"How many wrong judgments had your husband made this last year, then? How could he have become poverty-stricken?'
"There were eleven wrong judgments during this last year."
Fidelma's eyebrows raised in surprise. Eighty-eight silver séd, which could buy nearly thirty milch cows, was a staggering sum to have to pay out in compensation in a single year. No wonder there was talk of disbarring Fiacc.
"He was to be heard before the Chief Brehon to answer the fact that he had gone into debt to pay fines and to answer for his competency as a judge," Étromma added.
"Are you saying that he had borrowed money to pay?'
"That is why I was divorcing him."
Fidelma realised that a judge who turned to moneylenders to support him would certainly be disbarred if he could not present a valid argument to endorse his actions. Clearly, Fiacc had been in considerable trouble.
"So your husband was worried about his situation?'
Étromma chuckled drily.
"Worried? No, he was not. At least not recently."
"Not worried?' pressed Fidelma sharply.
"He tried to stop me divorcing him by claiming that it was only a temporary matter and that he was not really destitute. He said that he was expecting money shortly and, after that, if the people did not want him as judge, he would be rich enough to live without working."
"Did he explain where the money was coming from? How would he pay off his debts and find the money to live for the rest of his life in any degree of comfort?'
"He did not explain. Nor did I care. I think he was just a liar or a fool. It was his problem. He knew that if he lied to me and he was disbarred and shown to be penniless then I would leave. It was as simple as that. I was not going to recall my application for divorce."
Fidelma tried to conceal her dislike of the cold, commercial attitude of the young woman.
"You were not at all interested where your husband would suddenly obtain money, if he actually did so?"
"I knew he would not. He was a liar."
"At what point did he become confident that he would manage to obtain money, to pay his debts?"
The woman Étromma reflected for a moment.
"I suppose that he started to brag that he was going to overcome this problem a day or so ago. Yes, it was yesterday morning."
"You mean that he was worried until yesterday morning?'
"Precisely so."
"When did you both arrive here at Tara?
"Four days ago."
"And during that time, Fiacc was concerned? Then yesterday morning his attitude changed?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Did he meet with anyone here?
Étromma shrugged. "He was known to many people here. I was not interested in his friends."
"I mean, was there anyone in particular with whom he spent some time at Tara? Was there anyone who could be described as a close friend or confidant?"
"Not so far as I know. He was a solitary man. I do not think he met with anyone here. He kept to himself. The only thing that I know he did was go for walks on his own in the graveyard of the High Kings." Étromma paused to sniff. "I thought he was getting maudlin. But, as I said, yesterday he came back grinning like a cat who had found a dish of cream. He assured me that things would be all right. I knew he was a liar, so I was not going to alter my plans to leave him."
Fidelma stood up abruptly.
"I will not express my condolences, Étromma," she said with emphasis. "Doubtless you do not expect them. You are obviously more concerned with the financial arrangements. Fiacc was still your husband when he met his death. Your husband was murdered. I think I now know who the murderer is and, if proven, the compensation due for the slaying of your husband, as a Brehon of lower rank, is three séd of silver. It is not a fortune but it will keep you momentarily from poverty, and doubtless you will soon find someone else to support you."
Abbot Colmán followed her unhappily along the corridors of the palace towards his chamber. "You were harsh, Sister. After all, she has just been widowed and is only eighteen years old."
Fidelma was indifferent.
"I meant to be harsh. She felt nothing for Fiacc. He was merely a source of income for her. She proclaims her motto without shame — lucri bonus est odor ex requalibet."
Colmán grimaced. "Sweet is the smell of money obtained from any source. Isn't that from Juvenal's Satires?"
Fidelma smiled briefly.
"Send for Irél, Tressach, and Garbh to come to your chamber. I think I can now solve this problem."
It was not long before the three men crowded curiously into the abbot's chamber.
Fidelma was seated in a chair before the fire while Colmán stood with his back to it, a little to one side. His hands were clasped behind his back.
"Well now." Fidelma raised her head and regarded them each in turn before addressing the warrior, Tressach. "How long have you been a guard at Tara, Tressach?"
"Three years, Sister."
"And how long have you patrolled the compound containing the tombs of the High Kings?'
"One year."
"And you, Irél? You are captain of the guards of Tara. How long have you been here?"
"I entered the service of the High Kings some ten years ago. Conall Cáel was still High King then. I have been captain here for the last year."
She looked from one to another and shook her head sadly.
"And how long has Sechnassach been High King?" she continued.
Irél frowned, not understanding the logic of this question. He regarded Fidelma as if she were joking. But her expression was completely serious.
"How long? You must know that, Sister. Everyone does. It was three years ago when the joint High Kings, Diarmait and Blath-mac, died of the yellow plague within a week of one another. That was when Sechnassach became High King."
"Three years ago?" pressed Fidelma.
"You must remember, Fidelma," interrupted Colmán, wondering how she could have forgotten. "You were in Tara on that occasion yourself." But she ignored him and continued to direct her questions to Irél.
"And is the High King in good health?"
"To my knowledge, thanks be to God," Irél replied, becoming slightly defensive.
"And his family?" continued Fidelma remorselessly. "Are they in good health?'
"Indeed, the High King is blessed."
"I told you as much myself when you arrived earlier," frowned Colmán, wondering if Fidelma was losing her memory.
"So what is the purpose of the new grave being dug behind the tomb of Tigernmas?'
The question was asked so softly that it took a moment or two for its implication to sink in. Fidelma's fiery green eyes were fixed on the keeper of the cemetery.
Garbh's mouth dropped open and he began to stutter. Then he hung his head in silence.
"Hold him," instructed Fidelma calmly. "He is to be held for premeditated murder and grave robbery."
With astonished expressions, Irél and Tressach moved close to the side of the keeper of the cemetery.
Fidelma now rose languidly to her feet and gazed sorrowfully at Garbh. "There has been no death of a High King or any member of his family during the last three years. Sechnassach is still young and healthy. Why then dig a new grave in the cemetery of the High Kings? Will you explain, Garbh, or shall I?"
Garbh remained silent.
"You started digging the grave in order to construct a small passage into the tomb of Tigernmas, didn't you, Garbh?"
"For what purpose would one want to enter an ancient tomb?" demanded Colmán, chagrined that he had not spotted such an obvious matter as the new grave.
"To rob the tomb, of course," replied Fidelma. "Where were all the gold, silver, and jewels that would have been buried with Tigernmas? Only a single silver bar and some gold jewellery lay discarded on the floor of the burial chamber. Tigernmas was a king of many legends. But it was well known that he ruled a rich court. Following the custom of our ancestors, rich grave goods would have been placed there to serve him in the Otherworld."