The woman hesitated. ‘I will wait, but if it looks as though he will escape, then I shall kill him.’ She turned and made her way across to the far side of the room, just below the dais.
Immediately another woman was seeking Fidelma’s attention. It was Muirgel, the widow of the boatman, Murchad. ‘Lady, I saw who threw the knife.’ Fidelma bent forward to catch the whispered name and then nodded. ‘I thought as much.’ She stood back. Her voice rang out across the chapel.
‘Corbmac! Enda! Take care of the weapon and bring Aróc, Scáth and Síabair here at once!’ She turned to the abbot. ‘As president of this court, you must seek order and silence.’
Abbot Daircell shuddered nervously in his seat. He was clearly shaken. Corbmac was bellowing orders to his men. Finally the abbot took control. It was a matter of moments to bring the son and daughter of the lord of The Cuala forward, together with Síabair. The noise had quietened into angry murmuring. Enda brought the young girl Aróc forward first. The girl’s face was white, and anger and anxiety mingled in her expression.
‘I did not throw the knife! I did not!’ she blurted defiantly to Fidelma.
To everyone’s astonishment Fidelma said loudly, ‘I know you did not. Release her.’
Enda, who had been restraining the girl, stared at Fidelma in surprise and she had to repeat the order sharply. He reluctantly dropped his hold.
‘What does this mean?’ Scáth cried, his face twisted in anger. ‘We all saw my sister—’
‘That’s not the way it happened,’ Fidelma replied quietly. ‘Your sister grabbed the second knife after you missed with your first throw. A quick change of hand hold and it looked as if you were trying to take the knife from her when you realised you did not have time for a second throw and would be seen. It was not the other way about.’
‘But I saw her, lady. I went to help my lord Scáth,’ protested Síabair.
‘You went to help because you knew that Aróc had seen her brother try to silence Spealáin to stop him naming the leaders of this conspiracy, whose names included his own.’
Dicuil Dóna, the lord of The Cuala, had risen uncertainly from his seat.
‘What are you saying, Fidelma?’ he asked uncertainly. ‘Are you saying my own daughter tried to stop her brother … that it is my son who …?’ He stopped in bewilderment and sat down again. ‘I do not understand.’
‘Your son tried to kill Spealáin as he was about to make an identification of the leaders of this conspiracy,’ Fidelma told him without emotion. ‘I am afraid your son, your steward, Scáth, entered a conspiracy that would, eventually, have embraced your family, the Uí Máil, in a war with Muman. In it, you would have been forced to take sides or even been assassinated.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ Dicuil Dóna repeated lamely.
‘It was stupid to attempt to kill Spealáin in front of this court. The sort of panic only an inexperienced boy would do.’ She glanced to where Spealáin had been raised into a seat by Brother Lachtna.
‘It was old Iuchra who warned me names mean something,’ Fidelma went on. ‘Anyway, she had been telling everyone for a long time the name by which the conspirators called themselves.’
Abbot Daircell was puzzled. ‘What name? She only used to scare people about shapeshifters, that is all?’
‘Exactly,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Cumachtae, the local name for shapeshifters, folk with preternatural powers. Each leader of the conspiracy adopted a name indicating they belonged to this shadowy movement.’
‘Well, my name isn’t adopted,’ Scáth declared eagerly. ‘Why should I kill this man when he was making the ridiculous claim that shapeshifters were to blame?’
‘You were called Scáth at birth because you were thought to be under the “shadow” of your father, the lord of The Cuala. So you did not need to change your name. But Spealáin said the guards mentioned two names in the gossip he overheard. Do you recall how they referred to the other one, Spealáin?’ she asked, turning to the wounded man.
‘Are you accusing us just because of our names?’ Scáth sneered. ‘This is the first time I have heard of people being condemned because of their names.’
‘Not at all,’ Fidelma replied calmly. ‘But it is a good idea for conspirators to use the forgotten meanings of names as sobriquets. I have observed that Scáth is left handed, but I admit many people are.’
‘And some are ambidextrous, having equal use of both hands,’ pointed out Dicuil Dóna.
Brother Aithrigid now interrupted irritably. ‘I don’t know what others think, but I have heard no evidence except charge and countercharge. Stupid comments about names and left-handed folk. We have heard Princess Gelgéis was apparently ambushed, captured and imprisoned. That an old woman Iuchra, now dead, was involved … an accusation – no more than an accusation – that her son may have killed her. I have heard nothing else but claims and theories. Do you, Fidelma, have any proof to these claims you are making?’
It seemed that Beccnat had recovered her composure after the dramatic events of the last moments for she stepped forward.
‘If we are to hear nothing but ridiculous accusations about names without further substance, I call on the judges to dismiss this court.’
Before Fidelma could respond, it was the lord of The Cuala himself who rejected the idea.
‘Grave charges have been made against my son, Scáth,’ he reminded her. ‘If he is innocent, then grave charges are proved against my daughter, Aróc. This matter cannot be dismissed without giving both of them the opportunity to hear and defend the charges.’
‘Considering things from a legal position, I have to agree,’ Brother Aithrigid said. ‘One or other of Dicuil Dóna’s children must be guilty of throwing that knife, of an attempted assassination – either the girl, Aróc, or the boy, Scáth. This matter must be clarified.’
‘I suggest the court resume their seats. Aróc, Scáth and Síabair will be placed under guard,’ Abbot Daircell said. ‘I presume, Corbmac, that this courtroom has been secured by your warriors?’
Fidelma added, ‘I suggest you also place Síabair, the physician, under guard. When Muirgel has given testimony, the physician will also be charged with the murder of her husband, Murchad. His name also places him as a suspect among the coterie of shapeshifters in this conspiracy.’
Beccnat uttered a sardonic laugh. ‘Just because his name means “phantom”? You have yet to prove your curious claim about names.’
Fidelma did not acknowledge her. But even Eadulf was worried about her theory. ‘It sounds a bit far fetched,’ he muttered.
Fidelma ignored him and turned to Enda, lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘Enda, I am expecting to name the head of this conspiracy shortly. Therefore I want you to make your way quietly round to the far end of the judges’ dais. I want you to be prepared for any sudden moves.’
Enda raised an eyebrow. ‘In case they are attacked?’
‘Just watch for any sudden moves,’ she repeated. ‘You will recognise near them the woman Serc.’
‘The prostitute?’
‘Keep a special watch on her, as she has recognised someone.’
Fidelma now turned to address the airecht.
‘For such a remote place in the northern kingdom of Laigin it seemed there are an unusual number of people from Osraige here,’ she began reflectively.
‘Not so surprising because Osraige is just across the mountains,’ Abbot Daircell snapped back. ‘There is much intercourse between us. I do not see the point of your comment.’
‘Let me go through things briefly. Princess Gelgéis of Durlus Éile hears that her cousin, ruler of Osraige, has been approached by certain emissaries to declare Osraige free of its tribute to Muman. This would mean that Muman would have to act to enforce the tribute according to the terms that the High King’s Chief Brehon imposed on it following the defeat of Cronán two years ago. If Muman marched into Osraige to extract the tribute, Osraige would appeal to Laigin. Laigin would raise an army to go
to Osraige’s defence. War would then ensue. But in this matter, it seems Tuaim Snámha has good advisers and refused to have anything to do with the plan.’ She paused before continuing. ‘But the conspirators still felt they could overthrow Tuaim Snámha and use someone else as a figurehead. Someone who must be of the ruling family of Osraige. Princess Gelgéis tells us she was worried on hearing rumours of the conspiracy and sent a message to her cousin, Abbot Daircell of this abbey, especially after her Brehon, Brocc, was approached and obliquely asked if Gelgéis might join the conspiracy. On her way here, Gelgéis and her steward were captured. During the capture, she was asked three times if she would accept being a figurehead for the conspiracy. We know she is liked and influential in Osraige, but she refused. She could be used as a captive but someone has to appear as a legitimate leader. Abbot Daircell is also her cousin. The abbot has strong links with the ruling family of Laigin. After all, there he sits with the lord of The Cuala, uncle to the King of Laigin.’
The abbot stirred, infuriated. ‘But I sent for you as soon as I knew Princess Gelgéis had disappeared,’ he protested. ‘If I had anything to do with a conspiracy I should have remained silent.’
‘I agree,’ Fidelma agreed solemnly. ‘The message she sent you however, was intercepted, and its contents known by the conspirators, who arranged the ambush of Princess Gelgéis. Brother Dorchú, the gatekeeper, has access to all the messages that arrive by pigeon. It is his speciality.’
At this Brother Dorchú called out in protest, ‘I am in charge of the pigeons and it is known that I received the message and took it to the abbot. Am I to be accused of betrayal?’
‘Only of keeping the lord of The Cuala informed, because he, too, knew the contents of the message. And what he knew, his steward knew.’ She raised her hands, palm outwards to still their collective protests.
‘There was, of course, another person involved in the conspiracy,’ Fidelma went on, ignoring them. ‘One who admitted he had seen the message, one who was also of Osraige and admitted also he was of the ruling family, although a minor branch. In fact, it was his idea to replace Tuaim Snámha and had started to raise an army.’
‘Armies cost money,’ the abbot said with scorn. ‘How was I to raise the money?’
‘Where better to garner such money than from the mines of The Cuala?’ she replied. ‘But it would be a difficult task for you, as abbot, to accomplish without a number of contacts.’
The lord of The Cuala was scornful. ‘Are you now claiming that I was sending money from my mines to raise an army in Osraige?’
‘The money was certainly coming from the gold and silver of The Cuala. Your steward of the mines, Garrchú, told me that he thought the gold and silver had been stolen for a long time. Brehon Rónchú stumbled on to such a shipment, and that eventually led to his own death. He lies buried in the valley of Lúbán. The boatman also had to die – that was, Murchad. Síabair had been asked to examine the bodies of the dead gold miners before Brehon Rónchú went off with Cétach to take the metal for identification. That was a death sentence for Rónchú. Síabair, the physician, had passed on the news of the Brehon’s suspicions to the killer. Síabair was part of this conspiracy and he will have to answer for killing Murchad, which he tried to make look like an accident. Cétach later himself told the killer of Brocc and Rónchú that he had found Brocc’s body and taken it to the abbey and of his suspicions. And that was his death sentence.’
‘Then you are accusing …?’ began Dicuil Dóna.
‘Only Teimel had time and opportunity not only to kill Cétach but Brehon Rónchú and Brehon Brocc.Teimel claimed the body at Lúbán was not Rónchú even though he had known him for many years. Once I knew the identity of the body, it was obvious that Teimel’s failure to identify it was proof of his involvement in the murder.’
‘Then you are saying that he also killed his own mother? I find that impossible to believe. Fingal, kin-slaying, especially matricide, it is the worst of all crimes.’
‘It is difficult to accept. But there is no other explanation unless one of his fellow conspirators did so, copying his left-handed cut. My mind is still open on this. But we know he was a conspirator and used his mother’s services to feed Gelgéis and Spealáin during their captivity in the cave. Indeed, he has several deaths to account for. I am sure the other conspirators will come forward to seek to exonerate their own guilt but they are all responsible in law.
‘Perhaps even Muirgel would have been killed, but she had made a complaint to Beccnat, and either by design or arrogance, Beccnat trusted Muirgel’s lack of knowledge of the law to silence her.’
‘Are you coming to who is the leader of this conspiracy?’ Abbot Daircell intervened, his voice raised in anger. ‘You have made several accusations. It is time you spoke plainly! Who are you accusing?’
‘I thought I was speaking plainly,’ replied Fidelma mildly.
‘Who of Laigin do you claim responsible?’ Dicuil Dona returned in exasperation.
‘Of Laigin? Your own son, of course. You wanted too much from him and inspired him with ambition and envy. You condemned him to his narcissism. You even added to his envy by naming him your ‘shadow’ – Scáth. He became an easy ally of the arch conspirator, using his hatred of his own father and of his own sister. A willing tool to organise those who would rob and supply the conspirators to raise an army in Osraige.’
There was a silence and then Scáth started to shout angrily. Beccnat screamed and went to stand protectively in front of the young man.
‘I am not going to be held responsible for everything,’ the boy shouted, as two warriors of the lord of The Cuala, at Corbmac’s gesture, moved to hold him.
‘Your ambition was used against your father,’ went on Fidelma in an even tone. ‘You wanted revenge on your father and were offered the perfect way to get it. But, as I said, you were a willing tool of the arch conspirator. Someone knew exactly how to involve you. Shall I name him?’
Now Síabair started to shout. ‘Just because I bear a name that means “phantom” does not prove I was involved in this conspiracy …’
‘I was not going to say you were the leader of it,’ Fidelma replied. ‘You were certainly part of it, perhaps just a minor part. All of you were inspired by the shapeshifters of the mountain that gave a name to the conspiracy. Maybe you were all inspired by Scáth’s name to call yourselves the Cumachtae, to add romance to the conspiracy, just as you were each known by the meanings of your names. And the conspiracy was not only to overthrow Tuaim Snámha but eventually Dicuil Dóna himself. There was only one person who led this conspiracy and they remained always in the background. That was the man whose name means “The Changer”.’
She turned her gaze towards the three judges. Brother Aithrigid was rising from his seat.
Aithrigid had nearly reached the doors of the refectory when his way was blocked by a woman. The face was distorted in fury or what could be seen of it from the strands of unkempt greying hair. The pale lips were now drawn back, showing sharp, yellowing teeth and the dead eyes seemed to be blazing with a renewed fury. One thin, almost emaciated arm was upraised and the lights of the hall danced on the sharp upraised blade that she held in her hand.
‘Swine,’ she shouted as she moved towards the clearly fearful abbey steward. ‘Your life for the life of my son! Your life forfeit …’
The man gave a scream as the woman lunged at him.
Enda caught hold of her arm as the knife plunged downwards and easily overpowered the woman, causing her to drop the knife.
Corbmac came forward to stop the abbey’s steward as he tried to twist away. Brother Aithrigid was still struggling and then, in desperation, caught the knife fallen from Serc’s hand as Enda tried to control her. He turned to stab at Corbmac. The attack was vicious but uncoordinated. Corbmac simply lunged under the man’s flaying arm and thrust his sword through the man’s shoulder. With a screech the steward dropped the knife and collapsed back holding his shoulder and tryi
ng to stanch the blood. Two of Corbmac’s warriors dragged the groaning man away. Others were taking charge of the still screeching Beccnat and Scáth, as well as the silent physician Síabair. Some of the women were helping to calm the sobbing form of Serc.
The abbey’s physician, Brother Lachtna, came forward, almost smiling up at a shocked Abbot Daircell. ‘You have lost a good steward,’ he observed dryly.
‘I would rather have lost a good steward than Osraige gained a bad king,’ Abbot Daircell returned after a moment, pulling himself together.
Fidelma paused nearby. ‘I hope it is remembered that Brehon Rónchú protected Aithrigid from the charge of raping that woman.’
‘The law will catch up with Aithrigid, although a little late, but he has much to answer for when he appears before the Chief Brehon of this kingdom. He will be punished for greater crimes, but I will assure Serc will get compensation.’
‘How do you compensate the dead?’ Fidelma asked bitterly.
Eadulf joined Fidelma, watching as Serc was led away. They found the lord of The Cuala standing with them.
‘I am not without fault, lady,’ he began hesitantly. ‘I just wanted to say that I intend that I, personally, shall accompany all the accused to appear before the High King’s Chief Brehon to ensure that justice is done. How did you know that it was Aithrigid who was the leader of this madness?’
‘I knew he was a noble of Osraige. Even Iuchra told me that, almost the first time we encountered her. Aithrigid, which name means the “Changer”, admitted to me that he had adopted the name in much the same way as Succat the Briton adopted the name Patrick when he changed his religion. It was why Rónchú could not find anyone at the abbey with the name poor Serc used.’
‘And the leaders of this conspiracy each became known by these curious names. Síabair … which means “phantom”,’ the lord of The Cuala said. ‘But not everyone changed their name because they were of this community, born into it, and it would have been noticed if all had adopted new names.’
Fidelma smiled. ‘It is true. That’s why I did not catch on, even when Iuchra pointed it out in her strange way. Like your son, Scáth: he realised he could turn your joke of him being your shadow … maybe it was Aithrigid’s idea when he changed his name to the “Changer” and they called the conspirators “shapeshifters”. Only he had to adopt a new name.’
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