A Prayer for the Damned

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Fidelma’s brows drew together in anger as she stared at the jailer’s bewildered features. ‘Don’t be silly, man! I have just come from my brother, and am here to question the prisoner.’

The man’s face was pale. ‘But. . but. .’

Fidelma was impatient. ‘Take me to the prisoner immediately.’

‘But I tell you the truth, lady,’ replied the dismayed jailer. ‘I released Brother Drón over an hour ago. The Brehon Ninnid ordered his release in the name of King Colgú.’

Fidelma stared aghast at the man. ‘Brehon Ninnid did what?’

‘He ordered the immediate release of Brother Drón,’ the man repeated helplessly.

Fidelma was already turning to Caol and issuing curt orders. ‘Find out whether Brother Drón is still in the fortress. I suspect he is probably gone by now. Seek out Brehon Ninnid. If you find him, bring him to Colgú’s chamber at once — bring him under duress if necessary. If you see the Brehon Barrán ask him to come there straight away. I have never. .’ She was shaking her head in disbelief even as Caol hurried off on his errands.

Fidelma erupted into her brother’s chamber in the violence of anger. Colgú was alone and started up in surprise as his sister burst in.

‘Brother Drón has been released in your name!’ she thundered before he could speak.

Colgú looked at her in bemusement. ‘But you know I did not order. .’ he began, but Fidelma interrupted.

‘It was Ninnid. He dared to go to the jail and order Drón’s release in your name.’

At that moment Chief Brehon Barrán entered behind her. ‘What has happened?’ he demanded. ‘I was asked by the commander of your guard to come here with all despatch. Is something wrong?’

Colgú had realised the seriousness of the situation and assumed a steely glint in his eyes that matched his sister’s.

‘Brother Drón was being held in the jail here under my authority, with the knowledge of Blathmac of Ulaidh. My sister tells me that Brehon Ninnid of Laigin has ordered his release in my name without my knowledge nor permission. He must answer for this.’

Even Brehon Barrán appeared momentarily shocked at this news, but his surprise was tempered with curiosity. ‘What had Brother Drón done to deserve being incarcerated in the first place?’

Fidelma swiftly sketched in why she had agreed to Caol’s taking the unusual step of keeping Brother Drón secured. She had barely finished speaking when Caol himself entered.

‘Brother Drón has, indeed, left the fortress,’ he said quickly. ‘So has Brehon Ninnid. Using the brehon’s authority, they took their horses from the stables and rode off.’

‘Is it known what direction they took?’

Caol shrugged eloquently. ‘They were last seen riding down into the township. After that, who knows? I have sent men to see if they can find anyone who can tell us.’

Brehon Barrán’s countenance was bleak. ‘I have no understanding of Ninnid’s actions, except they are of great affront to you, Colgú. First, we must try to repair the damage,’ he said firmly, turning to Fidelma. ‘Are you saying that Brother Drón is guilty of one or other of these murders?’

‘He is an important witness,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Something links him to Sister Marga and that is the mystery I must elucidate. It is a mystery that apparently makes it imperative that he control her movements. What it is, I was hoping to find out by questioning him. I suspect that Marga’s life is in danger now.’

‘I was told that Sister Marga had fled during the night after there was an attack on the Ulaidh warrior, Fergus Fanat.’

‘Another matter that needs clarification,’ Fidelma said. ‘Marga did leave here and Drón attempted to follow her. As it was, it was on a false trail.’

She quickly told the Chief Brehon what had happened at Patrick’s Well. Brehon Barrán looked puzzled. ‘It sounds a complicated story.’

‘Due to Ninnid’s intervention, Drón has eluded me. I think he will now try to track down Sister Marga.’

‘Track?’ Colgú turned abruptly to Caol. ‘Who is the best tracker we have?’ he asked.

Caol had no hesitation. ‘Rónán.’

‘Of course.’ Colgú smiled briefly. ‘Fetch him to me. The only thing we can do is attempt to trace Drón’s tracks and see where he is heading.’

Caol was just leaving when one of his warriors halted him in the doorway and whispered something. The commander turned back with a grim smile.

‘Brehon Ninnid has just returned to the fortress. My men have brought him hither protesting innocence of any wrongdoing.’

Colgú turned to Fidelma in grim satisfaction. ‘Now, perhaps, we shall learn the answers to some of our questions.’ He glanced at Barrán. ‘As Chief Brehon of the Five Kingdoms, you must give authority to this matter.’

Brehon Barren’s features were stern. ‘I will conduct the questioning myself, for Brehon Ninnid’s actions are without support in law.’

Fidelma went to sit by her brother while Brehon Barrán took up a stance before the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back. Colgú nodded to Caol, who stood aside and motioned to someone in the adjoining antechamber.

Brehon Ninnid entered the room, red-faced and angry, followed by Enda, whose hand was clasped on the hilt of his sword.

‘You can fetch Rónán now,’ Colgú told Caol, ‘and wait with him in the adjoining chamber until we are ready.’

As the door closed, Brehon Ninnid took a pace forward. His features showed his hostility. Then his eyes widened with surprise when he saw the grim face of Brehon Barrán.

‘I am glad you are here,’ he said, recovering his poise. ‘I have been treated with the utmost discourtesy. This warrior almost hauled me off my horse as I rode back from the township just now. He marched me here under threat of physical force. He dared to use me thus in spite of the fact that I am a brehon. This is outrageous!’

Brehon, Barrán waited calmly until Ninnid stopped speaking.

‘So you have no idea of any reason why you should be asked to come here?’ he asked softly.

‘None that demands such discourteous treatment,’ snapped Ninnid.

Brehon Barrán raised an eyebrow. ‘Not even that you abused your authority to help a prisoner to escape?’ His voice was still gentle.

‘Help a prisoner. .?’ Brehon Ninnid began angrily, and then his expression changed slightly. ‘Ridiculous. I presume that you refer to Brother Drón? He was unjustifiably incarcerated by a warrior and I merely released him.’

Brehon Barrán’s expression did not change but his tone hardened. ‘You are in the palace of Colgú, king of Muman, and the release of prisoners from the Duma na nGiall can only be made in his name. Did you tell the jailer that the release was ordered in the name of Colgú?’

Brehon Ninnid frowned. ‘I probably implied it. . but I am a brehon. It is my right and duty to correct injustice and it was obvious that the warrior had gone too far.’

‘How do you know this, Brehon Ninnid? Who told you that Brother Drón had been jailed in the first place?’

‘Someone saw him being marched there and I went to investigate. I demanded to speak to the prisoner in my capacity as a brehon.’

‘So how did you learn the details of why Brother Drón was jailed and decide that it was an injustice?’ pressed the Chief Brehon.

‘It was simple enough to decide. Brother Drón told me.’

The Chief Brehon’s expression became incredulous. ‘And you believed him?’

‘Why should I not? He is a religious man, a leading churchman of Ulaidh, and he. . he is. .’ Brehon Ninnid was suddenly quiet.

‘And he is originally’from Laigin. Of the Uí Dróna, as are you, Ninnid,’ Fidelma said softly.

Brehon Barrán frowned as he considered this. ‘Of course. I had forgotten. Are you related to him?’

Brehon Ninnid raised his jaw defensively. ‘I am of the Uí Dróna but that is irrelevant.’

‘Is it? Drón told you that he was being wrongly imprisoned?’

‘Of course. I saw at once that the commander had simply overstepped his authority and made the jailer release him.’

‘Further, you took him to the stables where you both took your horses and rode out of the fortress. . what direction did he take?’

That something was seriously wrong had finally registered with the arrogant young brehon. He was beginning to look nervous.

‘I wanted to see someone staying in a hostel in the township below. We rode to the town together. I stopped at the hostel and Brother Drón rode on. He told me that he was hoping to find Sister Marga, who had fled without his authority.’

‘Where did he go? In what direction?’ snapped Fidelma, unable to stay silent any longer.

Brehon Ninnid looked nervously at her, and when he hesitated Barrán added sharply: ‘Answer the question.’

‘I think he took the road that runs west to the great river, the Siúr.’

Fidelma sighed. ‘That is of no help. We shall still need Rónán to track him.’

The Chief Brehon gazed sadly at the brehon of Laigin. ‘Know that in your arrogance, Ninnid, you have transgressed the law. Even the fact of releasing a prisoner is as nothing compared to taking the authority of the king without his permission. Did it not occur to you that Drón would not tell you the truth? Did it not occur to you that the warrior was acting with authority and not on some whim of his own? You will be brought before a hearing, Ninnid, and if it is found that you acted out of nepotism because you are of the Uí Dróna you will never hold office again.’

Ninnid swallowed nervously. ‘But it was not that. .’ he began.

Brehon Barrán raised a hand to silence him. ‘Every brehon must bear the responsibility for any mistake he makes,’ he said firmly. ‘As I see it, you are already self-confessed of the mistake of leth-tacrae.’

It was the legal term used when a brehon gave a judgement after hearing only one side of a case. Such a judgement was considered an injustice against the king and the nobles of the kingdom. It was the most serious breach of duty for a judge and the punishment was that he not only be deprived of his office but also pay his honour-price.

Ninnid turned pale. ‘I swear that I did not act out of kinship for Brother Drón. The fact that he was of my people might have influenced the way I felt about my decision, but not the way I came to it. I did believe that I was acting out of right.’

Fidelma suddenly found herself feeling almost sorry for the arrogant young man.

‘I am not excusing the enormity of what Ninnid did,’ she said. ‘But perhaps leth-tacrae might be too strong a term for what was, after all, not a legal judgement but a mistaken opinion, an ignorance born of arrogance.’

The Chief Brehon regarded her in amusement. ‘Are you entering a plea for Ninnid?’

Fidelma met his amused gaze and her eyes twinkled in answer. ‘I was unaware that this was a duly constituted court but thought it merely a means of questioning Ninnid as to what prompted his actions. That those actions were wrong and without legal authority is in no doubt, but perhaps the lesson that we trust he will learn can be underscored by a fine. After all, is there not an often repeated maxim in the law books cach brithemoin a báegul. . to every judge his error?’

Chief Brehon Barrán turned gravely to Colgú. ‘As your sister points out, this is not a properly constituted court hearing of an accusation of misdeed against Ninnid. It is your right, as the injured party, to demand such a hearing before a court of three judges of equal stature to Ninnid. Do you wish to proceed legally against him?’

Colgú looked at his sister as if for guidance and then shrugged. ‘If Ninnid is willing to admit his error, then I am content.’

Brehon Barrán turned back to the Laigin brehon whose arrogance had long since deserted him and who now stood with hunched shoulders and bowed head.

‘The king and the lady Fidelma have been lenient in this matter. As Chief Brehon, I cannot be so lenient, so I will say that you will not only pay five ounces of silver, which would have been the pledge in support of your position of prosecutor of Muirchertach Nár had he lived, but a fine of a cumal, the value of three milch cows, which would have been your fee. Furthermore, you will have no further involvement in the case of either the death of Abbot Ultán or that of Muirchertach Nár. Nor can you be the chief brehon in Laigin but will return to the lower order of judges. Do you accept this ruling or do you wish to appeal?’

Ninnid’s shoulders seemed to sink even lower.

‘I accept,’ he said softly.

When Ninnid had left the Chief Brehon relaxed a little. ‘A vain and silly man. He is talented in his knowledge of law but his arrogance makes him defective in his judgement. Yet perhaps he will learn from this event.’ He suddenly turned to Fidelma. ‘Are you close to a solution to these matters now?’

‘You may tell the High King that tomorrow at midday, either we will have the answers to these deaths or we may have to assume that the culprit has escaped us.’

‘Ah, you mean Brother Drón?’

Fidelma would not comment but made her excuses and left. Colgú stood up, moved to a side table and waved the Chief Brehon to a chair near the fire.

‘A goblet of wine, Barrán?’

The Chief Brehon smiled. ‘Corma would be better still,’ he said.

Colgú poured the drinks and settled in a chair opposite Barrán. They both sipped appreciatively for a moment.

‘I hope my sister will be able to sort out this puzzle,’ Colgú finally commented. ‘It is a bad business, with everyone ready to condemn Cashel if there is no resolution.’

‘I have confidence in Fidelma.’ The Chief Brehon was reassuring. ‘Her reputation has not been won merely by luck. If I had influence with her, I would try to persuade her to separate entirely from the religious and become a brehon instead of just a dálaigh. She has the ability to make such sound judgements that she is often wasted in pleading cases before others. . especially when they are so inferior in judgement as Ninnid.’

‘I know that she has been considering her position in the religious,’ Colgú confided. ‘However, she feels uncomfortable about it because she places such reliance on our cousin’s advice. .’

‘Abbot Laisran of Durrow?’

Colgú nodded. ‘He was the one who persuaded her to enter the religious in the first place. He argued that it would make her independent of a reliance on her work in law. But monastic life was not to her taste. Her first interest and commitment is to the law and, as you know, for the last few years now she has been her own mistress. However, I know that she feels that any severance from the religious will be a betrayal of Laisran.’

‘Do you think her marriage to the Saxon will alter her attitudes?’

‘I think Eadulf is a good man. A stable man. I would, of course, have preferred her to wed one of our own, but he shares her enthusiasm for her work. He is not qualified in our laws, but he seems to have a natural aptitude in helping her to solve these conundrums. I have often suggested that he should study our law, for he was an hereditary. . gerefa, I think is the word. It means a magistrate of his own people in the Saxon lands.’

Barrán sighed deeply. ‘I share your view of Eadulf. A good man, even though he is a Saxon. Perhaps you are right, Colgú. Maybe he will help steer her away from the stormy waters that this new faith is bringing with it. The debates between our native forms and these foreign ways that emanate from Rome are becoming more vicious. Truly, I do fear for the future.’

Fergus Fanat was sitting up with a bandage round his head and looking rueful as Fidelma entered the little room where old Brother Conchobhar nursed his patients. Fidelma had been informed that the warrior had recovered consciousness as she was about to leave the fortress with Caol and Rónán. She told them to continue down to the town to begin the search for Brother Drón and that she would catch up with them later.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked as she dropped into a seat beside his bed.

The warrior managed a brief smile. ‘As if someone has hit me over the head with a cudgel.’

‘At least they have not repressed your humour,’ she commented. She paused and then went on: ‘You know that Sister Marga has left the fortress? And Drón, in spite of our best efforts, has escaped and we think he is in pursuit of her.’

Fergus Fanat sighed deeply but said nothing.

‘You do not appear surprised?’

He glanced up at her and then shrugged. ‘I am not exactly surprised,’ he said cautiously.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Sister Marga when I first questioned you after the game of immán?’

‘You did not ask me,’ he countered.

‘That is true,’ she agreed. ‘But you did not volunteer the information even though she was standing on the field waiting to speak to you.’

‘At that time, our last parting had not been in the best spirit. I wasn’t sure whether I was going to speak to her anyway.’

‘When did you first meet Sister Marga?’

Fergus Fanat frowned. The contraction of his muscles resonated on his injury and he winced, raising a hand to his bandaged forehead.

‘She must have told you,’ he said.

‘I am asking you to tell me,’ Fidelma said firmly.

He made a resigned gesture with his shoulders. ‘I was visiting the abbey of Ard Stratha on behalf of Blathmac and Sister Marga had come there to investigate some old manuscripts. . I cannot remember precisely. The story is not complicated. I fell in love; she said that she reciprocated my feelings. When she went back to her own abbey at Cill Ria, I contrived to meet her many times. .’

‘You contrived?’ Fidelma emphasised the word.

‘You will recall that I knew all about Abbot Ultán, his background and his pious prejudices. He had already separated what used to be a conhospitae into separate houses for the males and females. He did not sanction any fraternisation between the sexes and our meetings were very difficult to arrange. Then she stopped meeting me at all, and through an intermediary she told me that the relationship was over and that she no longer wanted to see me.’

Fidelma raised her head with interest. ‘Who was the intermediary?’

‘The same woman who is her companion now.’

‘Sister Sétach?’

Fergus Fanat nodded. ‘I was forced to accept it, though I could not understand it. I saw no more of Marga until the very day you mention, in the township here when I was playing immán.’

‘And when was the first time that you spoke to her after that?’

‘In the woods, during the hunt.’

‘Tell me about that,’ Fidelma said, sitting back.

Once more Fergus Fanat gave her a quick examination from under lowered brows. ‘I suppose you know that she was running away from Cashel?’

‘I do.’

‘Well, we had encountered the boars, a whole pride of them with a large male tusker who had already caught one of the hounds and injured it badly. Then this boar espied us and did it run off? It did not, but came and charged our horses. Boars are fighting animals and do not searc easily — but to charge at the spearmen? Incredible. That was when I managed to prick it with my bir. Anyway, some of the horses were frightened. Some took off. I was separated in that charge and started looking for the main body. It was then that I came across Marga.’

Fidelma leaned forward. ‘So your meeting was not prearranged?’

He shook his head quickly, confirming the story that Marga had told Fidelma. ‘I knew that she was a good horsewoman. She told me her family bred horses up on the Sperrins. Those are the mountains in Uí Thuirtrí country. So I was not surprised when I found her.’

‘You had not known that she was in the party of women following the hunt?’

‘Not until then.’

‘What then?’

‘She halted and we exchanged a few awkward words. Then she began to cry and we dismounted and began to talk. She told me why she had decided that we should stop seeing each other.’

‘Which was to do with the way she had been treated by Abbot Ultán?’

Fergus looked shocked. ‘You know that?’

‘She told me. Go on. What was your response?’

‘The response of any man who loves a woman,’ he replied vehemently. ‘I said that it was of no consequence to me. I loved her still and wanted her to be my wife.’

‘In spite of what she had been made to suffer?’

‘In spite of it and because of it. It was not her fault. She told me that she was on her way to Laigin. She had wanted to escape from Ultán for a long time. She had come on this trip with Ultán only as a means of finding the right opportunity. She was afraid that even with Ultán dead, Brother Drón, who was Ultán’s friend and the heir apparent to the abbacy, would force her to go back to Cill Ria.’

Fidelma had not realised that Drón would be the successor to Ultán, but she supposed it made sense. The heads of the abbeys and religious houses of Éireann were elected in the same way as the clan chiefs, nobles and kings: by the derbhfine. In the case of the abbeys and monastic houses, the derbhfine consisted of the familia or the religious.

‘So why did you prevent her going to Laigin? Why bring her back? It seems illogical behaviour if you were concerned for her welfare.’

Fergus Fanat was silent for a moment. ‘Not so illogical. I understood why she wanted to escape from Brother Drón and Cill Ria and she had seized the first opportunity. But I realised that it would do her no good in the long run.’

Fidelma put her head on one side thoughtfully. ‘Why not?’

The young warrior smiled without humour. ‘I do not need to tell you that.’

‘I think you do. Whatever I know or can guess, I need you to tell me what thoughts are in your mind.’

‘As I say, it is obvious. Ultán is murdered. Marga hated him and had every reason to hate him. She takes Ultán’s own horse and flees from Cashel. It takes no great leap of the imagination to guess what people would think. They would believe that she was the killer and she would soon be overtaken and tried for his murder.’

‘Two questions then,’ Fidelma rejoined. ‘First, how did you know it was Ultán’s horse she was riding?’

Fergus Fanat smiled briefly. ‘Simple enough. She told me.’

‘Second, why would you think that once it was known that Marga had fled from Cashel a hue and cry would be raised and she would be soon overtaken and the murder of Ultán laid at her feet?’

‘Because. .’ began Fergus Fanat confidently, and then he paused, staring at her.

‘Exactly,’ murmured Fidelma. ‘So far as you would have known at the time you met her in the forest, Muirchertach was still alive and Muirchertach was the person charged with the murder of Ultán. Even though you knew I was defending him, there was no reason to think that Marga was under any suspicion.’

Fergus met her penetrating blue-green eyes with his black defiant ones.

‘You were trying to be protective?’ she suggested, when he failed to reply.

‘Of course I was.’

‘But only because you believed that she had killed Abbot Ultán. You believed that Marga had killed Ultán and that she was probably justified. But you feared that if she continued her flight to Laigin, then I — who did not believe Muirchertach Nár was guilty — would immediately be suspicious about her; that I would raise that hue and cry. That is why you persuaded her to come back to Cashel.’

Fergus thrust out his jaw pugnaciously.

‘She had every right to kill that swine,’ he said stubbornly. ‘She is a poor frightened girl, trying desperately to survive. That beast has made her change from a beautiful, intelligent young woman into someone who can only act out of instinct and who thinks the entire world is against her.’

‘Does she know that you believe she killed Ultán? When I spoke to her before she disappeared this time, she thought that you supported her.’

‘I would have done so,’ Fergus said, suddenly avoiding her eyes.

‘Even though you believe she killed Ultán? What makes you so certain that she killed him?’

Fergus Fanat raised a hand slowly to his bandaged skull. ‘Because on the night that Ultán was killed, I was passing along the corridor and saw Marga entering his chamber. .’

‘When was this?’ pressed Fidelma quickly.

‘Close to midnight, I suppose.’

‘Think carefully, man,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘Describe the scene. Where were you?’

‘I didn’t see her face,’ he admitted. ‘I was coming up the corridor which faces Ultán’s door. In fact, Brother Drón had just come out of his chamber a little way in front of me just as Marga came out of Ultán’s chamber. .’

‘How did you know it was Ultán’s chamber?’

‘It was pointed out to me earlier. All the representatives of Ulaidh were placed in apartments close together.’

‘Go on. Did Brother Drón say anything to you?’

‘He did not see me. He was too busy looking at Marga and then he went back into his room. Marga did not glance in our direction but went directly along the other corridor. I went on to my own chamber which was close by that of Brother Drón.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘So you saw her leaving Ultán’s chamber. I still do not understand what makes you so sure it was Marga who killed him.’

Fergus Fanat stared at her for a few moments and then shrugged with a sad expression.

‘I am sure because. . Marga tried to kill me,’ he said simply.

The rain was cold and blustery but very fine as the group of horsemen approached the Lake of Pigs on their way to cross the river Siúr. It was a small lake standing just south of the Ford of the Ass which Eadulf knew well. Gormán, however, insisted that due south from this little lake was a shallow crossing which could be negotiated over the broad river and that would be a shorter route into the great glen which was their destination.

All four men had heavy woollen cloaks to protect them against the fine but penetrating rain. The route lay over the plains where there were numerous little homesteads and prosperous farming lands.

Gormán was leading the way confidently and setting a good pace. Eadulf came next and behind him the two Saxon brothers, Pecanum and Naovan.

‘We should be at Ardane just after nightfall,’ called Gormán. He pointed one hand to the sky. ‘The clouds are breaking up in the west. The rain will cease soon. We can let the horses water at the lake.’

By the time they reached the Lake of Pigs, as Gormán had foretold, the rain had stopped and a pale winter sun had even appeared between the drifting, dark clouds. But it was not warm enough to remove their heavy cloaks, and Gormán suggested they have a swallow of corma to keep out the chills.

The lake lay surrounded by oaks and yews that seemed to vie with one another for predominance.

They had let the horses water themselves, though not too much, and having taken their drink of fiery spirit were about to mount up when Eadulf saw a movement among the trees at the far end of the lake.

‘Another traveller,’ he observed to Gormán, nodding in the direction of the movement, as he mounted his horse.

Gormán, already seated in the saddle, squinted in the direction Eadulf had indicated. There was a glimpse of a rider moving swiftly through the trees.

‘A religious,’ Gormán observed. ‘In a hurry. . a female at that.’

The thought struck Eadulf immediately. Could it be Sister Marga? She had disappeared from Cashel before midnight. But she had been on foot, not on horseback — and had she had a horse she would have surely been able to travel farther than this? Nevertheless, some instinct pricked his curiosity.

‘Can we catch up with her? It may be the missing woman from Cill Ria.’

‘Keep straight on this path with the others, for this is the path she will join further along,’ replied Gormán, pointing. ‘I think I may be able to halt her long enough for you to catch up with her.’ The young warrior turned, nudged his horse forward into the shallows of the lake and swam it across.

Eadulf waved his companions, Pecanum and Naovan, to follow him. He did not pretend to be a good horseman but he nudged his horse into a swift trot that soon became a canter. He hung on grimly, thankful that his mount seemed to sense, as intelligent horses do, what was wanted of it. He had no idea where Gormán was going, though he presumed that the young warrior knew a short cut over the small lake that would bring him round to cut off the figure in front. It was now that Eadulf began to have second thoughts. Why would the lonely figure be the missing Sister Marga? What made him think it was? The girl, if running away from Cashel, would surely not head in this direction but east towards Laigin as she had done before? Yet the instinct that made him act was strong.

He felt as if the canter would never end. In reality it was a short time indeed before he saw the figure of the religieuse on the road ahead, riding at a steady pace and apparently unaware of pursuit. The thudding of their hooves, however, eventually came to her ears and she glanced back. Even so, Eadulf was unable to identify her. Her action denoted panic for she turned and kicked her beast forward, but at that very moment Gormán appeared, bursting through the woods on to the track just in front of her.

Her horse, startled first by her vicious kick and then by the appearance of another horse and rider blocking its path, reared up. The slight figure fought to maintain her balance, lost hold and rolled off its back. Gormán grabbed the beast’s reins and brought it under control just as Eadulf and the others came up.

Eadulf slid from his horse’s back and bent down to the girl. She lay on her back winded.

He felt a strange combination of relief and concern.

It was Sister Marga.

Sister Fidelma’s face was impassive as she regarded Fergus Fanat as he lay stretched on his bed.

‘Tell me, Fergus, what happened when you were attacked?’

‘I didn’t see. I was hit from behind.’

‘Yet you say that you are sure it was Sister Marga.’

‘I am sure.’

‘When was the last time you spoke to Marga before that?’

‘After we came back I promised her that I would try to resolve the problem. It was some time before I came up with an idea. The resolution was simple. I would go to my cousin, Blathmac the king, who, like me, knew of Abbot Ultán’s unsavoury reputation. I would tell him the story and ask for his intervention. At least he could prevent Marga’s being sent back to Cill Ria.’

‘There is one thing that puzzles me.’

‘Which is?’

‘If you thought Marga had killed Abbot Ultán, did you believe that she had also killed Muirchertach Nár?’

He hesitated and then nodded. ‘When I asked her about Muirchertach, she became very angry. She denied it, of course. But I wondered if she had killed him because Muirchertach had seen her on that night of Ultán’s killing just as I had and was trying to use it as a weapon over her. He wanted a weapon against Cill Ria.’

‘That sounds very far-fetched. From what I know, Marga would have been happy to join with anyone who wanted to bring Cill Ria into disrepute.’

‘Marga is a woman who does not like to be forced into anything,’ he said grimly. ‘In the forest, when I asked her if she had seen Muirchertach during the hunt she denied it. I believe she killed him.’

Fidelma sat back for a moment with closed eyes.

‘You do not sound as if your proclaimed love allowed you to trust her,’ she commented sceptically.

An expression of anger crossed his face. ‘My proclaimed love, as you call it, allowed me to put my honour at stake in standing by her over the murder of Abbot Ultán. .’

‘Which you believe she committed even though she denies it,’ Fidelma said with emphasis.

‘I was trying to help her.’

‘Just so. And you proposed to go to Blathmac, proclaim that she was a murderess but that you loved her, and ask him to intercede so that. . what? What exactly was Blathmac to do?’

‘Let the truth be known that she had every good reason to kill Ultán. I was prepared to pay the fines and honour-price on her behalf.’

‘What did Marga say to this plan?’

‘When she realised that I was not pleading her innocence but mitigation in the belief that she was guilty, she turned on me angrily. She felt that I ought to be pleading her innocence. She felt I could not love her if I thought her guilty. I explained that she could not hope to get away with such a plea with the overwhelming evidence against her. I was pleading mitigation out of my love for her.’

‘Would your love not accept that she was innocent?’ queried Fidelma dryly.

Fergus Fanat once again raised his head defiantly. ‘My love is tempered with logic.’

‘So what then? Was this when she hit you?’

He shook his head. ‘This conversation had taken place before the evening meal, at the side of the chapel. She went running off to the hostel. I spent some time walking round the walls of the fortress, trying to get things clear in my head. But my mind was made up. With or without her approval, I had to show that she had reason to kill Ultán, before she was found out and condemned. I decided to go ahead with my plan to tell Blathmac.’

‘And then?’

‘Then I went to Blathmac’s chamber intending to discuss the matter with him. I remember that I entered the corridor that led to his guest chamber. It was empty and I started along it.’ He paused, frowning suddenly.

‘A thought has just occurred to you?’

‘I had passed a small alcove in which there was a window. .’

‘I know the one.’

‘I thought that it was empty. But now I recall that after I had passed it, I thought I heard a soft thump. I remember now, I glanced over my shoulder but there was nothing to account for it. Mind you, I could not see back into the alcove. I had almost reached the door when I heard a soft rustle of clothes behind me and before I could turn. . well, I suppose I was hit, for the world seemed to explode into darkness. That was all I recall until I awoke with the old apothecary tending my wounds here.’

Fidelma was silent for a moment. ‘But you told me a moment or so ago that it was Marga who attacked you. Now you are saying that you did not see who it was.’

Fergus Fanat shook his head firmly. ‘I did not need to see her to know that it was her.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘There was the rustle of clothes, her dress, and, for a moment, I smelt perfume on the air. It was the same fragrance that I have noticed on her before.’

‘What fragrance was this?’

‘It is called lus na túis — lavender.’

Fidelma gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. ‘And that is how you knew it was Marga? By this fragrance?’

‘It was. She is so silly to think that attacking me would hide her crime. But what it has done has been to show that she is either out of her mind or was just using me.’

‘Where do you think Marga will go now? To Laigin?’

‘She will know that would be the direction in which any search for her will be made. I suspect that she will go to earth.’

‘Go to earth?’ He had used the phrase in the manner in which a hunter spoke of a fox hiding in a burrow. ‘That is an odd expression.’

‘It was a phrase that she used when we were speaking during the boar hunt. I asked her what she would do if the alarm were raised before she could make her way to Laigin. It was a phrase that came naturally to her. I told you, she was a good horsewoman and hunted as well as any man I know.’

Fidelma was thinking that if she had been forced to go to earth near Cashel, waiting for the right moment to leave for Laigin, where would she have chosen? Uppermost in her mind now was the fact that she had to find Sister Marga before Brother Drón caught up with her.

Eadulf bent close to the recumbent form.

‘Sister Marga, are you all right?’

The girl opened her eyes. She tried to focus but she gave up and closed them again. She took several deep breaths and tried again. This time she succeeded and said softly: ‘I am merely winded, I think.’

Then she recognised Eadulf and her eyes widened in fear. She scrambled to a sitting position.

Eadulf put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

‘Lie still!’ he ordered. ‘You might have broken something.’

She shook her head and replied: ‘Why are you following me?’

Eadulf smiled grimly. ‘It was purely coincidence that we saw you on this road. We were heading for the Glen of Eatharlaí when we saw you. Where were you going?’

She stuck out her lower lip pugnaciously. ‘Away. . away from Cashel. . from everything.’

Eadulf smiled. He had seen no signs of pain from the girl, and now he helped her to her feet. It was true that she appeared none the worse for her fall.

‘I am afraid, Marga, that you will have to come with us for the time being and tomorrow return with us to Cashel.’

‘I will not!’ the girl replied sharply.

Eadulf shrugged. ‘You have no choice.’

‘You are no brehon. You are a foreigner and cannot compel me.’

In this respect, the girl was speaking the truth. Eadulf glanced at Gormán, who had dismounted and was examining the horse she had been riding with a curious look. The warrior responded at once.

‘I am afraid that Brother Eadulf is right, sister,’ he said sharply, ‘for I am of the Nasc Niadh, the bodyguard of the king of Muman, and can compel you to return to Cashel to face questioning.’

‘Questioning about what?’ demanded the girl angrily. ‘I have already been questioned about Abbot Ultán’s death.’

‘About where you stole this horse from to start with.’

The girl flushed indignantly. ‘I did not steal it.’

‘Really? I know the horse well,’ Gormán said sharply. ‘I gave it to someone very dear to me as a present.’

Eadulf glanced at the warrior in surprise but decided to stick to the important matter in hand. ‘And we have to ask you what knowledge you have of the attack on Fergus Fanat,’ he added quietly.

The girl seemed to stagger a pace and went pale. ‘An attack on. . on Fergus?’ she began.

‘He was attacked last night, and he had not recovered consciousness when I left Cashel just after midday. All we know is that soon after that attack you left Cashel. This necessitates many questions.’

Sister Marga stared at him as if not understanding his words. Then, finally, she was able to say in a tremulous voice: ‘Are you accusing me of attacking Fergus?’

‘I am not accusing you of anything, Sister Marga. I am telling you what has happened and why you need to return to Cashel to clarify matters.’

‘If I do, I shall be killed,’ she suddenly sobbed.

‘I presume that you fear Brother Drón?’

She nodded quickly.

‘Then do not, for he has been taken under guard to Cashel this morning to answer questions also.’ He quickly told the story of Ordwulf and Drón and the reason for their journey to the Glen of Eatharlaí.

She listened quietly.

‘It must have been Brother Drón who attacked Fergus,’ she commented at last. ‘He is an evil man. If he tried to kill Fergus, then he will try to kill me.’

‘We will protect you,’ Eadulf assured her. ‘Brother Drón is safe under lock and key in Cashel. He will not escape to harm you.’