A Prayer for the Damned

CHAPTER TWENTY

The great hall of Cashel was not filled to capacity. It had been agreed that only the most distinguished guests and those directly involved in the matter would witness the resolution to the murders of Abbot Ultán and Muirchertach Nár. These were the kings, their leading nobles, their brehons and the leading churchmen. The princes and chiefs of the Eóghanacht, the Déisi and the Uí Fidgente were all gathered there. Barrán, the Chief Brehon of the Five Kingdoms, sat in judgement with the High King Sechnassach on his left side and Colgú, king of Muman, on his right. A chagrined and silent Brehon Ninnid had taken his place behind King Fianamail of Laigin, among the seated nobles and other dignitaries. Fidelma and Eadulf sat slightly to the right in front of the judges, and Caol, as guard commander, stood close by, having placed his men at strategic points about the hall.

Brother Drón was seated with Sister Sétach under guard. Sister Marga was seated with those who had been requested to attend in the role of witnesses, ranging from Aíbnat and Abbot Augaire and Dúnchad Muirisci, to Rónán the tracker, Delia, Brother Berrihert with his two brothers, Brehon Baithen and Brother Conchobhar. Even so, the spacious hall was only half filled.

Colgú’s steward, having been given a signal from the Brehon Barrán, moved forward and turned to the assembly. He banged his staff on the floor three times to call them to order. Then Brehon Barrán turned to Fidelma.

‘Are you ready to present your resolution to the matters that have been placed before us?’

‘I am,’ she responded, rising from her seat.

‘Proceed,’ instructed the Chief Brehon.

‘The matters before us are the murders of two men. First, the murder of Abbot Ultán of Cill Ria, the emissary of the Comarb of the Blessed Patrick. Second, the murder of King Muirchertach Nár of Connacht. .’

‘I would like to make a protest,’ cut in a voice.

To her surprise it was Brehon Ninnid who had risen. Even Brehon Barrán seemed astonished.

‘A protest? About what?’ he demanded.

‘The learned brehon presents the slaying of Ultán, an abbot, to be considered before the murder of a king, Muirchertach. That is not socially just.’

For a moment Fidelma did not understand the meaning of the intervention. Then she realised. There was no humour in her smile.

‘I present these murders in order of their chronological precedence rather than that of their social precedence,’ she replied dryly.

Brehon Barrán was frowning at Ninnid. He, too, had realised as Fidelma had that Ninnid, having been admonished by Barrán over the release of Brother Drón, was now trying to ingratiate himself by attempting to show off points of law. He was trying to present a good figure in front of his king.

‘I will not accept frivolous interruptions in this court,’ Brehon Barrán snapped and, flushing, the petulant Ninnid sat down.

‘Let us begin, as we should,’ Fidelma said with emphasis, ‘with the first murder. It should not fall to a mere advocate such as I to judge a man when he is dead but the judgement is necessary to an understanding of this death. Everyone here had cause to dislike Abbot Ultán, even his close associates — or should I say especially his close associates? He was not a likeable man. He pretended to have been converted to the Faith even as the Apostle Paul had been when he saw the blinding light on the road to Damascus, as the Scriptures tell us. But I believe that Ultán’s conversion was false. He used his rescue from the judgement of the sea, to which he had been condemned as an unrepentant criminal, in order to seize a path that would lead him to power. He was persuasive. He was even appointed by the Comarb of the Blessed Patrick as his emissary to attempt to persuade all the abbots and bishops of the five kingdoms that Ard Macha should be the primatial seat of the Faith in these lands.’

She paused and looked round the hall until her eyes alighted on Abbot Ségdae, who was seated with his steward, Brother Madagan.

‘The Comarb of the Blessed Ailbe had cause to dislike the arrogance of Abbot Ultán when he arrived at the abbey of Imleach. Ultán attempted to make him acknowledge subservience to Ard Macha. And Abbot Ségdae was not alone in that dislike of this emissary. Many of the abbeys and churches of the five kingdoms had already stood up to Abbot Ultán’s blustering and bullying.

‘Hatred walked hand in hand with Ultán and that was the cause of his death. His murder was the ultimate act of vengeance. Muirchertach Nár had cause to dislike Ultán. Did his feelings reach the degree of hatred that was needed to kill him? Some thought so. But then Muirchertach Nár was killed. That, too, was an act of vengeance. The two murders were linked. But was it, as some thought, that Muirchertach Nár killed Ultán in vengeance and was then killed, also in vengeance, by someone who had admired Ultán?’

She paused and glanced to where Brother Berrihert and his brothers were seated.

‘There was, of course, one person who came to Cashel with the open intention of killing not only Abbot Ultán but also Brother Drón. That was the Saxon warrior Ordwulf.’

Brother Berrihert rose quickly from his place. ‘I protest. My father is dead and cannot defend himself. So I must answer in his place. I admit that he did try to kill the creature called Dron. But I know from his own lips that he did not kill Ultán. If he had, he would have been proud of the act and willingly acknowledged it. Such people as Ultán do not have the right to shelter under the name of the Faith. My father, indeed, my brothers and I, rejoice in Ultán’s death. But we did not kill him.’

Brother Berrihert sat down abruptly. Fidelma continued as if ignoring the interruption.

‘Ultán and Drón had gone to Inis Bó Finne to the community of Colmán the former abbot of Lindisfarne who, after Witebia, had brought his like-minded brethren to that place. Ultán demanded that Colmán, so much respected for his adherence to the church of Colmcille, make obeisance to Ard Macha. Colmaán sent him away. But as he was leaving the island, he saw the wife of Ordwulf, the mother of those three brothers — Berrihert, Pecanum and Naovan — making some token veneration to the old gods to whom both she and Ordwulf had clung despite the conversion of their sons. Ultán had this defenceless old woman scourged and whipped to death. The sons of Ordwulf tried to forgive him as the New Faith teaches and came south. But when Ordwulf heard that Ultán and Dron were here, the old creed of blood vengeance stirred that old warrior.’

‘He did not do it!’ cried Brother Berrihert again.

Fidelma turned calmly to him.

‘I did not say that he did. He wanted to, as you admit, but he had no opportunity, for he could not enter the fortress that night and when he entered the next morning he found the deed already done. He admitted as much to Eadulf. However, he conspired to kill Drón. He lured him to a spot not far from here in order to slay him, to complete that vengeance. But his frail body failed him before that act of vengeance and, as you see,’ she pointed to where Brother Drón was seated between the warriors Dega and Enda, ‘Drón still lives, whereas old Ordwulf now feasts with his gods.’

‘So Ordwulf is in no way suspect of killing Abbot Ultán?’ demanded Brehon Barrán, bending forward from his chair in order to clarify matters.

‘Even had he been able to gain entrance to the fortress that night, I would have to have eliminated him because the murders of Muirchertach Nár and Ultán are inseparably linked. Ordwulf had no opportunity to kill either. When the king of Connacht was murdered, Ordwulf was waiting in vain for Drón at the Well of Patrick almost in the opposite direction. That was the first time he had tried to lure Drón there, but Drón was pursuing Sister Marga, who was at the hunt.’

Brehon Barrán stirred a little impatiently.

‘So we have eliminated Ordwulf. Do you point the accusation at his sons? They would have equal cause for blood vengeance.’

‘On Ultán and Drón but not on Muirchertach Nár. There was no motive to kill the king of Connacht.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Let us come back to Brother Drón, for it is Brother Drón’s actions on the night of Abbot Ultán’s death that are the most important.’

‘Brother Drón?’ Blathmac had stood up suddenly. ‘It would be logical if he had killed Ultin. He would succeed as abbot, then. He is ambitious. It would follow.’

Brother Drón struggled to his feet but was held back by Dego and Enda.

‘I see it! This has already been decided to salve your consciences. I refuse to be judged by you, for I am ordained in the Faith and answer to no man but only to my God. I will not recognise this court.’

‘Sit down, Drón!’ instructed the Chief Brehon. ‘You will observe the law and respect it.’

Brother Drón took no notice of him. His voice rose in strident tones. ‘Beware you who call yourselves kings or place yourself under their authority! There are two powers by which this world is ruled the sacred authority of the priesthood and the authority of kings. But of these, the authority of the priest carries the most weight and is superior to that of the king. It is the priest who renders the accounts of kings before the tribunal of God. It is the priest who stands superior to the king for the priest intercedes with God on behalf of the king. So beware in judging me lest I judge you.’

Brother Drón turned to Fidelma with his anger and fanaticism still distorting his features. ‘You beware, woman. Your days of lording it over men are numbered. I echo the words of Timothy and Titus. I permit no woman to teach or have authority over men. She is to keep silent. That is what is written in Scripture. So it is written, so let it be done!’

Fidelma sighed. ‘I would advise you to return to the original text and amend your translation, Brother Drón. The word epitrepsecin, which means “not to permit”, is used for a specific permission in a specific context. When translated correctly in Timothy and Titus, it means that Timothy is not presently allowing women to teach until they have studied and learned in silence.’

Brother Drón stared at her for a moment, trying to follow her argument. ‘Then do you deny that our beloved Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians that women are not permitted to speak but should be subordinate, as the law says, to men. If there is anything they should desire to know, he says let them ask their husbands at home because it is shameful for a woman to speak in a church.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘I cannot believe that they have such poor Greek scholars in Rome as to misinterpret the nuances of these texts. Perhaps those that render these texts into the language by which others may teach are scared of women? Perhaps it is men who find misinterpretations an easy way of denying women their just role in life? What was once a normal practice has now become abnormal — women can no longer be allowed to be ordained and officiate over the divine offices. What sort of loving religion is it that teaches the subjugation of one sex by another? Is it the fault of the religion? Or is it the fault of the prejudiced men who have risen to high office in the services of that religion, seeking to protect their petty authority?’

There was silence. Even Eadulf was surprised, for Fidelma had never been so forthcoming on her thoughts about the role of women in the religious.

‘Only man through his natural resemblance to Christ can express the sacramental role of Christ in the Eucharist,’ cried Brother Drón.

‘A weak argument and an insult to those women who have spread the Faith and have now been rendered as servants and foot-washers to men,’ Fidelma observed dryly. ‘Thank God that here, in the five kingdoms, we still have some degree of our ancient freedoms left.’

‘Fidelma, much as we would like to hear more,’ intervened Brehon Barrán firmly, ‘this is not the place for a discussion on theology unless it is relevant to these murders. Do you charge Brother Drón?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘I do not charge Drón with either Ultán or Muirchertach’s deaths. But an understanding of theology — that practised by Drón — was necessary before I could understand one of the mysteries that obscured the truth of their deaths for a long time. The mystery of why, when he was positive that it was Sister Marga who killed Abbot Ultán, he sought to cover it up and forcibly take her back to Cill Ria.’

‘He believed Sister Marga killed Ultán?’ echoed Brehon Barrán.

‘Drón saw Sister Marga emerging from Ultán’s chamber and a short time afterwards went there and found Ultán dead. This was before Muirchertach Nár was seen leaving that chamber and proof that the king of Connacht did not kill Ultán. But Drón kept that fact to himself, thus withholding evidence that would have proved Muirchertach’s innocence.’

‘So are you identifying Marga as the murderer?’ Brehon Barrán queried.

Fergus Fanat, sitting close by Blathmac, groaned loudly and held his still bandaged head in his hands. Fidelma did not look to where Sister Marga was sitting, pale-faced but with composed features.

‘Fergus Fanat also saw Sister Marga emerge from Ultán’s chamber and leapt to the same conclusion as Drón. Sister Marga did have good reason to hate Abbot Ultán. Marga had gone to Cill Ria because of her abilities as a scribe and it was while she was on a visit to Ard Stratha that she met and fell in love with Fergus Fanat. Abbot Ultán intervened when she made a request to leave the community. In this case, he himself developed a sexual passion for Marga, a young attractive girl, and he forced her to satiate his needs under what manner of coercion I can leave to your imagination. Sister Marga ended the relationship with Fergus because she felt unclean.

‘She came here hoping for an opportunity to escape Ultán’s clutches. On the night of his death he had summoned her to his chamber and she had no option but to obey. When Fergus Fanat and Drón saw her leaving his chamber, Abbot Ultán was still alive. She did not learn of his death until the next morning. Later that day, she saw her old love, Fergus Fanat, but he made no effort to respond when she tried to speak to him and she thought the relationship was over. Later she went on the boar hunt. It was an attempt to escape to Laigin, away from Drón and his acolyte Sister Sétach to whom I shall return in a moment.

‘As she was doing so, she fell in with Fergus Fanat, who professed that he still loved her. She told him what had happened but Fergus Fanat chose to believe that she was guilty, and not only guilty of Ultán’s murder but later that of Muirchertach.’

‘For what reason would she kill Muirchertach?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.

‘Fergus Fanat thought Muirchertach must have seen her leaving Ultán’s chamber. That he tried to coerce her into helping him against Cill Ria and she had eventually killed him to silence him.’

‘I tried to protect her in spite of her guilt,’ cried Fergus Fanat.

‘This was nonsense,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘Marga was innocent of both crimes. But Fergus Fanat’s love was not sufficient for him to have faith in her. He wanted her, that is true. He announced that he was going to see Blathmac to tell him that she was the killer and ask Blathmac to protect her for his sake. This Fergus Fanat had the makings of a martyr! Can you imagine Marga’s mortification, her feelings, at this pronouncement? A man claiming to love her but not believing in her innocence? What could she do?’

Fergus Fanat had risen angrily. ‘What did she do?’ he cried shrilly. ‘You know well what she did. I went to see Blathmac and I was just outside his chamber door when she came up behind me and hit me over the head, trying to silence me. Then she fled from this fortress.’

‘That is not so,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘You went down the corridor, passing one of the alcoves in which, you told me, you saw no one. It was after you passed by this alcove that you said you were struck over the head. Your assailant could only have been hiding on the ledge outside. You agree that you did not see the assailant?’

‘I told you I heard the rustle of her clothes and I identified her by the perfume that I smelled as she came up behind me.’

‘You told me that you detected the odour of lavender.’ She took a vial from her cíorbholg and handed it to Caol. ‘Let Fergus Fanat smell that.’

Reluctantly, Fergus did so.

‘Was that the odour that you perceived?’

‘It is not.’

‘But that is the perfume that Marga always wears — and it is honey-suckle. I am afraid you must learn to distinguish your scents, Fergus Fanat.’

‘I know the odour. .’

‘It is Sister Sétach who uses lavender and she does so for medicinal reasons. It was pointed out that she had difficulty sleeping and therefore used lavender as a means of relaxing into sleep. Brother Conchobhar will tell you of the medical properties in this connection. It was Sister Sétach who tried to stop you. She and Drón desperately wanted to take Marga back to Cill Ria.’

‘Why?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.

‘When I put that question to Brother Dr6n, he put forward the feeble excuse that it was to have her punished under the Penitentials, as practised in Cill Ria, which would bring down harsher penalties than our law. If Fergus Fanat told Blathmac that he thought she was guilty of these murders then their plan would be upset.

‘Marga had been so distressed that she told Sétach what Fergus Fanat was about to do. She then fled the fortress. Sétach told Brother Drón, who went after her. But this time he was misled by Ordwulf’s attempt to entice him into an ambush. It was left to Sétach to prevent Fergus Fanat from telling Blathmac. But Fergus was mistaken in identifying Marga as his attacker just as he was wrong in accusing Marga of the murders. And just as Drón and Sétach were also wrong in believing that Marga had killed Ultán and Muirchertach.’

‘This is a tangled skein, Fidelma,’ Brehon Barrán said. ‘You say that Brother Drón’s reason for seeking to hide the fact that he thought Marga guilty of these murders and take her back to Cill Ria was simply to bring her into harsher punishment? I find that a very weak reason.’

‘I also said that I found it feeble. It was the mystery that almost prevented me from looking for the real murderer.’

‘How is it explained?’

Fidelma turned to where Sister Sétach was now quietly sobbing. ‘Eadulf found the answer, perhaps unwittingly. Drón asked Sister Sétach to go to Ultán’s room after his murder and retrieve something. When Eadulf and I found her there she claimed she was trying to retrieve his belongings as holy relics to return to Cill Ria. In fact, she wanted to remove the documents in his trunk. Records of Ultán’s embassy to get the religious leaders of the five kingdoms to recognise Ard Macha as the primatial seat.’

Brother Drón had sunk in his chair with a despairing moan.

‘Among the documents was a copy of a work in Latin — the Liber Angeli — which tells of the miraculous appearance to the Blessed Patrick of an angel announcing that Ard Macha should hold supreme authority over the churches and monasteries of the five kingdoms. That book was used to good effect in persuading some of the abbots and bishops to recognise the claims of Ard Macha.’

Fidelma glanced to Abbot Ségdae of Imleach. ‘Tell Brehon Barrán what you told me before we entered the hall.’

Abbot Ségdae rose. ‘Simple enough. Ultán and Drón, when they made their demands at Imleach, tried to use the Liber Angeli, the Book of the Angel, to persuade me to give Ard Macha recognition. But I had been in Ard Macha on a pilgrimage many years ago and this book was not then known. My steward, Brother Madagan, and I refused to let it sway our consideration.’

‘And with just cause,’ added Fidelma. ‘The proof that this book was a forgery was in the papers in Abbot Ultán’s box which Drón wanted so badly to get his hands on. This Liber Angeli was written but a short time ago. It did not exist when Abbot Ségdae was visiting Ard Macha, nor were stories handed down before that time of any visitation from the celestial world. The book is a collection of claims by various northern churchmen combining to argue that Ard Macha should be recognised as the central authority of the Faith in these kingdoms. The scribe who, under Abbot Ultán’s authority, was forced to compile these stories was Sister Marga.’

Brehon Barrán turned to the girl.

‘Is this true?’ he asked sternly.

‘I wrote merely what I was told,’ Sister Marga confessed. ‘Abbot Ultán knew I wrote a fair hand. I told Sister Fidelma as much. I did not realise the story was entirely untruth. I thought they were some old traditions that I was putting down.’

‘So now we see why, if Ard Macha’s campaign for recognition was to succeed, those documents and, indeed, Sister Marga had to be taken back to Cill Ria. I suggest that Blathmac take into care both Drón and Sétach and return them to Ard Macha, and through his brehon find out whether this was done with the abbot of Ard Macha’s knowledge.’

When Brother Drón and Sister Sétach had been removed, Brehon Barrán turned with a bewildered expression to Fidelma.

‘But this doesn’t resolve the murders of Ultán and Muirchertach unless. .’ He turned a suspicious gaze to Dúnchad Muirisci. ‘Well, Fidelma, you have led us down a complicated path and seem to have eliminated all the suspects except one. It appears that there is no logical choice of culprit left other than the man who stands to gain most by Muirchertach Nár’s death.’

Dúnchad Muirisci began to rise indignantly.

‘If you refer to the tánaiste of Connacht, then the business of his horse and the split shoe was compelling,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘I considered it. But his story was weak, so weak that it had to be the truth. If he were lying then he would have worked out a stronger alibi. His mount did bolt when the wild boar charged and Dúnchad was thrown. Doubtless Muirchertach and his killer found the horse. After the killer had killed Muirchertach, he heard Dúnchad calling in the woods. He mounted Dúnchad’s horse and led his own and Muirchertach’s away. As soon as he had gone a short distance, he left Dúnchad’s horse with its reins over a bush so that it would not wander. Then he left Muirchertach’s horse loose, and went off to rejoin the hunt on his own mount. Dúnchad finally caught up with his horse, the one with the split shoe, and rode back to Cashel. As had the real murderer.’

Brehon Barrán looked utterly bewildered. ‘We already know that Drón had found Muirchertach’s horse and was leading it back to Cashel. Drón is not guilty of killing Muirchertach. Now you say that Dúnchad is equally innocent. I confess, I am totally lost.’

Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘I believed from the start that there were not two separate murderers and, moreover, that both murders had been committed for the same motive. It was vengeance, as I said at the beginning of this hearing. That was the link. But what person would have cause to want vengeance on both Ultán and Muirchertach Nár? What had they done in common to one person here that would warrant their death?’ She swung round. ‘Perhaps you will answer that question, Abbot Augaire?’

Abbot Augaire was startled for a moment. Her accusing eyes had glazed into an icy coldness, the green fire turning to a chilling blue-grey. Augaire read cold determination in her features. He accepted that the accusation was no mere guesswork. He sat back in sesignation.

‘How did you work it out?’ His tone was almost genial as he asked the question.

‘Let us come to the means first and then the motive, for the motive has been staring me in the face ever since our first meeting. The means only fell into place when we discussed how Brother Drón might have hidden himself in the alcove. You said that you had not seen him in the alcove. When it was mentioned that he might have stood out on the ledge that ran under the window along to Ultán’s chamber, you replied: “But I don’t think Brother Dr6n is the sort to submit himself to such dangers. The ledge has several loose blocks along it.” How did you know that fact unless you had been along that same ledge yourself?’

Abbot Augaire winced in disgust as he acknowledged the slip.

‘On the night of Ultán’s death you were playing brandubh with Dúnchad Muirisci,’ went on Fidelma. ‘You left Dúnchad’s chamber towards midnight. As you went down the corridor, you heard Ultán’s door open. You saw Sister Marga come out. She was probably looking back into the chamber and did not see you. Why hadn’t she then seen you when she turned into the corridor? We know that Drón and Fergus Fanat were in the corridor facing Ultán’s door, so you were in the corridor along which Marga had to come. The answer was that you had slipped into the alcove and she passed by without seeing you. I think that the idea came to you on the spur of the moment. You noticed the ledge and realised that it ran all the way to Ultán’s chamber. Knowing that he was alone, you took the decision to make use of it as a means of reaching his chamber unseen. No one would then observe you if they came along the corridor. You would be safe. You entered his room, surprising him, and you stabbed him to death in a frenzied fashion as befitted your great hatred for him. Then you slipped back along the ledge the way you had come.’

Abbot Augaire made no comment.

‘You left Ultán’s chamber not a moment too soon, for that was when Brother Drón entered. He did not tarry long, for he had also seen Marga leaving and came to the conclusion that she had killed him. Drón, as he had told us, had paused before going to Ultán’s so as to save the abbot embarrassment. That pause was lucky for you in that it gave you the time and opportunity. Drón initially raced after Marga to accuse her but slipped and fell on the flagstone outside Dúnchad’s room. He then came to his senses about challenging Marga. She could bring down the claims of Ard Macha. He decided to return to his chamber saying nothing. It did not occur to him until too late that he should have taken from Ultán’s room the documents which showed that Marga had been the scribe of this so-called Liber Angeli.

‘By the time he realised it, lo and behold, Muirchertach Nár had decided to speak to Ultán. He went to his chamber, saw the body and, aghast, backed from the scene only to be spotted by Brehon Baithen and Caol who came to the natural conclusion. He was accused of the murder.’

Abbot Augaire still sat quietly, not speaking.

‘For a while, Augaire, you probably thought that you had the ideal situation. Your first victim was dead and the intended second victim was charged with the crime. When you heard that I was going to defend Muirchertach Nár, you did your best to emphasise Muirchertach’s hatred of Ultán to me. However, you realised that I was developing a good case to defend him and you decided that you could not take the chance. You needed to complete your act of vengeance.

‘The boar hunt was the ideal opportunity, especially when the hunting party became scattered. You were shadowing Muirchertach, though probably keeping out of his sight, and when he stumbled alone on a secluded spot you continued to sweep round and meet him face to face. You must have persuaded him to dismount and somehow got hold of his bir, the hunting spear. You killed him with that.

‘Then coincidence came to your aid. Dúnchad’s horse being loose was a godsend. You told me that your father was a hunter and tracker. You knew the skills involved and utilised your knowledge to lay a false trail. You took his horse and mounted it, taking Muirchertach’s horse as well. You rode a short distance to stony ground, tied Dúnchad’s horse to a gorse bush and probably slapped Muirchertach’s piebald across the rump causing it to canter off to where Drón found it. You then re-mounted your own horse and rode off in time to find Muirchertach’s wife Aibnat to guide her away from the scene. As you were returning with her, you encountered Eadulf and Gorman. But you were now satisfied that your revenge was complete.’

Abbot Augaire was smiling now.

Brehon Barrán leaned forward with a puzzled frown.

‘But revenge for what?’ he asked, confused. ‘I do not follow this at all.’

Fidelma was still looking expectantly at Abbot Augaire. ‘Shall I continue?’

Abbot Augaire shrugged a shoulder in eloquent indifference. Fidelma turned back to Barrán.

‘Revenge for the death of Searc, the poetess.’

‘But Augaire did not know Searc the poetess,’ Dúnchad Muirisci interrupted. ‘He was only a witness to her death. That is how he became involved with Muirchertach and was appointed emissary to demand compensation from Ultán. There was no personal relationship there.’

Fidelma smiled. ‘Augaire was a member of a small community near Rinn Carna in Connacht. He was fishing one day when he witnessed the distracted girl Searc plunge to her death. It was suicide. .’

‘To which she was driven,’ snapped Abbot Augaire fiercely, speaking for the first time since Fidelma had begun her peroration.

‘Just so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘As we know, Searc had fallen passionately in love with a young religieux of Cill Ria. Ultán forbade the relationship and sent the boy Senach overseas and he was killed on the voyage. Searc was full of grief.’

‘I can see why Ultán could be held to account for having a part in driving the poor girl to her death,’ Brehon Barrán agreed. ‘But why should anyone want to exact revenge on Muirchertach Nár? Surely Searc was his wife’s younger sister and Muirchertach made lawful representations for compensation for her loss?’

‘It was not hard to discover that Muirchertach Nár had a reputation as a philanderer and womaniser. Aíbnat knew it and disliked him. Dúnchad Muirisci knew it and hinted of things that were subsequently repeated in stories that reached even the ears of Abbot Laisran at Durrow. I asked myself this question — why, when Augaire was painting a black picture to persuade me of Muirchertach’s guilt of slaying Ultán, did he not dwell more on this very point? The point that Muirchertach Nár forced his attentions on Searc when she arrived at his fortress in shock and grieving for the loss of Senach. Muirchertach raped her and she, deep in shock and shame, fled to the coast and threw herself from the cliffs. It was Muirchertach’s act that caused her suicide. But Augaire was too much in love with Searc to have her reputation besmirched by revealing it.’

Brehon Barrán sat back looking even more confused. ‘But we have heard that Augaire did not know this girl before. Why would he be in love with her?’

‘Because he fell in love with an image,’ replied Fidelma sadly. ‘It is hard to explain the feelings that motivate a man or woman to this emotion we call love. He saw Searc once in life and then in death and could not get that image from his mind. He did not know who she was. But the image obsessed him. He tracked her identity down and it became a fixation to discover the reasons for her suicide. Ultán’s part in it was fairly clear. But at some stage he learned the reputation of Muirchertach Nár. .’

‘I told him.’ It was Aíbnat who spoke. Her voice was quiet and unemotional. ‘Before we set out here, I told Augaire. I knew my husband’s reputation and one night, in a burst of anger towards me, he boasted what he had done with my sister. I told Augaire, knowing that, eventually, retribution would catch up with him.’

Fidelma turned towards Brehon Barrán and held out her arms in a gesture to show that she could bring no further proof. ‘I have finished except to say that I started to suspect Augaire when he could not refrain from putting a clear sign on each corpse that this was done to avenge Searc.’

‘A clear sign?’ The Brehon frowned. ‘What sign? What have we missed?’

‘The verse of a love poem written by Searc. It was a symbol of the reason why they died.’

Brehon Barrán turned to Abbot Augaire. ‘Do you plead a defence? You may choose to be heard with a dálaigh to defend you.’

Abbot Augaire shook his head.

‘Have you nothing to say?’ pressed the Chief Brehon. When Augaire still said nothing, he ordered Caol to take him to a secure room and keep him there until Barrán could speak with him and explain his rights under the law. As Caol was guiding Augaire past where Fidelma was sitting, the abbot paused and smiled down at her.

‘Muirchertach Nár thought he had bought me off.’ His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. ‘He offered me the abbacy of Conga as a means of keeping me silent. I took it because I needed time to work out that vengeance. I waited my chance and when it came I took it. I have no regrets.’

Colgú was sprawled in his chair before the fire, regarding his sister over the rim of a goblet of mulled wine with a quizzical smile.

‘I don’t know how you do it, Fidelma. How can you enter the labyrinth of people’s distorted minds and see beyond their lies and deceptions?’

Fidelma smiled in amusement. ‘I thought that you excelled at brandubh, brother.’

‘This is not exactly brandubh, Fidelma.’

‘It is the same principle. You have to have a dexterity of the mind. Identify the problem and gather the information and then analyse it. However, I will say this — of all the cases that I have encountered, this one was most frustrating in that there were too many people who had cause to hate Ultán. At first that blinded me.’

‘At first?’

‘It was only after Muirchertach Nár was killed that I started to see some light. That is not good. I should have been able to solve the first murder without waiting for the second. And then there was the confusion caused by the intrigues of Brother Drón to protect his embassy. I should have seen through that earlier. I had thought that it was Drón tried to mislead everyone with that pagan symbol of the raven’s feather. Of course, it was Augaire who had placed it on Muirchertach’s pillow to make the King look elsewhere for the threat.’

Colgú shook his head. ‘You are always too hard on yourself. You have heard that Abbot Augaire has escaped and fled from Cashel?’

‘I heard,’ she replied calmly.

‘It is believed that he is heading for the coast. Probably to the harbour at Ard Mór.’

‘He will doubtless take ship for Gaul or Iberia, and vanish into one of the religious communities there. Ah well, maybe it is for the best.’

‘I suppose so,’ agreed Colgu. ‘Certainly, Dúnchad Muirsici saw him as an embarrassment. There is already unrest between his family, the Uí Fiachracha, and lady Aíbnat’s Uí Briuin Aí. They are now contesting the kingship of Connacht.’ He was silent for a while and then said, changing the subject: ‘I noticed that your friend Delia seems to have taken Sister Marga in hand.’

Fidelma inclined her head thoughtfully. ‘I feel sorry for Sister Marga. She is a real victim in all this. I don’t think she will be able to forgive Fergus Fanat for not believing her and she certainly cannot return to the abbey of Cill Ria.’

‘Sister Marga has my full permission to stay here,’ Colgú replied. ‘Either here or at Imleach. Both Cashel and Imleach need someone of her talent, able to write a good hand, to copy and translate. We have enough genuine books to work on without resorting to fake ones. Until she makes up her mind, I hear that she is going to stay with Delia in the township.’

‘But what of Drón and Sétach? Has Blathmac mentioned what he intends to do about them and Cill Ria? If I were the king, I would do all I could to have that place destroyed and its community dispersed to religious houses where fear and punishment are not incorporated into the rules and beliefs.’

‘As you suggested, Blathmac is taking them back to Ulaidh, to Segene of Ard Macha, and telling him of the facts of the case. I think he will advise the Comarb of Patrick that before he starts asserting Ard Macha’s moral authority over the churches of the five kingdoms, he should be careful whom he appoints as his emissary.’

‘I do not think that Ard Macha will be strong enough to insist on that moral authority during our lifetimes,’ replied Fidelma with gravity.

‘Speaking of Sister Sétach, you never explained to me exactly what she was doing in Dúnchad Muirisci’s chamber when you and Eadulf went to see him?’

‘Exactly what they told us she was doing.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘She had gone to see him on Drón’s behalf, Drón believing he had succeeded as the new abbot of Cill Ria, to reach some sort of truce in the disagreement between Connacht and the abbey. Sometimes, even the most suspicious circumstances turn out to have a simple explanation, and those involved tell the truth.’

There was a silence between brother and sister for a few moments, and then Fidelma asked: ‘I presume that Brother Berrihert and his brothers still have permission to stay in the glen of Eatharlaí?’

‘Miach has given assurances that can do so. They can remain there for the rest of their lives in peace if they so wish. But speaking of life — ’ Colgu suddenly grinned, ‘your life, Fidelma — before everyone disperses, we still have several distinguished guests awaiting a celebration.’

Fidelma coloured faintly. ‘I had not forgotten. I think that you may safely go ahead with the delayed arrangements for tomorrow morning. I’d better find Eadulf so that we can prepare.’

Eadulf was not in their chambers when Fidelma returned. Only, Muirgen was there, with little Alchú. Fidelma spent a short time playing with the baby before Muirgen took him away to allow her some time to rest. Moodily, she crossed to the window and gazed down into the courtyard. At that moment, the door burst open and an excited-looking Eadulf hurried in.

‘Have you heard the news? Apparently Abbot Augaire has fled the fortress. I’ve just been talking to Caol. He was last seen heading south. No one seems bothered to go after him.’

Fidelma turned from the window. ‘I don’t think anyone is unduly worried about Augaire.’

Eadulf stared at her calm features in disbelief.

‘You don’t believe that he should be punished? he demanded in surprise.

‘Our system is not about punishment but about recompense for victims and rehabilitation for the culprit,’ she reminded him. ‘You should know that by now, Eadulf.’

‘I understand that, but. .’

‘Ultán and Muirchertach should have faced the consequences of their evil deeds before now. Their Nemesis was Augaire. No one is mourning their passing and no one is going to lament the fact that Augaire has escaped to continue the life that was interrupted when he saw that poor girl, Searc, kill herself. He has probably suffered enough.’

Eadulf shook his head in bewilderment.

‘Can a man really feel such strong emotion for someone he does not even know? You said yourself that he saw her once, passing by, and then he saw her again after her death. Can he really have felt such strength of emotion for her that he waited all these years planning vengeance in her name?’

‘Love and hate are strong emotions, Eadulf. They strike in different ways. An idea is born in our minds and the idea then persists; it sometimes becomes uncontrollable. We cannot rid ourselves of it. It cannot be suppressed until we find that we are so obsessed that we are compelled to follow that idea wherever it leads us. Augaire fell in love with a shadow. Perhaps to us it was an insubstantial one, but to him it was very real. He became obsessed by it and was driven by his compulsion. To you and me, it was probably illusory. But then a lot of actions that are precipitated in our lives are but the children of dreams — our dreams or other people’s. Maybe that is what is meant when the fathers of the Faith talked about damnation? Well, I think we should all find a moment in our hearts to utter a prayer for the damned.’

Eadulf was not entirely persuaded by her argument.

‘Talking of love and hate, I suppose Marga and Fergus Fanat will get together now?’ he asked. ‘Even after the hearing, Fergus Fanat still pronounces his love for her.’

Fidelma turned back to the window where she had been looking down on the courtyard of the fortress below.

‘He thinks that he loves her,’ she replied. ‘I am not sure that it is good enough for Marga, because at the very moment she needed the great essential quality of love — belief in the beloved’s integrity and support for her against all adversity — he failed her. How can you love someone you think is a liar and a killer? For Marga, to find that the man who claimed he loved her also disbelieved her, even going so far as to denounce her while claiming it was for her own good. . well, how can Marga ever trust that man again?’

‘Do you mean that love must be blind?’

‘I mean that love is not a superficial emotion. Love is knowing someone, their faults as well as the good, and, above all, understanding them. Fergus Fanat did not know Marga. And Marga, if you recall, finally recognised that fact. No relationship can be built on mistrust.’

‘So there is no forgiveness for him?’

‘I would say not,’ confirmed Fidelma, glancing down through the window. ‘In fact, Fergus Fanat has missed his opportunity.’

Eadulf frowned. ‘You sound very positive about that fact.’

‘Come here and look down into the courtyard.’

Eadulf moved across the room to join her.

Below he could see Sister Marga standing, her head thrown back and apparently laughing at something a tall, broad-shouldered warrior with dark hair was saying. Eadulf raised his brows and glanced at Fidelma.

‘Gormán?’

‘Why not?’ She smiled. ‘I understand that the girl is going to stay with Delia for a while before considering where her future lies. I do not doubt that Gorman might convince her that she could have a worthy place at Cashel. Our library stands in need of another good scribe, for the girl writes a fair hand and translates in several languages.’

Eadulf watched the warrior and the young girl turn and, walking close together, move towards the stables. They could hear the girl’s warm laughter answering Gorman’s masculine tones.

It suddenly reminded him of something and he turned back to Fidelma. Before he could say anything there was a sharp knock at the door. Eadulf groaned. In answer to Fidelma’s call, the door opened, and old Brother Conchobhar put his head round it. He smiled brightly as he saw them standing together by the window.

‘The aspects were contrary,’ he said in an apologetic tone. ‘That was why you had the trouble during these last few days. But planets move on. Like time itself. Now all is well. The aspects are very favourable. It is the right time now. I thought that you might like to know.’

Eadulf grinned, glancing towards Fidelma.

‘It was always the right time, Brother Conchobhar,’ he said.