The Seventh Trumpet

CHAPTER TWENTY

Fidelma and Eadulf entered the chamber where they had recently tried to question Étain of An Dún. Outside, in the passageway, the body of the warrior who had been left on guard lay in a crumpled and bloody heap. It looked as if he had been stabbed several times in the neck and chest in a frenzied attack. Inside the chamber, the bonds that had secured the woman lay scattered around. Eadulf gave them a cursory glance.

‘Someone has released her from those chains,’ he said, stating the obvious.

Caol and Gormán had entered behind them with the agitated Spealáin.

‘Cathchern was a good warrior,’ the steward grieved. ‘He would never have allowed a stranger to approach and strike him without even attempting to draw his weapon.’

‘That is the only explanation,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Whoever killed him and released the prisoner was known and trusted by him.’

‘Then there is a traitor here.’ Gormán’s expression was grim. ‘It could be anyone of the Éile.’

‘There are no traitors among the Éile,’ snapped Spealáin.

‘You have every right to protest,’ agreed Eadulf calmly, ‘but we must consider logic. The guard was attacked by someone he knew, or whose rank he had to respect.’

‘We can discuss this later,’ Fidelma said. ‘It is more urgent to find where Étain of An Dún is hiding and who is hiding her. Now she is free, in her current state of mind, she will doubtless be bent on vengeance.’

‘There is one point to consider,’ Eadulf said quietly.

‘Which is?’

‘You know how her mind was when we saw her … well, the person who released her had the ability to do so without her raving or crying out and alarming anyone. That person was well known to her, able to quieten her.’

‘A good point, Eadulf.’ Fidelma turned to Caol. ‘I want you to go to my brother and persuade him to return to the chamber Gelgéis has allotted him and await the outcome of our search for Étain. Do not leave his side, even if he tries to insist. Do not leave him alone until I say otherwise.’

Caol hurried off while Fidelma turned to the steward.

‘Spealáin, you must alert Gelgéis and the guards. There must be a detailed search of the fortress for this woman and anyone else behaving suspiciously.’

‘Are you sure you can trust me and the guards of Durlus?’ the man said bitterly.

Fidelma answered with a thin smile. ‘Trust must be earned, Spealáin,’ she replied. ‘I suggest you set about earning it.’

He bit his lip and then hastened after Caol.

‘Do you think Étain is going to attempt to assassinate the King?’ asked Gormán anxiously.

‘She is crazy enough to try,’ Eadulf said heavily. ‘With the way her mind is working, I do not think she would even be able to find her way to the King on her own and do the deed.’

‘That’s just it,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘She is not capable on her own. Someone has released her and may even now be leading her to my brother.’

‘Then …’ Gormán was white-faced as he turned to the door.

‘Wait! We can leave Colgú’s protection to Caol,’ called Fidelma, halting him. ‘Our task is to find Étain and her companion.’

Outside in the corridor, ignoring the crumpled body of the warrior, they paused, uncertain of their direction. Then Gormán sucked in his breath and pointed. There were smudge-marks of blood on the stone floor. Someone, either Étain or her rescuer, had trodden in the blood of the guard and moved on, not noticing.

Gormán eased his sword out and led the way, following the trail. At the end of the passage, the trail turned down another short passage and ended before a stout wooden door. There were no locks on it. The young warrior motioned them back and reached forward. The door pushed open easily. A flight of steps led down into what was obviously a cellar or small vault. They could see a flickering light at the bottom.

‘Wait here!’ whispered the warrior. ‘I’ll go down first.’

They knew better than to object. Gormán moved noiselessly down the stone steps, his sword held ready in front of him. Then he disappeared from their sight. There was a long silence and Eadulf fidgeted uneasily. Fidelma was about to call down when Gormán’s voice came up to them.

‘It’s all right, but you had better come and see this.’

Eadulf went first down the steps and into the cellar, which was lit by an oil lamp. Gormán was standing before what seemed to be a mound of clothing on the floor in front of him.

‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.

Gormán stood back and gestured to the huddled figure at his feet.

Fidelma let her breath escape in a long deep sigh. ‘It’s Étain,’ she said softly.

‘A single stab wound in the heart,’ confirmed Gormán.

Eadulf took the oil lamp from its resting-place and held it above the figure so that they could see better.

‘Did you …?’ Fidelma looked up at Gormán.

‘God forbid, lady. I am no killer of old women,’ protested the warrior. ‘I came down here and saw this bundle of clothing, or so I thought. I discovered it was a body and made a quick search, but there is no one else here.’

‘The wound is still bleeding, the body warm.’ Eadulf had peered closer. ‘And …’ his voice rose sharply, ‘she still lives!’

He gently thrust Fidelma aside, handing her the lantern, and knelt beside the woman. Even as he did so, he realised that it was too late. The Lady Étain of An Dún was breathing her last but, in that moment, she was conscious and her pale eyes became wide and staring. A strange understanding entered them. She was trying to speak. Eadulf raised her head a little with one hand behind it, and bent his ear to her trembling lips. Words came as a painful breath followed by a long rattling sigh and she was dead.

Eadulf laid the woman’s head back on the bloody flags, then slowly rose to his feet.

‘Did she say anything?’ Fidelma demanded.

‘I believe she was thinking of her family in her last moment.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because she said two words — “my daughter” — that’s all.’

Fidelma stared at him and he saw comprehension dawning in her eyes. Then she quickly addressed Gormán. ‘Find Spealáin and inform him of this matter. He can remove the body. I will let my brother and Gelgéis know.’

Eadulf followed her as she hurried away.

‘What is it?’ he demanded as they raced back towards the guest quarters.

‘I have just realised that my brother is still in danger,’ she panted.

They found Caol standing outside the guest chamber which had been assigned to Colgú.

‘Didn’t I tell you not to leave my brother’s side?’ Fidelma’s voice was raised in anger.

Caol was shocked, for he had never heard her sound so angry or upset before. ‘It’s all right, lady,’ he protested. ‘The King is not alone. He told me to wait outside.’

‘Did I not make my instructions clear? Not alone? Who is with him?’

‘Why, the Lady Dúnliath.’

To his surprise, Fidelma physically pushed him aside and hurled herself at the door. It was secured from the inside.

‘Break it in!’ Her agitation galvanised Caol into action.

Caol threw himself at the door. The wood around the lock cracked and splintered and gave, precipitating him into the room, followed a moment later by Fidelma.

Dúnliath had been wrapped in an embrace with Colgú and now she spun away and stared at them with cold fury on her face. Colgú himself stepped back in utter astonishment.

‘By the …!’ he roared. ‘What does this mean, sister?’ His voice was low and ominous.

‘I am thankful to find you unharmed, brother.’ There was relief in her voice, but she knew that Colgú was possessed of a temper equal to her own.

‘Of course I am unharmed!’ he snapped. ‘There are boundaries that even you may not trespass across. What do you mean by this outrageous behaviour?’

‘I gave specific instructions to Caol not to leave your side until I said so.’

‘That’s not his fault. I ordered him to leave as I was not alone.’

‘And I instructed him not to leave your side, no matter who was with you,’ replied Fidelma with equal firmness.

‘I was with my betrothed, Fidelma. How dare you …?’

Dúnliath had controlled her shock and anger now. Her features had resumed their usual benevolent expression.

‘Come, beloved,’ she said to Colgú, ‘don’t be angry with your sister. That she is so concerned with your welfare is much to be praised. She was worried for your safety.’

‘Yet your worry was unnecessary,’ Colgú ranted at Fidelma. ‘Caol was outside and Ailill is in the next room. I had but to call, and either of them could have reached us if it were necessary. And why would it be necessary? The only way to surprise me in here would be an attack through this window, and that is a long climb from the courtyard. I doubt anyone would risk it. So now we have a splintered door as the result of your concern, and that must be repaired. You will have to apologise to Gelgéis and to her steward.’

Fidelma did not reply but stood looking around the chamber. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she examined the features of the fair-haired girl.

‘Alas, lady, I have some sad news for you and that precipitated my anxiety for my brother.’ She saw the girl’s face tighten, but she said nothing.

‘What sad news, Fidelma?’ Colgú asked curiously.

‘Dúnliath’s mother has been found dead.’

Apart from a further tightening of the girl’s face, she remained silent, immovable.

‘Dúnliath’s mother?’ Colgú was puzzled. ‘Found dead? Where? How do you know? I have no understanding of this.’

‘In a vault in this fortress,’ replied Fidelma.

Colgú remained bewildered. Then he looked at the girl. ‘Who is your mother, Dúnliath?’

The girl did not reply. She had become as rigid as a statue. It was left to Fidelma to supply the answer. ‘Étain of An Dún,’ she said quietly.

Colgú’s gasp of astonishment was louder than that of Eadulf and either Caol or Gormán.

‘I thought your mother had died a long while ago,’ he said to Dúnliath.

Fidelma did not take her eyes from the girl.

‘Dúnliath told me some time ago in Cashel that her mother’s name was Étain. Drón of Gabrán married twice. His second wife was the mother of Dúnliath, who left him. Dúnliath was then raised by his dormun, a concubine.’

There was a growing noise along the corridor and Spealáin and his guards were crowding at the door. Fidelma turned to Eadulf, who was the only one unmoved by the revelation, and asked him to assure them that Colgú was well and to wait at the end of the corridor. When he had done so, she found Colgú was staring incredulously at Dúnliath.

‘Is it true?’ he finally asked. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

She spread her arms as if in surrender. ‘I cannot be blamed for who my mother was,’ she replied. ‘In truth, I had little knowledge of her except her name. She left when I was a baby.’

‘Did your father ever divorce Étain?’ pressed Colgú.

‘As your sister says, I was brought up by his dormun, my father’s concubine,’ the girl said defensively. ‘For many years I even thought she was my blood mother.’

‘But Étain had been married before she married your father, hadn’t she?’ Fidelma pointed out.

The girl nodded. ‘It was only a few days ago that I was told that my real mother had originally married a noble of the Déisi Muman, by whom she had two sons. When he died, my mother married Drón. Then, when she deserted my father, she left me behind and I understood she returned to the Déisi fortress at An Dún where she raised her sons. She never acknowledged me.’

‘When did you last see your mother?’ Colgú asked.

‘I saw her once some years ago when she passed through Osraige on her way to Gleann an Ghuail.’

‘You had not heard that she was condemned to incarceration in the Glen of Lunatics earlier this year after she had murdered one of her sons?’

‘I did not.’ Fidelma found there was little to learn from the fixed expression on the girl’s features.

‘You did not know that she had escaped and was leading a band of rebels in the west?’

‘As I did not know she was there in the first place, then I could not have known that she had escaped,’ replied Dúnliath flatly.

‘You did not know that she had been brought here, to Durlus, as a prisoner this very day?’

‘I did not.’

‘This is all hard to believe,’ sighed Colgú, having exhausted himself with his rapid questioning.

The girl’s chin came up defiantly. ‘I can only tell you the truth.’

Colgú suddenly remembered what Fidelma had said first of all. ‘You say that Étain is dead?’ he asked his sister. ‘How? Did she refuse to surrender?’

‘She was murdered.’

The King’s eyes widened a little. ‘Murdered? I don’t understand. She escaped from her confinement and …?’

‘She did not escape: she was released. I suspect that whoever released her tried to persuade her to come here and murder you. They failed because Étain had become hopelessly deranged. She was impossible to control and more of a hindrance than a help to the conspirator, and so they had no choice but to kill her. I will speculate, although it is not in my nature to do so, that they hoped that her body would remain undiscovered until they could come to your chamber and kill you.’

All eyes had turned on to Dúnliath. The girl was trembling.

‘It is not so. I did not … it is all a fabrication!’

Eadulf spoke quietly. ‘You will be interested to know that when we found your mother, she was not quite dead. She said two words before she expired.’

‘She identified her killer?’ Colgú asked.

Eadulf regarded Dúnliath sadly. ‘Your mother had two sons by her first marriage. That we know. How many daughters did she have?’

‘As far as I know, I was her only daughter,’ the girl replied, puzzled.

‘The two words that she spoke were — my daughter.’

Dúnliath staggered and would have fallen, had not Colgú caught her and lowered her to a chair.

‘Get water quickly,’ he ordered as he tried to massage her hands.

Eadulf handed him a goblet from the side table, but Fidelma suddenly struck it from his hand. She smiled apologetically.

‘Let us take all precautions,’ she advised and then asked Gorman to go for fresh water.

The girl was moaning and coming back to consciousness by the time Gorman returned.

‘Are you charging her with being part of this conspiracy, Fidelma?’ asked Colgú in a hollow tone.

To everyone’s surprise she replied, ‘Not yet. It is late now. I suggest that we ask Áedo, as Chief Brehon of Muman, and Brocc, as Gelgéis’s Brehon, to convene a court in the Great Hall tomorrow so that they may judge my explanation of these events.’

‘Very well,’ Colgú agreed, almost in relief.

‘Tonight, my brother,’ Fidelma said softly, ‘you must heed my advice and be very well-guarded.’

The morning heralded a bright, crisp and clear early-autumn day. There were no clouds in the azure sky but the sun was weak and high and there was a chill in the air. That morning, the news arrived that Fidelma had been waiting for. It came in the persons of Enda and Tormeid. Spealáin conducted them directly to Gelgéis’s personal reception chamber where she and Colgú were breaking their fast with Fidelma and Eadulf. It was clear both newly arrived warriors were excited.

‘Well, it seems that you have good news for us,’ Fidelma observed as she welcomed them.

‘Good news, indeed, lady,’ Enda confirmed with a smile. ‘Cronán is dead and Spillán is among the prisoners, and all the Uí Duach that were forced to serve Cronán have been released.’

‘Including Ségnat?’ Fidelma asked immediately, and then relaxed with a smile at Tormeid’s affirmative.

‘Were there many casualties?’ Colgú asked after the murmurs of satisfaction subsided.

‘Very few, considering. A company of us entered the fortress-’ began Tormeid.

Enda interrupted immediately. ‘We followed Tormeid’s plan. We were to sneak into the fortress through the underground tunnels and then open the gates for Dego’s men.’

‘I merely showed the way through the tunnel that led into the bowels of the fortress,’ Tormeid said modestly.

Enda interrupted again: ‘No — Tormeid commanded us. We were joined by some of those Uí Duach whom Cronán had kept as daer-fuidir. We surprised the defenders. They were watching from the walls, observing Dego’s main force, who had lit fires and taken up positions to act as a distraction while they waited for our signal. We came up into the courtyard and a group, led by Tormeid here, fought their way to the gates and opened them. Then Dego and his men rushed in.’

Tormeid was looking embarrassed. ‘It was almost too easy,’ he said. ‘Surprise was on our side.’

‘Tormeid came upon Cronán and bested him in a single combat,’ added Enda.

‘I gave him the opportunity to surrender, but when he saw all was lost he ran on my sword and even with his dying strength tried to take me with him to the Otherworld. I would have liked to have captured him alive,’ Tormeid added ruefully. ‘As soon as they saw that their leader was dead, the others began to lay down their arms. Sillán among them preferred surrender to death. Once he surrendered, the fortress was ours.’

Colgú rose smiling and held out his hand to Tormeid. ‘Then this was well done, my friend. You have saved the lives of many of my warriors and, I hope, have restored peace to this kingdom.’

‘There are other matters to be resolved before peace can be declared,’ Gelgéis reminded them.

‘Oh … you mean the Laigin army gathered on our border?’ Colgú asked.

‘I do not think that we need fear them,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘As I said before, I doubt they will attack now that both Étain and Cronán have been defeated. Laigin has no excuse to invade us now. But Gelgéis is right: there are other matters to be resolved.’

‘We know that Étain was in league with Cronán to create disturbances in this kingdom and that the King of Laigin was awaiting his chance to interfere. What more do we need to know?’ demanded Colgú.

Fidelma knew that Colgú was not usually so obtuse. She guessed that he was trying to protect Dúnliath. It had been a shock for him to learn that she was actually the daughter of Étain of An Dún.

‘We need to know who killed Drón and who killed Étain,’ she returned. ‘We also need to know who killed Bran Finn of the Déisi — and why. It is the enemy within that we must identify.’

‘Are you blaming Dúnliath for these deaths? Come now.’ Colgú’s voice was tense. ‘I am beginning to think that your dislike of the girl has led you astray in this matter, Fidelma. You surely can’t believe that because she was the daughter of Étain she-’

‘You have never done me an injustice before, brother,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘Nor me, you. Last night I promised that today I would reveal everything before your Chief Brehon. I trust that you will allow him to judge what I say before you condemn me?’

Colgú’s face coloured a little as he said, ‘True. You have never let me down before, sister. Very well — you must do what you must.’ He then left the chamber with Caol. It was clear that he was angry, but was making a conscious effort to control himself. Enda and Tormeid appeared discomfited, but Fidelma did not bother to enlighten them. Instead, she turned to Gelgéis, who also appeared uncomfortable at the King’s departure.

‘Last night I sought your permission to use your Great Hall, lady. Can we call all the relevant parties together there at the time of the midday bell?’

Gelgéis inclined her head. ‘I have already made the arrangement.’

‘Then you will excuse us until then.’ Fidelma rose and went to the door, followed by Eadulf and Enda. Gelgéis and Tormeid watched them go with troubled expressions.

The Great Hall of Gelgéis of Durlus, Princess of the Éile, was abuzz with excitement. It had never been so crowded. There was, however, only a small proportion of the inhabitants of Durlus present, compared with the warriors of both the Éile and Cashel. At one end of the hall was a raised platform on which stood a central chair, occupied by Colgú. Next to him sat Gelgéis, while on the other side of the Princess of Éile sat her Brehon, Brocc. Bishop Daig of Durlus sat alongside him. By the King’s other side sat the Chief Brehon Áedo and Abbot Ségdae, as senior bishop of Muman. Spealáin, as steward of the fortress, stood ready behind Gelgéis. To one side of the platform, Tormeid was stationed with half-a-dozen warriors of Éile; at the other side were Caol, Gormán and Enda, with several Cashel warriors.

Fidelma and Eadulf had already taken their places facing the King, having made sure that Dúnliath was present in the hall. Ailill, commander of what was now her bodyguard, stood close by. Fidelma noticed that even their erstwhile host, the smith Gobán, had deserted his forge to become an interested spectator at the back of the hall. It was apparent that Colgú’s mood was restless, a sign of his irritability. The Chief Brehon of Muman opened the proceedings by asking Fidelma to speak.

‘I do not wish to take up much of your time,’ she said. ‘Much of what has happened in these few days has already been explained. But I must reiterate some matters so that we may come to a better understanding of them.’

She paused and waited for a signal from her brother for permission to proceed in her own way.

‘Some days ago, the body of a noble was found not far from Cashel, and it was on that matter I was sent to investigate. At first it was thought that the dead man was a Laigin envoy. Eventually, he was revealed to be Bran Finn of the Déisi Muman. The discovery of his body began to unravel a conspiracy against this kingdom. To make it simple, there were four leading conspirators. These were Étain of An Dún, Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail, and the King of Laigin, although we can only infer his participation by his actions rather than be able to prove it with the evidence which was destroyed by the murderer of Bran Finn. That murderer was the fourth conspirator.’

Colgú heaved a tired sigh. ‘And you will of course name that conspirator?’

‘Of course.’

‘And you will prove to us beyond doubt that person’s participation in this conspiracy?’

Fidelma was aware of a suppressed sob from Dúnliath.

‘That I shall,’ she answered determinedly. ‘Everyone knows that Étain was declared a dásachach, having been found guilty of murdering her own son as well as others. She was removed to the Glen of Lunatics. It was there that her cousin Cronán manipulated her religious madness to his own ends and was able to persuade her that she should embark on a religious crusade. In his pretence to be Abbot of Liath Mór, he told her that she had been summoned by “the seventh angel” to drive the “impure of faith” from the land. He provided her with money to gather a small band of mercenaries to attack clergy and churches in the west. She did so with relish.

‘As I said, Brother Ailgesach, who was from Durlus, was one of those who attended the unfortunates of the Glen of Lunatics, and his work among the insane had driven him to alcohol as a means of compensating for the traumatic effect of that experience. He had discovered what Étain was planning, but was unable to get information about the extent of the conspiracy. He knew she was being visited by emissaries from Cronán dressed as religious, so he contacted Bran Finn of the Déisi Muman. As you know, Étain was of the Déisi and had been married to a member of Bran Finn’s family, and so it was his family that were responsible for her. Therefore, according to law, it was up to Bran Finn to ensure that she was cared for, after having her property confiscated when she was declared insane. Bran Finn agreed that he would visit her in the Glen of Lunatics, ostensibly to see that she was lacking nothing in her care, but also to try to find out more about the conspiracy and bring the facts to Brother Ailgesach.

‘Brother Ailgesach told Gelgéis about the arrangement. Gelgéis, knowing that Cronán had recently built a fortress less than a day away across the Suir, was worried. She also knew that Brother Ailgesach in his condition would scarcely be a credible witness if anything developed, so she arranged that she and Tormeid would go to see him. He failed to turn up. He had been murdered before he could bring the evidence to Ailgesach’s cabin. When Eadulf and I searched the place, we found a note signed by the initial B. The writer said he had evidence of the conspiracy and would arrive with it to show Ailgesach about the time of the third quarter of the moon.

‘As I say, he was the young noble whose body had been found in the stream near Cashel. Bran Finn had said in his note that the best place to hide something was in full sight. The connection was therefore simple.

‘A brooch bearing the emblem of the Uí Máil of Laigin was pinned on his cloak. This had a hollow niche inside it where a message could have been hidden. I do not doubt it contained the proof of the conspiracy. The killer removed the incriminating message but left the brooch, probably not realising it could be identified as belonging to the Royal House of Laigin. That was also evidence that Bran Finn carried in full sight. However, the killer did know that the wand of office that Bran Finn carried had the emblem of the Déisi on it, which would identify Bran Finn. That evidence was snapped off at the top and the telltale emblem discarded.’

She took up her marsupium and from it she removed the brooch with the emblem of the Uí Máil on it, then the piece of paper with Bran Finn’s note and, finally, the broken bottom half of the wand of office and gave them to Brehon Áedo.

‘Sometimes in these matters, not all details can be discovered. We know that warnings about Brother Ailgesach were sent to Cronán. Who sent them, whether Étain or the person I shall call “the chief conspirator”, we will probably never know. We do know that Cronán sent Biasta to kill Ailgesach. And we know that Cronán’s own son Sillán was sent to Durlus disguised as a religieux. Perhaps some word of Ailgesach having visited there had reached Cronán.

‘This was the complicated part. Still worried about why Bran Finn had not appeared, Tormeid went to meet Ailgesach and Bran Finn. When Bran Finn still failed to appear, they decided to return to Durlus. Tormeid later chose to go to Imleach to try to find him. Gelgéis took their horses back to Durlus while Tormeid attempted to get a boat on the River Suir. Sillán found this out and sent some of his men to abduct Tormeid and Gelgéis, not knowing that Gelgéis had already reached the safety of Durlus. Unfortunately for me, the abductors thought I was Tormeid’s companion. I have already explained that part. I do not want to confuse things by going into that matter again …’

‘But I am confused,’ Tormeid said, stepping forward. ‘May I speak?’

Colgú glanced at Fidelma and she signalled her assent.

‘You said Biasta was on the road south to Fraigh Dubh in order to kill Brother Ailgesach. How could he be, when he had already killed Bran Finn to prevent him meeting with us at Ailgesach’s chapel?’

‘I did not say it was Biasta who killed Bran Finn,’ Fidelma replied. ‘The killer was our fourth conspirator. In fact, he was the man who orchestrated the entire conspiracy.’

For the first time Colgú became alert. Craning forward, he stared at his sister.

‘Did you say — man?’

‘I did,’ she confirmed. ‘Everyone would be led to believe there was some religious turmoil in this kingdom. Then, Colgú, you would be assassinated. That would be the point when Fianamail would seize the opportunity to march his warriors through Osraige and against Cashel on the pretext of securing peace. He would then place a new ruler — who would be his puppet — on the throne of Cashel.’

‘We have spoken of this before,’ Colgú said with a frown. ‘And I told you that such a successor had to be of the Eóghanacht bloodline to gain approval. Finguine, our cousin, is my tánaiste. He is the one who would succeed me.’

‘That was not the idea.’ Fidelma was grim. ‘Finguine would be disposed of; probably he would be made to seem responsible for the plot to overthrow you, so that the real conspirator could grasp power. Finguine would be declared unworthy by him. So Fianamail would place a new person in Cashel as legitimate ruler, someone the Eóghanacht derbhine, the electoral college of the family, would deem suitable. That person would have to be another Eóghanacht.’

Gelgéis was nodding in agreement. ‘That was why Tormeid and I were not forthcoming with you, Fidelma. You could easily have been in a conspiracy against your brother. Such things have been known.’

Colgú was trying to follow the logic. ‘The succession is clear … If Finguine were to be ousted as my heir apparent, then who would have any legitimate claim?’

Fidelma paused for a moment and then spoke slowly. ‘Our father’s nephew, Máenach, succeeded to the Throne of Cashel and ruled wisely and well for over twenty years. He died eight years ago. But he had a son.’

There was a sudden and complete silence in the hall as many eyes turned on the figure standing behind Dúnliath.

It happened very abruptly. With a cry of rage Ailill sprang forward, drawing his sword and swinging it around his head to clear a path. Using this method, he fought his way towards the doors. With the hall crowded, however, he did not stand a chance. Many voices were calling on him to surrender and he was forced to halt. His sword in one hand, no one noticed that he had also drawn a dagger in the other. Giving one more desperate glance around for an avenue of escape, he drew himself up, uttered a harsh laugh and drove the dagger straight up under his chin. Blood spouted and sprayed from the wound and he fell backwards without a sound.

The profound silence of shock was broken by a shriek of grief as Dúnliath half-rose from her chair and then collapsed senseless on to the floor.

It was a while before those crowded around were brought to order. The body of Ailill mac Máenach was carried away and Dúnliath escorted to her chamber. There was a quiet in the hall.

‘Ailill by his action seems to have confirmed your accusation, Fidelma,’ Brehon Áedo said gruffly. ‘However, it would be best if you explained how you came to your conclusions.’

Fidelma sighed as she spoke. ‘I never thought that he would kill himself,’ she confessed. ‘However, potius mori quam foedari — better to die than to be dishonoured. But the death of any member of our family is a matter of sadness. In this instance, the sadness is intermingled with shame as we of the Eóghanacht claim our true descent from Eibhear Foinn, son of the incomparable Míle Éaspain who brought the Children of the Gael to this land at the dawn of time. We are proud of our lineage and our honour. The fact that our cousin could be party to such a conspiracy against his own family is a grievous blemish on our honour.’

She turned to her brother and those gathered with him.

‘Having discovered the conspiracy, and realising that the death of Bran Finn played a central role in the matter, I come back to that very point. Bran Finn had travelled from the land of the Déisi Muman to visit Étain in the Glen of Lunatics, to ensure that she was adequately provided for and to get information for Brother Ailgesach. Being a noble who believed in protocol, he first came to Cashel, to pay his respects to you. While there, he saw Drón and Ailill — or, rather, they saw him. He must have said something which alerted Ailill to the risk that knowledge of the conspiracy might be obtained by the Prince of the Déisi. Bran Finn went on to see Abbot Ségdae at Imleach and then on to the Glen of Lunatics. By what means I cannot know, he discovered that Étain possessed a Laigin locket containing a message which was evidence of the complicity of Fianamail, King of Laigin. Finn was making his way to keep that rendezvous with Ailgesach at Fraigh Dubh when Ailill came upon him or, indeed, was lying in wait for him.’

‘How was that possible?’ demanded Colgú. ‘Ailill was a guest at Cashel.’

‘You will remember that on the day before Bran Finn’s body was discovered, our cousin Ailill went hunting? He was late back with nothing to show for his pains, but boasted of a near-miss with a red deer. It is possible that a warrior of Ailill’s ability could have a bad day at the hunt, but I doubt that he was hunting for deer. He was hunting for Bran Finn and found and slew him. He took the contents of the locket but, stupidly, he left the locket itself which bore the emblem of the Laigin King.’

‘What was inside the locket?’

‘As I said, we shall never know exactly. I should suspect either an assurance from Fianamail or a message to him. Whatever it was, it would be evidence to implicate Fianamail which we now, alas, lack. With Bran Finn dead, Ailill returned to Cashel. We saw tracks of a horse further along the stream.’

‘But surely Bran Finn was riding a horse?’

‘He was, but Ailill led it away after he had done the deed and turned it loose upon the heath at Fraigh Dubh. The carpenter, Saer, told us that he had seen a horse running wild on the Black Heath that morning.’

‘Are you saying that Ailill killed Drón as well?’ demanded Gelgéis.

‘Dego had requested reinforcement because he was suspicious that the raiders might be laying a trap. Once Colgú had left Cashel with his warriors, it was Ailill who persuaded Drón to bring his daughter to Durlus for safety. I presume the purpose was to meet up with Cronán and await the arrival of Fianamail. This was where Ailill made a mistake. He tried to throw the blame for the decision to come here on Drón. This would have made Drón look guilty. At that stage no one outside the conspiracy knew the raiders were led by Étain or of her religious fanaticism. But Ailill knew. When we spoke at the stables here, he said, “What need we fear of a band of religious fanatics, raiders out of the Glen of Lunatics led by a crazed old woman?”’

‘Why kill Drón?’ asked Brehon Áedo.

‘To keep him quiet before he could speak to me. Drón had become suspicious; he had asked to see me. When Eadulf and I went to his chamber we passed Ailill coming from that direction. We arrived in Drón’s chamber to find him dying. His last word misled us. He simply said “Étain”. Maybe he had heard that she was leading the raiders — she, who had been his wife and the mother of his precious daughter. I am not sure if there was anything else. Anyway, Drón was dead.’

‘And what of the murder of Étain? Was that Ailill again?’

‘Now that was a great mistake on Ailill’s part. He thought he could release the old woman and guide her to Colgú’s chamber where she could be persuaded to attack him in her frenzy. Then his plot could proceed as before. Colgú would be assassinated and Cronán and the King of Laigin would enter Durlus. Ailill would be declared the rightful heir to the throne of Muman. The problem was that Étain had her moments of sanity as well as insanity. She refused to cooperate. Her enemies were the religious, whom she saw as betraying the True Faith, or her own conception of the Faith. It was not with Colgú. She resisted Ailill and he killed her.’

‘But Eadulf swears that her last words as she was dying were “my daughter”. That implied her attacker was Dúnliath,’ pointed out Colgú.

‘That was my misinterpretation,’ Eadulf admitted. ‘In fact, she was expressing her fear for her daughter not of her daughter.’

Colgú’s features lightened. ‘A fear because Étain knew that by marrying me, her daughter, Dúnliath, would be in danger from Ailill?’

There was a moment’s silence and then Fidelma raised troubled eyes to her brother. She wondered whether he knew the truth. Then she said, ‘In her last moment of sanity, I think Étain feared for her daughter’s safety if Ailill’s ambition was fulfilled.’