Free Badger's Moon by Peter Tremayne Page A

adjoining hills. It was a rich-looking and fertile countryside, in spite of the oncoming grip of autumn which had the leaves changing colour but not, as yet, falling.
    Within Rath Raithlen itself, apart from the chief’s hall and adjoining buildings, were several streets and alleys crowded with artisans’ workshops and several residential buildings. Eadulf assumed these were the habitations of the chieftain’s retinue. He realised that the walls of the fortress encompassed an entire village with several forges, saddle-makers’ shops and even an alehouse. Rath Raithlen must be a prosperous place.
    ‘I had not realised that the Cinél na Áeda were so wealthy,’ Eadulf remarked to Fidelma when she suggested that they go down to the courtyard and prepare for the morning’s work.
    ‘The scribes maintain that this was the capital of the Eóghanacht before our ancestor, King Conall Corc, discovered Cashel and made his capital on the Rock,’ Fidelma explained. ‘I told you that Becc, my cousin, was grandson of King Fedelmid, which is the masculine form of my name.’
    ‘It is an impressive place,’ agreed Eadulf, looking around him as they went out into the courtyard before Becc’s hall. ‘I see many memorial stones with inscriptions on them but they are carved in Ogham which I cannot decipher.’
    ‘If we have time, I shall teach you the ancient alphabet,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘When I was little and visiting here, I was told that they marked the tombs of great rulers of ancient times.’
    ‘What puzzles me is the number of forges in the rath. I saw them from the bedroom window. Only a few seemed to be used, though. Why does Becc need so many?’
    ‘This used to be a centre of metal working. The whole area is rich in metals: copper mines, lead and iron, even gold and silver. The Blessed Finnbarr, who was born at the abbey of which we have spoken, was the son of a metalworker.’
    Eadulf frowned as he dredged a memory. ‘I have often heard you talk of Magh Méine, the plain of minerals. Is this it?’
    ‘That is not far from here, to the north-east. This countryside has a similar mining tradition.’ She broke off as Accobrán, the handsome young tanist, emerged from a doorway and came across to them. He greeted them pleasantly and seemed more accommodating than he had initially been on the previous evening; more helpful and friendly. Fidelma still felt a distrust of his charm. He asked whether they wanted to go on horseback to visit the people they needed to question. Hearing that none was located more than twenty-one forrach from the fortress – a distance of no more than two kilometres – Fidelma decided that they should walk. It would be a chance to examine the countryside and possibly explore the places where the three victims had met their deaths.
    Accobrán led the way through the ramparts, beyond the last great wooden gates, and turned down the hill. They followed the broad path for a short while and then the tanist turned off into a thickly wooded area through which a very narrow path twisted between the trees.
    ‘Old Liag, the apothecary, dwells within these woods,’ Accobrán informed them, speaking over his shoulder as there was only room for them to walk in single file with the growth towering on either side. ‘He is usually to be found along the banks of the Tuath. That is the river that runs around the hill here.’
    ‘It is an odd name for a river,’ Eadulf commented. He liked to improve his knowledge of the language of Éireann whenever he could. ‘Doesn’t the name simply signify a territory?’
    The young tanist smiled briefly. ‘One of the septs of our people, south of here, was ruled by a chieftain named Cúisnigh and his district was called Tuath an Cúisnigh. Soon the original name of the river that divided his territory was forgotten. People referred to it as the river that runs through the territory of Cúisnigh and gradually even that was foreshortened into the “territory