‘Much more,’ Fidelma affirmed grimly. ‘For I am not accusing Salbach of the death of Dacán. He is only responsible for the slaughter of the innocents, for the death of those I have named. Neither he nor Grella killed the Venerable Dacán. ’
Chapter Twenty
There was a murmur of excitement from the Muman benches as Sister Fidelma made her surprising announcement. Colgú had been wearing a long face. He had already been aware of the point which Forbassach was bound to make. Now he stared in astonishment at his sister.
‘If Salbach did not kill Dacán,’ the Chief Brehon demanded, with an air of exaggerated patience, ‘are you going to reveal to this assembly who did?’
‘We must come to that logically,’ Fidelma replied. ‘First let us go back to the day when, going through the genealogies here, Dacán discovered the whereabouts of the heirs of Illan. I have already said that he sat down and wrote a letter to his brother Noe.’
Noé leaned forward in his seat and spoke rapidly to Forbassach.
The fiery advocate rose again.
‘There is no proof that Dacán, even if engaged in such a search, reported to the Abbot Noé; there is no evidence that he had even been asked to report to the abbot. In view of that, this assertion is an affront to the abbot and to Fianamail of Laigin.’
‘I will contest that,’ replied Fidelma with assurance. ‘I have also requested the presence at this hearing of Assíd of the Uí Dego. Is he within the court?’
A well-built man with the rolling gait of a sailor came forward. His skin was tanned, his hair sun-bleached and therefore it was impossible to discern its colour.
‘I am Assíd,’ he announced in an almost defiant tone. ‘I appear before this assembly by order of the Chief Brehon but I appear unwillingly for I have no intention of bringing harm to my king.’
He stood before the cos-na-dála with arms folded, staring in antagonism towards Fidelma.
‘Let that be so recorded,’ the Chief Brehon cautioned his scriptor.
‘Let it be recorded that Assíd is, indeed, a loyal subject of Fianamail of Laigin,’ added Fidelma lightly with a smile.
‘I do not deny that,’ affirmed Assíd suspiciously.
‘Are you the captain and owner of a coastal trading barc?’
‘I do not deny that, either.’
‘For the last year or so have you traded between Laigin and the lands of the Corco Loígde?’
‘Once again, I do not deny it.’
‘And you were staying in the abbey on the night the Venerable Dacán died?’
‘That’s common knowledge.’
‘You left the abbey on the same day and sailed directly for Laigin. You went to Fearna and reported Dacán’s murder to Fianamail and Abbot Noe.’
Assíd hesitated and nodded slowly, trying to see where Fidelma’s path was leading.
‘This was why Laigin was able to act so swiftly over this matter.’ Fidelma made the statement as an explanation to the assembly, rather than putting it as a question to Assid. ‘Tell us, Assíd, for I have not had time to question you before, what were the circumstances of that evening in the abbey? Tell us when you last saw the Venerable Dacan alive and when you heard of his death?’
Assíd seemed to lose his aggressive posture for a moment and he reached forward to use the rail before him as a support, leaning his weight from the shoulders upon it.
‘It is true,’ he began slowly, addressing himself to the Chief Brehon, ‘that I was trading along this coast and had decided to put in to Ros Ailithir and seek a night’s rest at the abbey’s hostel. There I saw the Venerable Dacán …’
‘Whom you greeted as someone you knew?’ interposed Fidelma.
Assíd hesitated and then shrugged.
‘Who in Laigin does not know the Venerable Dacán?’ he countered.
‘But you knew him better than most for you greeted him as an old friend. There is a witness,’ she added in case it was denied.
‘Then I shall not deny it,’ Assíd agreed.
‘It makes me wonder why you put in to Ros Ailithir? Pure chance? No. There were other hostels along the coast. You could even have stayed at Cuan Dóir. Yet you put in here. It leads me to suspect that you had arranged to meet Dacan.’
Assíd looked uncomfortable. It was obvious that Fidelma was correct in her assumption.
‘So I asked myself why you had an assignation to meet Dacán here? Will you tell us or shall I explain?’
Assid seemed to be attempting to catch the eye of those on the Laigin benches.
Fidelma turned to the book satchel on the bench where she had been sitting and drew out some pieces of vellum.
‘I present, in evidence, the draft of a letter written by Dacán to his brother, the Abbot Noé, informing him of his discovery of a surviving heir of Illan in words that leave little doubt that he had been asked to conduct this research and also that he subsequently expected some action on the part of his brother.
‘Fortunately for us, in writing this draft, Dacán spilt ink on it. Being the fastidious and methodical man he was, he put it to one side and rewrote it. He either forgot to destroy his draft or, before he could do so, it was stolen from him. It was certainly in the possession of Sister Grella and this is how we can prove that Dacán acted on his brother’s commission.’
Fidelma did not bother to look at the Laigin benches – they were curiously quiet while Barrán scanned the evidence which Fidelma had handed him.
‘And you say that the finished form of this letter was given to Assfd? Assfd then took the report to Noé?’ asked Barran.
Fidelma inclined her head in agreement.
The Chief Brehon turned to Forbassach as advocate for Laigin. His expression was dour.
‘Forbassach, the evidence here is clear. I now have to warn you. The law text, the Din Techtugad, states that a person who gives false testimony loses his honour price. False testimony is one of the three falsehoods which God avenges most severely. I will not impose the penalty at this stage, giving the Abbot Noé time to reflect on this matter.’ He turned back to Fidelma. ‘Please, proceed, sister.’
‘Do you accept or deny this, Assíd?’ she demanded.
Assíd hung his head.
‘I accept that I came here to pick up a message from Dacán to take to his brother Noé. After the evening meal, I met with Dacán and he gave me the letter. We exchanged some heated words when he refused to reveal what was in it and made me swear an oath not to open it. I still have no idea of what the letter contained. I went to bed. In the morning, I heard, that Dacán had been slain. Brother Rumann, who was the steward of the abbey, questioned me as to my whereabouts. Satisfied that I knew nothing, he gave me permission to leave. I left the abbey and sailed directly for Laigin, taking the letter. I reported what had happened to the Abbot Noé. That is all I have to do with this matter.’
‘A few more questions. When did you last see Dacán alive?’
‘Just after the completa, the last service of the day. A little after midnight, I should say.’
‘Where did you see him?’
‘In his chamber. It was when he handed over the letter to me.’
‘And where was your chamber?’
‘On the floor above Dacán’s.’
‘And so you heard nothing after you had left him? At what time was that?’
Assíd drew his brows together, trying to recall.
‘After midnight. I only heard one thing more, as I went up the stairs. I heard Dacán ringing the bell for the young novice who attended to our wants in the hostel. I heard his voice demanding that she fetch him water.’
‘You may stand down, unless Forbassach wishes to question you.’
Forbassach had been talking rapidly with the grim-faced Abbot Noé. He replied that he had no questions for Assíd.
Fidelma now addressed the Chief Brehon.
‘We have heard that Dacán had been successful in locating Illan’s heir. He told his brother Noé that he was about to set off for Sceilig Mhichil
to identify him the next day.’
‘Are you telling us that he was killed to prevent him doing so?’ asked Barrán.
‘He was killed because it was feared he would bring harm to Illan’s heir.’
‘But you said that the sons of Illan had already been removed from the monastery and placed in Sister Eisten’s charge. Is this not correct?’
‘The story grows complicated. When Illan was killed, his sons had been placed in the care of a cousin who would foster them.’
Dramatically, Fidelma swung round and pointed at the abbey benches.
‘It was Brother Midach of this abbey who was the foster-father of the two boys who were known at Sceilig Mhichil as Primus and Victor.’
Midach sat unblinking. His face was fixed in a thin smile. He said nothing. Fidelma continued:
‘Dacán thought that it was Illan’s cousin, Father Mel of Sceilig Mhichil who was the fosterer. In that he did not read the will carefully enough. The will of Illan states clearly “let the resolve of the honourable one determine the fosterage of my children”. Is there anyone here who does not know that the meaning of the name Midach is “honourable”? Midach was appointed the aite or foster-father of the sons of Illan.
‘Midach, either by suspicion or accident, read the notes of Dacán in the library and realised that the old scholar was searching for Illan’s children. Dacán discovered Midach reading his notes and an argument ensued. Brother Martan was a witness to this. Anxious to protect his charges, on that same evening, Midach left this abbey and sailed to Sceilig Mhichil. He removed the boys and took them to Sister Eisten, who was a former pupil of his. He was able to visit them a few times afterwards on the pretext of visiting the village and helping them with medicine again the plague. He was seen and described to me. The real names of the children of Illan, known at Sceilig Mhichil as Primus and Victor, were Cétach and Cosrach. If one attempted to put Latin names on these they would translate in such a fashion.
‘Midach was shocked when he heard that Intat had raided Rae na Scríne. He believed that Dacán was working for Salbach and through him for Scandlán of Osraige. Alas, he did not realise that Grella was part of the conspiracy and was Eisten’s soul-friend. However, after the attack, he found that his two wards were safe. He decided to get the two boys away from this kingdom and asked Sister Eisten to arrange passage for them.
‘Cétach, the elder boy, at least, had been warned that Salbach was looking for them so when Salbach came here, Cétach pleaded with me not to mention him or his brother to the chieftain. Then they both disappeared.
‘While Midach now hid the children, Eisten went to book passage for them on a merchant ship in the bay. At first she chose the wrong ship – she asked a sailor who was from the Laigin warship captained by Mugrón. Unfortunately, Intat then spotted Eisten. The rest of that tale we know. In spite of torture, Eisten would not tell where the children were and finally, in anger, Intat killed her. The children had to remain in hiding until Midach could get them safely away.’
Fidelma paused for her throat was now dry.
Barrán took the opportunity to address Midach.
‘Do you deny this story or any part of it?’
Midach sat, his arms folded, without expression.
‘I neither confirm nor deny it.’
The Chief Brehon turned back to Fidelma.
‘There is one point in your explanation that I do not follow. You have not dealt with Dacán’s death, which, as important as these events are, is the main cause of this action brought by Laigin.’
‘I will come to it, Barran,’ Fidelma assured him, coughing slightly as she attempted to clear her drying throat.
‘Midach was hiding the boys, Cétach and Cosrach, here in the abbey where he continues to hide them. I think that we can now bring them safely forth from the sepulchre of the Blessed Fachtna, for they will be under the protection of the High King. Is this not so?’
The question was directed to Sechnassach.
The High King returned Fidelma’s interrogative look with a brief smile.
‘They are so protected, Fidelma of Kildare.’
‘Midach, will you bring them forth?’
The physician rose unsteadily. He found difficulty speaking.
Fidelma decided to prompt him.
‘If you go to the statue of the cherub behind the High Altar and twist it one half turn to the left it will release the spring which pivots a flagstone.’ Midach’s mouth slackened in surprise.
‘How did you discover this?’ he demanded in consternation.
‘The steps beneath lead down to the secret sepulchre of the Blessed Fachtna, the founder of this abbey,’ went on Fidelma. ‘It is there, since the death of Sister Eisten, that Cétach and Cosrach have been in hiding. Is that not so, Midach?’
Midach’s shoulders slumped in resignation.
‘It is even as she has said,’ he mumbled. ‘She seems to know everything.’
A couple of the High King’s guards moved at a gesture from Sechnassach and followed Fidelma’s instructions. A few moments later the two young black-haired lads were brought blinking from the underground tomb to stare in fear at the mighty assembly.
The Chief Brehon immediately sought to reassure them of their safety.
Forbassach was on his feet.
‘I must point out that we, of Laigin, have no wish to harm these boys … if they, indeed, are the sons of Illan.’
‘They are the sons of Illan,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘And if their hair is washed clean of that black dye you will find two thatches of copper-coloured hair. Midach dyed their hair as an extra precaution when he took them to Sister Eisten. Isn’t that so?’
Midach seemed too dispirited to answer.
Forbassach was on his feet repeating himself.
‘We sought the heirs of Illan simply to identify them. To discover their whereabouts. The purpose of this was to offer our support for their claims and restore them to the kingship of Osraige. There is only one power here that would oppose that purpose – Cashel. As we have claimed all along, Cashel’s interest would be to destroy them. It was in Cashel’s interests to kill Dacán. We repeat our original claim, that Osraige be forfeit for the honour price of Dacán.’ He smiled towards the two young boys. ‘But as neither boy is anywhere near the age of choice, whereby he might be affirm as king, then the right of the kingship must devolve in the gift of Fearna.’
At once Colgú, ignoring the protocol of the court, was on his feet in anger.
‘Cashel is not at the centre of this claimed conspiracy to harm these boys. Salbach admits that he is the culprit. For that Cashel shall punish him. The evil of the chieftain of the Corco Loígde is not to be put on the shoulders of Cashel!’
‘Yet Corco Loígde owes allegiance to Cashel,’ sneered Forbassach in reply. ‘What other shoulders but Cashel can the guilt rest on?’
Barrán held up both hands. His face showed dismay and there was irritation in his eyes.
‘That you both forget the protocol of this court is a matter of sadness. That you both persist in a squabble before me is a matter of penalty. Colgú, you are find one séd, the value of one milch cow, for not allowing your dálaigh to present your arguments. Forbassach, you are more guilty of an offence being not only trained in law but the advocate of your king. You shall be find one cumal, the value of three milch cows. If this occurs again the penalties shall not be so light.’
Barran gave everyone a moment to settle down again and instructed the two young boys be brought before the cos-na-dála.
‘Am I to understand that these boys are both under the age of choice?’ he asked, turning to Midach.
‘They are,’ agreed the physician, accepting his role as their foster-father.
‘Then we cannot give any weight to their evidence,’ sighed the Chief Brehon. ‘Nevertheless, we may call upon them but what they say, if contradicted by other evidence, may be discounted. This is the law.’
‘I am aware of this, Barrán,’ ag
reed Fidelma. ‘And, unless Forbassach insists, I have no wish to call them.’
‘I would prefer Sister Fidelma to deal with the specific matter of the murder of Dacán,’ replied Forbassach.
‘Then I shall do so,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It should be obvious now that Dacán’s death was essentially connected with the task that he had come to Ros Ailithir to perform. He was killed because it was thought he presented a threat. But let me point this out, that it is true that Dacán alive was worth more to Salbach than Dacán dead. So who, then, was Dacán a threat to? He was clearly a threat to the children of Illan, as I have said before.’
Forbassach was on his feet yet again.
‘And I have said, Laigin was no threat to these children. It sought to help them.’
‘But did the children know that?’
Fidelma’s question was sharp and left an uneasy silence.
She turned to Midach. The once-jocular physician looked tired and exhausted before her.
‘Dacán had been two months at the abbey researching before you learnt that he was looking for your foster children. When you discovered that you immediately set off to remove them from Sceilig Mhichil. You left here on the very night Dacán was killed, the night he wrote to inform his Brother Noé that he was leaving for Sceilig Mhichil.’
Barrán intervened, thinking to preempt Fidelma.
‘And did you kill Dacán, Brother Midach?’
‘Dacán was alive when I left the abbey,’ Midach replied quietly but firmly.
‘That is true,’ Fidelma affirmed quickly. The Chief Brehon raised his hands in protest.
‘How can you know that?’
‘Simple enough. We know that Dacan was killed around midnight. Certainly not before. Midach had to be on board his ship just after vespers in order to sail with the evening tide for Sceilig Mhichil. I checked the tides with the local sailors. If he had delayed then he could not have been able to sail until the following morning.’
‘Then who did kill Dacán?’ Barrán was totally perplexed.
‘Someone who, like Midach, believed that Dacán meant harm to the children of Illan.’
There was a silence as everyone realised, after all the proceedings, they were now on the verge of the final revelation.
Suffer Little Children Page 30