‘I do not think Toca Nia is interested in the law any more.’
Brother Cian blinked rapidly.
‘Do you mean that he is withdrawing his charges?’
Fidelma gazed deeply into Cian’s eyes. She saw suspicion, she saw hope even, but there was no guile nor cunning there.
‘I mean that Toca Nia is dead.’
There was no mistaking the surprise in Cian’s reaction.
‘Dead? How can that be?’
‘Toca Nia was murdered about the same time as you fled from the ship.’
Cian took an involuntary step backwards. His shock was genuine; he could not be acting.
Father Pol shrugged helplessly.
‘This puts me in an awkward situation, Brother. Under our ecclesiastical law, I granted you asylum within this church, but only in respect to the charge you claimed that you stood accused of. Now this …’
Cian looked from the priest to Fidelma in bewilderment.
‘But I know nothing about Toca Nia’s death. What is he saying?’ he demanded of her.
‘Do you deny that your hand struck those blows that deprived Toca Nia of life?’
Cian’s eyes widened even more in confusion.
‘Are you serious? Do you mean that … that I am accused of his killing?’
Fidelma was unsympathetic.
‘So you do deny it?’
‘Of course I deny it. It is not true,’ cried Cian in outrage.
Fidelma’s face assumed a cynical expression.
‘Are you claiming that his murder was a coincidence? That you know nothing about it?’
‘Call it what you like, I did not kill him.’
Fidelma took a seat on the bench from which Cian had risen.
‘You have to admit that if this is a coincidence, then it is an extremely convenient one. Perhaps you will tell me why you fled from the ship?’
Cian sat down opposite her, leaning forward towards her. His whole attitude was one of someone pleading.
‘I did not do this thing, Fidelma,’ he said with a quiet intensity.
‘You know me. I admit that I have killed in war, but I have never killed in cold blood. Never! You must know that I would not-’
‘I am a dalaigh, Cian,’ she interrupted sharply. ‘Tell me the facts as you know them. I need no other appeal.’
‘But I know nothing. I have no facts to tell you.’
‘Then what made you flee from The Barnacle Goose and come seeking sanctuary here?’
‘That should be obvious,’ Cian responded.
‘Unless you killed Toca Nia, I would say that it is far from obvious.’
Cian flushed angrily.
‘I did not …’ he began and then stopped. ‘I came here for sanctuary because I needed time to think. When you interrogated me after Toca Nia’s accusation, I realised that you were in earnest. That you and Murchad were going to restrain me and send me back to face trial in Laigin. It is certain that I would be found guilty of the slaughter at Rath Bile.’
‘As I recalled, you admitted to the slaughter.’
‘To the action, not to a crime. It was war and I was simply doing what I was told to do.’
‘Then you should be prepared to answer to the accusation. If you were not guilty of murder then you should put your trust in the law.’
‘I needed time to think. It was so sudden, being accused like that.’
Murchad interrupted harshly.
‘More pressing is the fact that you now have to answer to the charge of killing Toca Nia.’
Fidelma found herself in agreement.
‘In fact, unless another witness comes forward to accuse you, Toca Nia’s accusations have died with him. We cannot restrain you nor make you answerable to those accusations, for he made no legal record of them.’
Cian was totally astonished.
‘You mean that the accusation about Rath Bile is dropped?’
‘Toca Nia made no official charge; no charge was written down nor witnessed. A dead man’s oral accusation, unless it is his dying testimony, and witnessed as such, cannot be adjudged as evidence against you.’
‘Then I am free of that charge?’
‘Unless there are other witnesses from Rath Bile who appear to testify against you. As there are none here, you are free of that charge.’
Brother Cian’s features broadened into a smile and then, as he realised the implications, he grew serious again.
‘I swear by the Holy Trinity that I did not kill Toca Nia.’
Fidelma heard the ring of truth in his voice, but her personal scepticism made her doubt his protestations of innocence. What was it that Horace had said? Naturam expelles furca tamen usque recurret — you may drive out nature with a pitchfork, but it always returns. Cian was a natural deceiver and his truth was always to be doubted. Then she realised, with a sudden pang of guilt, that she was once again letting her personal feelings condemn him.
She was about to speak when there came a fierce shouting from nearby.
Father Pol looked up with a frown as one of the islanders, a thin, wispy fellow in the garb of a fisherman, came running around the corner of the church building. He drew up sharply at the sight of them and stood gasping for breath.
‘What is it, Tibatto?’ demanded Father Pol disapprovingly. ‘You know better than to come to the House of God in such turmoil.’
‘Saxons!’ grunted the man, breathlessly. ‘Saxon raiders!’
‘Where?’ demanded the priest, as Murchad jerked around in consternation, his hand going to the knife in his belt.
‘I was on the point above Rochers …’
‘It is our northern coast,’ explained Father Pol in a swift aside to them.
‘And I saw a Saxon ship beating southward around into the bay. It is a warrior ship with a lightning symbol on its mainsail.’
Murchad exchanged a quick glance with Fidelma, who had risen to her feet with Cian.
‘How soon will they be in the bay?’ the priest demanded, his face grim.
‘Within the hour, Father.’
‘Sound the alarm. Let’s get the people into the interior,’ he said decisively. ‘Come, Murchad, you’d better get your crew and thepilgrims ashore. There are caves where we can hide or, at worst, defend ourselves.’
Murchad shook his head firmly.
‘I’ll not abandon my ship to pirates, Saxon, Frank or Goth! The tide is only just on the turn. I am sailing out of the bay. If any of my passengers want to come ashore, then it will be up to them.’
Father Pol stared at him aghast for a moment.
‘You will never have time to get underway before they close off the mouth of the bay. If they are off the Rochers they will be around the headland within half an hour.’
‘Better to be on the ship than sitting on this island waiting for them to land and slaughter everyone,’ Murchad replied. He turned to Gurvan. ‘Is anyone else ashore apart from ourselves?’
‘No one else except us, Captain.’
‘Will you come, lady?’ he demanded of Fidelma.
She did not hesitate.
‘If you are going to make a run for it, then I am with you, Murchad.’
‘Let’s go!’
Cian had been standing by while they discussed the position. Now he took a step forward.
‘Wait! Let me come with you.’
Murchad stared at him in surprise.
‘I thought you were seeking sanctuary,’ he sneered.
‘I told you, I only sought sanctuary to give me time to prepare to defend myself against the accusations of Toca Nia.’
‘But now you may have to defend yourself against an accusation of his murder,’ Fidelma reminded him.
‘I’ll chance that. But I don’t want to be caught here without defence by these raiders. Let me come with you.’
Murchad shrugged. ‘We have no time to waste. Come or stay. We go now.’
There came the sound of a horn being blown. An angry warning note. As they left the church, they saw people running in all directions, women holding screaming children, men grabbing what weapons they could.
Murchad grasped the priest’s hand and shook it.
‘The best of luck, Father Pol. I think you will find that these particular Saxons are looking for us, rather than raiding your island. We escaped them once; perhaps we will do so again.’