The Seventh Trumpet

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It was not the rebel force that was approaching Durlus. It was a small company of warriors, no more than a ceta, 100 men, with Colgú and Caol, the commander of the King’s élite bodyguard, at their head. Enda and Aidan rode immediately behind, followed by the Chief Brehon of Muman, Brehon Áedo, together with Abbot Ségdae, the senior cleric of the kingdom.

As the column of horsemen trotted up to the gates of Gelgéis’s fortress, Gelgéis, Spealáin and Bishop Daig went forward to receive them as protocol demanded. The escorting warriors waited patiently on horseback outside the fortress while Colgú with his immediate entourage dismounted. Gelgéis welcomed the King first before stepping back to allow Fidelma to come forward to embrace her brother. Colgú acknowledged the assembly with an encompassing smile.

‘Enda and Aidan have told me the news,’ Colgú said immediately, before any questions were asked. ‘Dego and his warriors have gone to confront Cronán of Glean an Ghuail. Is there any more news of Fianamail and his Laigin men? Have they moved into Osraige yet?’

‘Not that we have heard. I have sent to Tara to alert the High King and his Brehon,’ Fidelma replied briskly.

‘That is good,’ said Colgú, wiping some of the dust of travel from his brow.

‘I don’t think that Laigin is our immediate worry,’ she continued. ‘Fianamail knows that he must have a good excuse to invade Muman if he wishes to avoid retribution from the High King. Laigin is already under the restriction of the bórama, the cow tribute. If he acts precipitously, he will find himself having to pay tribute to Tara, which is not what he wants. I think he wants to be able to claim that Laigin warriors entered this kingdom legitimately to resolve a civil conflict in Muman that made it unstable as a neighbour.’

‘We can agree on that,’ Gelgéis added. ‘We have been discussing this and conclude that Cronán was trying to construct some civil conflict and is in a conspiracy with Laigin to use it as an excuse for Fianamail to enter the kingdom.’

‘That’s right.’ Fidelma nodded. ‘And the purpose of that conspiracy is to replace you as King with some Laigin lackey.’

‘Well, the rebels in the west have been defeated, as will Cronán be shortly. We have captured their leader,’ Colgú said wearily.

‘You have captured Étain of An Dún?’ Fidelma asked quietly.

Colgú’s eyes widened a little. ‘So you already realised that she was their leader?’

‘I had worked it out. The young noble who was killed near Cashel was Bran Finn of the Déisi Muman. Had I met him when he visited Cashel I would have recognised his body and resolved this matter that much more quickly. Bran Finn had visited Cashel on his way to Imleach and then the Glen of Lunatics, which is looked after by members of the abbey. He was taking money for the upkeep of a kinswoman being held in the glen. It was in that same glen that Brother Ailgesach spent those years looking after the inmates; the same place which drove him to drink, to deal with the horrors of that task. There was only one noblewoman of the Déisi who had been recently incarcerated there.’

‘You are right, sister,’ Colgú confirmed. ‘The so-called rebel army was a ragtail of bandits, thieves and misfits, and a smattering of those who will serve anyone for money or loot. They were the dregs who fled almost as soon as Dego’s warriors confronted them. But when he saw who was leading them, he sent for me. She and some of her more fanatical followers had fled into the mountains. I left Cashel with a few warriors to join him and we quickly flushed them out of their lairs.’

‘So you have taken her captive?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘We have her captive,’ confirmed Colgú. ‘But from what Enda tells us about Cronán’s fortress, I estimate that it will need more than a full cath, a battalion of three thousand, to tackle the task of reducing that place. The longer the siege, the more justified Fianamail will be in claiming a right to intercession.’

Tormeid moved forward. ‘It is no use attacking against the gates and the walls. But I can make it simple for your men to take the fortress with the minimum loss of life.’

Colgú turned to him with a questioning look. ‘And you are …?’ he asked.

‘This is Tormeid,’ Fidelma explained. ‘He is a warrior of the Uí Duach who was held prisoner in Cronán’s fortress where he was forced to help build it. He knows underground passages that will lead our warriors into the very heart of Cronán’s fortress. He escaped and now serves the Lady Gelgéis.’ She smiled at Tormeid and told her brother: ‘You may trust him implicitly, Colgú.’

‘And you will also find Uí Duach prisoners in the fortress who, given the chance, will turn on their captors,’ added Tormeid.

Colgú regarded the young man for a moment. ‘Are you prepared to take my men into the fortress through the underground passage?’

‘I am,’ Tormeid answered resolutely.

‘Then Muman and I will be ever in your debt,’ Colgú said, holding out his hand to the young warrior. A moment later, he threw off his fatigue and became filled with new energy. ‘Enda, accompany Tormeid here to join Dego and our men. They are south of the Suir and marching towards Liath Mór even as we speak.’ As Enda and Tormeid left without a further word, Colgú turned to Gelgéis: ‘Lady, forgive me, but I must request your hospitality of Durlus for my entourage while we await news and while these matters are resolved. I shall also need a secure place for my prisoner.’

‘Then you shall have it,’ Gelgéis replied, turning to relay these orders to Spealáin.

There suddenly came a high-pitched cry and Dúnliath came pushing through those who surrounded Colgú. Ailill followed at her shoulder.

‘My lord! Oh, my lord! Have you come to rescue me?’

Colgú appeared slightly embarrassed as the young woman threw herself into his arms.

‘Dúnliath! What are you doing here?’ he asked in surprise, disentangling himself from her embrace. ‘What rescue do you need?’

‘After you had left Cashel, my father brought me here for safety. He said it was for the best.’

Colgú seemed puzzled for a moment. ‘I do not understand why. There was no threat to Cashel, and the bandits were already defeated to all intents and purposes. I thought that Drón knew that before I left. Where is your father?’ he demanded, looking about him.

It was Fidelma who explained. ‘Drón was murdered here a short while ago.’

Colgú barely had time to register his astonishment before the girl almost wailed, ‘I wanted to take his body home to Gabrán for burial but I was not allowed to leave. Please, my lord, you will escort us home now, won’t you?’

‘I am responsible for stopping her leaving,’ Fidelma said hastily, before her brother could respond. ‘Firstly, there was news of the Laigin army only a short distance from Gabrán and, secondly, I had to take charge of the investigation into the murder of Drón.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I believe his death is related to the conspiracy which confronts us. In the circumstances, I could not allow Dúnliath and her escort to leave until the matter was resolved.’

Colgú gave a smile of reassurance to Dúnliath.

‘I must agree with my sister. It is not the time to be travelling east through Osraige, with the threat of the men of Laigin gathered almost within sight of Gabrán. I still don’t understand why you are here. You would have been much safer in Cashel. No harm would have come to you there.’

Fidelma intervened. ‘I can take it that you did not suggest that Drón bring his daughter and his entourage here for safety?’

Colgú looked at her in astonishment. ‘Why would I do that? Cashel is impregnable.’

The girl gave a tearful sniff and said, ‘It was my father who thought it best to come here and cross into Osraige.’

‘Well, no matter. I am here now.’ Colgú smiled, as if comforting a child. ‘And have no fear, my sister will discover who assassinated your father.’ He turned and saw Ailill for the first time. ‘Greetings, cousin. You should have persuaded your foster-father to remain at Cashel.’

The young man grimaced. ‘I did my best but Drón was a man who was difficult to shift, once his mind was made up.’

Colgú said gently to Dúnliath, ‘There are things that I must do — important matters that need attending to. You go now and I will join you shortly.’

It was a hint but the girl was not one to take hints. Instead, it was Abbot Daig who came forward and ushered the unwilling girl back inside the building. Ailill paused for a moment but, sensing his presence was not wanted, turned to follow them.

A sudden tiredness spread across Colgú’s features. At the same time he became aware that his companions were still standing waiting for his orders. He looked about and, with growing guilt, realised that those warriors of his escort who had not accompanied Enda and Tormeid were still patiently mounted and also awaiting instructions. Colgú turned to Caol. ‘Deploy the men, then bring our prisoner, Étain of An Dún, into the chamber to which the Lady Gelgéis’s steward will conduct you. Make sure that she is secured, for in her distempers she may harm herself, let alone others. Also ensure that you post sentinels at the crossing-points along the river to await news from Dego as to how matters fare at Liath Mór, and quarter the rest of our men as best you can.’

Caol raised a hand in acknowledgment and hurried away without further ado.

‘With Gelgéis’s permission,’ Colgú announced, ‘I suggest that we all repair to her reception chamber and you can tell us all about this matter.’

To his surprise, Fidelma shook her head. ‘There are still many strands of this mystery that need to be pulled together, brother. Before we begin to understand this conspiracy, I would like to speak with the Lady Étain.’

Colgú grimaced dourly. ‘I have no objection but I must warn you, the lady is not right in her mind. Probably she has not been sane in years. I doubt whether you will get any sense out of her.’

‘Indeed. She was not in her right mind the last time we encountered her,’ Eadulf reminded them.

‘Nevertheless, it is important that I try to speak with her,’ insisted Fidelma.

‘As soon as Caol has brought her into a safe chamber, we shall go to see her,’ Colgú acquiesced. ‘Now, perhaps I can prevail on the Lady Gelgéis for some refreshment, for it has been a long and dusty ride and I can tell you how we defeated the so-called rebellion in the west.’

‘What I want to know is how you managed to capture Étain of An Dún after the stories we had heard,’ Fidelma said, when refreshments had been served to her brother, Gelgéis, herself and Eadulf.

‘It was not difficult. She and her band of wretches attacked isolated settlements, travelling merchants and also small religious communities. From each they looted and increased their wealth to be able to extend their numbers,’ said Colgú.

‘But there was no big battle?’ Gelgéis asked. ‘We heard there was a battle and you had to take reinforcements from Cashel.’

Colgú guffawed. ‘No more than a skirmish before Étain and her followers ran away, chased by Dego and his hundred warriors. Where did you hear of such a thing?’

‘So Dego could have overtaken and captured her?’ queried Fidelma, not answering his question.

Her brother shook his head. ‘Dego was so surprised by the size of the band and the poor quality of the bandits that he thought their flight into the western mountains must be a ruse; a means to lure him into a trap — especially when he identified Étain of An Dún as their leader. I confess that I would have thought the same. So he sent a messenger to me and suggested that he would take his men into the trap if he could coordinate with me — asking me to bring a company of warriors round against the rear of her band. That way, if it was a trap, she would be the one that would fall into it. Brehon Áedo and Abbot Ségdae came with me and we took no more than a company.’

‘Only a company of warriors, not a full battalion?’ asked Eadulf. ‘How many men did Étain have?’

‘Hardly any at all, and when we had a final encounter, most of those fled at the sight of trained warriors — as they had when they first encountered Dego and his men.’

‘So what of these stories that we heard, of a mighty army …?’ Gelgéis was baffled.

‘It was either in the frightened minds of those telling the stories, or else they were lies deliberately spread to create panic,’ concluded Colgú.

‘So the mighty army turned out to be nothing but rumour?’

‘Isn’t there a saying that a bad rumour is stronger than good news?’ Colgú grinned. ‘It only needed a hundred trained warriors to disperse the rebels. Most of them were simply there for the loot they’d been promised. Only a handful of acolytes following Étain were possessed of her fanatical religious zeal and remained with her until the end.’

‘But surely they could see that she was insane?’ Eadulf said.

‘Insane? Yes. But she has strength of purpose, a commanding attitude, and was ruthless with both friends as well as enemies. Those sorts of people often command loyalty, whether from fear or avarice, in those who follow them. They spread their own insanity like a disease.’

‘It is hard to believe that she could attract any following at all.’ Gelgéis shuddered.

‘From my dealings with her, I have to admit that she is an amazing woman in many respects,’ Fidelma said. ‘It is true that Étain is a fanatic. She believes in the teachings of the Faith to which she has been converted. It was her own arrogance, her egotism that produced this madness. She truly believes that she, and she alone, holds the key to the truth and can protect the integrity of the Faith in this land. That became clear when we confronted her in Lios Mór. And there are always conscience-free sycophants who will be lured by orators of false passions who promise them the wealth with which they can purchase power.’ There was a pause before Fidelma asked her brother: ‘So what happened when you caught up with her?’

Colgú said wearily, ‘She had a few remaining followers. Those whose loyalty she had purchased had already fled. Most of her band had been killed during her quest for power. As I said, Dego and his men had managed to deal with them. I and my warriors were barely needed. So how on earth did these rumours spread of great battles and me leading a full cath from Cashel?’

‘It is the story that Drón told us,’ replied Gelgéis.

‘How did Aidan come into contact with you?’ Fidelma asked her brother. ‘I had sent him south to Cashel to warn you of Fianamail’s actions.’

‘We were on our way back to Cashel with Étain when I met Caol and Aidan with a full cath, a battalion of a three thousand warriors, moving north. Enda had joined them. Finguine, my tánaiste, had sent them in good faith, having heard news from Aidan. He decided to hold another cath ready to guard the southern approaches. He thought the Laigin army might attack across the fords of An Ghlais Alainn straight westward to Cashel. But Finguine is cautious. He considered the possibility that they could attempt to come through the territory of the Éile as they had tried years ago. So we joined with Caol and his warriors and came here. The rest you know, and you are telling me this is all part of some conspiracy?’

‘A curious one, indeed,’ said Fidelma. ‘I believe that if we can stop Cronán and his plan, then Fianamail and his Laigin army will be denied an excuse for invading Muman.’

‘Let us hope you are right.’

‘Did you try to question Étain of An Dún?’

Colgú uttered a short, dry laugh. ‘There is no means of conversing with her, sister. She has been raving some curious words, almost as if she were quoting some Scripture and calling on God to vanquish her enemies. It was quite unnerving. When we captured her she had some kind of religious banner.’

‘So she has offered no coherent explanation nor given you any clue as to her part in this conspiracy?’

‘Our physician attempted to calm her with some potion, but … well, you will see for yourself.’

‘There were no other prisoners; no one of intelligence who could explain the reasons for these actions?’

‘Only three remained alive, and they were seriously wounded. We left them behind to be tended to.’

‘I just want to be sure about one thing,’ Fidelma said. ‘You left Cashel with only a hundred warriors to support Dego?’

‘Correct.’

‘And you made no suggestion to Drón that he would be safer coming here than remaining in Cashel?’

Colgú sniffed in disgust. ‘I have already said so. I do not understand how that impression was put about. He and Dúnliath were totally safe in Cashel. You are not saying that he was lured here as part of this conspiracy? Lured here to be killed? I think it is high time you told me what this so-called conspiracy is all about, and who is involved.’

‘That I shall do shortly,’ Fidelma replied. ‘But perhaps we can now see the Lady Étain first?’

Gelgéis reached for her hand-bell to summon Spealáin.

‘You’ll excuse me if I do not accompany you to see this madwoman?’ she said. ‘I do not know her and have no wish to do so. She is responsible for so much evil, and I would rather not look upon such madness.’

Spealáin entered with Caol behind him, who confirmed that the prisoner was locked inside a chamber below in the fortress. They conducted Colgú, with Fidelma and Eadulf, to a stout wooden door outside which one of Spealáin’s own men stood on guard. Before throwing the bolts, Caol said softly for Fidelma’s benefit: ‘She is restricted for her own benefit as well as yours, so do not be shocked at her appearance.’

‘That is understood,’ Fidelma acknowledged.

The chamber was certainly no cell. A shaft of late-afternoon sunlight came through the window, and it would have been a pleasant room had it not been for the solitary occupant. A large chair stood in a corner and in it was seated a figure. Rather, the figure was strapped to the chair with manacles of iron restricting her wrists and ankles. Her hair was matted and tangled; there was blood on her face and on her clothing, which was torn and soiled.

Fidelma’s breath caught in her throat as she viewed the pitiful creature that huddled before her. Her mind went back to when she had first met Étain of An Dún. Was it only a few months before at Lios Mór? Then she had been a tall, imposing figure with traces of her former youthful beauty. The sharp blue eyes, which once were like gimlets, piercing into their minds, were now pale and without lustre. Now there were telltale marks of age around them. A few months ago it was only by peering closely that Fidelma had seen that the woman used berry juice to darken her brows and hair, which had been braided and elaborately dressed; held in place with gold circlet pins. Now her hair was dishevelled, dirty-grey — even white — and caked in places with blood and dirt.

Fidelma glanced with a frown at Caol. ‘Can she not have been allowed to bathe and have a little dignity?’

Caol stiffened at her rebuke. ‘She is quiet now, lady, but this mood does not seem to last for long. She can become like a hound out of hell itself. I have never seen her like for ferocity. I would not place you in such harm’s way.’

Fidelma knew Caol well enough to accept that he did not act without a good reason. She took a pace forward and cleared her throat. ‘Lady Étain, do you know me?’

There was scarcely any movement, hardly even of natural breathing, but Fidelma became aware of the eyelids flickering and then those pale eyes were trying to focus on her.

‘It is I, Fidelma of Cashel,’ Fidelma said softly.

The woman tried to raise one of her manacled wrists in salutation but she could not lift it very far. She gave a deep sigh. There was an elaborate dignity in the gesture.

‘I regret that I have to receive you thus, lady.’

‘Are you able to answer some questions?’

‘Questions? There are no questions to be asked. Just believe and all will be well. Caeli enaran gloriam Dei!’

‘Indeed, the heavens do bespeak the glory of God, but we must also ask questions that are unrelated to matters of the Faith. I would speak about your cousin, Cronán.’

Colgú and Eadulf both started at the information. Eadulf dimly remembered that Cronán had said something about a cousin of his marrying a noble of the Déisi, but …

‘He is your cousin, isn’t he?’ asked Fidelma.

The woman was almost whispering now. ‘He is a grand abbot. He told me the truth about the seventh angel. I shall soon mount to the throne of this world, for it is my destiny to ensure that all see the glory of God and the truth of His message.’

‘I would like to know how you and Cronán set about this task,’ Fidelma said.

A sudden flash of recognition crossed the woman’s face, and her eyes changed from pale to bright blue. She was staring malignantly at Fidelma as if seeing her for the first time.

‘I recognise you, Whore of Babylon!’ Her voice grew harsh and venomous. The malevolent face then turned to Eadulf, causing him to take a step backwards. ‘This woman is responsible for the death of the Prophets and Apostles!’ she shouted. ‘She is a dwelling place of evil, a cup full of iniquities.’

Caol made to go towards Étain as she writhed and twisted against her bonds. Fidelma reached out a hand to stay him.

‘She is quoting from Scripture,’ she explained quietly. ‘It signifies nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ Étain was slobbering, the spittle on her lips. ‘And their dead bodies shall lie in the streets of their great city … and the people and the clans … they shall see the dead bodies … but they will not be able to put the dead into graves, for there will be so many.’ Her voice rose to a croaking crescendo. ‘The seventh trumpet sounds; the kingdom of this world will become the kingdom of our Lord.’

‘The seventh trumpet,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘So that was the code of their conspiracy?’

Fidelma glanced sadly at the woman who had collapsed back in the chair after her violent tussle against her bonds. She was muttering and weeping. But there was nothing else they could do. They left and went outside. When Caol bolted the door, there was a troubled look on Fidelma’s face.

‘Is there nothing we can do? No balm that will keep her quiet?’ Her question was directed at Eadulf.

‘For such a state as that woman is in, it is hard to say what will help her. We could try lily of the valley, maybe fennel, or a mixture of both in an infusion.’ He spread his hands almost helplessly. ‘Perhaps the best thing is to induce sleep.’

‘I am sure Gelgéis has an apothecary here,’ Colgú said, turning to Caol. ‘Go and ask for such potions as Eadulf suggests. But ensure that the woman remains restrained.’

‘I have seen enough not to be reminded of that duty,’ muttered Caol as he left them.

‘And now we must have some answers, Fidelma,’ Colgú said briskly. ‘You started off with the death of an unknown Laigin noble outside Cashel. How has it developed to this …?’ He spread his arms to encompass everything.

‘That I believe I can now answer. Let us see if Gelgéis will allow us to meet in her personal reception chamber again, this time with her advisers and with Brehon Áedo and Bishop Ségdae.’

The chamber seemed crowded. It was not made to accommodate the nine people who filled it. Gelgéis had vacated her usual chair of office for Colgú to sit in while she had taken a chair close by Áedo, the Chief Brehon of Muman. The latter sat next to Gelgéis’s own Brehon, Broce of the Éile. Next to him was Abbot Ségdae and Bishop Daig. Spealáin stood by the door which he closed after attendants had brought refreshment for everyone.

‘So where shall we start in unravelling this mystery?’ Colgú asked the question directly of his sister.

She said: ‘Let us start with the decision of Brehon Áedo …’

The Chief Brehon of Muman glared at Fidelma. ‘What do you mean?’ he growled. ‘What have I to do with this conspiracy?’

Fidelma answered with a reassuring tone. ‘Let us hope that you have nothing to do with it, except indirectly. But cast your mind back a few months. We were all at the Abbey of Lios Mór, investigating a particularly gruesome murder. I presented the case. You will recall?’

The Chief Brehon uttered a curt, ‘Of course! It was shown and judged that the Lady Étain of An Dún was guilty of the murder of her own son and, indeed, of others.’

‘Exactly so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘It was a bizarre case and the Lady Étain was so deranged that you agreed that she was a dásachtach, suffering the worst condition of madness. She was sent to Gleann na nGeilt, the Glen of Lunatics, which is under the authority of the Abbey of Imleach.’

‘Lady Étain was the leader of the uprising in the west. Are you saying that was a continuance of what happened at Lios Mór?’ demanded the Brehon.

Abbot Ségdae shifted uneasily on his chair. ‘I hope there is no reflection on how my abbey oversees its duties in the matter of Gleann na nGeilt?’

‘As we understand it,’ continued Fidelma, ‘because of Lady Étain’s rank and position, one third of her lands were used to provide for her upkeep and care during her lifetime. Two thirds were reverted to her family and to the payment of compensation to her victims and for fines.’

‘That is the law,’ agreed Brehon Áedo.

‘And her family were …?’ prompted Fidelma.

It was Abbot Segdae who answered. ‘You know well, Sister …’ He paused, remembering her previous rebuke. ‘You know well, Fidelma. She was of the Déisi Muman, the widow of a prince of that clan.’

‘And thus related to the late Bran Finn, Prince of the Déisi?’

‘Of course.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying it was Bran Finn who brought the funds so that she could employ her mercenaries?’

‘Not at all. He went to the Glen of Lunatics to discover who was involved in this plot. The funds actually came from Cronán, the Lord of Gleann an Ghuail, who was Étain’s cousin. He had inadvertently told me that he had a cousin who married a noble of the Déisi.’

Eadulf nodded slowly. Before Fidelma had questioned Étain, he had entirely forgotten the exchange at the meal in Liath Mór.

Light was beginning to dawn on their faces. Colgú leaned forward in his chair. ‘So this unrest in the west — Étain’s raids against farms and settlements, particularly religious houses — they were master-minded by Cronán?’

‘Those who were at Lios Mór will bear witness that the Lady Étain’s crimes were inspired by a religious fanaticism. It was that which motivated the murder of her own son. When Cronán was devising his plot, he played on this. He sent to Étain, pretending that he was speaking as an abbot, and telling her that the seventh angel, a figure from the Holy Scriptures, had appeared and said that she was to lead an army to cleanse the land of the impure of faith.’

‘But she was supposed to be confined in the Glen of Lunatics. How would she get the money to pay her band of cut-throats and escape?’ Brehon Áedo stopped at a gesture from Fidelma.

‘The Glen of Lunatics is no prison, and while the most dangerous are closely watched by the religious of Imleach, it would be easy for someone aided by outsiders to escape. Her own cousin, Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail, sent her money and support, probably via his son, Sillán, or one of his men like Biasta. I shall come to them later. Brother Ailgesach had become aware of the conspiracy during his last days working among the unfortunates in the Glen of Lunatics, and he warned Gelgéis — is that not so, lady?’

Gelgéis immediately confirmed it.

‘Ailgesach promised her that he would try to get some proof of the conspiracy and find out what was behind it,’ Fidelma went on. ‘Unfortunately, he did not name Étain — and only at the last moment mentioned Bran Finn. He arranged with the latter to get that proof and bring it to him, at the same time arranging for me and Tormeid to meet with Bran Finn at his chapel. We were there at the appointed time but Bran Finn did not appear.’

‘That is because he was already dead,’ Eadulf told them. ‘It was his body that Tóla found at the stream bordering his farm. The fellow was killed on his way to the rendezvous.’

‘But I thought the body bore the emblem of the Uí Máil, the Kings of Laigin?’ Colgú frowned.

‘That was part of the proof to show the alleged involvement of Laigin. It was what was inside that brooch that was the real evidence,’ Fidelma said. ‘But whoever killed Bran Finn had removed the paper inside the brooch yet neglected to take the evidence of the brooch itself.’

‘So Fianamail was waiting to hear that Cronán and Étain were rampaging through the kingdom,’ Colgú said. ‘Then he would use the excuse to enter the kingdom to stop civil strife. But Étain has been captured and Cronán must soon surrender or be destroyed.’

Gelgéis sighed deeply. ‘So close and yet so far.’ There were frowns from several who had gathered there. ‘If Bran Finn had reached us, he would have brought proof of the conspiracy and told us who was involved. We waited in vain at Ailgesach’s place. When he did not appear, I returned here to Durlus. Tormeid decided to go to the river, intent on travelling to Imleach or the Glen of Lunatics to see what he could discover about Bran Finn.’

There was a silence for a while.

‘There is one thing that mystifies me,’ Abbot Ségdae said slowly.

‘Only one thing?’ Fidelma smiled.

‘We know that Étain suffered from extreme religious zeal. I can accept that was what inspired her madness, sent her riding forth to murder and pillage under the banners we have seen. Are we to understand that Cronán, who has declared himself to be an abbot, is similarly cursed?’

‘His purpose and that of Étain, his cousin, were not the same,’ explained Fidelma. ‘He was simply prepared to allow her to be the distraction in the west of the country. True, he had his warriors carry out some similar raids under religious banners against the Uí Duach. That was in order to fool people into thinking it was all part of a general unrest to provide the excuse for Fianamail. But Cronán’s goal was power. Power and pure avarice. He was waiting until he knew the warriors of Laigin were gathered on the border before he unleashed his main assault. His belief was that the conflict would bring Laigin in on his side and precipitate him to power.’

Colgú shook his head with a smile. ‘For the first time there is a flaw in your argument, Fidelma. You have overlooked the most important point, sister. Cronán is no Eóghanacht. As powerful as the Laigin men could make him, he would never be able to claim the throne of Muman as a legitimate King. The derbhfine of the Eóghanacht have to make that choice according to law, not only from the most worthy to govern — the best able, if you like — but also from the bloodline. Cronán is of the Osraige. He is not of the Eóghanacht bloodline. Anyway, he is answerable to Tuaim Snámha, the Prince of Osraige.’

Brehon Áedo was puzzled. ‘This is complex. Are you saying that Tuaim Snámha is involved?’

‘I cannot prove that, but I suspect that he is not. I believe that Cronán’s conspiracy with Fianamail of Laigin would be that Tuaim Snámha would be displaced and that Cronán would be made ruler of Osraige.’

‘Then what of Muman?’ demanded the Brehon. ‘If this conspiracy was to overthrow Colgú, surely that means there is someone else involved?’ His eyes widened. ‘There is only one who can succeed in Cashel. Finguine, son of Cathal Cú-cen-máthair, your tánaiste, your heir apparent. He is of the bloodline. And he has been left safe in Cashel with an army at his command.’

All eyes turned to Fidelma. ‘Finguine is-’

She was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door and when Spealáin opened it, they could hear Caol’s voice outside whispering urgently. Spealáin turned back into the room with a shocked expression. He seemed unable to articulate for a moment and Colgú looked to Caol, who stood framed in the door behind the steward’s shoulder.

‘What is it, man?’ he demanded testily.

The commander of his bodyguard took a quick step into the room, glancing round awkwardly.

‘The guard I left outside the prisoner’s room — one of the Éile warriors — has been killed. The Lady Étain has escaped. She is nowhere to be found.’