimes elsewhere.’
‘Then what must we do?’ queried the abbot. ‘I can see no solution.’
Becc stood rubbing his chin as though deep in thought. In fact, he had been considering the problem ever since Brother Solam had brought him the news a short while before, and his plan was already in place. But Becc was not one who wished it to appear that his decisions were arbitrary. Aolú had been Brehon of the Cinél na Áeda for forty years when, three weeks previously, the old man had taken sick and died. Becc had been contemplating how he could replace the old judge. Within the Cinél na Áeda there were several minor judges but none of the rank and authority to replace Aolú as the senior judge of the clan.
‘I believe that we should call in the services of a Brehon from outside our temtory. The local Brehons, upright and honourable justices though they may be, might not carry the influence and potency to quell the panic that is growing among the villagers.’
The abbot nodded slowly. ‘I agree, my lord Becc. We must first calm the fears of the people and then find out who is behind these senseless killings.’
Becc pulled a face.
‘No killing is without a kind of sense to the person who commits it,’ he rejoined. ‘However, we must find a Brehon of authority.’
‘Where would you find such a Brehon, my lord Becc?’ demanded the abbot dubiously.
‘I am going to take one of my men and we shall ride to the king’s court at Cashel. King Colgú will advise us, for we can appeal to no higher authority in the land than our king.’
‘Cashel?’ Abbot Brogán’s eyes widened a little. ‘But that will mean that you will be away for several days upon your journey. It is a long road between here and Cashel.’
‘Have no fear. I will leave Accobrán, my tanist, in command with strict orders for your protection and that of the strangers.’ Accobrán had been the tanist, or heir apparent, to the chieftain of the Cinél na Áeda for less than a year. He was a young warrior, who had proved his courage in the recent wars against the rebellious Uí Fidgente. Becc smiled complacently. ‘I doubt whether anyone will attempt to attack the abbey again in view of the manner in which I have dealt with Brocc. The people will think twice about noting having seen the consequences of their disobedience.’
‘There is that, of course,’ the abbot agreed. ‘But I was thinking of the potential harm coming to any more of our young women.’
Becc fingered his beard thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I would have thought that observation would discount such a fear, abbot.’
The old man frowned. ‘I do not understand.’
‘The three young women were all slaughtered on the full of the moon. A ritual and gruesome death. We now lack an entire month until the next full of the moon. Our young women should be safe until then.’
The abbot’s face was grave. Becc had articulated the very fear that he had been trying to drive from his mind since the news of the second slaughter had been brought to him and had now been reinforced by the third killing.
‘The full of the moon,’ he sighed. ‘Then you agree, Becc, we are dealing with some madman…someone who needs to perform his or her killing ritual by the light of the full moon?’
‘That much is self-evident, Abbot Brogán. I will leave for Cashel this afternoon in search of a Brehon of reputation. We have until the next full of the moon before evil strikes at us once again.’
Chapter Two
Eadulf entered the chamber where Fidelma was stretched out in a chair in front of a fire. There was an autumnal chill in the early evening air which permeated the great grey stone halls of the palace of Cashel in spite of the woollen tapestries that covered the walls and the rugs that cushioned the flags of the floors and were supposed to give warmth to the rooms. Eadulf wore a scowl of annoyance on his face and he swung the heavy oak door shut behind him none too gently.
Fidelma glanced up from the book that she was reading with a frown of irritation. Her book was one of the small satchel books, called a tiag liubhair, intended to be carried easily on pilgrimages and missions to far-off countries. She liked to read beside the fire and such small books could be held in the hand and were ideal for the purpose.
‘Hush! You’ll wake Alchú,’ she said reprovingly. ‘He’s only just gone to sleep.’
Eadulf’s scowl deepened as he crossed the room to the fire.
‘Is something wrong?’ enquired Fidlema, suppressing a sudden yawn and laying aside the book. She could recognise the signs when Eadulf was annoyed.
‘I have just encountered that old fool, Bishop Petrán,’ Eadulf said tersely, dropping into a chair opposite her. ‘He started giving me a lecture on the benefits of celibacy.’
Fidelma gave a tired smile. ‘He would, wouldn’t he? Bishop Petrán is a leading advocate of the idea that all members of the religious should be celibate. He holds that celibacy is the ideal of the Christian victory over the evil of worldly things.’
Eadulf’s expression was moody.
‘Such an ideal victory would see humankind disappear from the earth within a few generations.’
‘But why did you get involved in argument with old Petrán?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘Everyone knows that he is a woman hater and that is probably the cause of his own celibacy. No woman would look at him anyway,’ she added uncharitably.
‘He does not approve of our marriage, Fidelma.’
‘That is his personal choice. Thanks be to God that there is no law which demands celibacy among the religious…not even among those who give their allegiance, like Petrán, to the rules and philosophies now accepted in Rome. There are certain groups in the New Faith who argue that those who serve and give their love to the Christ cannot give their love to a single, fellow human being as well. They are misguided. If there were laws telling us to put our natural emotions in chains, the world would be so much the poorer.’
Eadulf grimaced dourly. ‘Bishop Petrán claims that Paul of Tarsus demanded the practice of celibacy among his followers.’
Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘Then you should have quoted to him Paul’s letter to Timothy — “Some will desert from the Faith and give their minds to subversive doctrines inspired by devils, through the specious falsehoods of men whose own conscience is branded with the devil’s sign. They forbid marriage and inculcate abstinence from certain foods, though God created them to be enjoyed with thanksgiving by believers who have inward knowledge of the truth. For everything that God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected when it is taken with thanksgiving, since it is hallowed by God’s own word and by prayer.” Ask Petrán if he denies that God created man and woman and whether marriage is made an honourable estate by him.’