‘Of course you would,‘smiled Fidelma. ‘Thank you for your time.’
Outside, Eadulf turned a doleful expression to Fidelma. ‘If Rogallach did not know … ’
A look of satisfaction on her face, Fidelma began to say: ‘I think I know how—’
‘Lady!’
They turned together as Irél, the commander of the Fianna, approached and greeted them enthusiastically.
‘I arrived back this morning. The prisoners we took from the raiders’ encampment will be here soon. The wounded are being attended to at Ceananas and at Delbna Mór. A most satisfactory conclusion to this attempted rebellion. I thought I would report back to Cenn Faelad.’
The commander of the Fianna seemed pleased with himself.
‘So peace has returned to Midhe?’ Eadulf said.
Irél answered affirmatively. Then: ‘I saw Ardgal, as I was entering Tara. He told me that you had caught up with Cuan, trying to escape to Alba. I look forward to my next meeting with him. He is the first deserter from the Fianna in many a year.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘That meeting will have to be deferred until after I have presented certain facts to the Great Assembly,’ she said.
‘About Sechnussach’s death? So Cuan was involved?’
‘I can say that much, at least.’
‘Then I can wait,’ Irél assured her. ‘You have questioned him as you wanted?’
‘I have.’
Irél paused and then added: ‘There was a merchant from An Uaimh that I met on the way here. He gave me news about that foreigner, Verbas of Peqini.’
Fidelma was interested. ‘What about him?’
‘Apparently, he has sailed. The merchant consulted a local Brehon about his rights to get back his slave and the Brehon was so outraged to hear that Verbas felt he could own a child that he boxed his ears and told him the sooner he left our country, the better.’
Fidelma chuckled. ‘Excellent. So he has left these shores. Let us hope that he decides to stay away from them in the future.’
‘Oh, and Bishop Luachan and Brother Céin have arrived by wagon. His ankle is improving but, rather than wait, he felt his place should be here in Tara at this time.’ Irél raised a hand, half in salute, as he turned away to continue on his way.
‘What now?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Now I think that we can go to Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán. I have
had enough of Tara and its intrigues. It is time we returned to the peace of Cashel and to our little Alchú. At this rate, our poor child will not know us. We barely spend any time at all with him.’
Eadulf grimaced but wisely said nothing.
They found the heir-elect with his Chief Brehon in the house of Abbot Colmán in the royal enclosure; the abbot had apparently been discussing some documents with them.
Cenn Faelad seemed relieved to see them.
‘You have come at an appropriate moment. We have been discussing this matter of your report. All the members, or their representatives, of the Great Assembly are now in Tara. Brehon Barrán insists that we must bring matters to a conclusion by the end of today. We have run out of time.’
Behind him Brehon Barrán stood with a stern face.
‘I warned you yesterday, Fidelma, that I could give you only a day more. By sundown tonight, that extra day is ended. I can do no more.’
Abbot Colmán was looking unhappy. Fidelma kept her gaze on Cenn Faelad.
‘I will not protest,’ she said demurely. ‘In fact, I was seeking you out to say that it would be agreeable to me if you called the Great Assembly together tomorrow at an appropriate hour. I will then present my report and seek their pardon for taking so long in this matter.’
Cenn Faelad exchanged a glance of surprise with the others before turning back to her.
‘So you have come to the end of your investigation?’
‘I think I can present facts that will lead the Great Assembly to form a satisfactory conclusion as to the matter,’ she replied pointedly.
‘And what is that?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.
Cenn Faelad looked surprised at this intervention, but before he could speak, Fidelma said disapprovingly: ‘As Chief Brehon, you should know better than to ask the outcome of a report before it is presented for approval to the Great Assembly.
Barrán flushed. ‘It was but a natural curiosity,’ he muttered. ‘But it is good. As soon as the Great Assembly has met we can proceed with the inauguration of the High King and resume the business of governing the five kingdoms once again. We have been too long without power.’
Fidelma still regarded him in disapproval. ‘Without power? Do we not boast that in this land, power resides with the people? Is it not an ancient
saying – what makes a people stronger than a king? The answer being, because the people ordain the king, the king does not ordain the people.’
Cenn Faelad laughed jovially. ‘The saying is true and you are right in law, as always, Fidelma. Barrán was using an expression, that’s all. Nevertheless, he has been nervous that the lack of a strong centre could cause the individual parts of the five kingdoms to crumble and dissolve. So your news is good. I will issue the call for the Great Assembly to be convoked tomorrow.’
On the way back to the guesthouse, Eadulf was still perplexed.
‘On the surface, the motivation seems straightforward,’ he said. ‘Dubh Duin was part of the fanatical pagan movement – but surely he must have known the law of succession, that the death of the High King would not advance his cause unless the successor was a supporter of that cause?’
Fidelma smiled appreciatively. ‘You are perceptive, Eadulf.’
Eadulf frowned. ‘I don’t see … ’
‘Well, to be honest, neither did I see the real solution until Brother Rogallach repeated a favourite saying of Sechnussach last night.’
‘A favourite saying … ?’
‘Sit non doctissima conjux.
’ And at her husband’s blank look, she took him by the arm. ‘Come, I’ll explain it all to you in preparation for what we must do tomorrow,’ she said confidently.
I
t was noon when the nobles of the
Airlechas,
the Great Assembly, began to gather in the
Forradh
or royal seat to the east of the High King’s residence rather than at the Rath of Great Assembly to the north of the royal enclosure. The
Airlechas
consisted of three groups: the first was the nobles representing the five kingdoms; if the kings were unable to attend, then their heir apparent came in their stead. Indeed, Fidelma had already seen the arrival of her cousin, Finguine mac Cathail, her brother’s heir or
tánaiste.
The second group consisted of the leading Brehons, or judges, of the five kingdoms; and the third group were the leading churchmen, among whom was Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, the senior churchman of the southern kingdoms, and his rival, Ségéne, the abbot and bishop of Ard Macha, who claimed ecclesiastical seniority over the northern kingdoms.
The
Forradh
seemed packed with the great and the good and they sat in noisy rows in the large wooden hall.
Fidelma and Eadulf had taken their seats in the well of the hall. Two chairs had been placed there for them, behind which Caol and Gormán stood. When Fidelma emerged to accompany Eadulf to the
Forradh,
his eyes widened at the metamorphosis that had taken place. She had discarded the simple and practical garb that she usually wore as a member of the religious and had put on clothes that proclaimed her as the daughter, and the sister, of a King of Muman.
She had chosen a gown of deep blue satin with intricate gold thread patterning. It fitted snugly into the waist but then flowed out into a full skirt, which came to her ankles. The sleeves were of a style called
lamfhoss,
tight on the upper arms but spilling out just below the elbow and around the wrists in imitation of the lower part of the dress. Over this was
a sleeveless tunic, called an
inar,
that covered the top of the dress but ended at the waist. From her shoulders hung a short
lummon
, a cape of contrasting, red-coloured satin edged with badger’s fur. The cape was fastened on the left shoulder by a round brooch of silver and semi-precious stones. On her feet were specially decorated sandals, sewn with pieces of multi-coloured glass, and called
mael-assa.
Around her wrists were bracelets of complementary-coloured glass, and at her neck was a simple golden torc, indicating not only her royal position but that she was of the elite Nasc Niadh of Muman. Around her fiery red hair was a band of silver with three semi-precious stones at the front – two emeralds from the country of the Corco Duibhne and a fiery red stone which Eadulf could not place – these reflected the stones used in the silver brooch that held her cape. This headband served to keep in place a piece of silk that covered her hair but left her face bare. It was called a
conniul
and indicated her married status, for it was the custom of married women and also of the female religious to cover their heads to show their status. Had not Paul instructed the Corinthians that a woman who did not have her hair covered when she prayed might as well have her hair cut off?
Eadulf had not seen Fidelma dressed in such finery since their official wedding day.
‘Perhaps I should have borrowed warrior’s clothing from Gormán,’ he greeted her with dry humour.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted. ‘We go to stand before the High King elect of the five kingdoms, and the kings and nobles of the five kingdoms gathered in the Great Assembly. In such a formal meeting there is a protocol in dress that is prescribed by law.’
‘I should have known that the Brehons even have rules on dress. But it makes me seem a poor peasant by comparison,’ he replied dolefully, glancing down at himself. He had put on his best clothes, but his simple garments were rough and homespun by contrast with hers.
‘Just remember that you are Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ Fidelma admonished firmly. ‘And my husband.’
He had difficulty remembering it when they entered the hall of the Great Assembly. If there was one thing he had learned about the noble and wealthy classes of the people of Éireann, it was that they loved to dress up in bright colours and jewellery – and both males as well as females would add to it by putting on cosmetics – berry juice to brighten
the lips or darken the eyebrows or enhance the blush of the cheek. He disapproved of it and was pleased to see that Fidelma had used red berry juice on her lips sparingly and added only a thin line to highlight her eyebrows. As he glanced round at the gathering, he realised that his fears were correct. It was not Fidelma who stood out in her choice of clothing but his plain and simple garments that drew the eye.
Around the hall, members of the Fianna stood sentinel and Irél himself commanded a detachment of warriors who formed up behind a row of empty benches at one side of the hall. These had been reserved for the witnesses that Fidelma, through Brehon Barrán, had instructed to attend the hearing; they were now awaiting the summons to enter.
Usually, at the Great Assembly meetings the positions of honour went to the High King and his Chief Brehon. As Cenn Faelad entered with Brehon Barrán and made towards these seats, the dour-faced Congal Cendfota of the Dál Fiatach of Ulaidh sprang up, raising his voice in objection. He shouted to make himself overheard above the hubbub. This caused even greater pandemonium. Finally, Cenn Faelad brought the place to order.
‘We will only proceed when there is quiet among us,’ he bellowed.
The noise died into a muttering and a shuffling of feet.
‘Now, Congal Cendfota, why do you object to Brehon Barrán and I taking our seats to conduct the affairs of this Great Assembly?’ demanded Cenn Faelad.
The burly northern noble still stood in his place.
‘This Great Assembly made a decision at its last meeting – that there were potential conflicts in the Uí Néill about the investigation of the matter of Sechnussach’s assassination. He was an Ui Néill and his assassin was an Uí Néill. The person that gains from his assassination is an Uí Néill. The Chief Brehon, overseeing such an investigation, is an Uí Néill. So it was decided that the Chief Brehon should not conduct the investigation. It was also decided that you, Cenn Faelad, while
tánaiste
to your brother, Sechnussach, should not be inaugurated until the investigation was concluded.’
Cenn Faelad grimaced impatiently. ‘And this is exactly why we now meet, Congal Cendfota! As this Great Assembly instructed, Fidelma of Cashel – an Eóghanacht — came to investigate and is about to make her report. What is your objection?’
Congal Cendfota waited until the muttering subsided again. He pointed
to the chairs of office in which Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán were about to be seated.
‘Until that report and its conclusions are confirmed by this Assembly, I contend that neither you nor Brehon Barrán can have a say in conducting this meeting. It would be unseemly and implies a foregone conclusion.’
There were many who voiced their agreement with this argument and, indeed, Fidelma looked across at Eadulf and nodded approvingly.
‘It seems a logical point of procedure,’ she whispered, ‘although slightly pedantic.’
Cenn Faelad held a whispered exchange with Barrán.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will sit in the Great Assembly only as observers. But who will conduct the proceedings?’
‘Fianamail of Laigin,’ proposed one of the Laigin churchmen.
This immediately brought protest from one of the Ulaidh nobles.
‘If Fianamail of Laigin presides over this Great Assembly on behalf of the High King, then it would be tantamount to approving Laigin as next in line to the High Kingship!’
‘Then I propose Diarmait, chieftain of Uisnech!’ cried another voice.
‘He is just another Uí Néill,’ called a chieftain from Connacht.
Again, a hubbub broke out.
Then Ségéne of Ard Macha rose and walked across the chamber to where Ségdae of Imleach was seated. Ségdae rose to greet him and both men held a hurried conversation. They turned to face the Great Assembly.
‘My brother in Christ and I have a proposal,’ Abbot Ségéne announced, silencing the noise of speculation. ‘The matter of delivering the report should be a relatively simple affair. We believe that the steward and spiritual adviser to this Great Assembly, Abbot Colmán, should control the proceedings, acting with the advice of Sedna, the deputy Chief Brehon. Neither is an Uí Néill and both have the authority of their office. Let anyone who has any objection to this, state that objection.’
There was a silence and then a murmuring of approval arose.
Cenn Faelad, with some relief, said: ‘Then it seems we are agreed. We will sit here as observers. Come forward, Colmán, come forward, Sedna, so that we may proceed.’
Abbot Colmán and Brehon Sedna came forward to take their seats and an expectant hush fell on the assembly.
Abbot Colmán glanced at his companion and then turned to face the Great Assembly.
‘There is little need to preamble these proceedings. For reasons we are all aware of, the Great Assembly decided that the matter of the assassination of our High King, Sechnussach, by Dubh Duin, chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre, should be investigated by an unbiased
dálaigh
— Fidelma of the Eóghanacht, Fidelma of Cashel. She was asked to investigate the motives and discover whether anyone other than Dubh Duin was involved in this matter.’ He paused and looked to where Fidelma was seated. ‘Fidelma of Cashel, are you prepared to present the results of such an investigation?’
Fidelma rose and cleared her throat. ‘I am. In corroboration of my report, I have called on certain witnesses to stand ready to confirm or deny my contentions. I would ask the leniency of this Great Assembly to bring them into this hall to sit among us so that they respond to the arguments that I shall place before you.’
Abbot Colmán turned to Brehon Sedna and they held a hurried and whispered exchange. It was Brehon Sedna who spoke next.
‘There is a legal objection to your request, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He spoke in sharp, incisive tones. ‘It must be made clear that this is not a court in which the guilty can be prosecuted. If it is found that anyone else has acted in collusion with the assassin, then this Great Assembly cannot make judgement. The procedure as laid down in the
Cóic Conara Fugill
, the Five Paths of Judgement, must be followed. Today is simply a hearing of your report … ’
Fidelma inclined her head towards him. ‘I would like to plead a precedent for bringing the witnesses here … ’
‘A precedent?’ snapped Brehon Sedna. ‘Surely the assassination of the High King has no precedent?’
Fidelma smiled softly. ‘I would respectfully refer the learned Brehon to the scribes who record that the High King Muirchertach, son of Erc, was drowned in a vat full of wine at his house at Cleiteach on Ucht Cleitig by the banks of the Bóinn. It is true this took place many generations ago. Indeed, so we are told, it happened in the very year of the death of the Blessed Ailbe of Imleach, who brought the Christian teaching to our poor kingdom of Muman.’
Brehon Sedna flushed, turning to one of the scribes whose task it was to record the decisions of the Great Assembly and was learned in its protocols and history. He beckoned the man forward and there was a whispered exchange between them. Brehon Sedna turned with a surprised look to Fidelma.
‘May I congratulate you on your knowledge,’ he said. ‘I am reminded that a woman named Sin was considered the culprit in the death of the High King Muirchertach which happened as you have said.’
Fidelma was not triumphant at making the point.
‘You will find that, according to the records, it was a strange death. His house was set on fire and the High King climbed into a vat of wine to escape the flames. The ridgepole of the house, having been burned away, fell on the High King’s head, knocking him unconscious, so that he fell back into the vat and drowned. This Great Assembly held a hearing and witnesses were brought to sit before it to hear the report presented by the Brehon appointed to investigate. That is the precedent that I argue.’
Brehon Sedna turned back to the scribe who nodded rapidly in agreement with her summary.
‘We will accept the precedent and allow your witnesses to sit in the Great Assembly to hear your report.’
There was a silence while Irél led in Gormflaith and her daughter Muirgel, which caused a great deal of outspoken surprise among the Assembly. They were shown to empty benches guarded by members of the Fianna. Then came the warriors Lugna, Erc and Cuan, the latter closely guarded. All the servants of the High King’s household, Brother Rogallach, Torpach, Brónach, Báine, Cnucha, Maoláin and Duirnín followed. Bishop Luachan, still limping, and his steward Brother Céin came next. Finally, Iceadh the apothecary entered and took his place. Brehon Sedna waited until they were all seated before addressing Fidelma.
‘This procedure now brings forward a second point of law. Abbot Colmán must surely take his place with the witnesses and be excluded from sitting here.’
Abbot Colmán looked at his companion in surprise at the contention but Fidelma raised her hands to still the murmuring that broke out.