‘Are you asking me to believe that a man who has confidence that he can negotiate his way out of this situation resorts to hanging himself? Are you suggesting that a man with hands securely tied can, in the darkness of this place, find a length of rope, fashion a noose, throw the rope over that high beam, place the noose round his neck, tie the other end to that bar across there and . . . then what? Miraculously levitate himself so that the rope leaves him suspended in the air?’
‘If he had tied that end of the rope it would have been secured, then he could have found something to stand on, place the noose round his neck and taken the plunge that ended his life,’ Enda argued.
‘So, if that were possible – which it is not – where would he have taken the plunge from? Where is the stool on which to climb or a wooden box? Are you saying that after he had hanged himself, he climbed down and hid them? And he did all this with his hands still tied together?’ Eadulf tried to keep the derision out of his voice
‘What conclusion is there, friend Eadulf?’ Gormán asked patiently.
‘While we have been speaking with the King, someone came to this shed, removed the bar, stuffed that cloth into Rudgal’s mouth in the form of a gag, took the rope, put it in position and then hauled the victim up, choking him to death. The killer then secured the rope to the bar, and left the body. Perhaps he left in a hurry, for he did not properly secure the bar in its place at the door. Rudgal has been murdered – silenced to prevent him revealing the information with which he planned to barter for his freedom.’
Gormán was staring at him in amazement. ‘But that means . . .’
‘Yes. It means that someone in the palace is the killer. That same person who killed Brother Cerdic has now killed Rudgal, which proves that there must be a connection.’
‘Well, we can eliminate some people from being suspected of the crime,’ Gormán suggested brightly.
‘Such as?’
‘Well, everyone who was in Colgú’s chamber. They are still there, waiting for us to take Rudgal before them.’
‘That still leaves a lot of suspects,’ Eadulf pointed out gloomily. ‘You had better take charge here while I inform Colgú. Question anyone who had business in and around the
Laochtech
while Rudgal was incarcerated. Someone might have seen or heard something that could lead us to the killer.’
‘I’ll do my best, friend Eadulf.’
Eadulf was not prepared for the reception that he received from Colgú’s Chief Brehon, Aillín, when he reported the death. Everyone had been shocked by the news, but Brehon Aillín stood forward aggressively.
‘I should now take over this matter, lord,’ he said stiffly. ‘This is the second murder in your palace within days, and both remain without a resolution. I would argue that this is because I have not been allowed to follow the obvious suspect. I should have been permitted to investigate the killing of Brother Cerdic in the first place. Had I done so, perhaps this second murder would have been prevented.’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed dangerously; she already anticipated who the pugnacious Brehon would suggest as ‘the obvious suspect’.
‘You have a theory then which connects the murder of Brother Cerdic with this young outlaw?’ Colgú invited, not being as perceptive as his sister in the matter.
Fidelma could not restrain herself. ‘Yes – speak, Aillín. Share your insight with us and explain how the solution of the first murder might have prevented the second one?’
Brehon Aillín flushed angrily at her mocking tone. ‘Am I to be questioned by a junior, a
dálaigh
?’ he demanded.
‘I presume you do have an explanation?’ Colgú asked quietly. ‘The investigation into the death of Brother Cerdic has been placed in the hands of my sister who, junior or not, is experienced in such matters. But if you have a theory . . .?’
Brehon Aillín drew himself up to his full height and his scowl deepened.
‘
I
am more experienced in law, which is why I am your Chief Brehon.’
‘By default!’ exclaimed Abbot Ségdae, softly but audibly. He had no time for the elderly judge.
‘I would at least be independent of undue influence,’ retorted the Brehon heatedly, glancing at Eadulf, who now picked up what was being implied and coloured hotly.
‘Independent?’ Fidelma found it hard to control her irritation. ‘By which I presume you imply that I am biased? As I recall, you wanted to blame the death of Brother Cerdic on Eadulf, based on the simple fact that he, too, was of the same nation. Is that so?’
Brehon Aillín would not back down. ‘I would have used logic, not emotion. The fact that Brother Eadulf has now been shown to be in the proximity of both deaths would not be ignored by me.’
Eadulf took an involuntary step forward, his hands clenched at his sides, but Colgú raised his hand to stay him. His own scowl had deepened. His voice became cold and deliberate.
‘You forget yourself, Brehon Aillín. In the matter of the death of this man, Rudgal, your
logic
may recall that Eadulf was here with us from the time Rudgal was brought into the palace until the time he went with Gormán to bring him before us and discovered the body. As for the death of Brother Cerdic, I thought you were joking when you claimed that Eadulf should be regarded as a suspect. Now I think I see some prejudice in your reasoning, for I see nothing else that needs to be responded to. You may now leave us.’
Brehon Aillín’s figure was rigid as the King spoke. His lips were bloodless; it seemed he had difficulty in articulating. ‘B-but the death of Rudgal,’ he stammered. ‘That has to be investigated.’
Colgú stared moodily at him for a moment. Then he said: ‘I shall appoint someone to consider the matter. I suggest you now retire to consider your own position. You are impugning the character of my sister’s husband without just cause and before witnesses.’
Brehon Aillín continued to stand absolutely still for a moment or two. His lips were still twitching, as if he were trying to respond. Then his jaw clenched, he swung round and strode out of the council chamber.
Fidelma’s expression had softened from anger to sadness. ‘Perhaps we were too hard on him, brother,’ she ventured.
Colgú regarded her in surprise. ‘You have a changeable temperament, sister.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I admit my faults. Sometimes I allow my passion to control me. I am inclined to think that Aillín is an old man and old men are sometimes wont to foolishness.’
‘He is Chief Brehon of Muman,’ Colgú replied sternly. ‘Even if he came to the position by the untimely death of poor Áedo, he is still the chief official of the law in my kingdom. He has standards to uphold.’
Eadulf cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘I would not like to see the man suffer simply because he dislikes me,’ he ventured.
‘Dislike is one thing, Eadulf,’ Colgú pointed out, ‘but accusing you of murder on the basis of dislike only, places him beyond service to the law. We all take an oath to pursue the truth.’
‘And to commit such a breach of etiquette in front of visitors . . .’ It was the voice of Abbot Ségdae which brought them back to reality. Throughout the exchange Prince Cummasach had been sitting in silence with his Brehon standing at his side. They had been shocked by the exchange, and the news that had engendered it, but they had offered no comment. Now Cummasach rose from his chair.
‘We are wasting time,’ he announced distantly. ‘I have done my duty in capturing the man who led the attack on the religious on the river. I brought him here and placed him in the custody of the King. Now he is dead. I shall return to the Land of the Déisi.’
‘One thing remains, however.’ It was the Déisi Brehon, Furudán, who demanded their attention. ‘Although a confessed killer, Rudgal was killed unlawfully and in the palace of the High King. He was brought here under the protection of Cummasach, Prince of the Déisi. Therefore reparation must be given to Cummasach, whose reputation is thus impaired as being unable to extend his protection to those who have submitted to him.’
There was a silence before Colgú turned with a helpless glance to Fidelma.
‘Is that true?’ he asked.
Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘It is so. However, an adequate time must be given for a Brehon to be able to investigate and consider who was responsible for the unlawful killing before reparation is offered.’
‘An adequate time?’ queried Colgú, looking relieved and turning back to Brehon Furudán.
‘It is the law,’ agreed the Brehon. ‘Yet “adequate” is a word that can be debated.’
‘That which is acceptable for the task to be undertaken?’ suggested Fidelma softly.
‘
Comchirte
,’ replied the Brehon. It was the legal word for ‘acceptable’.
‘Then, as we are approaching the full of the moon,’ Fidelma said, ‘so let us wait until the next full of the moon. We will endeavour to complete the investigation by that time. Is that acceptable?’
Brehon Furudán and Cummasach exchanged a glance and both nodded at once.
‘
Comchirte
,’ repeated Furudán.
The rituals of the departure of Prince Cummasach and his Brehon were amiable enough. The laws of hospitality were adhered to. They had been pressed to stay and attend the evening meal, but politely declined. If the truth were known, Colgú was relieved.
After they had gone, he said to his sister, ‘It’s all very well, but what if you can’t resolve this matter? Now we have that to deal with as well as the death of that emissary of the deputation from Canterbury.’
‘There is no mystery without a solution, Colgú,’ Fidelma said firmly. ‘Leave it to us. A period between the full moons is adequate.’
The King did not look confident but accepted her optimism.
‘Gormán is already questioning the members of the bodyguard to see if they noticed anything,’ Eadulf told him.
‘The body should be taken to Brother Conchobhar to prepare for a funeral,’ Colgú declared. ‘Where is Egric? Did he identify the man as his attacker?’
Eadulf was unhappy. ‘My brother hasn’t returned from Rumann’s tavern since Cummasach brought his prisoner here. He’s with Dego. I will fetch him now and take him to view the body.’
‘Let us try to resolve this matter quickly,’ Colgú urged. ‘Now that Fidelma has informed me that this coming deputation includes none other than a brother of the Bishop of Rome, it becomes even more urgent.’
‘Are we sure that this Venerable Verax is truly brother to the Bishop of Rome?’ Abbot Segdae looked questioningly at Eadulf. ‘Brother Madagan did not know.’
‘If the man
is
the Venerable Verax, son of Anastasius of Segni, then that is the case. And he has great authority in the Church. There was no reason why Brother Madagan should know this. Only I recognised the name, having been in Rome for a while.’
‘Well, it is known now,’ Colgú said heavily. ‘This means we are dealing with someone of importance, a prince among princes. It also means,’ he turned with a scowl in search of his steward Beccan, ‘that we will have to prepare a feast and entertainment fit for such a man.’
‘What of Brehon Aillín, brother?’ Fidelma asked, still feeling guilty about the departure of the disgraced elderly judge.
Colgú sat back with a look of resolution at Fidelma. ‘I shall need a new legal adviser.’
‘Aillín is still your Chief Brehon,’ she demurred.
‘The man is a liability. He has never liked you nor accepted Eadulf. Now he has gone beyond reasonable behaviour. He has dishonoured me in front of the Prince of the Déisi and his Brehon.’
‘It will be up to the Council of Brehon to see if he has erred in any way and whether he needs to be replaced,’ Fidelma reminded him. ‘You cannot take his title from him before that happens.’
‘I wish I could,’ her brother sighed. ‘However, I can appoint whoever I like to advise me, so long as they are qualified. We have two unexplained deaths on our hands. You have already been charged with investigating one, Fidelma. Now you must take on the investigation of the other. Also . . .’ he paused for a moment. ‘You and Eadulf will have to hold yourselves ready to advise me when this deputation arrives.’
Eadulf cleared his throat awkwardly.
‘You have a problem with this, friend Eadulf?’ the King wanted to know.
‘Brehon Aillín should be at your side during the visit by this deputation. Won’t it look strange if your Chief Brehon is absent?’
Colgú made a dismissive gesture. ‘I want someone I can trust, someone without prejudice. Moreover, someone forward-looking rather than the pedant and conservative that Aillín is.’
‘He will not take kindly to being dismissed,’ Fidelma warned.
‘I do not like doing it,’ confessed her brother. ‘But it is one of the responsibilities of kingship.’
‘It is up to you who you appoint to advise you, but it is the Council of Brehons who must appoint their Chief Brehon,’ repeated Fidelma.
‘The Council appointed Áedo as Chief Brehon,’ replied Colgú. ‘When Áedo was killed a few months ago while trying to save me from that murderous assassin, Aillín took over the office because the Council had made him deputy out of respect for his age and service. They did it as an honour for his age, not expecting him to accede to the office. Now it is time they convened and a new Chief Brehon was appointed.’
Abbot Ségdae smiled meditatively at Fidelma. ‘You stood against Áedo for the position last time.’
Fidelma replied, without amusement, ‘That is true. But it taught me that being Chief Brehon was not the position I thought it would be. I need to be involved in administering the law. A Chief Brehon spends most of their time administering the work of judges and lawyers throughout the kingdom and dealing with complaints and appeals. They become removed from the people – and it is with the people that my strength lies. I am content to remain an advocate.’
Eadulf disguised the relief that he felt at her words. For a while he had wondered if Fidelma would seize the opportunity to apply again for election before the Council of the senior Brehons of the kingdom. If truth were told, he had been delighted when she was rejected in favour of Áedo.
‘Well, we must ask the Brehons to convene their Council soon,’ Colgú decided. ‘I will send a messenger to let the leading Brehons know of my request.’