‘Where had you been?’
‘Rath Raithlen is the only place of importance on that hill.’
Fidelma hid her surprise. ‘Everyone says that you are a recluse, Liag. That you dwell in the forests and shun the outside world. Are you telling me that you were visiting the fortress of the chieftain?’
‘I believe that is exactly what I told you.’
Fidelma tried to stifle her irritation. ‘Why this change of character, Liag?’
‘There is no change of character. Whether I wish to see people or not is my own affair. I rule my life, not other people. If I want to see them, I see them. If I do not, I shall not.’
‘Are you saying that some business or some desire drew you to the chieftain’s fortress?’
‘Some business drew me there,’ affirmed Liag.
‘You are not being helpful,’ Fidelma replied impatiently.
Liag was amused. ‘I thought that I was obeying the law that says that one must answer the questions of a dálaigh. I am replying to your questions.’
Fidelma knew that the apothecary was right. He was answering her questions but to a minimum level.
‘Will you tell me what business took you to Rath Raithlen?’
The old man considered.
‘I had need to see a smith,’ he replied.
‘Gobnuid?’ The name shot out of Fidelma’s mouth, catching the apothecary by surprise. He was the only smith at Rath Raithlen that Fidelma knew. She thought it worth throwing out to see if it would force Liag into more explicit answers. He merely nodded affirmation.
‘What was the nature of your business?’
‘I cannot see that it bears any relationship to your inquiries, Fidelma of Cashel. Anyway, Gobnuid was not at his forge so I returned.’
‘Gobnuid has left Rath Raithlen driving a wagonful of hides to some river merchant. What was the nature of your business?’
Liag half closed his eyes as if the information surprised him, but he recovered in a split second.
‘Even a recluse who lives in the forest by himself sometimes has need of a smith. I had some knives and axes that needed sharpening.’
Eadulf glanced at Fidelma.
‘And these knives and axes…’ he began, but Liag’s features were wreathed with his mocking smiling again.
‘I am afraid that I was returning to my home after taking them to the smith. I was not carrying the sharpened implements. I left them at Gobnuid’s forge so that he might attend to them on his return. I did not use them to end Lesren’s life, if that is what you wish to imply, my Saxon friend.’
‘You might find this matter amusing, Liag,’ Eadulf said irritably, ‘but a man lies dead and also three young women. Corpses are not matters of amusement.’
The old man’s eyes were like gimlets. Cold and sparkling. ‘Indeed, they are not, Brother Saxon. Neither are accusations made by some stranger in this land.’ He jerked his head in Eadulf’s direction.
‘Brother Eadulf is making no accusations,’ Fidelma interposed. ‘Neither am I. We are seeking information, that is all. If there is an accusation to be made, it will be couched in terms so direct that no one will misunderstand it. Now, tell us your account of what happened. You were returning home when…?’
For several moments the old man stood staring into Fidelma’s eyes, his own cold eyes challenging. Fidelma did not waver. Her features were fixed. It was Liag who finally shrugged and accepted defeat.
‘I came through the woods, at first thinking to skirt round Lesren’s tannery. I do not particularly like Lesren and his workers. I noticed that there was a strange stillness to the place. Usually, Lesren has several people working for him, boiling the noxious brews for his tanning and stretching the skins to dry. In the stillness I heard a woman’s sobbing.’
He paused for a moment.
‘Go on,’ prompted Fidelma, still feeling irritable with the man.
‘I found both Bébháil and Tómma standing by the corpse of Lesren. I decided that the woman was so distraught that she might need my help. It seemed that Tómma was unable to calm her.’
‘And?’
‘I managed to calm her but Bébháil seemed to be unsure whether her husband was dead or not. I made an examination and realised that not only was he dead but that he had been dead some time.’
‘How did you know that?’ demanded Eadulf.
Liag looked pityingly at him. ‘The body grows cold after a while.’
‘Why did you advise Bébháil to wash the body and prepare it for burial?’ demanded Fidelma abruptly.
Liag replied immediately. ‘It seemed to me that in her emotional state she needed something to do which would awake her to the finality of the situation. It would be wrong to allow her to think that her husband might be somehow resuscitated. It was an act of charity to get her to concentrate her mind…’
‘An act of charity that probably destroyed all the clues to Lesren’s killers,’ pointed out Fidelma.
Liag stared at her thoughtfully and then shook his head. ‘I doubt it. There was nothing I could see that would have constituted a clue.’
‘Ah, as well as hearing lizards in flight, I presume that you are also a trained dálaigh?’ Eadulf sneered.
Liag looked at him. A spasm of anger distorted his features for a moment and then he seemed to relax and smiled broadly.
‘You have a right to be angry, my Saxon friend. I have been unkind to you and that is unworthy of me. You have been unworthy in return. Let us make an end to it. I am competent enough as an apothecary to say that there was nothing about the corpse that could lead to the killer.’
Eadulf swallowed in annoyance at the condescension in the other’s tone, but he could not think of a suitable response.
‘Tell me, Liag, having now observed all four deaths in this place, have you discerned any similarities between them?’ queried Fidelma.
‘Only in as much as all met their deaths by a knife — and a knife that was jagged and blunt.’
‘If that was the only similarity, what were the dissimilarities?’ Fidelma pressed.
Liag shot her an appreciative glance. ‘I would say that there was a distinct difference between the way the first three victims came by their deaths and the way that Lesren came by his.’
‘How so?’
‘The first three victims were, of course, young girls. They were savagely attacked and mutilated. The fourth, Lesren, was a male. While there was savagery in the number of wounds he sustained, being stabbed several times in the neck and chest, there was no mutilation. Indeed, Tómma told me that Lesren was still alive when he reached him and was able to breathe a few words that did not make sense.’
Fidelma nodded slightly.
‘He was able to breathe a name,’ she conceded.
‘A name that makes little sense, if Tómma has reported it correctly. It may well be that the wounds inspired some delirium. Who knows what passed through his mind in the last moments before death?’
‘You are a man of knowledge, Liag,’ Fidelma said. She spoke simply, without sounding as if she was paying the apothecary any compliments. ‘You must know about the old days when gold and silver were worked in this area.’
Liag inclined his head a little, although he was clearly puzzled by her apparent change of subject. ‘I have some knowledge. The ore raised here was rich and excellent and was once produced in abundance. Now, alas, gold of such quality is only found in the eastern mountains of Laighin.’
‘Did Lesren ever work in the mines?’
Liag shook his head quickly. ‘Never. What makes you ask that?’
‘Do you recall who, according to the ancients, first brought gold to Ireland?’
The apothecary looked surprised. ‘Is this to be a discussion on our ancient lore and history? Well, it was Tigernmas, the twenty-sixth High King of Éireann, after the coming of the children of the Gael. He first smelted gold in this land. During his reign it is said that golden goblets and brooches were plentiful and that his chief artificer was Uchadan.’