Badger's Moon by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online Page B

‘Before we conclude this discussion, there is one more task I must accomplish.’
    This time it was Colgús religious counsellor who entered. Ségdae was the elderly bishop of Imleach and comarb , official successor, of the Blessed Ailbe who first brought the Faith to Muman. The ageing but hawk-faced man, whose dark eyes missed nothing, carried a small, oblong box with him.
    Colgú stood up and, as protocol demanded, they all stood. Ségdae’s stern features softened a little in brief greeting to them all before he handed the box to Colgú. The king turned to Fidelma.
    ‘In view of the nature of this matter, as you have already pointed out, Fidelma, we must treat it as a matter of concern for the honour of the kingdom. We have given hospitality to these strangers; if they are unjustly accused and harmed, it reflects on our honour. If they have abused our hospitality and committed these criminal acts, then it is we who are responsible for seeing that they answer for that abuse.’ He opened the box. ‘You have acted as my authority once before, Fidelma, and now you must act as my authority again.’
    He took from the box a small wand of white rowan on which was fixed a figurine in gold in the image of an antlered stag. This was the personal symbol of the Eóghanacht princes of Cashel, the symbol of their regal authority. He handed it to Fidelma.
    ‘This is the symbol of my personal authority, sister. You have used it well in the past and will use it again in justice in the future.’
    Fidelma took the wand of authority in her hand, inclining her head briefly. Then brother and sister embraced in the official manner of the court.
    There was a solemnity between them for a moment and then both stood back and their features broke into grins like children sharing a secret. Colgú turned to them all, still smiling.
    ‘Now let us proceed into the feasting hall or the rest of our guests will be wondering what ails us.’

Chapter Three
    The party left Cashel the next morning, but not at dawn as Fidelma had suggested. In fact, the sun was creeping towards its zenith before they left because the feasting had lasted late into the night and there had been music and dancing. Bards, accompanying themselves on small stringed instruments, which they plucked, had sung the praises of the ancestry of Colgú in what Fidelma explained to Eadulf was one of the oldest forms of poetry known to her people – the forsundud or ‘praise poem’. In all the time that he had been in the five kingdoms of Éireann, Eadulf had never heard this ancient form and found the words of the chants recited the various reigns of the kings of Cashel and their noble deeds. The recitation was accompanied by an exuberant music which, to Eadulf’s ears, was both strange and wild. The wine circled well among the company. When the party departed for the territory of the Cinél na Áeda, the palace of Cashel still had an air of sleep about it and Eadulf and Becc seemed strained and silent. Fidelma, knowing the alcoholic cause of their wretchedness, was not sympathetic.
    It took three days of easy riding to reach the fortress of the Cinél na Áeda at Rath Raithlen. They rode in just after dark and were greeted in the courtyard by Accobrán, the tanist. He was a tall, muscular young man, with dark hair which he wore in the shoulder-length fashion but clean-shaven. His features were pleasant but there seemed some ruthless quality about his mouth. Something indiscernibly cruel. His eyes were dark and Fidelma distrusted his ability to smile too quickly. She identified the quiet vanity of his manner and the self-satisfaction of the consciously handsome.
    ‘Has all been quiet while I have been in Cashel?’ was Becc’s first question as he was dismounting.
    The young man gestured with diffidence. ‘Brocc has recovered from his wound. He demands to be released.’
    ‘He has a hide like a bull,’ muttered Becc. ‘I thought he might have learnt his lesson and stopped