Fidelma suddenly smiled and said pleasantly, ‘Then we shall delay you no longer, for I see a wagon approaching and that must be the smith you are expecting from Magh Méine.’
She turned her horse, with Eadulf following, while the merchant peered after them with an uneasy expression on his blotched face.
‘I think he spoke the truth in its main essentials,’ Eadulf commented, ‘except …’
‘Except it was probably a good thing that Aibell was carrying that knife with such a man as Ordan about,’ finished Fidelma with a grim expression. She turned and waved to Alchú and Gormán to follow them.
‘What now?’ asked Eadulf. ‘It looks as though the girl was telling the truth.’
‘About her arrival in Cashel? I agree, but we should make every check. I do not believe in coincidences. The name Liamuin continues to have significance. And we cannot deny the fact that she was in the very place where the assassin changed into his disguise.’
‘Coincidences sometimes happen,’ offered Eadulf.
‘It would be a fool who denies it,’ she replied evenly. ‘At the same time, assumption is never a good method of investigation.’
‘Then we should try to find this shepherd mentioned by Nessán.’
‘I think so. If he was the person who directed the girl to the hut, that would also confirm that part of her story. But there are other questions which remain.’
They found the shepherd, Spelán, in Rumann’s tavern, which was situated on the main square of the township. When Rumann pointed him out after Fidelma and Eadulf asked the inn-keeper to identify him, the man rose respectfully from his bench in a corner by the smouldering turf fire. Fidelma motioned for him to reseat himself.
‘I am told you have a ewe in bad health, Spelán?’ she began, taking a settle beside him.
The shepherd was nervous. ‘I did, lady.’
‘Did?’
‘She died this morning.’
‘I am sorry to hear it. What was wrong with her?’
‘The other day she began to have difficulties with breathing, shaking her head and sneezing. There was a discharge from her nose. When I went to see her this morning, she was dead. I fear it was the cuilí biasta — evil flies which sometimes choke the noses of sheep. She had probably picked them up grazing in the marsh areas.’
Fidelma made a sympathetic sound. It was not an uncommon occurrence among the sheep flocks.
‘So you were abroad early this morning? Before first light?’
‘That I was, lady.’
‘I understand you keep your flock on the western side of the Road of Rocks?’
The man started to look worried. He nodded in confirmation.
‘Did you meet with anyone on your way there this morning?’
‘It was dark,’ he began. ‘I was up beyond Della’s paddock when I saw that fat merchant, Ordan, on his wagon going along the road. I don’t think he saw me, as the wagon had just passed me when I emerged into the road. But I did see someone else.’
‘And who was that?’
‘A young girl.’
‘How did you know that, if it was dark?’
‘Didn’t I have a lantern?’
‘So what happened?’
‘She wanted a dry place to rest for she said she had been travelling all night. I told her there was a bruden in the town but she said that she wanted a barn or shed where she would not be disturbed. I thought it odd, as she did not appear to be one of those itinerants or beggars. I suggested Della’s barns which were nearby, but she asked if Della had a dog and when I said, yes, she asked if there was anywhere else. Then I remembered the old woodsman’s hut just a few yards into the forest here. I took her to the edge of the forest, for it skirts the Road of Rocks, and pointed the way. It was easy enough to find.’
‘And she went off in the darkness, just like that?’ Fidelma sounded incredulous.
Spelán chuckled. ‘Bless you, no. I gave her my lantern. I know the road well, see, and knew it would be dawn before long. The lass had the greater need of the lantern to guide her along the path to the hut. I told her to leave it there and I would pick it up later today. Did I do wrong?’
Fidelma paused thoughtfully for a moment and then spoke.
‘No, Spelán. And you parted company with her and went off to tend your ewe. Did you see the girl again?’
‘I did not. You don’t think that she took the lantern with her?’ he asked anxiously.
‘She did not,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘I think you will find it in the hut still.’ She rose and thanked him, before turning to Rumann and handing him a coin. ‘You may give Spelán a drink on me to help him with his loss.’
She and Eadulf left the inn with the thanks of the shepherd echoing after them.
As they rejoined Gormán and Alchú outside and mounted their horses, Eadulf declared, ‘Well, all we have learned is that the girl spoke the truth about how she came to the hut. So now do we let her go on her way?’
‘Not at all,’ Fidelma replied, much to his surprise. ‘Our task has only just started. I told you that I do not believe in coincidences. Now we must find out more about Liamuin.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Darkness had already fallen that early winter afternoon by the time six solemn-faced people gathered in a circle of chairs in the small council chamber of the King’s palace. Finguine, the heir apparent to Colgú, assumed the chair of office in the absence of the King. By his side sat Brehon Aillín, acting Chief Brehon since the death of Brehon Áedo. Caol, the commander of the élite warriors of the Golden Collar and bodyguards to the King, sat next to him. On the other side of the circle sat Beccan, the King’s steward. The only person missing from the King’s intimate council was Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, as senior prelate of the kingdom. A messenger had been despatched to advise him of the attack on the King. Fidelma and Eadulf had been invited to join the council. The lamps had been lit and the attendants had withdrawn.
The members of the council listened in silence to what Fidelma had to report. As if by unspoken consent it was Brehon Aillín who was the first to question her when she had finished.
‘So you believe that this girl, Aibell, is who she claims to be?’
‘It would seem so,’ Fidelma replied. ‘But we are faced with accepting two improbable coincidences, and I say that we must take them both into consideration. We found her in the hut where, a short time before she arrived, the assassin changed his clothing, and near where he tethered his horse. Then there is the fact that her mother, who disappeared four years ago after the Battle of Cnoc Áine, was called Liamuin.’
Brehon Aillín made a wry grimace. ‘We should bear in mind what Cicero said: vitam regit fortuna non sapienta — it is chance, not wisdom, that governs human life. So chance — coincidence, call it what you will — does have a part to play and is often dismissed when it should be accepted.’
‘I will grant you that, Aillín,’ Fidelma replied softly. ‘In this instance, however, we cannot rely on accepting chance to make a decision about the involvement of the girl. We need evidence.’
‘The evidence you already have may be circumstantial but it is still evidence,’ replied Brehon Aillín.
‘Do we not have an old saying “better ‘it is’ than ‘it may be so’,” Brehon Aillín?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Of course, of course,’ interrupted Finguine impatiently. ‘Suspicion is no substitute for fact, but how do we set about establishing what the facts are?’
There was a silence and then Brehon Aillín spoke again.
‘I am sure the young dálaigh has some suggestions.’ He looked at Fidelma as he spoke, his words deliberately placing emphasis on her age and legal status. He had not forgotten that a few months before, Fidelma had presented herself to the Council of Brehons of Muman as a candidate to replace the Chief Brehon Baithen, who had died from old age and infirmity. The council, however, had chosen Brehon Áedo as Chief Brehon and, as his deputy, the conservative Brehon Aillín.