Fidelma thanked her and moved on. Outside the door she paused. She was feeling nervous. After all, Barrán was the Chief Brehon. She felt the same apprehension as she had when a young student, waiting outside the door of the Brehon Morann, the chief professor of the law school. ‘I think this is one interview I could do without,’ she muttered to herself. Then she remembered that Barrán might have purposefully withheld information which was of importance to her investigation. Anger filled her, and with it came courage. She opened the door and marched in.
Barrán, Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms, glanced up in surprise as Fidelma entered the room. He had been poring over a manuscript. The place was dimly lit with tallow candles and there was no other light. Whenthe room was built as the High King’s sanctuary, the architect had realised that light was harmful to the vellums and papyri. Thus, the library had been built without natural light — which did not help with the study of the manuscripts. However, even in the gloom Barrán could see a fiery glint in Fidelma’s eyes and the set of her features showed that something was seriously amiss. He began to rise from his chair but she made a cutting motion of her hand that stayed him.
‘Is it true that Sechnussach and Gormflaith were about to divorce?’ she demanded without preamble.
There was a fraction of a second of surprise before the Brehon resumed his seat. Then his handsome features relaxed into a smile of resignation and he motioned Fidelma to be seated in a chair before the desk on which he was working while he stretched back in his own chair.
‘It seems your investigation is progressing thoroughly,’ he murmured.
‘Is it true?’ she demanded once again.
‘I have heard of the intention,’ he admitted easily.
Her eyes narrowed with anger. ‘With all respect, Barrán, as Chief Brehon you should know that withholding evidence in an investigation like this merits fines and could even bring you before the assembly of Brehons so that your appointment could be repudiated by them.’
For a moment the Chief Brehon was silent but his expression retained its good humour.
‘In what manner have I withheld evidence?’ he asked, and when she leaned forward as if to reply, he held up his hand to silence her. ‘The fact was that the divorce did not take place. If the intention was serious then Sechnussach’s death ended that. So Gormflaith became widow to the High King and therefore full heir to his entitlements. If the gossip of an impending divorce were made public then it might have had adverse consequences for her and her children’s status.’
‘Even though it was she who was divorcing Sechnussach?’ she snapped. ‘Divorcing him to marry Dubh Duin?’
Barrán‘s eyes widened a little. ‘She intended to marry Dubh Duin? Did Gormflaith tell you that?’
‘Does Gormflaith not speak the truth?’
‘I cannot tell you about the truth of her intentions. I can only tell you what I know.’
Fidelma smiled cynically. ‘You speak as a lawyer, Barrán.’
‘I am a lawyer,’ he reminded her with dry humour.
‘You did not know that it was her intention to marry Dubh Duin?’
‘If she expressed such an intention then I have forgotten.’
‘You did not introduce her to Dubh Duin?’
He hesitated, frowning. ‘I believe I did. But there are many people who throng the court at Tara that I might introduce to various others. Dubh Duin was a representative of his people in the Great Assembly. Those involved with the Great Assembly knew him. So, at some gathering, I might well have presented him to Gormflaith.’
‘The fact is that Gormflaith says she was planning to marry the man who assassinated Sechnussach. Do you confirm that the divorce was arranged?’
Barrán compressed his lips for a moment before replying. ‘I cannot. Gormflaith talked of the … the possibility. That is all.’
‘I am told that Sechnussach and Gormflaith were agreed and that you were writing out the settlement which would have been sealed on the day Gormflaith returned from Cluain Ioraird. Can I see that settlement?’
‘It does not exist, Fidelma. Does Gormflaith say it does? She must be upset. I do not understand this.’
Fidelma let out a breath of irritation. ‘So, you say that while Gormflaith talked about possibilities of divorce from Sechnussach, you have no knowledge of it as an actuality? Sechnussach and Gormflaith made no agreement nor did you draw up such an agreement?’
‘That is what I have said, Fidelma.’ Brehon Barrán’s expression was sad. ‘Do you think Gormflaith’s head has been turned by these events?’
‘Why would she confess to Dubh Duin being her lover and then make up the story about the divorce?’
‘Self-protection?’ Barrán suggested.
‘But she did not have to confess anything in the first place. She could have denied it. It does not follow.’
‘Unless it is to absolve her from any suspicion in the affair. But even if she is not involved, we now have a resolution to this matter for it gives Dubh Duin a motive in his killing. He was jealous … ’
‘No, no,’ Fidelma said immediately. ‘Her argument is that there was to be a divorce and that Dubh Duin knew all about it. She claims that he had no motive to get rid of Sechnussach. Gormflaith would have been free to marry him within a few days.’
‘There — you see? She is trying to exonerate herself by bringing in the matter of divorce. No one can seriously argue that Dubh Duin did not killSechnussach. She is saying that all the eye-witnesses are therefore liars?’ Barrán pursed his lips. ‘Mind you, if it comes to that, and she is stating that I had knowledge of a divorce, then she claims that I am a liar also.’
Fidelma was silent for a moment, before saying, ‘Yet she is admitting to matters that would bring discredit to her, whereas she could easily deny them.’
‘She could be trying to protect Dubh Duin.’
‘She could, but why? Why protect her lover in death while admitting that he was her lover? Why not just say that he was infatuated with her and she did not know his intentions? As I said, it puts her in a bad light. She could well have presented herself as a wronged woman, deceived by a lover who used her to kill the High King. No, it will not do. There is something wrong here.’
Brehon Barrán regarded her thoughtfully. ‘The investigation is yours but there are still several questions to be asked.’
‘I agree. The one fact we do know is that Dubh Duin killed Sechnussach. Whatever Gormflaith says, it remains a fact. The warrior Lugna says that the man admitted his guilt with his dying breath. If she is so besotted with him, even in death, that might explain her not wanting to admit the possibility that he used to her to get close to Sechnussach.’
‘You suspect that? But why would he want to kill Sechnussach, if not for her?’
‘Others are involved, and Dubh Duin is merely a tool. Otherwise, there are matters that make no sense. But we still do not know the motive. The motive becomes more important, the longer I think about things. Who uttered the scream that alerted the warrior Lugna to the High King’s death, thus causing Dubh Duin to take his own life? And why should Dubh Duin take his own life?’
Fidelma rose suddenly and regarded the Chief Brehon with a serious expression.
‘Do you know if Sechnussach, during the years of estrangement with Gormflaith, ever took a second wife?’
Brehon Barrán chuckled, then said, ‘Sechnussach could never have disguised the fact that he had a dormun, a second wife. It would have required many legal clarifications. You can be sure that he did not. His personal household would have had to know that, and only they knew that Sechnussach and Gormflaith were estranged. Outside the royal enclosure, no one else was aware of it.’
‘And who made the decision to live separately?’
Barrán looked surprised. ‘Gormflaith in the first place,’ he said. ‘I think that Sechnussach once contemplated divorce. He was considering the nofaults divorce. They would part on equitable terms without blame to one another. You
have to have agreement on the part of both people for that.’
‘So Sechnussach spoke of it but you are sure that, contrary to what Gormflaith says, nothing was agreed?’
‘To be perfectly honest,’ the Brehon admitted, ‘Sechnussach mentioned that it was Gormflaith who had first broached the matter, now I recall. They discussed matters between them but no agreement was made nor was I instructed to draw one up.’
‘Nevertheless, they discussed it after three years of estrangement. Gormflaith admits to her lover, but Sechnussach was a handsome and virile man. Did he really remain a celibate during those years?’
Brehon Barrán pursed his lips. ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘But if so, the High King was discreet — and discretion must have been imposed on anyone who was tempted to share his bed.’
‘Are you speculating or do you know this for a fact?’
‘I speculate, of course.’
‘And so you are not aware if Sechnussach had a mistress or even a series of mistresses?’
‘Sechnussach was not a man who gave his affections lightly.’
‘But he was still a man,’ Fidelma replied.
‘Then we must assume, as I have, that if he had a mistress then no one has been able to identify her and she has never come forward.’
Fidelma focused on the edge of the desk in some thought.
‘We are not in the middle of the forest here, Barrán. Someone must have known something, if such things were happening. Or else they are simply covering up their knowledge.’
‘It would follow that one or other of his household servants must have some knowledge,’ agreed the Chief Brehon. ‘And if you wish to approach the person who is most likely to have that knowledge, I would say that his personal attendant, his bollscari, would be the place to start.’
‘We are talking about Brother Rogallach?’
Barrán inclined his head in assent.
‘He is one of the few witnesses that I have yet to question,’ said Fidelma. ‘Are you saying that he was close to Sechnussach?’
‘As close as a servant may be to the person they serve.’
‘And therefore he would know of any secret liaisons, and trysts in the dead of night?’
‘Sechnussach could not have functioned without him. But — and far be it from me to offer you advice — isn’t the more important question: why would the assassin commit suicide without offering a defence?’
It was a question that had been uppermost in Fidelma’s mind and not merely since she had spoken with Gormflaith.
‘We will not know that until we find out why he killed Sechnussach. Don’t worry, I have pondered the problem. Why would a chieftain who, according to one report, is about to marry his lover, kill Sechnussach, make no effort to escape, and kill himself? We know that of all forms of fingal, or kin-slaying, self-slaughter is the worst of crimes. At the moment, it makes no sense at all unless Gormflaith has been frugal with the truth. Perhaps, as you say, she is trying to protect herself. At some stage, Barrán, I am afraid it will be a challenge between Gormflaith’s word and your word on this matter of the divorce agreement.’
‘I hope that may be avoided, Fidelma. The word of truth from a Brehon is a sacred matter.’ The Chief Brehon lifted his shoulder in a curious gesture of resignation. ‘I knew your task would not be easy,’ he confessed. ‘Had things been easy, then the Great Assembly would not have sent to Cashel to ask you to come.’
Fidelma raised her gaze to his. ‘If I am to continue this investigation, Barrán, I must be assured that nothing is being held back. Whatever your concerns for public knowledge and protecting the reputation of the High King and his lady, you should have let me know how matters stood between Sechnussach and Gormflaith in their estrangement.’
‘You found it out quickly enough,’ responded Barrán defensively. ‘And it does not bring you closer to a solution.’
‘That is beside the point. If I am to succeed, nothing should be held back. It is a principle of the law.’
‘You are right, of course,’ the Chief Brehon conceded, before raising his hand and letting it fall in a helpless gesture. ‘Sometimes, in the higher strata of politics … ’ he used the word riaglaid as an act of governing and rule ‘ … sometimes the right to information must take second place to the art of diplomacy.’
‘Well, it seems that you will not have to struggle with a conflict of decisions for much longer,’ she remarked.
Brehon Barrán looked puzzled.
‘Cenn Faelad,’ she reminded him,‘mentioned that he was nominating you as his heir-apparent, in which case you will give up the role of Chief Brehon.’
‘Cenn Faelad is kind,’ Barrán said, and gave a brief smile. ‘It will be a honour to serve my cousin in this new role.’
‘You do not feel it strange that he, being young, has nominated you, being older than he is, as his heir?’ mused Fidelma.
Brehon Barrán appeared slightly affronted. ‘I have several good years of service in me yet, Fidelma. I hope to be advising the High King and the Great Assembly for many years to come. It is a wise young king who appoints one more elderly to act as adviser.’
Fidelma shrugged indifferently. ‘I am a simple dálaigh, Barrán, whose job it is to discover the truth, and truth is often bitter but truth must always prevail if there is to be any hope for good government.’
Brehon Barrán was not perturbed at her implied censure.
‘You have my word, Fidelma. You have now had only the truth so far as it is in my possession to give it to you.’
‘So be it. And you can tell me no more about Dubh Duin who, Gormflaith says, you introduced to her?’
‘As I say, I have no recollection of it.’ Barrán shrugged. ‘I introduce many people to each other. All I recall about Dubh Duin is that he was regarded as a capable man, a good chieftain and a strong advocate of the rights of his people while in the Great Assembly. I would say he was inclined to be conservative in all his dealings.’ He then added: ‘I suspect he was conservative in matters of the old religion as well.’
‘Why do you suggest that? Are you saying that he did not embrace the New Faith?’
‘I really don’t know. He raised a heated debate in the Great Assembly once, asking that people should have as much right to follow the Old Faith as follow the New Faith. I know harsh words were exchanged with Sechnussach, but I was not there so cannot give you the details.’
Fidelma was not happy. ‘Harsh words between Sechnussach and Dubh Duin? Is this another question of information that would help my investigation that has somehow been overlooked?’ she said indignantly.
‘You must ask Irél, who was attending the Great Assembly that day or, indeed, one of those nobles who were present at the debate. I am not the investigator of this matter.’ Brehon Barrán made a motion of his hand as if in dismissal. ‘For me, there was nothing to mark Dubh Duin outsignificantly from the rest of the nobles of Midhe.’ He relaxed a little and grinned. ‘They are all egocentric with pretensions of high-minded morals. Dubh Duin liked to claim that the new religion was persecuting those who followed the old religion and that he was merely standing up for the rights of those who did so.’
Fidelma turned to the door, pausing with her hand about to open it. ‘It would be best if nothing else was concealed from me in the future, Barrán,’ she remarked tightly before she made her exit.
Outside, with the door closed, she exhaled deeply in exasperation. She was angry that the Chief Brehon had tried to conceal facts, claiming, in his defence, that it was good for the people. She returned along the corridor to the hallway of the Tech Cormaic, where she found Eadulf waiting for her.
‘There is no one at the hall of the Great Assembly at this time,’ he explained, ‘but I do have some information that might be useful. I had a word with Irél about Dubh Duin and an argument he had in the assembly.’
‘An argument with Sechnussach over religion?’ Fidelma said.
Eadulf’s face fell. ‘You already know about it
?’
She reached forward and took his arm in companionable fashion. ‘In truth, I have only just heard that it took place. I have no details. Come, let us go into the fresh air and then tell me all you know.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Eadulf had related his conversation with Irél, the commander of the Fianna, Fidelma merely commented: ‘It is background information that helps to paint a picture of our assassin, but not much else. There is still much to discover.’
‘What did Brehon Barrán have to say to you? Did Gormflaith tell the truth?’
‘I am afraid that both Gormflaith and Barrán tell stories that are impossible to reconcile. Barrán said that so far as he knew, no divorce was arranged and he was never asked to draw up a settlement to be agreed by them.’
She was about to speak further when the dowdy young woman who had been serving in the guesthouse, Cnucha, came hurrying by. Fidelma called to her and the girl, seeing who it was, came over immediately, her hands demurely folded before her.
‘May I help, lady?’ she asked, eyes downcast.
‘I am looking for Brother Rogallach. Would you know where he is?’
The girl indicated towards the back of the Tech Cormaic.
‘At this hour you will find him in the kitchen, lady. The door at the back is open, so you may go through the house to the kitchen.’
Fidelma was about to thank the girl when the figure of Brónach appeared on the steps of the royal residence and glowered angrily at them.
‘Cnucha! What are you loitering there for? I sent you to help Báine in the guesthouse. Be off with you!’ The woman turned on her heel and went inside.
Cnucha, in an uncharacteristic show of temper, suddenly stuck out a tongue in her direction and then, realising that the others had seen her, she blushed and lowered her head.
‘I am sorry, lady. Sometimes it is difficult to put up with all the insults that have to be endured when people think you have no feelings and no ability to fight back. I am sure Brónach is usually a good person. Recently, however, she has become increasingly irritable. I think it is because her lover may have left her.’
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