Badger's Moon Read Online Free

abbey is under attack,’ gasped the rotund and balding man. ‘Abbot Brogán asks that you go to his assistance immediately.’
    Becc had been up late, feasting and drinking with his guests. His head ached and his mouth was dry. He groaned a little and reached for a flagon that stood on a table near his bed. He raised it and took a mouthful or two directly from it. His face screwed into a look of distaste as the stale liquor washed down. His steward looked on with disapproval.
    ‘Wine is sweet in the drinking but bitter in the paying,’ observed Becc in self-defence, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
    Adag focused beyond the chieftain’s shoulder and piously intoned: ‘He who drinks only water will not be drunk.’
    Becc gazed at him sourly, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Another aphorism came unbidden into his mind. Let you be drunk or sober, keep your thoughts to yourself.
    He rose and began to move rapidly, dressing quickly and ignoring his disapproving steward until he had buckled on his sword.
    A dishevelled Brother of the Faith was waiting in agitation in the anteroom beyond. He was young, with fair hair.
    ‘Brother Solam,’ Becc greeted him. ‘What is this news that you bring me?’
    ‘The abbey is under attack, my lord Becc. My abbot bids you—’
    Becc made a cutting motion with his hand, silencing the man.
    ‘The abbey is under attack? Who is attacking it?’ he demanded sharply.
    ‘The villagers, my lord. Yet another body, the body of the young girl named Ballgel, was found in the woods this morning…’
    The chieftain’s eyes widened with shock. ‘Ballgel? But she works in my kitchen. She was here last night until late because we had guests…’ He turned quickly to his steward, who had followed him. ‘Adag, at what time did Ballgel leave the rath last night?’
    ‘Just after midnight, lord. I was at the gate when she left. She went alone.’
    Becc turned to Brother Solam. ‘It is certain that it was Ballgel who was killed?’
    ‘It is certain. The villagers are in an ugly mood. This is the third young girl of the village who has been killed in as many months. A crowd has marched on the abbey and called upon the abbot to hand over the three visiting religious. The abbot refuses and now they are in fury, rage and clamour. They say they will attack the brethren and set fire to the abbey unless the strangers are handed over.’
    ‘Why the strangers? Do the villagers have evidence that they killed Ballgel?’
    Brother Solam shook his head quickly. ‘The villagers are full of fear and suspicion, lord. But that does not make them any the less dangerous.’
    ‘I have already alerted the guard, my lord Becc,’ Adag intervened. ‘The horses should be saddled by now.’
    ‘Then let us ride for the abbey!’ Becc ordered decisively, turning to lead the way to the courtyard. ‘Brother Solam can ride behind one of our warriors.’
     
    The abbey of the Blessed Finnbarr was only a short ride away, a cluster of wooden buildings gathered by the banks of the River Tuath. The buildings were encompassed by a wooden stockade which served to keep out wolves and other nocturnal scavengers. Before the wooden gates, which were hardly strong enough to exclude one determined man, a group of forty or fifty men and women had gathered. Facing them stood a slightly built, elderly religieux with silver hair. His clothing proclaimed him as a senior member of the community. At either side of him stood two young, nervous-looking brethren.
    The old man was holding up his hands as if calling for quiet. However, the shouting and outrage of the crowd drowned out his words.
    ‘Hand over the strangers! We will deal with them!’
    At the forefront of the crowd was a thickset villager with a dark black beard and an angry expression. He carried a thick cudgel in one of his large hands. Those around him roared their approval of his belligerent leadership.
    ‘This is a house of God!’ The thin, reedy tone of