Sechnassach sighed deeply. ‘You have made your case. I have said that you will receive more time to hear the evidence, Fidelma. But that time is not unlimited.’
‘Tempus omnia revelat,’ Fidelma reminded him. Time reveals all things.
‘That is so,’ agreed the High King. ‘But for mortals such as we, time is not infinite. Our decisions must be measured in days, not left to eternity. I will speak to Dúnchad Muirisci and also to Blathmac. They are civilised people. But once news of what has happened here is voiced through their kingdoms, they may have difficulty controlling the hotheads who will cry vengeance. Time may not grace us with solutions.’
Fidelma rose and inclined her head towards Sechnassach.
‘I will bear that in mind,’ she said quietly. ‘But I will attempt to present the solution in days and not wait until eternity.’
She found Eadulf waiting with Gormán in the corridor outside her brother’s chamber.
‘Has any word of Muirchertach Nár’s death been leaked?’ she asked Eadulf anxiously.
‘We think not. Only Rónán the tracker and two others who helped cover the body and bring it here know of its identity and they have sworn to keep silence until word is released. But it cannot be long before the news spreads. Someone will notice that Muirchertach is missing.’
Fidelma nodded thoughtfully. ‘First, we must tell Aíbnat. Then we should see Dúnchad Muirisci, for he is now heir assumptive to Muirchertach’s throne.’
‘What about Brother Drón?’
‘What has been done with him?’
‘We handed him over to Caol, who has taken him to one of the chambers and stands guard over him,’. Gormán said quickly. ‘I am told that he is still protesting his innocence. Quite volubly.’
‘We will not keep him waiting longer than we have to,’ Fidelma replied. ‘You may tell Caol that Brehon Ninnid is allowed to see him. Eadulf and I first have to speak with the lady Aíbnat.’
Aíbnat met them at the door of her chamber. She stared with open hostility at Fidelma before glancing at Eadulf with an expression that left him in no doubt what she thought of him.
‘What do you want now? My husband has not returned from the hunt,’ she demanded, her voice brittle.
‘We have some bad news for you, lady,’ Fidelma said softly.
Aíbnat stiffened slightly. ‘Bad news?’
‘It is your husband. He has. . been hurt.’
Aíbnat’s expression was controlled. Then, as Fidelma hesitated, she recognised something in her expression.
‘He is dead?’ she whispered.
Fidelma tried to express sympathy towards this arrogant woman. ‘I am afraid he is,’ was all that she could say.
Aíbnat turned quickly away and stood with her back to them, her shoulders slightly hunched. Fidelma followed her into the room, Eadulf at her side. He closed the door gently and they waited awkwardly for a moment.
‘Who killed him?’ Aíbnat asked after a while, turning back to them.
Eadulf exchanged a glance of surprise with Fidelma.
‘What makes you think that someone killed him, lady,’ he said, ‘and that it was not an accident in the hunt?’
Aíbnat swung her gaze round to Eadulf, her features under perfect control. There was now no hint of moisture in her eyes.
‘I know my husband’s abilities. He was a good horseman. Also, it was obvious from the threat that his life was in danger.’
‘The threat? Danger?’ queried Fidelma in surprise. ‘Has he been threatened?’
‘A raven’s feather was found on the pillow of our bed last night when we returned from the evening meal.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened a little. ‘Did you report this to the guard? I was not told.’
Aíbnat shook her head. ‘Muirchertach dismissed it, thinking it was just a silly gesture from one of Ultán’s followers. That man Drón has been muttering dark curses of vengeance. But we thought we were well protected by your warriors. You have failed us. You failed to protect us, just as you failed to protect Ultán.’
‘You should have reported this,’ Fidelma said, ignoring her anger.
‘Whether we did or not, there can be no excuse for not protecting Muirchertach,’ she snapped.
Eadulf was frowning. ‘What is the relevance of this raven’s feather?’ he asked Fidelma.
‘It is a symbol of death and battles,’ she said quickly. ‘The goddess of death often appears in the form of a raven. Where is the feather now?’
Aíbnat shrugged. ‘My husband had it.’
The woman seemed to be emotionally bearing up quite well, but then Fidelma remembered that she had not seemed particularly close to her husband when she had interviewed them on the previous day.
‘Your husband’s body has been taken to the apothecary of Brother Conchobhar here, lady. It will be washed and prepared, and taken to the chapel where the High King wishes it to receive all honour while you and Muirchertach’s tánaiste decide its fate.’
‘Its fate?’
‘As king of Connacht, it is his right that his remains be taken back to his kingdom in pomp and state.’
Aíbnat nodded slowly. ‘That will be up to Dúnchad to decide. Muirchertach’s father lies in the abbey of Cluain Mic Nois with many other kings of Connacht.’ She paused and added: ‘Has the man who killed Muirchertach been captured?’
‘Man?’ queried Fidelma softly.
Aíbnat’s face was without emotion. ‘I presume whoever killed Muirchertach was a man.’
‘We are investigating.’
‘Well, all you have to do is look among Ultán’s followers. There is only one among them capable of the deed of vengeance. However, I shall have my attendants prepare for my leaving here tomorrow. There is no need for me to remain. Dúnchad Muirisci will doubtless take care of the obsequies and the disposal of Muirchertach’s body.’
Fidelma stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I am afraid, lady, you will have to remain here until there is a resolution of this matter,’ she said quietly. ‘You will leave only when I say so.’
Aíbnat blinked in surprise at being contradicted. ‘Do you know to whom you speak? You may be sister to the king of Muman but I am wife to the king of Connacht.’
Fidelma smiled coldly. ‘You are now the widow of the king of Connacht who lies murdered and unburied in our chapel. I am the dálaigh given to his defence in the matter of the crimes he was accused of and therefore now the investigator of his murder. You stand before the law equal as all others are in this case.’
Aíbnat’s eyes Nárrowed. ‘I will see Sechnassach, the High King, and tell him of your impertinence.’
‘Excellent. Sechnassach is well acquainted with the law and how things must be governed. In the meantime, should you wish it, a guard will continue at your door. . for your protection. You may also speak to the Chief Brehon Barrán.’
Aíbnat stared at her as if not believing her ears. ‘I will certainly speak to him,’ she snapped. ‘You may send the Abbot Augaire to me. I have need of some religious solace.’
Fidelma did not reply but merely turned and, followed by Eadulf, left the room.
Outside, Eadulf noticed that she was trembling slightly in anger.
In answer to his glance she shrugged. ‘There are few people who have such an effect on me, Eadulf. The woman is so arrogant and cold that I feel I would like to strike her on the cheek.’
Eadulf reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘That is unlike you. However, I have to say that she did not leave a favourable impression on me. In fact, her coldness at the news of her husband’s death was surprising.’
‘I do not think there was much love lost between them,’ Fidelma agreed.
‘She is right about vengeance, though. Brother Drón’s story is so weak that it is laughable. When we came upon him leading Muirchertach’s horse it all fell into place. By the way, why didn’t you tell her that we are holding Drón for the murder?’
‘We have to be certain of everythi
ng in this matter, Eadulf.’
‘But it all fits together,’ protested Eadulf. ‘And now we hear that a raven’s feather, the symbol of death, was left on their pillow last night. A threat of vengeance for Ultán’s killing.’
Fidelma regarded him seriously. ‘That is the one thing that doesn’t fit.’
‘Why not?’
‘If anything, it rather precludes Brother Drón from involvement as it is a token of the Old Faith and not the new one. Why would one of the New Faith send a symbol of the goddess of death and battles?’
Eadulf thought for a moment. ‘Old ways die hard. Maybe he put the feather there to mislead whoever took on the investigation — or maybe it was someone else entirely who put it there — someone unconnected with the killing.’
‘Perhaps,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘Does a raven’s feather have the same meaning among the pagan Saxons as it does here?’
Eadulf considered. ‘The women Woden sends to gather the corpses of the slain are accompanied by ravens, so the raven is always a bird of ill-omen.’
‘Then there is no need to explain the symbolism. We’d better have a word with Dúnchad Muirisci now that we have told Aíbnat.’ She halted suddenly with a frown. ‘You mentioned Rónán the tracker. I have known him since I was a little girl here. He is a good huntsman, so we must respect what he has to say. I presume that you have checked all he told you?’
‘We were able to follow the tracks he pointed out quite well for a while before we lost them on the stony ground,’ said Eadulf. ‘Anyway, the fact that we caught Brother Drón with Muirchertach’s horse seemed certain enough to me.’
‘Rónán specifically mentioned to you that the horse ridden by the person who met Muirchertach in the wood, and who appears to be his attacker, had a particular identifying mark,’ Fidelma pointed out patiently.
Eadulf stared at her for a moment and then gave a groan.
‘I meant to check that as soon as we came back to the fortress,’ he said. ‘That would be an argument that Drón could not deny.’
‘Then you’d better check it now,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘We should do that before going to break the news to Dúnchad Muirisci and certainly before we go to question Brother Drón further. I’ll meet you at Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary.’
Eadulf hurried away, rebuking himself for overlooking the point that could so easily have confirmed Brother’s Drón’s guilt. He had recounted everything to Fidelma: the finding of the body, Rónán’s observations on the tracks, and the overtaking of Drón. To her credit, Fidelma had not pointed out the obvious but had diplomatically pushed Eadulf into a realisation of what was needed.
Eadulf crossed the courtyard to the stables and found the gilla scuir, the head stable lad. He asked to examine the horse that Brother Drón had ridden. The man looked curiously at him but nodded assent, taking a lantern and leading the way to the stalls.
‘I want to examine its shoes,’ Eadulf explained. ‘I am not very good with horses. How do I go about it?’
The gilla scuir’s expression became somewhat pitying but he said nothing. Fidelma was an expert horsewoman but the stable lad knew all about Eadulf’s unease with horses.
‘Hold the lantern, then, Brother Eadulf,’ he instructed. ‘Which hoof did you want to see?’
‘Front left.’
The stable lad entered the stall, talking softly to the animal, touching its muzzle so that the beast would recognise him, before bending forward and picking up the foreleg, so that the underside of the hoof could be seen.
‘Come into the stall with the lantern,’ he said. ‘Gently now, and hold it so that you can see what you need. What were you looking for? A loose shoe?’
Eadulf shook his head. He peered at the hoof. There was nothing wrong with the horseshoe, no crack, no uneven quality. His mouth compressed to hide his disappointment while he considered the matter.
‘Let’s look at the others,’ he said, just in case Rónán had been mistaken as to which leg it was.
It took a very short time to ascertain that there were no distinguishing marks on any of the shoes of the animal that Brother Drdn had ridden.
Outside the stall Eadulf stood thinking carefully. The only conclusion he could come to was that Brother Drdn was not the rider who had led Muirchertach’s horse from the scene of the slaying. Did this mean he was not the killer? He came back to the present to find the gilla scuir looking at him expectantly.
‘What were you looking for, Brother Eadulf?’ he asked.
‘I was looking for a horse with a cracked or broken shoe.’
The lad’s features broke into a smile. ‘In that case, brother, you were looking at the wrong beast.’ He pointed to another stall. ‘That one came in this evening with the shoe cracked in two. A bad casting of the metal. It happens sometimes. I’m happy to say it wasn’t cast here. One of those northern smiths did that.’
‘Where was the cracked shoe?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘On the left foreleg. Oh, our smith has replaced it now,’ he called as Eadulf made towards the stall. ‘But there’s no doubt about it. The left foreleg. I helped replace it myself.’
Eadulf turned back eagerly. ‘But whose horse is it?’
The stable lad rubbed his chin. ‘Dúnchad Muirisci is his name. The noble prince from Connacht.’
CHAPTER FORUTEEN
Fidelma looked thoughtful as Eadulf finished telling her what he had discovered. Gormán had diplomatically left them together in the corner of old Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary to discuss matters in the light of this information.
‘There is no question that Brother Drón’s horse did not have a cracked shoe?’ she asked gently.
‘None,’ replied Eadulf, somewhat bitterly. ‘I should have checked immediately. All four shoes were in good condition. Rónán told us that the horse that was ridden from the scene of the killing had a split horseshoe on his left foreleg. That is a description of Dúnchad Muirisci’s horse.’
‘Well, as I have said, we may trust Rónán;. So from what we now know, the story that Brother Drón told you, that of simply finding Muirchertach’s horse, could be true.’
Eadulf was irritated. ‘Could be true, yes. But it seems odd that the killer should leave the scene of the crime riding his horse and leading Muirchertach’s for quite a way before deciding to abandon it.’
‘I mean it as no insult when I say that you are not much of a horseman, Eadulf.’
‘It is true, I’ll not deny it,’ Eadulf said stiffly. ‘So what have I missed?’
‘That Muirchertach’s horse probably followed the killer’s mount of its own volition. Horses do not have to be led. When the killer found that the king’s horse was trailing him, which would have been a sure accusation, he dismounted and looped the reins into a bush so that the beast was tethered. Then he rode away.’
‘I see the logic of that,’ agreed Eadulf reluctantly. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that a horse would follow a strange animal, though.’
Fidelma smiled. ‘That’s just it. It probably would not. But it would follow a horse that it was familiar with.’
Eadulf’s eyebrows rose in enlightenment. ‘Dúnchad Muirisci’s horse and the one belonging to Muirchertach were both out of the same stable. I see. Still, I feel angry that I did not spot the business of the split shoe before.’
‘I share the responsibility. When you told me, I could have said who the beast belonged to. I was in the courtyard when Dúnchad Muirisci returned from the hunt. The gilla scuir mentioned the split shoe on the tánaiste’s horse. Furthermore, his hand was bloody from falling into a thorn bush, or so he said. And he said that he had lost his hunting spear.’
‘Then he is our man! It is obvious!’
Fidelma grimaced wryly.
‘Just as the guilt of Brother Drón was obvious?’ she asked sceptically, shaking her head. ‘Patience. We must go carefully, Eadulf. Especially now that Dúnchad Muirisci succeeds Muirchertach Nár as king of Connacht. We are dealing with men of powe
r in this affair, so we must be sure of our accusations.’
‘But just as Brother Drón had a motive to kill Muirchertach Nár, Dúnchad Muirisci had an equally good motive: that he would succeed to the kingship of Connacht.’
‘But what motive had Dúnchad to kill Abbot Ultán?’
‘Well. . none.’
‘Then you are saying that we have two killers here — the one who killed Ultán and the one who killed Muirchertach Nár.’
‘Why not? Muirchertach could have killed Ultán and Dúnchad could have killed Muirchertach. Two separate murders.’
‘I am not satisfied that Muirchertach Nár killed Ultán. If he had been nursing thoughts of vengeance against the man all these years then he would have invented a better story. He would have had a better plan than he did. The very fact that there was no love lost between Muirchertach and his wife makes me wonder, and not for the first time, why Muirchertach would pursue the matter on behalf of a wife who did not care. There is something here that continues to irritate me.’
‘What should we do now? Release Brother Drón?’
‘We will have to withdraw the guard and release him from confinement,’ Fidelma said after a moment’s reflection. ‘But, for the time being, he is only free within the bounds of the fortress. We must now find out what story Dúnchad Muirisci has to tell us.’
Dúnchad Muirisci, his hand newly bandaged, greeted them with some surprise.
‘I have told you all I can about Abbot Ultán’s death. There is nothing more I can say.’ He seemed slightly flustered and evasive.
‘It is not his death that we have to speak of,’ Fidelma replied. ‘May we enter?’
The tánaiste of Connacht stood indecisively, which allowed the determined Fidelma to brush him aside and enter. She halted abruptly and, for a moment, even she was surprised.
Standing in the chamber looking nervous was Sister Sétach.
‘I am surprised to see you here, sister,’ Fidelma said calmly.
The girl made no reply, seeming to look at Dúnchad Muirisci for some guidance.
Eadulf had followed behind Fidelma and was equally surprised when he saw who the girl was.
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