Night of the Fifth Moon by Anna Ciddor

clapped his hands. ‘Gortigern mac Ardal, I pronounce you guilty. If this judgement be false, may the Collar of Truth tighten and choke me!’
    There was a quivering, expectant pause. Everyone pressed closer, trying to see the gold torque around his neck. Ket felt a sharp elbow in his ribs, and someone’s noisy breathing filled his ear. The brehon waited, his arms spread out dramatically, then Faelán’s voice broke the silence.
    â€˜The spirits have spoken,’ he cried. ‘The judgement is made and proven.’
    Excited murmurs rippled through the crowd.
    The lawgiver held up his hand. ‘The penalty for entering a dwelling without permission is a fine of one heifer-calf.’
    â€˜Gortigern, step forth to accept your penalty,’ ordered Faelán.
    The press of bodies shifted to make way for the glowering Gortigern, but Ket had seen enough. He wormed his way out of the crush and burst free, his eyes flying to the Sacred Yew. Lorccán and Bran were there already, crouched beside the ogham rod. When they saw him coming, they ran off laughing.
    Nath-í sat in a forlorn huddle a short distance away.
    â€˜I didn’t see,’ he moaned. ‘I got pushed out of the way, and those two won’t tell me anything.’ His eyes flicked in the direction Lorccán and Bran had taken.
    Ket looked into the doleful face and sighed resignedly. How could he refuse to tell?
    â€˜Wasn’t that exciting!?’ cried Nessa, running to join them. ‘When Brehon Áengus called out that challenge about the Collar of Truth, I almost died. What if it had really tightened and choked him? Imagine having a magic neck torque like that!’ Her eyes were as sparkly as the gold beads in her hair. ‘Do you think Gortigern will pay his fine? I bet he refuses. And then what will happen?’ She twisted round to watch her clan march off down the path. ‘Oh, I wish I could go home with them and see!’
    Ket stared at her in astonishment.
    â€˜Aren’t you interested in the ogham?’ he asked. ‘We found out two more.’
    â€˜The ogham!’ Nessa swung back towards him. ‘I nearly forgot. Let’s look at the message.’
    As they crouched by the rod, Nath-í leaned over their shoulders.
    â€˜Look!’ Ket exclaimed. ‘The second feda – it’s the T from Tirech. That means the first word starts with h-t . . .’ He stopped, bewildered.
    â€˜That’s silly,’ said Nessa. ‘There isn’t any word that starts with h-t .’
    â€˜There must be. Wait, if we put in the other feda . . . We don’t know the one with three flat strokes, but then . . .’ He sounded out each feda as he pointed. ‘There’s m-n-o . And the second word is r-o . . .’ His voice trailed away.
    â€˜ Ro isn’t a word either.’
    They glared at the ogham rod.
    Nath-í brushed back his long fringe and peered earnestly at the markings.
    â€˜I don’t get how you worked out any of it,’ he muttered. ‘How did you get ro ? And ht ?’
    Nessa threw up her hands in exasperation ‘It doesn’t matter. They’re not right anyway. We must have made a mistake.’
    As Ket slumped back on his heels, Lorccán came sauntering over.
    â€˜Well,’ he grinned. ‘Bet you can’t work it out. Bet I read the message first.’

FIANS
    The Spirit of the Sun was weakening. Every day the hours of light grew shorter. Ket watched the druid anxiously as he scanned the skies. Surely soon Faelán would call for the ceremony of Midwinter to coax back the departing sun. Hunger loomed over the druid’s camp. The offerings of oxflesh, cheese and bread were long gone. There were no more apples on the trees and the birds had eaten the last of the blackberries.
    â€˜What are you all lolling about for?’ Maura demanded. ‘Take your slingshots and go find something for the pot, or we’ll all be