Our Lady of Darkness

Chapter Twenty

The great hall of the King of Laigin was filled to capacity. Centre of attention was Barrán, seated in his rich robes of office and carrying his ornate wand which designated that he spoke with all the authority not only of the law but as the personal representative of the High King. By his side, on his seat of office, sprawled Fianamail, looking more like a sulky youth than King of Laigin. By comparison to Barrán he scarcely merited attention for it was Barrán who exuded all the command in the hall from his very poise and natural attitude.

Along the sides of the hall sat several scribes, intent over their clay tablets on which they would make their notes before they were transcribed to vellum as permanent records of the events. There were Brehons, trainees as well as those qualified, all determined to absorb the wisdom of the Chief Brehon. Once word had spread through the township that Barrán would judge the case, everyone who was able tried to squeeze into the King’s hall to hear such important judgments.

On the right side of the hall sat Bishop Forbassach; next to him was Abbot Noé, Abbess Fainder, Sister Étromma, and several other prominent members of the community of the abbey, including Brother Cett and the physician, Brother Miach.

Opposite them, on the left-hand side, sat Sister Fidelma with Eadulf by her side. Behind her sat her faithful companions Dego, Enda and Aidan.

Mel and his warriors seemed to be in charge of the security of the King’s hall, although Fidelma noticed that the Fianna warriors, who had accompanied Barrán from Tara, were positioned strategically throughout the assembly.

It was midday and much had happened that morning. Barrán had resided over several private hearings. Now it was time for matters to be brought into public scrutiny.

Barrán glanced towards his chief scribe and gave a gentle indication with his head. The man rose and banged his staff of office on the floor three times.

‘This court is convened to hear the final submissions and judgment in matters relating to the death of one Gormgilla, of an unknown boatman, of Daig, a warrior of Laigin, of Brother Ibar, a religieux of Fearna and of Gabrán, a merchant of Cam Eolaing.’

Barrán began without further preamble.

‘I have before me a submission from the dálaigh, Fidelma of Cashel, for the vindication of Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, a Saxon ambassador in our land. She submits that his conviction by the courts of Laigin, his sentence, and any subsequent infractions of the laws of Laigin in attempting to prove his innocence, be quashed and removed from the record books of this kingdom. Her argument is that Eadulf was innocent of all charges and all else that followed was a pursuit of injustice. The said Eadulf then acted in defence of his life and was within the law in doing so.’

Barrán glanced towards Bishop Forbassach.

‘What do you say in response to that appeal, Brehon of Laigin?’

Bishop Forbassach rose. He was slightly pale and his features mirrored his displeasure. He had already spent several hours in the company of Barrán and Fidelma that morning. He cleared his throat before saying, quietly: ‘There is no objection to the appeal by the dálaigh of Cashel.’

There was an audible gasp of astonishment among those in the hall as they realised what had been said. Bishop Forbassach sat down abruptly.

Barrán’s chief scribe banged his staff for silence. Barrán waited for the murmurs to die away before he spoke again.

‘I now formerly declare as invalid and void that conviction and sentence against Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. He leaves this court in innocence and with no stain upon his honour.’

On the benches, Fidelma reached impulsively over and caught Eadulf’s hand and squeezed it while Dego, Enda and Aidan clapped the Saxon monk on the back.

‘It is further declared,’ went on the Chief Brehon, ignoring their demonstration, ‘that the Brehon of Laigin must pay compensation to the said Eadulf in the term of an honour price fixed at eight cumals. The amount is fixed in law because Eadulf is an emissary between Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Colgú, King of Cashel. He carries the honour price equivalent to that of half the man he serves. Does the Brehon of Laigin raise any objection to this?’

‘None.’

The reply was almost missed, being a quick and embarrassed response. Yet another gasp went round the hall as it was realised that Bishop Forbassach was agreeing to compensate Eadulf to the amount of the value of twenty-four cows. Even Eadulf looked bemused at the munificence of the sum.

‘There is an end to Eadulf’s guilt,’ announced Barrán. ‘But let it be recorded why this verdict and sentenced is revoked. I, and other witnesses, made a preliminary examination before entering this court. What we learnt there was a matter which horrified us and caused great sorrow.

‘The river-boat captain, Gabrán, was engaged in a degenerate and perverse trade. He played on the suffering of needy families by persuading them to sell their young daughters to him. He took these frightened children, for none were of the age of choice, from places in the northern mountains of this kingdom and brought them down to the river. He placed them in his boat and transported them along the river to the sea port at Loch Garman. There he sold them to slave ships which transported them beyond the seas. Yes, he sold these young girls into slavery.’

There was an icy silence in the hall, a sense of shock and horror at what the Chief Brehon was telling the people.

‘We heard from the witness Fial, one of the young girls who survived this ordeal, that Gabrán had sunk to the level of an animal and actually used his captives for his own sexual appetite. This he did, even though they were not of age.

‘We have heard that on the fateful trip, from which Eadulf became an innocent victim, Fial’s companion, a girl called Gormgilla, was taken by the drunken Gabrán, while his boat was tied up at the quay of the abbey here. We may guess the details. Gabrán raped the girl and she fought back. In a drunken rage, he strangled her. It was decided to put the blame on Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Those who thought up this evil scheme arrogantly presumed that he was merely a passing foreign pilgrim and that no one would notice if he were sacrificed to cover up the murder. They had been forced to find an explanation for the murder because of the arrival of the abbess and Mel before the body could be disposed of.

‘It was a wicked scheme but one which nearly worked. Luckily, they had not realised that Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham was not someonewhose death could be so lightly passed over. Their haughty presumption was their undoing.’

Barrán looked towards Fidelma.

‘I believe, Fidelma of Cashel, that you have some observations that you wish to make at this time?’

Fidelma rose in the expectant silence of the hall.

‘Thank you, Barrán. I have much to say for this matter cannot simply rest with the exoneration of Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

‘Why not?’ snapped Bishop Forbassach from across the hall. ‘That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? He has been compensated.’

Fidelma turned a glinting eye on him.

‘What I wanted from the outset was for the truth to be made known. Veritas vos liberabit is the basis of our law. The truth shall make you free — and until we know the entire truth of this business then this kingdom dwells in darkness and suspicion.’

‘Do you now seek vengeance on our mistakes?’ demanded Forbassach. ‘Gabrán, the slave trader, is dead. That is surely vengeance enough?’

‘It is not that easy,’ replied Fidelma. ‘And while we have heard of Eadulf’s innocence, what of the innocence of Brother Ibar? What of the death of Daig? What of the innocence of Gormgilla and countless young girls whose lives are now beyond recovering? It is not vengeance that is needed to explain these tragedies but the truth.’

‘Are you saying that the death of Gabrán, the man who engineered this evil trade, does not satisfy you, Sister Fidelma?’ It was Abbot Noé who spoke. His tone was measured and it was clear that he shared Bishop Forbassach’s unhappiness with the developing situation.

‘I will be satisfied with the truth,’ she repeated. ‘Have you forgotten the testimony of the young girl Fial? It was not Gabrán who asked her to give the false testimony against Eadulf. He was drunk or knocked unconscious. Nor was it the boatman who was subsequently murdered on the following day. You will remember how Fial described what happened?’

There came a sigh of exasperation from Bishop Forbassach.

‘We do not have to rely on the word of a young murderess.’

Fidelma raised an eyebrow in quickening anger.

Abbot Noé spoke before she could. ‘The girl, Fial, obviously killed Gabrán and it is clear that she did so in a state of great emotional stress.We understand that and no blame is placed on her for it. My friend, Forbassach, does not mean to condemn her; nevertheless, it is the truth. Be content with that, Fidelma.’

‘This morning, before the Chief Brehon, we went through all the testimony that was heard in Coba’s hall,’ Fidelma returned. ‘I thought it was clear then that Fial had not killed Gabrán.’

Bishop Forbassach almost exploded with anger.

‘Another innocent for you to defend?’ he sneered.

Barrán leaned forward in his direction. His voice was flat and assertive.

‘I would advise you to be more considerate with your words and manner of using them, Brehon of Laigin. I remind you that this is my court and the rules of courtesy between those who plead before me apply.’

Fidelma glanced with gratitude towards Barrán.

‘I am willing to answer Forbassach. Indeed, Fial is another innocent — and I am ready to defend all who are innocent of crimes against which they are unjustly accused.’

‘If you are willing to state the truth, you will acknowledge that you only wish to defend Fial because you want to lay the blame on Abbess Fainder for the murder of Gabrán!’ Forbassach had risen angrily to his feet, his face flushed. The abbess, pale, tried to grab at his arm to pull him back to his seat.

‘Bishop Forbassach!’ Barrán’s voice cracked like a whip. ‘I have warned you once before. I shall not warn you again to moderate your behaviour towards a respected dálaigh of the courts.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ intervened Fidelma mildly, ‘I have no wish to accuse the abbess of Gabrán’s murder. It is obvious that she did not carry out that killing. You seem determined to cloud the real issues here, Forbassach.’

Bishop Forbassach dropped back to his seat deflated and abashed. Fidelma continued: ‘The person who killed Gabrán was part of the slave-trade conspiracy and was ordered to do so because Gabrán had become a liability to that conspiracy. His increasingly corrupt behaviour was endangering the whole enterprise. Too many deaths were occurring around Gabrán and bringing unwelcome attention.

‘The rape and murder of a young girl on the abbey quay by Gabrán and the stupid attempt to shift the blame on an innocent passer-by was what led to the subsequent mayhem. The person for whom Gabránworked, the real power behind this evil enterprise, finally came to realise that it was time to dispense with Gabrán’s services — and in a permanent fashion.’

The silence in the hall was absolute. It was some moments before Abbot Noé decided to intervene.

‘Are you claiming that all the deaths are connected?’

‘The murder of the crewman followed in the wake of Gormgilla’s death. Now, what was Fial’s evidence which we listened to again this morning?’

Barrán turned to his scribe.

‘Correct me if the record speaks against me,’ he instructed. ‘As I recall, when she was taken from her confinement by one of the crewmen, in the next cabin she saw Gabrán unconscious either in a state of intoxication or having been rendered unconscious. There was a hooded figure in that ill-lit cabin dressed in the robes of the religious. This was the person who instructed her to identify the Saxon as the same who killed Gormgilla. Do I have it correctly?’

The scribe, who had been referring to some notes before him, muttered, ‘Verbatim et litteratim et punctatim,’ to confirm that it had been accurately rendered.

Fidelma thanked Barrán for reminding them of the record.

‘The crewman who released Fial was actually the same man who was murdered the next day. I must make some conjectures now but they are threaded together by facts — information that Daig passed on to his wife. I acknowledge that no surviving witnesses can confirm each detail independently. May I do so?’

‘Providing it elucidates the mystery,’ Barrán said, ‘but I will not take conjecture alone as evidence towards convicting any individual.’

‘You do not have to. I would imagine that the crewman, who was, of course, of the same low morals as Gabrán, saw his involvement in the covering up of his captain’s crime as a great chance to make some extra money by blackmailing Gabrán. They had a row in the local inn — the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. The row was witnessed by Lassar, the innkeeper. She also saw Gabrán giving the crewman some money to keep him silent. Gabrán later explained this sum by claiming it was the man’s wages. The sum that was passed was a large one, however — too large for the wages of a boatman.

‘The boatman went off happy with his spoils but he did not realise that Gabrán was no easy target. Gabrán followed the man from the inn,caught up with him down by the quay and killed him. It would have been simple had not Daig been passing in the vicinity at the time. Gabrán had only time to run off and hide before Daig arrived. Daig actually heard his steps receding but chased him in the wrong direction. Daig’s other mistake was not checking the body thoroughly first.

‘When Daig went off chasing shadows, Gabrán returned to the body of his comrade and retrieved his money. He removed the distinctive gold chain that the crewman wore around his neck and returned to the inn where Daig later came to speak with him. I think Daig’s questions may have panicked him. He sought protection for his deed and went off to the abbey to see his employer. He demanded help or threatened to confess everything.

‘I can imagine that this person was not happy with developments. Perhaps the decision for the eventual removal of Gabrán was even made there and then. After all, the whole enterprise was being put in jeopardy by this evil little man.

‘But there was another problem and one which this terrible deed might help to solve. Brother Ibar was also a weak link in the chain. Oh yes,’ she said as a murmur arose, ‘Brother Ibar was part of this trade, but I believe that he was a wholly innocent part of it. He had been ordered to make manacles. He thought that they were shackles for animals. He told Eadulf as much, but he was growing suspicious as to their real purpose. And, of course, Ibar could identify the person who had ordered him to make those manacles. That same person now took the neck chain and money from Gabrán, assuring him of their return if he complied with the scheme.

‘The scheme was simple: they planted these items in Brother Ibar’s cell. The rest was up to Gabrán. He was instructed to tell Daig that Brother Ibar had tried to sell him the gold chain in the market and he had recognised it as the one worn by his crewman. A search was made of Brother Ibar’s cell and the planted evidence was found. That dealt with Brother Ibar.’

She paused, realising that she held all present spellbound by her story. She saw the scribes looking at her wide-eyed.

‘Verba volant, scripta manent,’ she admonished sharply. ‘Spoken words fly away, written words remain.’ She wanted all this down in writing. It was a complicated tale and she did not want to repeat herself further. The scribes bent industriously to their tasks.

‘We have the saying that one should not count the eggs until one haspurchased the chicken. Perhaps it was something Gabrán said or that Ibar had told him, but Daig became suspicious that he had arrested the wrong man. Unthinking, Daig probably mentioned as much to Gabrán for, shortly afterwards, on a dark night on the same quay, Daig met his own death.’

‘Are you saying that Daig was murdered?’ protested Bishop Forbassach. ‘It is well-known that it was an accident. He fell, hit his head and drowned.’

‘I would argue that Daig was hit on the head, fell and drowned in that order, that is if he was not dead before he hit the water. The motive was to prevent him proceeding further with his suspicions.’

There was a pause while the resultant hubbub of sound rose and was then allowed to die away. The assembly turned almost as one towards Barrán. The chief scribe banged his staff for their attention.

‘Continue with your presentation, Fidelma,’ the Chief Brehon instructed. ‘I remind you that this is still conjecture.’

‘I am aware of it, Barrán, but I am sure that, at the end of my surmise, I shall bring forward those who will give testimony to the various foundations on which I make it. Thus I hope to confirm a picture that leaves no reasonable doubt in our minds.’

Barrán indicated that she should continue.

‘My unexpected arrival put a halt to some of the plans. It was realised that Fial would not stand up to close questioning from a dálaigh who was looking for faults in her story and so she was replaced on Gabrán’s boat. She had to be disposed of. However, Gabrán being the licentious man he was, decided to use the poor girl until he had grown tired of her. She was kept like an animal, manacled below deck.’

‘Until Fial killed him?’ interposed Abbot Noé quickly.

‘I have already said that she did not kill him,’ snapped Fidelma.

Barrán was irritated.

‘You should listen carefully to the dálaigh’s arguments, Abbot. Fidelma of Cashel has already stated this clearly.’ He turned to Fidelma. ’I have a question.’

Fidelma turned enquiringly.

‘All the while Brother Eadulf and Brother Ibar were alive they were surely a danger because they might prove their innocence or let out some vital information which might lead a thinking person to investigate. Under our own laws, without a death penalty, it would be worthlessto lay the guilt on another as there would always be a chance that they could demonstrate their innocence …’

‘But who questions the innocence of a dead man?’ queried Fidelma sharply.

‘So, does the fact that Abbess Fainder insisted on punishment by the Penitentials, meaning execution, have anything to do with this matter? Does the fact that Bishop Forbassach, apparently forgetting his oath as a brehon, agreed with the abbess relate to this matter? If so, we must bring into account the fact that Abbot Noé influenced King Fianamail to accept the Penitentials in place of the Law of the Fénechus.’

Fidelma did not bother to look at the opposite benches.

‘It has everything to do with it, Barrán. The plan to lay the blame on Eadulf and Ibar rested on the end result that they would be executed. Mortui non mordent!’

Barrán looked grim.

‘Dead men don’t bite,’ he repeated, savouring the phrase.

Before the murmurs of surprise rose, Fidelma continued: ‘The plan might have worked out, in spite of my appearance, had it not been for the bó-aire of Cam Eolaing.’

Coba glanced up in surprise. He had been sitting in an attitude of close attention.

‘What had I to do with this?’

‘You are against the use of the Penitentials. But neither Bishop Forbassach nor Abbess Fainder realised just how much against them you were nor how far you would be prepared to go in support of the legal system of this kingdom.’

Coba grimaced ruefully.

‘I am too old to embrace new philosophies. What is it that the Brehons say? The soft twig is more durable than the stubborn tree.’

‘Eadulf owes his life to your stubbornness, Coba. You did the one thing that no one was expecting by rescuing Eadulf and giving him sanctuary.’

‘For which you will be accountable,’ muttered Bishop Forbassach with a sideways glance of anger.

‘Not so,’ Barrán intervened sharply. ‘Defence of the law is no crime.’

Bishop Forbassach glowered with hatred at the Chief Brehon but he wisely said nothing further.

‘However,’ Fidelma went on as if the interruption had not occurred, ‘it made me suspicious of you for a while, Coba. You had given Eadulfsanctuary and then claimed that he had abused it and escaped. Thus he could be shot down at will. I knew that there was a good reason for Eadulf to leave the confines of the maighin digona. He understood the law well. I thought it might have been you who had tricked him into leaving the sanctuary. It was not until I spoke with Eadulf a short while ago that I realised you had no hand in the matter.’

Coba looked uncertain and then shrugged. ‘For that, I am glad.’

‘It was Gabrán again, but this time acting on the orders of his employers who had found out where Eadulf was. Gabrán went to Cam Eolaing. He knew a warrior there called Dau, who was in Coba’s service. Dau could be bought and was. Gabrán killed the guard at the gate, hid the body behind it and then, pretending to be acting for you, Coba, he told Eadulf he was free to go. But things do not always proceed according to plan. When Gabrán and Dau tried to shoot Eadulf down, he eluded them and escaped into the hills. Now things began to get really complicated for the puppet-master.’

‘Puppet-master?’ The Chief Brehon was frowning at the unusual expression.

Fidelma smiled apologetically. ‘You’ll forgive me, Barrán. It refers to an entertainment I saw on pilgrimage to Rome. I mean one who manipulates others but is unseen. We have the old expression seinm cruitte dara hamarc.’

The ancient proverbial expression she used related to one playing a harp without being seen.

‘How did this … er, puppet-master, know Eadulf had been given sanctuary in my fortress?’ demanded Coba.

‘You told them.’

‘Told them? Me?’

‘You are a careful and moral man, Coba. You obey the Law of the Fénechus. You told me that as soon as you took action and granted Eadulf sanctuary you had sent a messenger to the abbey.’

‘That is correct. He was to tell the abbess that I had granted the Saxon sanctuary.’

‘Lies!’ shouted Abbess Fainder. ‘I received no such message.’

Coba looked at her sorrowfully and shook his head.

‘My messenger returned from the abbey and confirmed that the message had been delivered.’

Every eye in the assembly now turned towards the shaken abbess.