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feasting, Becc.’
    The chieftain pursed his lips and a dark shadow seemed to cross his features.
    ‘It may well be that you can point the way out of the mire into which the Cinél na Áeda have descended,’ he said hopefully.
    Fidelma gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘Tell your story, Becc, and we will see how best we may help you.’
    ‘The first killing was two months ago,’ Becc began without preamble. ‘The victim was Beccnat, the daughter of Lesren who is our tanner and leather worker. She had just reached her seventeenth summer. A young, innocent girl.’
    He fell silent, apparently meditating on the event.
    ‘In what manner was she killed?’ prompted Fidelma, after a few moments.
    ‘Brutally,’ returned Becc at once. ‘Brutally.’ His voice was suddenly sharp. ‘Her body was found one morning in the woods not far from my fortress. She had been stabbed many times, almost as if the flesh was ripped apart in some unspeakable ritual way.’
    ‘You said that this was the first killing. So I deduce that there have been others?’
    ‘A month ago, another young girl was slain. This time it was Escrach, the daughter of our miller. She was found in a similar manner. She, too, was no more than seventeen or eighteen years of age.’
    ‘Was she found in the same woods?’
    Becc nodded. ‘And not far from where the first body was found. Then a few nights ago the third girl was found. Her name was Ballgel. She was of the same age as the others. She worked in the kitchens at my fortress. She, too, was slaughtered in an unspeakable manner.’
    ‘Unspeakable?’ Fidelma grimaced dourly. ‘When things are unspeakable I often find that they are best described in words.’
    Becc sighed and gave a shake of his head.
    ‘I do not choose my words lightly,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Have you ever seen the results when a butcher has slaughtered a hog?’
    Eadulf’s mouth was tight. ‘That bad?’
    Becc gazed evenly at him.
    ‘Perhaps worse, Brother Saxon,’ he agreed quietly.
    There was a silence for a moment or so. Then Fidelma spoke again.
    ‘You say that this was the third girl? And each killing was spaced a month apart?’
    ‘At each full of the moon.’
    Fidelma let out a soft breath and glanced quickly towards Eadulf.
    ‘At the full of the moon,’ she repeated softly.
    Becc nodded to emphasise the significance.
    ‘That is an implication which has not been lost on myself, or on Abbot Brogán,’ he said.
    ‘Abbot Brogán?’
    ‘Nearby is the abbey where the Blessed Finnbarr was born.’ Becc glanced at Eadulf. ‘Finnbarr founded a school in the marshlands by the River Laoi and taught many years there.’
    ‘We know well who Finnbarr was,’ interposed Colgú roughly, ‘for was not our father, Faílbe Fland mac Aedo Duib, king at Cashel during those days?’
    Becc inclined his head, not bothering to explain that he was addressing his remarks to Eadulf.
    ‘I had not forgotten. Anyway, Abbot Brogán is a venerable man who was trained at Finnbarr’s college by the River Laoi. He took over the stewardship of the abbey near to us two decades ago. The abbey stands just below the wooded hill where these killings took place. We call the woods the Thicket of Pigs and now the hill bears that name.’
    Fidelma leant back in her chair. ‘So, from what you say, there have been three young girls murdered, each killing made on the full moon? Has your own Chief Brehon investigated this matter? I fail to understand why you bring this tale to Cashel.’
    Becc shifted in embarrassment. ‘My Chief Brehon was Aolú. A man of wit and wisdom who served the Cinél na Áeda for forty long years in that office. He was old and frail and three weeks ago he died from a fever produced from a chill.’
    ‘Who succeeded him?’ demanded Fidelma.
    ‘Alas, I have not been able to appoint a successor. We have several judges of lower rank and ability, none of them of sufficient experience to be appointed as Chief Brehon. Until such an