Badger's Moon sf-13 Page 11

  Brother Dangila was shaking his head. ‘We never believed in monophysis as it was portrayed by the Chalcedon Council. We Aksumites argued that Christ was perfect in his divinity and perfect in his humanity but his divinity and humanity were united in one nature — that is, the nature of the incarnate word. Did not the Blessed Cyril of Alexandria say that human and divine natures were united in one, without mingling, without confusion and without alteration? Those two natures were not separate. Perhaps the pontiffs of Rome conspired to misconstrue our teachings as a punishment for the refusal of our Church to obey them or be politically influenced by them.’

  ‘Harsh words,’ muttered the abbot reprovingly.

  ‘Truth is often bitter,’ replied Brother Gambela.

  ‘So let us finish the story,’ intervened Fidelma, seeing they might be entering dangerous theological territory. ‘You were slaves in Rome, you say? And no one would raise a hand to help you?’

  ‘That is true,’ Brother Dangila agreed. ‘We were used as labourers to load cargoes into the ships that docked along the river in Rome. Then we were sold to a Frankish merchant and forced to work as crew on his ship which undertook a long and terrible voyage from the Middle Sea and through a narrow strait, which we were told was called the Pillars of Hercules. Then came a terrible voyage along the coast of Iberia. A great storm came up and our ship was driven away from the coast, off its course. The captain began to panic and believed that we were going to be driven to our doom over the edge of the world.’ The Aksumite smiled lopsidedly. ‘The man believed that the earth was a flat shape and the horizon marked the edge over which none may venture. This idea we found a quaint teaching. Is such a belief current here?’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘Our astronomers have long taught that the world is spherical, Brother Dangila. Martialis writes that even in the days of our pagan ancestors, the Druids taught us that the world was in the shape of a ball.’

  Brother Dangila nodded approvingly. ‘This captain was from a country called Frankia and seemed uncertain how to navigate his ship once we lost sight of land. While he and his crew panicked, we three prayed. The ship foundered in that terrible storm but God smiled on us for we three were among several who were then washed ashore into this kingdom. Your people fed, clothed and gave us hospitality. We were made welcome and made even more welcome when we revealed that we were of the Faith. Your people did not condemn us because we were Aksumites-’

  Brother Gambela interrupted. ‘We were blessed when we discovered that the followers of Christ in this kingdom do not slavishly follow the dictates of Rome but retain many of the original rituals and the teachings of the early Faith just as we have done. We felt that God had ordained our journey for a purpose — that we were meant to learn here and take back that knowledge to our people. From the place where we were washed ashore we were taken to an abbey called the house of Molaga where we spent some time.’

  ‘Yet in spite of these adventures, or rather misadventures, you appear in clothing and with ornaments that are of your own country.’ Eadulf suddenly pointed out with suspicion, speaking for the first time in what had been, for him, a long period of silence. His knowledge of Greek was less than his knowledge of Latin and he had been struggling to follow the nuances of the conversation. ‘How were you able to keep those crucifixes of valued silver during your slavery?’

  Brother Dangila turned to him, not in the least put out by his question. ‘These robes were woven here on our instruction. But you are right; Aksumite silversmiths made these crucifixes. Alas, we cannot claim them as our own. The abbot of the house of Molaga gave them to us. They were apparently part of some spoils taken from shipwrecks. We noticed them when staying with the abbot and identified their provenance. The charitable man felt it just that we should have them.’

  ‘After staying at the house of Molaga, what then?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘Then we came here, to this abbey, where we have applied ourselves to our studies.’

  ‘Out of interest, may I ask what these studies are?’ enquired Eadulf.

  It was Brother Nakfa, not having spoken before, who surprised everyone by suddenly speaking in reply. His voice was low and soft and yet his tone was quite musical, making his Greek sound like an incantation rather than speech.

  ‘We are interested in the way you perceive the heavens. Interested in the interpretation that you give to the sun, the moon, the stars and their courses across the sky. We have discovered that within your land dwell many learned men who have studied and written on such matters. Our people pride themselves on their knowledge of the heavens and the celestial beings but we did not think to find others beyond our known world who have pondered such matters.’

  Brother Dangila added: ‘We have found the works of a learned brother named Augustine…’

  Here Abbot Brogán, who had been following the Greek conversation with a frown of concentration, muttered: ‘He means Brother Aibhistín who dwells on Carthaigh’s Island. Aibhistín has devoted his life to studying the heavens.’

  ‘But specifically the moon and the tides,’ added Brother Dangila, ‘which is of great importance for he has clearly observed that the astrorum splendidissimum, that most splendid of the heavenly bodies, the moon, governs the tides of the oceans and is therefore one of the great mysteries of the universe.’

  Brother Gambela raised his head a little, his face, like his companions’, lighting up with enthusiasm.

  ‘We discovered, while we were at the house of Molaga, that this abbey possesses a copy of De Mirabilius Sacrae Scripturae in which the good Brother Augustine speaks of the importance of the moon. He argues that it was at the full moon that the Passion of Christ took place…’

  Eadulf suddenly leant forward with a suspicious frown.

  ‘You Aksumite brothers seem extremely interested in the full moon,’ he said pointedly.

  Brother Dangila turned to him with a disarming smile. ‘What person can ignore the full moon and its consequences?’

  ‘Its consequences?’ Fidelma spoke sharply, suddenly alert to a possible significance in his words.

  ‘Isn’t that why you are interested in these deaths, Sister?’ countered Brother Dangila impassively. ‘I am told that your people place great weight on the fact that these local deaths have occurred at the full of the moon.’

  ‘What consequences do you speak of, Brother Dangila?’ demanded Fidelma, feeling that the impassive face of the Aksumite hid more than he was revealing.

  ‘The flood tide begins three days and twelve hours before the full moon, and after completing its course it comes to an end after an equal length of time. This fact is according to your scholar, the Brother Aibhistín. Now if the tides are drawn into such intensity at the time of the full moon, then how much are the emotions of man so roused to flood and ebb? Is there not liquid that flows within our bodies that might respond to the moon as does the liquid of the seas?’

  Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.

  ‘It is possible,’ she admitted. ‘And so, with such interests, one of you might have been seated on the hillside making observations that night of the full moon when Brocc happened to come along.’

  Brother Dangila’s mask almost slipped into a grin, but only for a moment.

  ‘That is also possible,’ he answered gravely.

  ‘And was any of you doing so?’

  ‘We have dealt with that matter, Sister. Let us avoid playing such games as catch as catch can.’

  Fidelma knew that she would be unable to move forward on the matter and so she tried another tack.

  ‘Do the local people here know that you have this interest in the moon and its behaviour?’ she queried.

  Brother Dangila stretched his arms in an eloquent gesture of indifference. ‘We have made no attempt to hide our studies. Abbot Brogán is well aware of our interests.’

  The abbot nodded swiftly in confirmation. ‘It is so, Sister Fidelma. The brothers here have never hidden from me, nor anyone in this abbey, their pa
ssion for examining the celestial bodies.’

  ‘But if this be known,’ Eadulf pointed out, ‘then it would add to the suspicions of the local people. The sight of one or other of you seated on a hill making observations of the moon would fuel such suspicions. Surely you should now explain the reasons for this, to avoid mistrust? I think this is what you are telling us. That Brocc did see one of you on the hill and that this was what you were doing. Why not tell us who it was? We will hear your explanation.’

  ‘In our land of Aksum we have a saying that it is only lack of knowledge that makes people suspicious,’ Brother Dangila replied gravely. ‘The local people would not have your knowledge of why we study the celestial orbs. So if it was admitted that one or other of us might — and I only say might — have been on that hillside examining the full moon, then they would not understand and our admission would be fuel for their suspicions.’

  Fidelma conceded the point. ‘There is truth in that, Brother. However, Publilius Syrus points out that suspicion begets suspicion. They are already suspicious and it would be better to quell that suspicion before it outgrows our ability to do so.’

  Brother Nakfa suddenly rose from his seat in a smooth unhurried motion which a moment later was copied by his companions.

  ‘Sister, we are in your hands,’ Brother Nakfa assured her solemnly. ‘We have told you what we know of the matter you inquire into. We know little except that these deaths came at the full of the moon, and because we are strangers, alien in the colour of our skins as well as language and demeanour, and because we are studying the celestial motions, so we are suspects in these terrible crimes. All we can offer in defence is the truth. If we can offer nothing else, then we would seek permission to return to our studies.’

  Fidelma found herself rising with a feeling of irritation. She disguised her feelings with an expression equally as bland as the three men’s.

  ‘There is nothing more I need ask of any of you at this moment,’ she agreed reluctantly.

  The three tall strangers bowed in unison and moved silently from the room. When they had gone, Fidelma resumed her seat.

  Abbot Brogán was looking troubled.

  ‘I fear that instead of dispelling suspicion, Sister Fidelma, they have ignited thoughts that were not there before,’ he observed.

  Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘The purpose of questioning, Abbot, is to provoke new thoughts and possibilities. And it is my duty as a dálaigh to ask questions. It would be better for the three strangers if they could be more specific about where they were on the nights of the full moon. I am inclined to believe Brocc when he says he saw one of them but his evidence is useless if he cannot be specific about which of the three he saw. As Eadulf says, we can consider the strangers’ interest in the study of the heavens once the matter is admitted. However, by not admitting it, they merely create suspicion.’

  Abbot Brogán was unhappy and said so.

  ‘Brother Dangila was correct when he said that even if Brocc’s testimony was true, it did not mean that whoever he saw was responsible for the slaughter of any of the girls,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘So do not fret on that account. You are acting correctly in continuing to offer them hospitality and refuge from the anger of others. Yet I find your guests most intriguing, Abbot. I shall certainly return to question them further.’

  ‘Well,’ the abbot replied, rising to escort his guests to the door, ‘I would keep a careful watch on Brocc, for what he has tried once, he might try again.’

  ‘Even with his wound?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘A flesh wound, soon healing. Brocc is someone who lives revenge. And he has a friend, a smith called Gobnuid at Rath Raithlen. Gobnuid was among those who tried to attack the abbey. The two might plot some mischief.’

  ‘Gobnuid? I seem to have heard that name but I can’t place it. No matter. We shall take heed of your warning, Abbot Brogán,’ Fidelma assured him.

  Accobrán was waiting outside for them but there was no sign of Brocc, who had apparently departed back to his brother’s mill.

  The hour was growing late when they left the abbey and Fidelma decided that it was not worth while making a further journey across the valley to find Goll and his son Gabrán. It looked as though Accobrán was thankful for this, for he excused himself almost immediately they returned to the fortress and headed towards the stables. It was not long before they saw him ride out.

  Eadulf wanted his evening wash immediately. He had grown used to the Irish custom of having a bath every evening, although it had taken some time, for he had found it strange both to wash in the morning and then to bathe in the evening. Fidelma decided to stroll around the rath by herself before having her own wash. While the October day was gloomy and growing dark, it was still early and there were sounds of activity through the fortress. She could hear the smash of metal against metal that showed that some of the forge workers were still hard at work, and a thought stirred in her mind. She made her way towards the sound, which came from a group of buildings towards the back of the rath.

  A smith was busy shaping a metal pot in the glowing charcoal of a fire, holding the tongs in one hand while the other pounded the soft metal with a flat hammer. A few people were passing by and now and again someone would acknowledge him, but he would only grunt a reply without looking up. He did not look much like the way one might imagine a smith. He was a thin, wiry individual, with fox-like features. But the thin arms and torso, the taut muscles, belied strength greater than his appearance suggested. His glistening body was clad in a sleeveless leather jerkin and breeches.

  Fidelma stood and watched him, admiring the dexterity of his work. She waited until he turned to plunge the pot into his water bucket before speaking. She had to pause for the hiss and cloud of steam, which arose as the metal cooled, to evaporate.

  ‘Good evening, smith.’

  He glanced at her and tossed his strands of sandy hair back from his face. In spite of his thin, foxy appearance, his expression was pleasant. His bright blue eyes were close set in a deeply tanned face which enhanced their colour and made them appear brighter than they were.

  ‘Good evening to you, lady.’

  She raised an eyebrow. Usually strangers addressed her as ‘Sister’. That he called her ‘lady’ implied knowledge.

  ‘You know who I am?’

  The smith grimaced pleasantly. ‘Doesn’t everyone in the rath know that you are a dálaigh and sister to the king at Cashel?’

  Fidelma sighed. She supposed it was natural that everyone would know the reason for Becc’s journey to Cashel and the identity of those with whom he had returned.

  ‘You are working late, smith,’ she commented.

  ‘I had need to finish this pot for Adag the steward. But I am done now.’

  He took out the cold metal from the water barrel, placed it on the shelf, and began to return his tools to the rack.

  ‘When I was here many years ago as a young girl, there were numerous forges working in this rath,’ Fidelma reflected. ‘There do not seem to be so many now.’

  The smith smiled briefly.

  ‘Not so many,’ he agreed. ‘Our mines used to make this rath one of the great metal-working centres of the kingdom. First the gold ran out and then the silver and now there is little left. There is still a lead mine over at Dún Draighneáin. That’s but a short ride from here.’

  ‘I hear that copper and iron are still produced in fair quantity,’ Fidelma pointed out.

  ‘Indeed, lady, but not enough to bring the Cinél na Áeda back to the prosperity they once had. Our gold and silversmiths used to turn out work for the High Kings in distant Temhair but they do so no more. I started out as an apprentice to a silversmith. We turned out many a bejewelled chalice for the abbeys in the district. Now, I shoe horses, and turn out ploughshares and metal pots.’ He grimaced towards his forge with a wry expression. ‘Ah, if only someone would find another rich gold vein or a silver mine…but that’s a forlorn hope.’

  Fidelma laughed s
oftly.

  The smith frowned with curiosity.

  ‘What amuses you, lady?’ he demanded.

  ‘Today I came across two small boys sitting in the river…what do you call it? The Tuath? The boys were panning for gold.’

  The smith shook his head. ‘A child’s game, no more. There’s been no gold found in that river since our chieftain’s father was a small boy.’

  ‘Well, they did tell me that one of their fellows had found a gold nugget there.’

  The man glanced up in surprise.

  ‘Who found such a thing?’ he asked sharply. ‘Did they say?’

  ‘The name of the child? They called him Síoda.’

  The smith was chuckling grimly. ‘Of course, it would be young Síoda.’

  ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘I know him well enough. He’s the son of Becc’s shield-bearer. In fact, it was only a few days ago when the young scamp came running to me proclaiming that he had found gold and asked me to buy it from him.’

  He suddenly turned and reached up to a shelf and took something down. Then he held out his palm towards Fidelma. A piece of metal the size of the top of a man’s thumb. It glistened with a yellow tinge.

  Fidelma frowned.

  ‘It looks like gold,’ she hazarded.

  ‘Iron pyrites. It is not worth anything.’

  ‘Fool’s gold?’

  The smith nodded appreciatively at her knowledge. ‘Fool’s gold, indeed, lady. I gave Síoda something to assuage his disappointment. So I wish the two lads you saw the best of luck, but they may sit there until the crack of doom and not come near to finding a grain of gold in that river, nor anywhere else round here.’

  ‘Until the crack of doom…’ sighed Fidelma reflectively.

  The smith turned for a moment as his forge fire began to hiss, some manifestation of the coal causing a blue flame to shoot out of it. Fidelma seized the moment to pick up a sharp implement and scrape at the metal and examine the golden glint the scratch caused. As the smith turned back to her, she handed it back to him.