Atonement of Blood

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was late the next morning when Fidelma, Eadulf and Gormán began to cross the marshland to the south-east of Mungairit and turn along the road that would lead them back to Ara’s Well on their way home to Cashel. For the first time in a while, Eadulf felt he could talk freely.

‘I shall be glad to get back to Cashel and our son,’ he said to Fidelma, looking at the distant hills. ‘I cannot say I have much desire to return into the country of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘It is all the Kingdom of Muman, Eadulf,’ she reproved.

‘It may well be, but this is not a territory in which I am at ease. Anyway, I feel strangely dissatisfied. It seems to me that there are still questions that remain unanswered.’

‘Such as?’ she asked innocently.

It was Gormán who answered. ‘We have not identified the warrior of the Golden Collar who stayed at Menma’s rath. Why did he leave it and never return after Lugna, or rather Lorcán, destroyed it? If he was in love with Liamuin, why did he not want revenge or even to punish the attackers?’

‘Now that is a good question, Gormán. Yet in the overall scheme of things, his identity does not matter. However, I think I will find an answer to that, once we return to Cashel.’

The young warrior rode on in thoughtful silence for a while before suddenly addressing no one in particular. ‘Knowing what I now know, I realise that I was too hasty in condemning that young girl, Aibell. She was very attractive and to have been a bondservant to that man Fidaig, unjustly enslaved and … Well, one can forgive her temper and …’

Fidelma and Eadulf glanced at each other and Eadulf thought his wife had a smile on her lips.

It was a bright winter’s day as Fidelma and her companions rode into the outskirts of the township sheltering beneath the great stone palace of Cashel. Although the sky was blue, a frost still showed in places where the advancing day had not chased away the shadows. Few people were stirring, apart from those whose work necessitated them to be outside on such a cold morning. They smiled and called a friendly greeting as the three rode by. There was an air of happy prosperity about the town, which was reassuring for Fidelma, for had Cashel been in mourning for her brother, it would have shown. Some part of her had remained sceptical when Fidaig told her a messenger had passed with news of her brother’s recovery.

They were nearing Della’s cabin and paddock and Fidelma saw Gormán look across.

‘Perhaps you would like to inform your mother that you are safely returned?’ she suggested with a smile.

The young warrior raised his hand in acknowledgement and nudged his horse towards the cabin. The other two continued on through the almost deserted town square. They turned up the slope towards the gates of the palace. Enda was on guard and his features broke into a ready smile of welcome as he saw them.

‘It is good to see you home, lady — you, too, friend Eadulf,’ he called. ‘The news of your brother is good, lady. He is completely out of danger. He is still weak, but improving every day.’

‘That is good news, Enda.’ Fidelma was enormously relieved to have the news confirmed. ‘And Brother Conchobhar — is he still in attendance on my brother?’

‘That he is, lady. He was with the King day and night for several days until all danger passed. Praise be, the King is well enough.’

They had walked their horses into the courtyard and dismounted while attendants rushed forward to lead the horses off to the stables.

‘Where is Gormán?’ Enda asked. ‘Did you succeed in discovering who the assassin was and why he carried out this attack?’

‘We left young Gormán at his mother’s cabin,’ Eadulf assured him. ‘And yes, we have resolved the matter.’

‘You found out who the assassin was?’ Enda said eagerly.

‘We did, but that must wait,’ Fidelma interrupted before Eadulf could reply. ‘We must first report the matter to the council.’

Enda looked disappointed but then said: ‘Should I tell my lord Finguine to summon the council?’

‘Not yet, Enda. First, Fidelma must see her brother,’ Eadulf replied, and added softly, ‘And then we must see our son.’

Fidelma caught the intonation. ‘No,’ she said determinedly. ‘We will see our son first — and then I shall see my brother.’

Eadulf turned so that she did not see his smile.

As soon as they entered their chamber, little Alchú gave a scream of delight and came running towards them, abandoning some toy he had been playing with. Muirgen the nurse looked on approvingly as they embraced the boy.

‘Has all been well, Muirgen?’ Fidelma asked, detaching herself from the child.

‘Everything has been very well, lady,’ she replied.

There was no need to ask as to the health of their son, for the little boy’s robustness demonstrated it. Alchú was even now excitedly tugging at the sleeve of Eadulf.

‘Athair, athair, I can play fidchell.’

‘Really?’ Eadulf regarded him with wide-eyed solemnity. ‘But that is a very difficult game.’

Fidchell was one of the popular board games among the intellectual class of the Five Kingdoms.

‘It is so! It is so! But I can play it. Isn’t it so, muimme?’

Muirgen smiled at her small charge. ‘It is so, my pet. You can play fidchell. Goodness, he is a bright boy. I never learned the game,’ confessed the countrywoman.

‘If you have become so good, I dare not play the game with you,’ Eadulf told the boy, keeping back his amusement by assuming a serious tone. ‘Who taught you this wonderful skill?’

‘Why, King Am-Nar, athair. King Am-Nar came and played with me,’ the child said.

‘King Am-Nar’ was the term by which the boy called his Uncle Colgú, as he could not pronounce the word amnair, the word for a maternal uncle, when he was younger. The name had stuck.

Fidelma turned to Muirgen in surprise to ask a question, but the nurse preempted it.

‘The King is recovering well, lady, and has visited here several times to play with the boy.’

A short time later, Fidelma and Eadulf made their way to the King’s chambers. Caol, the commander of his bodyguard, was on duty outside the doors. He smiled a nervous greeting.

‘Is all well?’ he greeted them.

‘Surely that is what we should be asking you?’ Eadulf answered in amusement, clapping him on the back.

‘Oh.’ The commander of the King’s bodyguard looked flustered for a moment. ‘Everything is well here — very well. The King is almost recovered. It is good to see you both returned unharmed from the country of the Uí Fidgente.’

‘Is my brother within?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Brother Conchobhar is with him. He comes to check on the King twice a day.’

‘Excellent.’ She knocked, and then without waiting for an answer, she opened the door. Followed by Eadulf, she stepped into the familiar chamber beyond.

Fidelma’s brother was seated before a blazing log fire. He was clad in loose-fitting clothes and she could see that he still wore bandages under his shirt. He glanced up and his features broadened into a grin. Fidelma went over and leaned down to embrace him.

‘Brother Conchobhar told me that he had heard that you had just returned,’ smiled Colgú, extending his hand to Eadulf. ‘Are you both well?’

‘Better for seeing that you are improved, brother,’ replied Fidelma, before turning to beam at the old apothecary who had risen from the other chair at her entrance.

‘I was just about to take my leave, lady,’ the old man said. ‘Your brother is fitter than I am. But try to make him relax more. He has been the worst of patients.’

Colgú grinned at the apothecary. ‘And you have been the most dictatorial of physicians,’ was his riposte. When the old man left, he waved Fidelma and Eadulf to seats. ‘Now you must tell me everything.’

‘Everything?’ protested Fidelma. ‘Not now. I do not want to have to repeat my story to the council meeting.’

Colgú looked disappointed for a moment. ‘Well, Finguine is here, and so is Aillín.’ He hesitated and then said: ‘Following Áedo’s death, the Council of Brehons decided to confirm Aillín in his place as Chief Brehon of the Kingdom.’

He knew Fidelma had earlier aspired to the office. However, she responded with a shrug of dismissal. ‘Brehon Aillín has many years of experience. Anyway, perhaps it will not exhaust you if you could call the council this evening — I could make my report then.’

‘That is a good idea. Why not immediately?’

‘Because there are a few things I must do first. For example, I need to see the girl that I had confined on suspicion. She should be released with something to compensate her. I did her an injustice.’

‘You mean the girl, Aibell?’ replied Colgú with a smile. ‘Don’t worry. I have spoken with her and allowed her to stay with Della in the township. Della has promised to look after her.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened, annoyance spreading on her face. ‘You saw her? But I gave Dar Luga strict instructions that-’

Colgú held up his hand. ‘I am not that incapable, sister. I had her brought here and questioned her and she told me her sad story. You are not the only judge of character in this family. I thought it more appropriate that she stay with someone who would show her some sympathy and friendship. She is an attractive girl, the sort that people easily fall in love with.’

Fidelma winced at the familiarity of the phrase. ‘So was her mother,’ she muttered. ‘So Aibell is being looked after by Della?’

‘I have someone check surreptitiously each day. But, so far, she has proved that I made the right decision. I am told that they get on like a mother and daughter.’

Fidelma and her brother stared at each other, jaws thrust out pugnaciously, each determined to be right. At that moment Eadulf saw the similarity of temperament between the two red-haired siblings. There was tension for a moment and then they both relaxed with smiles.

‘I would have done the same,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘In fact, I can think of no better place for Aibell to be at the moment than with Della, especially now that Della’s son Gormán has returned home.’

Her brother looked uncertain. ‘What has Gormán to do with it?’

‘Oh, I think we might safely leave the future in Gormán’s hands,’ Fidelma said enigmatically. Then she added: ‘I am glad to see you so well again, brother.’

‘No more than I am happy to be well and look forward to your explanation behind this assassin’s attempt on me. I am still sure that the name Liamuin does not mean anything to me,’ he added. ‘Aibell told me about her mother and I have certainly never heard of her, nor any other woman called Liamuin.’

‘I know it. However, there are a couple of things I would like to know from you, before you call the council.’

‘Which are?’

‘I just wanted to clarify something that happened during the Battle at Cnoc Áine. I understand that you were wounded there. I heard it was a grievous wound.’

‘Stories spread after battles. Not everything you hear is strictly accurate. It was not serious at all,’ Colgú said. ‘Stupidly, it was in the first charge: a blow from a spear hit against my head and knocked me unconscious. As I was being hurriedly carried to my tent, to a physician, I came to and demanded to return to my men. You see, in such moments come victory or defeat: if the men are dispirited by seeing their leader injured, then a battle can be lost. Why, the blow did not even break the skin but caused a bruise, that’s all. Why the concern now?’

‘I presume that it was in this incident that you lost your shield?’

‘That’s a curious question,’ replied Colgú.

‘I just need to have it confirmed.’

‘As a matter of fact, I don’t remember. I suppose that when I was unconscious and the attendants picked me from the battlefield, they left my shield lying where I had fallen. Anyway, due to the privileges of a King — I had three shields in my tent ready for use.’

‘I have brought the one you lost back to you,’ Fidelma said. ‘Back from the Abbey of Mungairit.’

Colgú stared at her in surprise. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I will tell you everything later, during the council. But now a third question. When the battle was won, when Prince Eoganán fell, and his nobles were dead or had fled, you appointed your commanders, members of the Golden Collar, to take charge of various Uí Fidgente territories. It was my understanding that this was only a temporary measure to ensure the country stayed at peace until Prince Donennach had negotiated a peace with you. Is that so?’

‘That is exactly so. It worked well except …’ He hesitated. ‘Except that I made the mistake of appointing Uisnech, of the Eóghanacht Áine, in overall command. It was a bad choice. He bore a deep hatred against the Uí Fidgente that I had not counted on. I later heard reports of many evil things he did. When these stories came to me, I was on the point of recalling him, but then I heard that the Uí Fidgente had taken matters into their own hands. They ambushed and killed him.’ Colgú shrugged eloquently. ‘I cannot blame them. Thankfully, about that time, the derbhfine, the electoral college of the Uí Fidgente, had met and Prince Donennach was made Prince. He had been the son of Óengus, whom Eoganán had displaced years before, so the choice was a just one.’

Fidelma had waited patiently while her brother explained. ‘Can you recall what territories your commanders were given?’

Colgú frowned for a moment and then said: ‘I don’t think so.’

‘South of their territory, along the border with the Luachra … who was sent in charge there?’

‘I can’t recall. Capa was the commander at that time and made those dispositions. Then came the peace treaty and so there was no reason for our warriors to be in Uí Fidgente territory at all. They were all withdrawn. Why do you want to know?’

Fidelma smiled in satisfaction and shook her head. ‘It does not matter. It is of no significance now.’

‘And are you going to tell me everything?’ Colgú demanded.

‘As I said, brother, all in good time. Call the council to meet this evening.’

‘It shall be before the evening meal. I shall be impatient to hear what you have to say,’ sighed Colgú as she and Eadulf rose and left.

Outside, Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘There is one more thing I need to do. Will you go back to little Alchú and I’ll be along shortly?’

Eadulf wondered what she had in mind. He knew there was something she was not sharing with him. However, he was sure she would reveal it in her own good time.

After he had left her, she turned to Dego, another of the King’s bodyguard, who had replaced Caol on guard duty, and asked where she might find the commander.

‘He has retired to his chamber, lady,’ Dego replied. ‘It was my turn to guard the King’s chambers.’

Caol was alone in his chamber when Fidelma entered. He rose to his feet and stood nervously while she closed the door behind her. For a moment they stood facing one another without speaking.

‘Well, Caol?’ she said.

Caol shifted his weight.

‘Well, lady?’ he repeated.

She motioned for him to be seated and lowered herself into a chair opposite.

‘You probably know why I have come to see you and to speak with you alone?’

‘I have some idea, lady.’

‘You fought alongside my brother at Cnoc Áine?’

‘True enough.’

‘When my brother dispersed warriors throughout the country of the Uí Fidgente, with companies to support them, I think you were sent to the southern borders, along the hills that separate it from the territory of Luachra.’

‘I was.’

‘You went to stay at the rath of Menma.’

He made no reply but did not deny it.

‘So you were the warrior of the Golden Collar that the locals came to believe led the attack on the rath.’

‘They would have believed anything of a warrior of the Nasc Niadh. I did not lead any such attack.’

‘I know. But you were the warrior who fell in love with Liamuin.’

‘And she with me,’ Caol replied defensively.

‘You knew about her background?’

‘She told me that she had been married and had a husband who had mistreated her. She also had a daughter.’

‘When I brought Aibell into the palace, I think you recognised her. I saw the astonishment on your face.’

‘I thought … I thought I was dreaming. She seemed so like her mother. While you were away, I have spoken with the girl. I did not tell her about my relationship with her mother. I allowed her to tell me her story.’ Caol shook his head sadly. ‘If only her mother had known. Menma’s rath was only a short distance from Sliabh Luachra. Perhaps I could have taken some men there and …’

‘And perhaps not,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Even a relative of Liamuin, the one who sent her to Menma’s rath for safety, felt he could do nothing to rescue the girl. Why didn’t you tell her that you were the lover of her mother?’

Caol sighed. ‘I do not have that sort of courage, lady.’

‘You may well have to find it. But there are questions first. How and when did you come to know of the death of Menma and his family; the death of Liamuin?’

‘There was trouble in the east and I had to take my men to the settlement at Finnan’s church. Some Uí Fidgente rebels had fortified the hill fort that is nearby. We were kept at that place for three months. I was told the news of what had happened at Menma’s rath by a wandering monk. I learned that Liamuin had been slain, along with the others — and during these last four years I have tried to forget.’

‘What was the story that you heard?’

‘That the attack was led by a warrior wearing a golden collar.’ He raised his hand to touch the emblem at his neck. ‘I heard also that he carried a shield with the stag rampant encased in jewels — the personal emblem of Colgú.’

‘Local people did not know that.’

‘Any member of the Eóghanacht could decipher its meaning. The wandering monk told me.’

‘Would he not have passed that on?’

‘He did not have the opportunity. Moments after he told me, the Uí Fidgente rebels made an attack and the man was killed.’

‘So only you knew about the shield. Did you think Colgú was responsible?’

‘I was with him on Cnoc Áine when he was wounded and lost his shield. Anyone could have picked it up. Indeed, several warriors of the Golden Collar were killed that day and much looting went on. It would have been easy for someone to go off with a golden collar and the shield.’

‘There is something that I don’t understand, Caol. I could guess, but perhaps you will tell me.’

‘What is that, lady?’

‘When the man calling himself Brother Lennán came into the feasting hall and thrust his sword at Colgú, he shouted, “Remember Liamuin!” You must have recognised him.’

‘No, lady, I did not. He did seem familiar — I tried to think where I had seen him before, but I could not recall him. Four years is a long time.’

‘But he recognised you.’

Caol gestured helplessly. ‘It was not reciprocal.’

‘Let us think back to the moment. He wounded my brother and then poor Brehon Áedo intervened and he was killed. The killer tried to withdraw his weapon for another blow. Then you moved to prevent that second blow. As you did so, he looked up and hesitated a moment. In that hesitation, he recognised you. Obviously he knew that you were the warrior of the Golden Collar who had been Liamuin’s lover and not my brother. Did you kill him because of that?’

Caol’s expression was serious. ‘I did not, lady. All I knew was that he had attacked Colgú shouting, “Remember Liamuin!” I recognised her name but I did not recognise the assassin.’

‘In fact, he was named Maolán. He was the son of Cadan and his wife Flannait.’

The warrior breathed in sharply. ‘So that was who he was! Maolán. I remember him now. He was the son of a neighbouring farmer and his wife. Where had he been these last years, nursing this hatred?’

‘He had gone to Mungairit to work as a copyist. He was found by the conspirators, who took advantage of his brooding resentment and anger. He was told that the leader of the attack carried the King’s shield and was therefore the King himself.’

‘So that is why he struck at the King! He really believed it was Colgú who attacked Menma’s rath?’

‘He did. That brings me back to my next question. If you did not recognise him, why did you kill him when you could have easily disarmed him?’

Caol bit his lip and was silent.

‘You knew that it was not Colgú who carried out that attack so you were surely not trying to conceal it,’ said Fidelma.

‘But that is precisely why I killed him, lady,’ asserted Caol.

Fidelma regarded him in astonishment. ‘I do not understand.’

‘I killed him because I knew the King had not done this deed. But, had the assassin been captured alive, he would have had the opportunity to justify his act to the Brehons. Even a false accusation against Colgú would have created untold alarm and unease in the kingdom.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ she repeated.

‘You know that Prince Donennach of the Uí Fidgente has been to Tara and is even now on his way here to Cashel to conclude new agreements with Colgú about the relationship of his territory within the kingdom.’

Fidelma suddenly saw the connection. ‘Of course, that was the missing piece of the puzzle! Maolán was their cat’s paw of Lorcán’s conspiracy. Even if the assassination had not been successful, Maolán’s accusations against Colgú would have caused such rumours that it would have spelled disaster for the negotiations. Either Prince Donennach would have had to break off the peace, or his own nobles, led by the conspirators, would have ousted him, preparing the way for a new Prince who would have had no compunction in renewing the war against Cashel.’

There was a long silence while Fidelma thought through the situation.

‘You have left me a difficult choice, Caol. What you did was wrong. It was against the law. You killed a man when you could have taken him alive. And yet the reason you did so was a laudable one.’

Caol raised his hands in a gesture of resignation.

‘I know that in law I did wrong in killing the assassin when I could have taken him alive. I am willing to pay the éraic payment to his parents. Yet I would argue that it was an act done in defence …’

‘Self-defence?’ Fidelma sounded sceptical.

Caol shook his head. ‘No, lady. In defence of your brother’s reputation so that Prince Donennach would arrive here, conclude his treaty and remain in peace with us. Therefore, it was an act in defence of the King — of the peace and prosperity of the kingdom.’

Fidelma actually smiled. ‘You have argued your case well, Caol. I have to say that was the conclusion I was coming to. Maolán did not need to die, but had he not done so, countless others might have died. Perhaps only you and I should know the reality of this matter.’

She stood up and went to the door, where she paused. ‘I believe that you are still in love with Liamuin, Caol.’

Caol smiled tightly, trying to conceal his emotion but there was some redness around his eyes. ‘I still dream of her, lady. She comes to me in my dreams at night, and that goes some way to compensate me for the hopeless longing of the day. That is why I have not taken a wife.’

‘I can’t advise you on that, Caol. You must follow your own path. However, I don’t think Liamuin would want you to be in mourning for the rest of your life.’

‘Perhaps not. Thank you, lady, for your wisdom and understanding. But tell me — why did Maolán agree to the role of assassin? Just because he believed that Colgú had led the raid on Menma’s rath? As I said, his parents had an adjacent farmstead and they were friends with Menma.’

‘He did not shout “Remember Menma!” He shouted “Remember Liamuin!”,’ Fidelma reminded him.

Caol frowned … then his face lightened as the realisation struck him. ‘Ah! So he was in love with Liamuin?’

‘Yes, but in his case, it was unrequited love. This kind of love often stirs deeper passions than love exchanged,’ confirmed Fidelma.

Caol’s features were sad. ‘Liamuin was easy to fall in love with. In a way, it was not Maolán’s fault but those who manipulated his emotions.’

‘And used them,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘When I explain these events to the council, I will simply say that your action was motivated by defence of the King’s life. As for the rest, that will remain between you and me.’

‘I feel responsible about Maolán; more so now that I know who he was and why he did what he did. Even though you have absolved me in law, I still feel guilty. If there is some way I could make atonement, I would do so. Maolán was misled by his emotions and now his parents have to pay for that with a lonely old age for, as I recall, he was their only son.’

‘Then it must be your decision of how to make that atonement, Caol,’ Fidelma replied firmly. She went to the door, opened it and paused for a moment ‘We are all prisoners of the consequences of our actions,’ she said softly. ‘I am sure you will make the right decision.’