The Monk Who Vanished

Chapter Twenty-Four

Pandemonium erupted in the Great Hall after the silence which met the King’s outburst. Cries of anger from the nobles of Muman mingled with those of outrage from the people. Threats were hurled against Fidelma from all sides as she stood there calmly before the judges.

The Brehon Rumann looked disconcerted. It was against all protocol that a King should disrupt the proceedings with such an outburst. It was against all proceedings that a defending counsel should turn prosecutor against those whom she represented. The clamour in the Great Hall was deafening. Rumann’s gavel alone could not restore order. The steward found that it took some time, banging with his staff, before the noise ebbed away to an uneasy muttering.

‘Colgú of Cashel-’ Rumann turned sternly to the King — ‘you must resume your seat.’

Colgú, looking distraught, unable to believe what his sister had said, hesitated and then was helped back to his seat by Cerball, his bardic adviser. Abbot Ségdae had not moved. He was looking pale and utterly shocked by what had happened.

The Prince of the Uí Fidgente exchanged a triumphant smile with Solam.

The Brehon Rumann, having restored some order, turned back with an angry frown to Fidelma.

‘Fidelma of Cashel, I have granted you a great deal of freedom in this hearing. I can no longer do that. In opening these proceedings I told you of the standards I expected in this hearing. No advocate can change their plea and betray their client’s interest. You are guilty of affronting the procedures of this court and fined …’

‘Brehon Rumann!’ Fidelma’s voice was so sharp that it halted the Chief Brehon in his tracks. ‘I have not changed my plea nor have I betrayed the King of Muman’s interest. I must explain.’

Rumann gaped stupidly. ‘You have changed your plea most certainly, for in your opening address you said, quite clearly, before witnesses …’ He picked up a paper handed to him by one of the scribes. ‘You said that there was no plot by the King of Muman to assassinate the Prince of the Uí Fidgente. You stated quite clearly thatyou would prove it. Now you say that it was a conspiracy by the King of Muman.’

Fidelma shook her head.

‘No. I use language very precisely as I expect this court to. I said that I cannot absolve the Eóghanacht from responsibility. I never said that Colgú was responsible. Learned judge,’ continued Fidelma. ‘Let me present the resolution to this matter in my own way.’

The Brehons Dathal and Fachtna leant close to Rumann and all three judges held a whispered conversation. Then Rumann addressed her: ‘Your request is unusual; nevertheless, as this matter hinges on the peace of this kingdom, we will grant you some licence to present your arguments.’

Fidelma sighed with relief. ‘This has been no ordinary case. Indeed, I was confused for some time by another matter which I thought was pertinent to its resolution but which was no more than a series of unrelated events crossing the path of one of the most horrendous plots to destroy the kingdom of Muman.’

There was a clamour among the people and Rumann banged his gavel several times.

Solam was on his feet again. ‘Is she now saying that we plotted to destroy Colgu’s kingdom?’ he snapped. ‘I am at a loss, for she seems to be saying one thing one moment and another the next moment!’

Fidelma held up both hands. ‘Learned judges, there is no short route to the truth other than to allow me the time to explain in my way.’

‘You have been given that licence,’ Rumann confirmed. ‘There must be no further interruptions until the counsel for Cashel has done.’

Solam returned reluctantly to his seat.

‘Very well,’ said Fidelma. ‘I do not have to explain that there are tensions between Muman and the northern kingdom of Ulaidh. The Uí Néill and the Eóghanacht have been in disagreement since this land was first divided between them, that time almost beyond time when Eremon ruled in the north and Eber Fionn ruled in the south. The descendant of Eremon, the Uí Néill, like Eremon himself, believe they should rule all five-fifths of Eireann. That has been, and is, the cause of the tensions in this land. Even now, when we have left our pagan past behind, the chiefs of the Faith have divided on those political lines. The Comarb of Patrick in Armagh supports his King, the Uí Néill; while here in Muman, the Comarb of Ailbe gives allegiance to the Eóghanacht.’

‘History!’ sneered Solam, almost under his breath. ‘Is our time to be wasted with history? What need do we have of such obscurity?’

Fidelma wheeled angrily on him. ‘Without history we would becondemned to remain children, not knowing who we are nor where we come from. Without knowing the past, we cannot hope to understand the present, and not understanding the present, we cannot shape a better future.’ She turned back to the judges. ‘Learned judges, remember those historic tensions, for they are important.’

She paused a moment. There was now no sound. Everyone recalled the friction and jealousies that she had outlined. Not least the Uí Fidgente, who had several times been supported in their attempts against Cashel by ambitious Uf Néill monarchs.

‘I will now turn to the specifics. Let me start by saying that there is a young Prince in the kingdom of Muman who is possessed of a burning ambition. He seeks power and to achieve power he is not concerned with law nor morality.’

‘Name him!’ came an immediate cry from several people.

‘Name him I shall,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘But in due course. This young man, in the pursuit of power, decided to bring Muman down so that he could step into the power void. Muman is a large and strong kingdom. But where is the weakness of Muman?’

She turned to Donennach, the Prince of the Uí Fidgente. He flushed and scowled.

‘It is known that the Uí Fidgente have long claimed that they should sit in power in Cashel,’ she said.

‘I do not deny it,’ Donennach replied defiantly. ‘It is history. As you have so eloquently emphasised — it is history.’

‘Just so,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘The Eóghanacht have fought many battles with the Uí Fidgente over the centuries. The spoils have always been Cashel. Now this young man, whom, I should now tell you, is a Prince in this land, devised a cunning plot to create dissensions in Muman. He would organise an assassination. An assassination of the King of Cashel. The attempted assassination of the Prince of the Uí Fidgente was a blind to the real purpose …’

She had to pause because the uproar became deafening. Both Solam and Donennach were on their feet shouting while the Uf Fidgente warriors led by Gionga were standing stamping their feet on the ground to show disapproval. In the great halls, during feasting or during a trial, no one was allowed in without leaving their weapons outside. Eadulf, following the drama being enacted before him, knew that had Gionga and his men had weapons in their hands, there would have been serious trouble.

The Brehon Rumann fought for control and by the sheer weight of his personality succeeded in restoring order. He was about to speak but Fidelma resumed her summary.

‘This prince, to encompass his plan, and knowing that the UfFidgente would come to Cashel on a certain day, sent a trusted messenger to the Uí Néill of Ailech to reveal his plan and ask that equally ambitious King for assistance. That assistance was forthcoming. There was a Brother Baoill at Armagh who shared the belief that the Uí Néill and Armagh should dominate the five kingdoms. It so happened that, by a curious coincidence, Baoill was the twin brother of Brother Mochta, the Keeper of the Holy Relics of Ailbe.

‘At this stage the plan became intricate. The idea was not merely to assassinate the King of Muman but to throw Muman into complete chaos by attempting to steal and hide the Holy Relics of Ailbe. There is little need for me to explain that the Relics are not just a priceless icon but the political symbol of the entire kingdom of Muman. Ailbe was our spiritual guardian. The disappearance of his Relics would cause great alarm and despair among us. Just think of that combination! The death of our King, the loss of the Relics.

‘Even so, the conspirators were not contented. In case of failure, the Uí Néill of Ailech sent a band of his men into this kingdom. It is not the first time that this has happened. It was that band of mercenaries who attacked Imleach and cut down the sacred yew-tree.’

The Brehon Dathal learnt forward. ‘Yet the boar rampant, symbol of the Uí Fidgente, was carved on that tree by the raiders.’

‘In order that the Uí Fidgente might be blamed. I began to suspect as much when I saw that the raider we had captured, and who was, unfortunately killed, carried a sword that I had seen in my travels north. This was a claideb dét, a sword decorated with animal teeth. It took me some time to remember that it is only made in the territory of Clan Brasil. The same style of sword was carried by Baoill during the assassination attempt. Armagh lies in the territory of Clan Brasil.’

Solam had turned to her in astonishment as he began to see what she was driving at. ‘Then are you saying that the Uí Fidgente are an innocent party in all this? That you are not seeking to blame Donennach and claim he was a conspirator?’

She smiled swiftly. ‘I am afraid the actions of the Uí Fidgente were not helpful in supporting their innocence from the time Gionga blocked the bridge over the Suir with his warriors. But that action was not the only thing which misled me. What misled me for a while were events that were almost wholly unconnected.’

‘Which were?’ demanded Solam, now relaxing back in his seat.

‘The involvement of Samradán in this matter. I will return to this in a moment. Let us continue with the main story. The ambitious young Prince now awaited help from Ailech. His messenger to Ailech was the man we know as the archer, Saigteóir. To Armagh, and to the Comarb of Patrick, he set Samradan. The archer was, of course,the man who tried to assassinate Colgú. What his real name was is only known to the chief conspirator. It was this chief conspirator, the ambitious young rigdomna, who gave the archer the emblem of the Golden Chain with instructions to leave it when he escaped after the assassination.

‘The archer had come back to Muman with Brother Baoill. Baoill had been sent by the Comarb of Patrick from Armagh because he knew about Baoill’s relationship with Mochta. Baoill tried to hide his tonsure of St Peter by letting his hair grow. But there was not time enough to completely hide it. Brother Mochta was contacted at Imleach. At first, Baoill tried to sound out his brother to see if he could be persuaded to join the conspiracy. When he did not, Baoill attempted to get the Holy Relics by guile and then by force. He succeeded only in getting Ailbe’s crucifix.

‘Brother Mochta was wounded in that affair and, having told the story to his companion Brother Bardan, and realising that there was some conspiracy afoot, it was decided that Mochta would go into hiding with the remaining Holy Relics until such time as Bardan could find someone to trust and confide in.’

‘Why not confide in his abbot?’ demanded the Brehon Dathal.

‘As he told me, the abbot was an honest man and would insist that the Relics be returned to the chapel. Mochta and Bardán realised, from what Baoill had threatened, that warriors would be sent to attack the abbey to get hold of the Relics. If Mochta and the Relics had disappeared then, they believed, there would be no reason for any attack on Imleach.’

‘But an attack did take place,’ interposed the Brehon Rumann.

‘Yes, but not on the abbey itself. Baoill and his archer companion had already set an alternative plan in motion. Don’t forget the main purpose of these actions was to cause dismay and alarm among the people of Muman, so that the kingdom would split. The attack to cut down and destroy the sacred yew-tree of the Eóghanacht would be equally devastating to Muman. Once it was known that the Holy Relics and Mochta had disappeared from the abbey, the great yew-tree became the obvious target. It was the only other thing which would cause such dismay and alarm in Muman.’

The Brehon Fachtna intervened for the first time in this recital. ‘You tell an interesting story, Fidelma of Cashel. You have exonerated the Prince of the Uí Fidgente from this matter. Your story will become more interesting if you tell us who your chief conspirator is. Who is behind this conspiracy?’

‘It was a driver of Samradan who first put my feet on the right track.’

Brehon Dathal frowned. ‘Samradán the merchant? You say he was a messenger to Armagh, to the Comarb of Patrick?’

‘He actually told me that he had been twice to Armagh during the last two months. He was so guileless that I realised that he probably did not even know what he was involved in. He was only concerned about his illegal activities.’

‘His illegal activities?’ queried the Brehon Rumann. ‘Is the man in this court?’

‘No. He was murdered the night before last. He was killed because it was thought that he might lead me back to the chief conspirator.’

There was an audible ripple of surprised voices through the Great Hall.

‘Samradán was a merchant who was mainly engaged in illegal trade. He and his men had found a small silver mine close by Imleach. The land was part of the abbey lands. The silver mine was not Samradán’s to mine. As he was under the patronage of our chief conspirator — remember he is a powerful noble- that same Prince encouraged him to mine it and took a percentage of the spoils. There was another person in that mining conspiracy …’

Nion the bó-aire of Imleach was trying to leave the hall surreptitiously.

‘Capa!’ called Fidelma, pointing to the smith.

The burly captain of the bodyguard of Colgú held the smith with a surprising force, forcing him by the shoulder to halt.

‘Bring him here into the court,’ instructed Brehon Rumann.

Nion was pale. ‘I had nothing to do with the conspiracy to overthrow Cashel,’ he gasped.

‘Do you admit you were involved with this … this merchant, Samradan?’ inquired the Brehon Rumann.

‘I do not deny that. I dealt only with him because he brought me the ore from the mine. I extracted the silver and sometimes worked it.’

Fidelma was nodding. ‘Yes. I believe that you sometimes made excellent little solar-symbol brooches with it. Unfortunately the raiders destroyed your forge so that, on the day following the raid, Samradán had to leave the mine taking only one sack of silver which you had extracted but also a sack of unprocessed ore.’

‘My forge could not deal with it,’ agreed Nion.

‘Did you ever see Samradán’s patron?’

‘Never. I was not involved in any plan to overthrow Cashel …’

Fidelma turned to the judges. ‘There was my confusion,’ she admitted. ‘For a while I thought that Samradan and his illegal mining were the key to the problem. Especially when I found that the mine was in the same complex of tunnels in which Brother Mochta andthe Holy Relics were hidden. It was merely coincidence that Brother Bardan, while going to find Mochta, stumbled onto Samradán’s mining operation and was taken prisoner by him and brought to Cashel. Samradán could not take responsibility for the death of a Brother, so he hid Bardán. beneath his warehouse, waiting for his patron to make a decision. That Prince decided that both Samradan and Brother Bardan would have to be killed. He suspected that they would lead me to him. Samradán was dead when I reached him. Luckily, I’d already released Bardan from the warehouse. He is in the court as a witness.’

‘You said, however, it was Samradan who set you on the right track. Yet you say he was dead when you reached him. How could a dead man speak?’ asked the Brehon Rumann.

‘No, I mentioned Samradán’s driver,’ corrected Fidelma. ‘This driver was coming to see me to give me some information about the archer and Baoill. You see, the driver, whose name we never knew, had no knowledge about his master’s involvement in the affair nor, even, that his master had a patron. Samradán thought he was coming to betray the illegal mining operation for I had stupidly alerted Samradan that I knew he was involved in such an activity. I had asked him whether he dealt in silver and he denied that he did. Samradán mortally wounded the driver. Before he died, the man was able to tell me, in front of the witness of Brother Eadulf-’ she nodded towards where Eadulf was sitting — ‘certain things, which led me to Brother Mochta. More importantly, he told me of the time when the archer, who was staying at the same inn, had met with a man he could not identify. A young man, in a cloak. It was night time.’

‘If he could not identify the man, how could that lead in any meaningful direction?’ inquired the Brehon Fachtna.

‘The archer addressed the man as rigdomna — Prince — giving an indication of the rank of the man. This was the chief conspirator. Brother Bardán heard the raiders speaking to Samradan and he also heard that this rígdomna was conspiring with a Comarb.’

Fidelma looked to where Nion was still standing with Capa keeping a close watch on him. Then she swung round to where Finguine, the Prince of Cnoc Aine was sitting.

‘Let Finguine come to stand before the judges,’ she called softly.

A new wave of whispering echoed round the great hall.

Finguine stood up, his features suddenly creased in anxiety. He hesitated.

‘Come forward,’ rumbled the Brehon Rumann. ‘Come forward, Finguine.’

The young Prince of Cnoc Aine came slowly forward.

‘You arrived at Imleach just after the attack on it?’ asked Fidelma.

‘I did.’

‘At that time, you were certain it was an attack by the Uí Fidgente?’

‘Yes. Nion believed so. There was also the carving on the tree and the fact that the raiders went north after the attack. Everything pointed to the Uf Fidgente.’

‘As it was meant to,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘With, of course, one exception. The raider we had captured.’

‘Yes. But he had been killed before we could identify who he was …’ began Finguine.

‘The night before you left Imleach, Brother Bardan approached you in the chapel and confessed that he knew where Brother Mochta was hiding with the Holy Relics.’

Finguine indicated the witnesses. ‘Brother Bardan is seated there. He will tell you as much.’

‘He arranged to bring Mochta and the Holy Relics to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do I presume then that it was coincidence that Solam joined you that morning?’

‘It was as I have already told you. I was compelled to give him an escort to Cashel. But we had been delayed because I had given Bardan my word and he had not turned up. I told Solam as much as I felt it necessary for him to know. Later I discovered that you had been seen on the road to Ara’s Well with the Saxon and with Brother Mochta. You were described as carrying something which could only be the reliquary. As for Bardan, well, he had disappeared.’

‘How did you discover where I had hidden Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics?’

‘Nion saw you leave the house of Della. It took no imagination to make inquiries and find out how friendly you were with her.’

‘That is why you went to Della’s house and took Mochta and the reliquary away with you? One thing is puzzling. You have proclaimed your suspicions of the Uí Fidgente on more than one occasion. Why, then, did you take Gionga of the Uí Fidgente to ransack Della’s house?’

Finguine glanced nervously at the judges. ‘Action needed to be taken immediately when Nion reported the matter to me. I was in Solam’s company at the time Nion chose to speak to me. Solam insisted that Gionga accompany me. He was suspicious and wanted an Uí Fidgente witness. I did not have time to send for my warriors and so I had to trust Gionga.’

Solam turned and nodded agreement. ‘That was so, Fidelma.’

‘Having discovered that I had brought Brother Mochta and thereliquary to Cashel, Finguine, why did you think it necessary that they be removed from my safekeeping?’

Finguine looked uncomfortable and then he held her eye for a moment. ‘Because we believed it was you who was behind the conspiracy against Cashel.’

Fidelma was not often given to an astonishment in which she became speechless. This time she was.

Her silence encouraged Finguine to continue.

‘You have only just come back to this kingdom after years away. When you were young you went and studied with the Brehon Morann at Tara. Then you went to Cill Dara and were many years in that abbey. You have been abroad, to Oswy’s kingdom in the land of the Angles and to Rome. How could we trust you?’

‘I still do not see why you felt that I was part of such a conspiracy?’ Fidelma finally voiced her astonishment.

Nion came to Finguine’s defence. ‘I told Finguine what I had heard from Samradán. He once boasted that his patron was powerful. Someone who was very close to the King of Cashel. He never mentioned whether the patron was male or female. It is only now that we have heard that the patron was addressed as a rígdomna.’

‘And rígdomna being male and not female?’ Fidelma reacted with a soft chuckle.

‘It is no laughing matter,’ cut in the Brehon Rumann irritably. ‘You had almost argued yourself into the position of your prime suspect.’

Fidelma suddenly grew serious. ‘Then I had best come to the point, learned judge, before you find me guilty of the conspiracy. Oh, one more question, Finguine. What were you doing at Samradán’s house the other night?’

Finguine frowned. ‘The other night? I was looking for Samradán as I wished to ask him some questions. I rode up to his house but there was no response to my knocking.’

‘You didn’t go in?’

‘I didn’t even get off my horse. I merely rode up to the door and knocked. When there was no response, I turned away. Then the next day I heard the news that Samradán was dead — murdered.’

‘In death, the answer still lies with Samradán,’ observed Fidelma. Once more an icy silence descended and everyone leant forward to catch her words. ‘I mentioned that I had unwittingly asked him if he traded in silver, having been told he did. He had denied it. This was because his trade was illegal. Outside of his co-workers and Nion who extracted the metal from the ore, only his co-conspirator knew of his mining in silver. That same co-conspirator was the rígdomna who sought to overthrow Muman.

‘That man, that young rígdomna, when he rode into Cashel that morning, was the one who raised his hand to give the signal for the assassins to shoot at Colgú. Only Colgú leaning forward suddenly to greet me made the assassin miss his target. The second arrow struck where it was supposed to. A bad but not serious wound for Donennach. Then Gionga, having spotted the assassins, galloped forward.

‘The last thing this man wanted was his conspirators to be captured alive. If they were dead the plot could still work. He had given one of them the emblem of the Golden Chain and told them to drop it at the spot. He had not realised that the other man, Baoill, still carried the crucifix of Ailbe which would mark the start of the trail that led to the conspirators.’

‘Are you saying that Gionga acted wrongly in killing the assassins?’ Solam interjected.

‘He did what he thought was right. He killed the assassins believing that he might be in danger. Probably, if he had hesitated, the chief conspirator, who had ridden after him, would have ensured that both men were killed on some pretext before they could talk. As it was, both men were killed. But, no, Gionga is not to blame.’

Gionga was standing with his brow wrinkled as if deep in thought. He was remembering the incident more clearly in the light of what she was saying.

Fidelma glanced encouragingly across the hall to him.

‘I’ll take a bet with you, Gionga. The same person who came hot on your heels and ensured you killed the two men at Samradán’s warehouse was the same man who suggested that I was determined to conjure evidence to incriminate Prince Donennach. Is that not so? Didn’t he suggest that you would be wise to send warriors to block my way to Imleach? To put a guard on the bridge?’

Gionga’s face lightened. He nodded rapidly. ‘That is so. But he …’

‘You did not realise that you fell into his trap because, by sending your warriors to prevent my leaving Cashel, you immediately brought down more suspicion on your Prince. Your behaviour seemed to compound the guilt of the Uí Fidgente.’

Gionga raised a hand to his forehead and groaned. ‘I did not think of that.’

‘Who is this man?’ cried the Brehon Rumann in frustration. ‘Enough innuendoes. Name him.’

‘What man raised his hand when the bodyguard of King Colgú entered the market square that morning?’ asked Fidelma. ‘We all thought it a signal to his horsemen but it was a signal to the assassins. What man immediately galloped after Gionga? What man told Giongato set a guard on the bridge across the Suir? What man told me, in an unguarded moment, that he had traded a certain silver brooch from Samradán when Samradán kept his silver dealing such a dark secret that the only person outside of Nion who would know of it was the man who was his partner and protector?’

Slowly, Donndubháin had risen in his place and walked forward to face Fidelma before the Brehons. Throughout the proceedings he had remained silent. He had sat in his seat without responding to events, with no emotion on his stony face. He had simply stared ahead of him, looking neither right nor left. Now the moment had come when everyone finally knew whom Fidelma was accusing. He left his seat and stood a few feet from Fidelma. Even then, he managed a good-natured expression on his features.

‘What are you trying to do to me, cousin?’ His voice was pleasant. Yet the eyes were hard and unblinking.

‘Do — to you? You are the architect of an evil conspiracy, cousin. You were angry and jealous when Colgú was elected as tanist and became King of Muman when you considered that the kingship should have been yours by right. Even when you were elected tanist, heir-apparent, to Colgú, it was not enough. Colgú was young and bar an unforeseen accident, you could never hope to be King. So you decided to make that “accident” occur.

‘Colgú would be assassinated. The Uí Fidgente would be blamed. Disorder and turmoil would rip Muman apart and you, dear cousin, would come forward and claim the crown, promising to unite the kingdom once again. You would have the support of the whole kingdom behind you when you marched to destroy the Uí Fidgente and from the ashes of that land you would give the Uí Néill tribute, allowing Mael Duin of Ailech to once more reach out his blood-red hand to take control of our kingdom.’

Many had risen in the Great Hall and began to crowd towards the spot where the drama was being played out. Eadulf felt himself pushed from his seat and urged forward in their forefront. He clung on desperately to his pilgrim’s staff as a means of keeping his balance in the throng.

He found himself near Donndubhain and Fidelma. He did not like the expression that was changing the tanist’s face from its handsome pleasant features to a mask of uncontrolled hatred. It was clear that Fidelma’s truth had struck home.

The tanist of Cashel was trying to assume a smug expression as he made another attempt to deny her accusation.

‘The Brehons want proof and not supposition, cousin,’ he said, clearly trying to sound amused but not succeeding. ‘Where is your proof for this outrageous nonsense?’

‘You do not think I have given you proof enough? There is Gionga. He will tell how you persuaded him to send his warriors …’

‘What if I did? You have no proof of anything else. Baoill and Fedach are dead and …’

Fidelma’s broad smile stopped him. ‘What name did you say?’ she asked softly.

‘Baoill and …’ He suddenly paused, realising the slip he had made.

‘I think the name that you gave to the archer was Fedach? Did I not say that no one knew his name? That the only person alive would be …?’

‘That is not proof enough. I might have heard it from someone else and …’

‘When you decided to kill Samradan the other night you made your fatal mistake. Without that killing, the jigsaw puzzle, our game of tomus, with which we played as children, would not have come into place within its frame.’

‘But it was I who led you to the assassin’s horses which had been hidden at Samradán’s stables,’ protested Donndubhain. ‘Would a guilty man do that?’

‘Yes. You hid the horses there yourself. Samradán was in Imleach at that time. Those horses had been kept elsewhere. Perhaps in your own stables. Then you took them to Samradán’s the very evening you killed him in order to close the circle so that a dead man would take the blame. You made a mistake in showing me those horses in your eagerness to throw me off your track. They were still hot and sweaty from their run from the place where they had been these last days. We will probably find which of your servants hid the horses on your instructions. From your own lips we have learnt the name of the archer — Fedach.’

‘Nonsense! The name proves nothing.’

‘You removed all items of identity from those horses, except for the Uí Fidgente symbol on the saddle by which you hoped that I might still be persuaded to blame Prince Donennach. You had emptied the archer’s purse, which was a stupid thing to do for it showed most clearly that everything had been tampered with. But you overlooked a single coin, however. A píss, an Uí Néill coin of Ailech.’

She held it out.

‘It showed me that the archer had been in Ailech recently.’

‘But it does not show that I was in Ailech’s pay,’ Donndubháin said. ‘Nor does it prove my guilt.’

‘No. But the death of Samradan showed me that you killed him. Where is your silver brooch, the one you said that you had tradedfrom Samradan, the one that came out of your illegal mining activity with him? The one he asked Nion the smith to make especially for his patron with its five red garnets?’

Donndubháin’s hand went automatically to his shoulder. His face went ashen.

Fidelma was holding out the brooch that she had taken from Samradán’s dead grasp. She held it up for everyone to see.

‘I found it clutched in Samradán’s hand. He tore it from Donndubháin in his death struggle along with the cloth you see attached to it.’

‘You can’t prove it is mine. A silver brooch with a solar symbol and red garnets on the ends,’ sneered Donndubháin. ‘I have seen others like it. Look!’

He pointed to where Nion was standing. It was true that the smith wore a similar solar emblem with red garnets.

Donndubháin swung round angrily to Finguine.

‘And look! He wears one exactly like it.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Yes. Finguine’s solar emblem was also crafted by Nion. That is why they are so alike. Those brooches were made by the same craftsman who made your one. But whereas the emblems worn by Nion and Finguine carry three red garnets, this one was made especially for you. It has five red garnets. I saw you wearing it on the day of the attempted assassination. Maybe it is meant to represent the five kingdoms of Eireann. Is your ambition so high, Donndubhain?’

Donndubhain acted so quickly that it was over in a moment. He slid one hand into his shirt and drew forth a short dagger, hidden in his waistband. At the same time he reached out a hand and grabbed Fidelma. She had not been expecting such a move and the next moment she was pressed, back against his chest, with the knife at her throat.

‘Donndubháin!’ cried Colgú, springing forward from his place. ‘You fool! You cannot hope to escape!’

The Great Hall had burst into chaos and there were cries of alarm.

‘If I do not, then your precious sister dies with me,’ shouted the Prince across the heads of the crowd.

The knife was so close against Fidelma’s neck that there was a faint spot of blood oozing along the knife edge.

‘Tell Capa to saddle me a fast horse. No tricks for Fidelma is coming with me …’ ordered Donndubháin.

He began to edge backwards from the pale-faced judges, and the anxious eyes of those gathered in the Great Hall.

There was a dull thud. The knife hand of Donndubhain trembled and then the knife dropped from the senseless fingers to the floor. Amoment afterwards it was followed by the unconscious body of the tanist of Cashel.

Fidelma swung round, eyes wide, heaving for breath.

Eadulf was standing there looking concerned. He held his pilgrim’s staff in two hands. He suddenly smiled as his eyes found Fidelma’s.

‘What works for a canis lupus can work for a human wolf as well.’

Fidelma threw back her head and laughed with relief as she embraced her companion.