Valley of the Shadow

Chapter Twelve

Rudgal led the way from the chamber and Fidelma followed without another word. There was nothing more that could be said. For the first time in her life, in spite of all the occasions when her life was under threat, Fidelma had a feeling which she could only describe as coming close to panic. Nine days incarcerated in a cell with the accusation of murder hanging over her and being unable to question anyone or gather evidence in her own defence was an appalling prospect.

Rudgal conducted her silently across the stone-flagged courtyard. Among the knots of people gathered, the animated conversations were no longer in suppressed whispers. There was an anger among the people. Fidelma looked in vain for a sight of Eadulf. Rudgal took her to a building on the opposite side of the ráth, behind the stables. It was a squat, single-storey building of grey granite. Its sole means of entrance was a great wooden door. Rudgal pushed it open and Fidelma could hear the loud clamour of voices interspersed with coarse laughter coming from the interior. Rudgal seemed to anticipate what was passing through Fidelma’s mind.

‘This is the quarters of those who volunteer to serve the chieftain as a bodyguard, Sister Fidelma. When we stay at the ráth we use this as our dormitory and it is the only building where we may imprison any who transgress the law. There is a single cell at the far corner of this building. It is called the Chamber of Isolation. Take no notice of the noise. I am afraid that some of the men are still a little drunk after the feasting last night.’

Rudgal was punctilious in his treatment of her. She appreciated that. She was glad that it was Rudgal who had been given the distasteful task of escorting her to the prison and not Artgal.

Fidelma preceded him inside the building. He followed and closed the door before conducting her along a short passage, beyond the room where the guards were still engaged in noisy revelry, and which then turned at a right angle to where there was a door with a heavy iron key in its lock.

‘It is poor accommodation, I am afraid, Sister Fidelma,’ Rudgal said as he opened it.

‘I will try to manage,’ Fidelma smiled wanly.

Rudgal looked embarrassed.

‘You have but to call on me and I will do what is in my power to aid you providing that you do not ask me to break my oath of loyalty to my chieftain.’

Fidelma regarded him solemnly.

‘I promise you that I shall not call on you to break such an oath … unless there is a greater oath involved.’

The warrior wagon-maker frowned.

‘A greater oath? You mean a duty to the Faith?’

‘Not even that. Your chieftain has sworn an oath to Cashel. Cashel is supreme in all things. If your chieftain breaks an oath to Cashel then you are absolved from breaking an oath to him for he will be in rebellion against his lawful king. Do you understand that?’

‘I think so. I will do what I can for you, Sister Fidelma.’

‘I am appreciative of your service, Rudgal.’

She examined her cell distastefully. It was a cold, damp place with only a straw palliasse on the floor and little else. It smelt foul and had obviously not been used for a while. There was only a tiny slit of a window high up in one wall. Rudgal found an oil lamp and lit it. He gazed around and was also filled with aversion.

‘It is the best I can do, Sister,’ he apologised yet again.

Fidelma felt almost inclined to smile, so mournful a countenance did he have.

‘You are not responsible for my being here, Rudgal. But misfortune has brought me here and now I must apply my mind to extracting myself from this place.’

‘Do you need anything, Sister?’ he asked again.

Fidelma thought rapidly.

‘Yes. I need some personal items from the hostel. My marsupium, for example. Would you go there and ask Brother Eadulf, who must still be asleep, to bring them to me at once.’

‘Bring the Saxon here …?’ Rudgal seemed hesitant.

‘Do not worry, Rudgal. Brother Eadulf must act as my dálaigh now that I am unable to move freely. It is my right to appoint him to represent me and, as my dálaigh, he can visit me without restriction.’

‘Very well, Sister. I will fetch the Saxon.’

He hesitated a moment longer before leaving, remembering to bring the great wooden door shut behind him with an ominous clang. Fidelma heard the key turning in the great iron lock on thedoor and felt an unfamiliar sinking sensation. She had never felt such a feeling of despair in her life.

She tried to be practical and brought her mind back to the matter of her immediate survival, looking around the darkened, damp cell with repugnance. The odour was foul. She shivered and placed her arms folded around her shoulders as if she found comfort there.

Something moved amidst the straw palliasse of the mattress. A dark grey shape of a rat scuttled out and went disappearing into some hole between the granite bricks. She shivered violently and began to pace up and down. She hoped Eadulf would not be long. After she had given him instructions, she would try and find escape in the art of the dercad, the act of meditation, by which countless generations of Irish mystics had calmed extraneous thought and mental irritations, seeking the state of sitcháin or peace. She was a regular practitioner of the ancient art in times of stress. But never in her life had Fidelma found herself in need of the art of meditation as she did now.

It was only fifteen minutes later, though it seemed like days, when a pale-faced Eadulf entered the cell. He was followed by Rudgal. There was an expression of anxiety on his face which pinched and distorted his features.

‘Fidelma, what ill-fortune brings you hither? Oh, I have heard the briefest details from Rudgal here. But tell me how I can secure your release?’

Fidelma was standing in the middle of the room and smiled placatingly in answer to Eadulf’s anxiety.

Rudgal spoke before she could respond.

‘While you instruct the Saxon, I will see if I can bring you something to make life more bearable in this hovel.’ He left them both together, shutting the door behind him.

‘What can I do?’ demanded Eadulf again in such anxiety that his voice sounded unnatural in the echoing cell. ‘God, how I chastise myself. I was so dead to the world, I did not awake until Rudgal came and told me that you were here. Why didn’t you wake me when you left the hostel? I might have been able to prevent this from happening. If I had been with you …’

‘Firstly, you must be calm, Eadulf,’ instructed Fidelma sharply. ‘You are now my only hope for release.’

Eadulf swallowed hard.

‘Tell me what I must do.’

‘Alas, I cannot bid you sit down in this place and I do fear that the straw palliasse is filled with vermin which may not provide acomfortable resting place. So we must stand a while and I will explain what happened.’

She was finishing her story when the door of the cell opened again. It was Rudgal who carried a wooden bench with him.

‘Forgive me, Sister, for taking such a time but I have foraged for a bed and something to sit on. I will bring the bed in a moment, something to keep you off this wet, chill floor. In the meantime, this bench will serve.’

Fidelma thanked the man warmly.

‘Rudgal has offered his help and I think we may trust him,’ she added for Eadulf’s benefit.

Eadulf nodded impatiently.

Rudgal pushed the bench against one of the drier walls of the cell before he left them again.

Fidelma sat down and brought Eadulf quickly up to date with her ordeal. Eadulf groaned in anguish when she had finished and spread his hands in a hopeless gesture.

‘With both Laisre and Murgal against you, I do not know what to do.’

‘You must find a way,’ Fidelma said firmly. ‘After all, that is a task of a dálaigh.’

‘But I am not a trained advocate of your law,’ protested Eadulf.

‘But I am. I will give you advice and you must find a way of demonstrating that I have told the truth. It is perplexing. Orla and her husband, Colla, are so persuasive in their argument. But, Eadulf, I swear that I saw her coming out of the stable. She and Colla must be lying. The fact that I identified her seems to have greatly troubled her brother, Laisre. I suppose that I can understand this as an affront to his family honour but I do believe that if the matter was down to a conflict of opinion between Artgal and myself, Laisre might have rejected Artgal’s word. The fact that I implicated his sister has caused him to take great anger at me.’

‘I do not understand why he should be so angry as to deny you a fair hearing.’

‘Ah, family honour is always a hard thing to understand. I cannot say that his behaviour is unfair. Nor Murgal’s actions, come to that. Both are behaving within the law.’

‘Well, I must get you out of this place. How should I go about it?’

‘I have to clear my name and find out who murdered Brother Solin. I cannot do that while I remain in this cell. Murgal says that I must remain here for nine days according to law until my trial.’

Eadulf ran a hand through his hair, frowning.

‘But if I remember rightly, in your courts, people of rank and who can pay a fee can be released after swearing an oath that they will reappear before the court when the trial is held.’

Fidelma smiled appreciatively at Eadulf’s knowledge.

‘You remember correctly. There is such a law. You must see if you are able to operate that law to secure my release. There is a library in this place. Murgal has control of it. Do you recall that I showed you the building where it is housed?’

Eadulf made an affirmative gesture.

‘Then you must look up the law on this matter. You must then apply to Murgal, for remember Murgal is the Brehon in this valley. Demand a hearing as to why I may not be released, under the law, to appear in nine days’ time. If I am at liberty, we have a chance to prove whose hand was on that knife which ended Brother Solin’s life.’

‘Would they have such a library of law books here?’ demanded Eadulf doubtfully. ‘Murgal is a pagan.’

Fidelma chuckled softly in spite of her condition.

‘Pagan or Christian, we are a literate people, Eadulf. The Druids kept books long before the coming of Patrick and the adoption of the Latin alphabet. Did we not worship Ogma, the god of learning and literacy after whom our first alphabet was named? And the law was the law eons before the new Faith came to these shores.’

Eadulf pursed his lips disapprovingly.

‘Are you suggesting that I ask Murgal if he has such law books?’

Fidelma took him seriously.

‘Pagan or Christian, advisor to Laisre or not, Murgal is a Brehon and sworn to uphold the law.’

Eadulf shook his head dubiously.

‘And even if he did, what book should I look for?’

‘Firstly, you must study the text called Cóic Conara Fugill — the five paths to judgment. Also, examine the Berrad Airechta. I believe you will find the necessary procedures relating to my condition in those works. Acquaint yourself on procedure and seize the path the law provides to secure my release.’

‘I must remind you, Fidelma, that I did not study law in this land,’ protested Eadulf. ‘I studied the Faith and the practice of medicine only.’

‘You have often told me that you were an hereditary magistrate in your own land, Eadulf. Now is the time to use your talent. You have seen my methods and seen me plead in the courts many times. Turn to “the five paths to judgment” and considerthe law of security called árach. I am placing my trust in you, Eadulf.’

Eadulf rose uncomfortably.

‘I will try not to destroy that faith.’

He reached out both hands and held her shoulders, extending his arms for a moment. Their eyes met and then, with a faint colour to his cheeks, Eadulf turned to the cell door. It opened almost at once as if Rudgal had been standing awaiting him. He stood aside as Eadulf brushed by.

A moment later Rudgal carried a wooden cot into the cell. Then he brought in blankets and a pitcher of water. The warrior-cum-wagon-maker looked anxious.

‘The Saxon brother looks preoccupied, Sister Fidelma,’ he muttered as he manipulated the cot into position. Before she could comment, he added: ‘This will make your sojourn more comfortable, I hope.’

‘As a favour to me, Rudgal, or as a favour to the Faith, I would like you to keep a watchful eye on Brother Eadulf. He may need help. Help him as you would help me.’

‘I shall, Sister Fidelma. Leave matters with me.’

With no further word, Fidelma sat herself down on the bench and began to compose herself for the dercad. She did not even notice Rudgal leave the cell or hear the clanging of the door.

It still lacked several hours until dawn and Eadulf realised that he would have to wait until then before approaching Murgal for permission to use his library. Murgal, in fact, would have only just retired after the excitement of the night. Eadulf realised that if he were to help Fidelma he needed to be fully alert. For two nights he had not slept well and so he decided to attempt to sleep for a further hour or two. In spite of his mental state, he had barely laid his head on the bed when he was dead to the world.

He awoke hearing sounds of activity in the main room of the guests’ hostel. For a moment Eadulf did not remember the activities of the night before. Then they came to him in a depressing flood. He rose and went down to the bath house.

Cruinn was there staring balefully at him. And the young monk, Brother Dianach, was sitting obviously distressed in a corner. As Eadulf came down the stairs the boy’s face creased in anger. It was clear that the death of Brother Solin and the arrest of Fidelma had been the talking point of the ráth that morning.

‘Why did she do it?’ Brother Dianach’s first words in fierce accusation struck Eadulf like a whip. The boy half rose to hisfeet as though to physically threaten Eadulf. ‘Did she hate him so much?’

Eadulf stood at the foot of the stair for a moment regarding Brother Dianach sadly.

‘Sister Fidelma did not kill Brother Solin,’ he replied calmly.

Cruinn muttered something beneath her breath in suppressed anger. The cheery, portly woman had vanished and in her place a fierce harridan had appeared.

Eadulf looked from one to the other of them and shrugged. He could see that neither of them was in any mood to hear Fidelma’s side of the story. He turned into the bath house. By the time that he had finished his toilet there was no sign of Cruinn or Brother Dianach. He made his way up the stairs to his room and dressed. Returning, he found that Cruinn had not left him anything with which to break his fast. It was obviously her protest. Eadulf sighed and went in search of what he could forage.

After a meagre meal of dried bread and some cold meat and mead he sallied forth on the first of his quests. At the building where Fidelma had indicated Murgal’s library to be housed, the first person he encountered was the attractive apothecary, Marga. After what Fidelma had told him about her outburst when she had discovered that he had studied herbal medicine, he expected her to brush by him but to his surprise she stopped in front of him.

‘I cannot express regret,’ she said without preamble. It was clear that she, too, had heard the news. ‘Either for the pig Solin or for your Christian friend. They deserve to be with each other in your Otherworld. I can understand any woman who encountered Solin wishing to end his life.’

Eadulf stood his ground.

‘You are entitled to your opinions, Marga. But Fidelma did not kill Brother Solin.’

The girl’s eyes filled with disbelief.

‘So? And you will prove this?’

‘I shall prove it,’ he corrected. ‘I shall discover the truth.’

Marga’s lips parted in a sneer.

‘Ah, yes. Speaking of truth — I gave you a gift of the foxglove when I thought I was helping someone heal themselves who had no knowledge of medicines. Since you lied to me, there is now a charge. You see, I place a value on truth, Saxon. I think our Brehon would also like to know what value you place on truth.’

Eadulf flushed. He reached into his purse and held out a screpall.

‘Take it and prosper by it,’ he said shortly.

Marga took the coin, examined it, and then deliberately, she letit fall to the ground. There was a smile of contempt on her lips. She seemed to expect Eadulf to scramble on the ground to retrieve the coin. Eadulf simply stared back into her cold eyes for a moment before proceeding into the building.

His task was not going to be easy if the people of the ráth of Laisre had all decided that Fidelma was guilty before her trial.

He made his way up towards the tower where Fidelma had said Murgal’s apartment and library were. But there were many corridors and several doors. He stood hesitating, wondering what to do.

‘Ha, the Saxon! What are you doing here?’

Eadulf found himself gazing at the flirtatious features of Esnad, the daughter of Orla. She stood in the doorway of an apartment. She was leaning against the door jamb regarding him with a seductive smile.

‘I am looking for Murgal’s library,’ he said.

She pouted.

‘Oh. Books! Why don’t you come in and join me for a game of Brandub instead? If you don’t know how to play it, I will teach you.’ She gestured invitingly into the room beyond. ‘These are my apartments.’

Eadulf flushed in his confusion at her wanton expression.

‘I have much work to do, Esnad,’ he said respectfully, remembering that she was, after all, the daughter of the tanist. ‘If you could tell me where Murgal’s library is …?’

‘What do you want with my library, Saxon?’ came the deep tones of the Druid. The inquisitorial figure of Murgal stood at the bottom of the stairs.

Esnad let out a hiss of disapproval and flounced into her apartment, slamming the door.

Eadulf was somewhat relieved and turned to the Druid almost in gratitude.

‘In truth, I was looking for you to ask your permission to examine your library.’

Murgal’s eyebrows rose slightly.

‘And what service can it provide you?’

‘I am in need of two law texts and it may be that you might have these.’

Murgal was obviously puzzled.

‘Why would you need such law texts?’

‘You have incarcerated Fidelma of Cashel.’

‘I have,’ agreed Murgal simply.

‘She has appointed me her Brehon.’

Murgal looked surprised.

‘You will plead for her? But you are a foreigner and you are not qualified as a dálaigh.’

‘A person who is not qualified in law has the right to conduct a case before a Brehon if they wish to take the risk,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘Even a foreigner. I know enough of your law to argue that.’

Murgal thought for a moment and then agreed.

‘Such a person is called a “tongueless person” but if he wastes the court’s time he could be fined heavily. Are you prepared to take that risk?’

‘I am.’

‘Well,’ Murgal admitted, ‘I cannot say that I am surprised that you will support her. But you will have little enough to do. The case is quite clear. Her guilt is obvious.’

Eadulf was quietly outraged.

‘And have you decided what Fidelma’s motive was for killing a fellow cleric?’ he demanded.

‘Oh yes. Christians are always fighting with one another when they cannot find anyone else to fight with. What is it that you supporters of Rome call it? Odium theologicum? There is always mutual hatred among you.’

‘I see. As a Brehon you have already pronounced judgment,’ snapped Eadulf. ‘Perhaps I should expand your knowledge of Latin with the phrase maxim audi alteram partem — hear the other side.’

Murgal blinked and for a moment Eadulf thought he would explode in rage. Then, to Eadulf’s surprise, he started to chuckle.

‘Well said, Saxon; well said! You may examine the law books in my library and I wish you well of them.’

‘There is a second thing I would ask of you?’

‘What further service do you wish of me?’

‘Fidelma of Cashel is incarcerated until her trial.’

‘Yes. There is a statutory limitation of nine days in a murder trial,’ agreed Murgal. ‘After that, she has to answer before the law. No one is immune from this process.’

‘But Fidelma of Cashel cannot prepare her defence unless she is at liberty.’

‘The law is the law, Saxon. Even I cannot change the law to suit an individual.’

Eadulf bowed his head in acknowledgment.

‘The law is the law,’ he echoed softly. ‘But the stricture of the law is often open to interpretation. Surely the word of Fidelma of Cashel, one of rank in this land, is enough to secure her release and to act as árach or surety until the trial. Imprisoning her is not justice.’

Murgal regarded him thoughtfully.

‘You seem familiar enough with our law to make use of such concepts as árach, Saxon.’

Eadulf decided honesty was a better policy.

‘I know little enough. That is why I need to consult some law texts. But as I am representing Fidelma of Cashel, I would like to officially request a hearing before you tomorrow so that I might plead Fidelma’s case for release before her trial.’

‘What law books do you want?’ Murgal inquired with interest.

Eadulf named the texts which Fidelma had advised him to look at. Murgal was thoughtful.

‘You have made a wise choice, Saxon,’ he said begrudgingly.

He gestured to Eadulf to accompany him, leading him up the steps into a tower room. Eadulf was surprised to find it was filled with lines of pegs and book holders. There were even some stands containing wands which he recognised from previous occasions as ‘wands of the poets’ — texts written in the ancient Irish Ogham script which dated back centuries before the Faith was brought to Ireland. Unhesitating, Murgal went to two satchels and took out the volumes.

‘These are the texts you require. Take them to the guests’ hostel and study them but they must be returned as soon as possible,’ he instructed, handing them to Eadulf.

‘I shall look after them carefully, have no fear.’

Murgal ushered him out of the room and locked the door again.

‘And the hearing?’ pressed Eadulf. ‘Will you hear the plea on Fidelma’s behalf for her release pending her trial?’

Murgal shook his head negatively.

‘It is not a matter I can give an answer to immediately. Some thought must be given to it. To call a hearing necessitates some fresh arguments and might go against the wish of my chieftain, Laisre.’

‘Doesn’t the law stand above a chieftain’s wishes?’

Murgal smiled thinly.

‘Is that your only argument?’

‘No. There is the undeniable argument that Fidelma of Cashel is not just a religieuse, or just an advocate of the court. She is also sister to the king of Muman and as such she has a rank that must be respected. It is her right to be heard as to why she may not stand liberate on her own recognisances.’

‘I will let you know my answer before this night is over. It will also depend on whether you tell me that you have found the right path to judgment in those law books you hold. May justice guide your quest, Saxon.’

Thus dismissed, Eadulf made his way carefully towards the guests’ hostel. He was passing along the wall of the building under the walkway against the wall of the ráth when some sixth sense made him swing aside from the path. He did not know what prompted him to do so. Perhaps it was some extra-sensory perception, or some faint sound heard in a fraction of a second, or some other inexplicable sense. A large, heavy stone, dislodged from the battlement, crashed at his feet, so close that he felt the hiss of air and had his foot been so much as an inch or so before him it would have been smashed.

Eadulf sprang back, losing hold of the law books which dropped to the ground.

His heart beating fast he peered up quickly. A shadow darted back before he could identify it.

He stood for a moment or two with the sweat standing out on his forehead. He had passed within a fraction of death.

Then he was aware of a figure hurrying down the steps from the battlement towards him. He stepped back to defend himself.

The figure was Rudgal. There was an odd expression on his features.

‘Are you all right, Brother?’ he asked anxiously.

Eadulf composed himself as the threat receded.

‘I seem to have put my heart in the place where my throat is,’ he admitted.

Rudgal was bending down and picking up the fallen law books.

‘It was a near thing, Brother. Such accidents can be dangerous.’

Eadulf’s eyes narrowed.

‘Accident you say?’

Rudgal’s expression was bland.

‘Wasn’t it an accident? Some of these stone blocks on the battlement are ill-placed and loose.’

‘There was someone up there on the battlement who gave that particular stone a helping hand.’

Rudgal was shocked.

‘Are you so sure, Brother? Did you recognise anyone?’

‘I saw no one that I could identify,’ confessed Eadulf. ‘But you were up on the battlement. You must have seen whoever it was?’

Rudgal shook his head.

‘There were a few people about. I was walking along and heard only your cry. When I peered over, I saw you and the stone at your feet. You seemed to be shaken. I saw no …’

He paused with a thoughtful frown.

‘You saw … what?’ prompted Eadulf.

‘Probably nothing. There was the young brother, what is his name — Dianach? Yes, I saw him walking in the other direction with Esnad and, of course, Artgal was walking nearby with Laisre, who was talking with him. Perhaps they saw something, though I do not think so otherwise they would have come to see what was wrong. No one else had apparently heard your cry of alarm.’

Eadulf shook his head firmly.

‘I do not think that will get us very far,’ he reflected, taking the books from Rudgal’s hands. ‘Artgal is the chief witness against Fidelma and young Brother Dianach made his dislike of me very clear this morning. No. We will not say any more about this.’

He left Rudgal and continued back to the hostel. Inside, he put the books carefully on the table and sat before them. He yawned and wished that he had had even more sleep. Then he thought of Fidelma in her cell and felt suddenly penitent for there would certainly be no sleep for her alone in that unfriendly place. But even the hostel was deserted. Neither Cruinn nor Brother Dianach had returned to the hostel. It was plain that they were avoiding him.

Slowly he began to turn the pages of the law texts.

Time passed, the characters on the pages began to take on a life of their own, twisting and swimming before his eyes. He seemed unable to take in the easiest of concepts. His eyelids felt heavier and heavier and his head began to droop.

He must have fallen asleep.

There was a sound at the door.

Eadulf jerked his head up from the manuscript, blinking rapidly and uncertain of where he was for the moment.

It was Rudgal who stood on the threshold.

‘What is it?’ Eadulf asked, yawning and feeling ashamed that he had dropped asleep. He pushed the law book away from him and turned to Rudgal.

‘I come with a message from Murgal, Brother. It is about the hearing which you requested.’

‘And?’ Eadulf was fully awake now and he rose to his feet. ‘Will he grant me a hearing tomorrow?’

‘Murgal says that you are within your rights to demand such a hearing before him as Brehon of Gleann Geis. I am to return the books to him — he said you would know which ones he wants. And, further, if you can assure him, through me, that you can cite procedure under law, he will accede to such a hearing. But the hearing must be held in the chieftain’s council chamber this afternoon before the evening meal.’

Eadulf was startled.

‘What hour is it now?’ Eadulf demanded, feeling that Murgal was playing cat and mouse with him.

‘Nearly an hour after the noon meal.’

‘That means I have only a few hours to prepare.’

Eadulf tried to quell his sudden panic. Rudgal’s face was expressionless as he watched him.

‘Murgal says that if you are unable to make your plea by this afternoon, then you have not comprehended the necessary law.’

Eadulf ran a hand distractedly through his hair.

‘At least Murgal is prepared to hold the hearing,’ he admitted. ‘You will have to tell him that I shall need another hour or so with these books. I shall return them later.’

He looked down at the open law book on the table in apprehension.

‘It seems my only hope is that he will accept the oath of Sister Fidelma, take into account her rank and her position as an Eóghanacht princess to free her until the hearing in nine days’ time.’

Rudgal smiled warmly.

‘It will be good for the Sister Fidelma to be released from the Chamber of Isolation, Brother. It is not fitting for one such as she to be incarcerated there.’

‘I wish I were optimistic about the outcome.’

Rudgal’s eyes narrowed.

‘You do not think that you are knowledgeable enough to secure freedom for Sister Fidelma?’ he demanded. He gestured to the books on the table. ‘What do these books tell you to do?’

Eadulf gave a painful laugh.

‘They tell me that my knowledge of law is poor and that the little that I do possess is not sufficient to ensure her release.’

‘Surely there is something you can do?’

‘There is only one thing other than Murgal’s acceptance of the oath of Fidelma as sister of the king of Cashel as guarantee for her appearing before him at the time of the trial.’

‘What is that?’ demanded Rudgal.

‘The other thing would be if I could show that Artgal is not a reliable witness.’

Rudgal rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

‘He is an ambitious man. A first-class blacksmith and a good warrior, I know that.’

‘Perhaps he has some secret. Maybe he betrayed a colleague in battle?’

Rudgal chuckled.

‘Look somewhere else, Brother. We fought together, side by side, at Hill of Aine against the Arada Cliach last year. He showed himself courageous in battle.’

Eadulf was staring at the man in surprise.

‘You fought there against the Arada Cliach? But that means that you fought against the army of the king of Cashel?’

Rudgal dismissed the matter with a grim smile.

‘We answered the call of our chieftain, Laisre, who in turn served Eoganán of the Uí Fidgente. But now Eoganán is dead and there is peace between the Uí Fidgente and Cashel again. So there is peace between Laisre and Cashel, too. But Artgal’s ambition lay not in wars. I know this, for he said his ambition was soon to be fulfilled in peace.’

‘I swear I do not understand your internal politics,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘Even if I did it still would not help me. Apart from Artgal’s prowess as a blacksmith and a warrior, is there nothing you can tell me about him? What is this you say about Artgal’s ambition?’

‘Ambition is no crime.’

‘But you said that he indicated that his ambition might be fulfilled.’

‘In fact, he swore as much this morning.’

‘What ambition?’ insisted Eadulf.

‘To expand his small farmstead and smithy and employ an apprentice, to be able to afford to have a wife. You’ll find nothing sinister in that.’

‘Indeed. Innocent enough. Why did it become an ambition?’

‘He had not been able to save enough to buy milch cows to form the basis of his stock. His smithy is inactive because Goban is the chief smith here. Most people go to him for more crafted work. Artgal’s farmstead is poor and he is always looking for work. He mainly ekes out an existence on the largesse he receives from Laisre as his bodyguard. But now he has been able to purchase two milch cows.’

‘Well, there is nothing in that which I can use to show that his word is not to be trusted.’

Rudgal agreed.

‘True enough. Though I don’t think he actually saved to buy the cows. Two days ago he was without money. We were gambling at Ronan’s farm and Artgal was losing heavily. At one point, he even offered to put up his farmstead and smithy shop as surety for his bet.’

Eadulf was not particularly interested.

‘So he won the cows or the money for them by gambling. That, too, is not to be condemned.’

Rudgal shook his head.

‘But he didn’t. He won sparingly enough to ensure that he did not lose his farmstead. He did not make any money. He left the game as broke as he had entered it. He took out only what he had put in.’

Eadulf felt a flicker of interest.

‘So where did he get the two cows from and how do you know about this?’

‘Only a short while ago I heard him talking to Ronan about nearly losing his farmstead in the game that night. He said, and I overheard this clearly, that fortune had smiled on him because he had just been given two milch cows as a reward for telling the truth.’

Eadulf looked up sharply.

‘He used those very words?’

‘The very words. He also said that in nine days’ time he would have a further milch cow to make three. With three milch cows he would be secure.’

Eadulf was staring hard at the fair-haired warrior who did not seem concerned at the effect that his words had.

‘Just repeat this — you said that you heard Artgal say that he had been given two cows as a reward for telling the truth and that in nine days’ time he would receive a further cow? Are those the exact words?’

Rudgal scratched his head as if this helped him to concentrate.

‘Indeed. Those are the words he said.’

‘But are you sure that he particularly used the expression “in nine days’ time” he would receive another cow? That is what he said?’

‘Oh yes. Nine days were mentioned.’

Eadulf sat back and drummed his fingers on the table top.

‘Is this helpful?’ inquired Rudgal after a moment or two when Eadulf did not make any further comment.

Eadulf brought his gaze back to the man absently.

‘What? Helpful? Yes … perhaps. I don’t know. I must think on this.’

Rudgal coughed nervously.

‘Then shall I return to Murgal? If so, what answer shall I give him?’

Eadulf hesitated a moment and then broke out into a broad smile.

‘Tell Murgal that I am now prepared. I shall pursue my arguments on procedure and stand by them. Take these books and tell him so.’

‘I thought that you wanted them for another hour or two?’

‘No longer. I think I now know the path to follow.’

‘And you agree that you will be able to present your case to Murgal this afternoon?’

‘I do agree,’ Eadulf said emphatically.

Rudgal collected the books and Eadulf accompanied him to the door.

‘Once I have told Murgal,’ Rudgal said, ‘I will take this news to Sister Fidelma. I wish you luck, Brother, in your effort to free her.’

Eadulf raised a hand in brief acknowledgment but it was plain that his mind was elsewhere. After a while he turned his gaze to the notes that he had been making from the law texts. Then he sat down again with a frown on his features as he drifted into deep thought.