Chapter Seventeen
Fidelma was rooted to the spot in stupefaction. It was Wenbrit who reacted first, giving a cry of alarm. Two of Murchad’s crew managed to reached Toca Nia as he was raising his foot to stamp on Cian’s unprotected head while he lay on the deck. The sailors dragged him, struggling, away from Cian’s prone form. Murchad came running back across the deck.
‘What the devil …?’ he began.
‘Devil is right!’ snarled Toca Nia, wrestling in the grip of the sailors, his face contorted with hatred.
Fidelma came forward and bent down to the unconscious Cian to check his pulse. She raised her head to Murchad.
‘Would someone mind carrying Brother Cian below to his cabin and attending him? I don’t think the blow is serious, but he is unconscious.’
Murchad signalled to two crewmen and without a word, they lifted Cian’s body and carried it below deck.
Fidelma had risen and faced Toca Nia. He stood still in the firm grip of the sailors. She folded her arms and regarded his agitated features with a frown.
‘What does this mean?’ she demanded.
Toca Nia did not reply.
‘You have been asked for an explanation, my friend,’ Murchad said. ‘I did not pluck you from the sea to watch you murder one of my passengers; a holy Brother on a pilgrimage, at that. What possessed you?’
Toca Nia gazed at the stern features of Murchad and then turned to address Fidelma.
‘He is no holy Brother!’
‘Explain yourself,’ insisted Murchad. ‘Brother Cian is one of a band of pilgrims taking passage on my ship.’
‘Cian! That certainly is his name: I have cause to remember it. But he is a warrior, like me. One of the warriors of Ailech. He is the “Butcher of Rath Bile”!’
Fidelma stared at Toca Nia, trying to understand his accusation.
‘The “Butcher of Rath Bile”?’ she repeated, bemused.
‘A whole village and fortress destroyed, the buildings burnt, men, women and children annihilated at the orders of Cian of Ailech. One hundred and forty souls, dispatched to heaven by that most monstrous evil …’ Toca Nia’s voice rose in agitation.
Fidelma held up a hand to silence him.
‘Calm yourself, Toca Nia. What makes you certain that Brother Cian was the man responsible for such an outrage?’
The Irishman’s face was a mask of fury and his eyes were blazing in torment.
‘Because my mother, sisters and young brother were butchered there; because I was there and stand as witness.’
Fidelma sat on the bunk in Murchad’s cabin while the captain sprawled in a chair. Toca Nia had been placed in Gurvan’s cabin with Drogon standing guard outside. Fidelma was looking anxious. There seemed an unreality about the new situation.
‘I have never seen such a change in a person’s character before,’ she observed to Murchad. ‘This Toca Nia seemed a pleasant, friendly person at first but the moment he saw Cian he became a raging maniac, totally out of control.’
Murchad shrugged.
‘If his claims are correct, his frenzy is understandable. Surely, as you knew Cian in the past, you must have heard something of the claim Toca Nia is making?’
Fidelma stirred uncomfortably.
‘I knew Cian ten years ago,’ she admitted. ‘He was a warrior in the King of Ailech’s bodyguard. But beyond that I know nothing. I have never heard of this Rath Bile.’
There was a long silence while it seemed that Murchad was trying to dredge up a memory.
‘I recall something of it,’ he said at last.
‘When did it happen?’
‘Several years ago now. Maybe five years ago. Rath Bile is in the country of the Ui Feilmeda, in the Kingdom of Laigin.’
‘That is south of the Abbey Kildare,’ frowned Fidelma. ‘I was some years in the Abbey, but I do not recall hearing the story.’ She considered for a moment. ‘Five years ago? It may well have happened when I was sent to the west for a while. What do you know of this massacre?’
Murchad shrugged.
‘Precious little. There was some conflict between the High King Blathmac and Faelan of Laigin — some dispute about whether the Ui Cheithig should pay tribute to Blathmac at Tara or to Faelan at Fearna.
‘I know a treaty was agreed. But it seemed that Blathmac wanted to teach Faelan a lesson for his defiance and sent a band of his elite warriors by ship down the coast to the country of the Ui Enechglais. They marched on the fortress of Faelan’s brother at Rath Bile and there was a great slaughter. It is true that many old men, women and children died as well as the handful of Laigin warriors who were defending the place.’
Fidelma was troubled.
‘This is a complication which we did not want on this voyage.’
Murchad shared her anxiety.
‘And you are no nearer solving the murder of Sister Muirgel? There is a whisper that Sister Crella is responsible. Is that true?’
‘I am not satisfied yet. There is more here than meets the eye. How long before we reach harbour in Ushant?’
‘With this wind, we will be there within the hour. You will have to advise me what to do about Toca Nia and Cian, lady.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘If I remember the laws appertaining to crimes committed in war in the Crith Gablach, it states that once the cairde, the peace treaty, is agreed, only a month is allowed for anyone to pursue claims under its condition. Those wishing to exact retribution under law for any unlawful deaths that might have occurred have to make claim by that time. This massacre you speak of took place several years ago.’
Murchad looked morose.
‘Murder and now war crimes! Never in all my sailing days have I encountered the like. What must we do? Toca Nia is quoting the Holy Book at me and demanding vengeance.’
‘Vengeance is not law,’ replied Fidelma. ‘This matter needs to be heard before a senior Brehon, for I am not competent to advise what should be done.’
‘Well, I certainly am not, lady.’
‘I will speak with Cian,’ Fidelma decided, rising. ‘The first thing to do is see what he has to say on this matter.’
Cian was lying back on his bunk, though in a semi-sitting position with a bloodstained rag at his nose. The cabin he shared with Brother Bairne was in gloom. A lantern swung from a hook in the ceiling, casting flickering lights which chased one another about. No one, asyet, had apparently told him of Toca Nia’s accusation. He removed the rag and gave Fidelma a lopsided smile as she entered the cabin.
‘Our shipwrecked mariner has a curious way of expressing gratitude to his rescuers,’ he greeted her wryly.
Fidelma remained impassive.
‘I presume that you did not recognise the man?’
Cian shrugged and then winced painfully.
‘Should I have recognised him?’
‘His name is Toca Nia.’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘He was not a mariner but a passenger on the ship that went down. In fact, he was a warrior of the Faelan of Laigin.’
Cian was dismissive.
‘Well, I do not know all the warriors of the Five Kingdoms. What is his quarrel with me?’
‘I thought you might know him, as he knows you.’
‘What was his name again?’ frowned Cian.
‘Toca Nia.’
Cian thought for a moment and then shook his head.
‘Toca Nia of Rath Bile,’ added Fidelma coldly.
There was no doubting that the addition of Rath Bile meant something to. Cian.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ Fidelma went on.
‘About what, precisely?’
‘About what happened at Rath Bile.’
‘It was at Rath Bile that I lost the use of my arm.’ There was bitterness in his voice.
‘What were you doing at Rath Bile?’