It was Beccan, the steward and controller of the King’s household, who replied. ‘Sister Fidelma …’ He paused and smiled apologetically at her. ‘The lady Fidelma as she chooses to be known now, although to most of us she will remain as Sister Fidelma … the lady Fidelma has served both the law and the Eóghanacht well. I think her views and suggestions are well worth our careful attention.’
Brehon Aillín flushed. ‘I would not suggest otherwise, Beccan.’
‘Nor would I have misinterpreted you would do so.’ The steward bowed his head towards the Brehon as if to disguise his sarcasm. ‘I merely emphasise that her view is of importance to us.’
Finguine turned to his cousin, anxious to avoid an argument. ‘You have some suggestions as to how we should proceed, Fidelma?’
Fidelma acknowledged his intervention. ‘We have some clues as to who the assassin was. Each piece of information must be followed and examined.’
‘And these pieces of information are …?’ Brehon Aillín enquired, in a patronising manner.
‘Firstly, the assassin introduced himself as Brother Lennán of Mungairit. Now, I suspect that his name was not Brother Lennán. Perhaps he did not even come from Mungairit. Nevertheless, this must be verified or excluded. Secondly, we were able to confirm that he had changed his clothes before arriving at the palace to attempt his assassination. He rode a good horse, but did not appear to be a warrior, and this evidence leads us to the conclusion that he was a scholar of some description. More importantly, his leather saddle-bag was scored with the sword and serpent symbol of the Uí Fidgente.’
They each nodded in silence as if concurring with the points she made.
‘We found the assassin’s horse left in Della’s paddock and his clothes stored nearby in a woodman’s hut. In that same hut we found the girl, Aibell. Now, according to Aibell, she had run away from the mistreatment of Fidaig of Luachra, and eventually found her way to the Suir where she was given a ride to Cashel. She arrived here just before dawn. A shepherd then suggested the hut to her as a place where she could spend a few hours in the dry and get some rest. Both the driver of the wagon who brought her here and the shepherd who suggested the hut give testimony to the truth of this statement.’
Fidelma paused for a moment. ‘On that basis, we can accept the girl’s statement. However, Aibell also says that she is originally from Dún Eochair Mháigh, the chief fortress of the princes of the Uí Fidgente. She says that her father was a simple fisherman on the River An Mháigh, a man called Escmug who, she claims, was a depraved person and sold her as a bondservant to Fidaig of the Luachra even though she had reached the age of maturity.’
Brehon Aillín could not help interrupting with a sniff. ‘That is unlikely. Even among the Uí Fidgente such a transaction is against the law.’
‘Nevertheless, this is what is claimed. Now, given the fact that our assassin has a saddle-bag with the brand of the Prince of the Uí Fidgente and the girl originally comes from the chief fortress of those people, we have another strange coincidence that is worth pondering on. It may well be just another coincidence — but we must gather more facts.’
Finguine sat back with a frown. ‘You have a proposal as to how those facts may be gathered? I presume you mean to question the girl further?’
Brehon Aillín said deprecatingly, ‘If she has lied already, she will lie again.’
‘That is not what I propose,’ Fidelma said hurriedly. ‘I am afraid there is only one way to gather the evidence that might or might not confirm these matters.’
It was Caol, speaking for the first time, who understood her intent.
‘You propose to go to the country of the Uí Fidgente and see if you can obtain this information?’
Brehon Aillín pursed his thin lips in disapproval. ‘The land of the Uí Fidgente is dangerous to one of your blood, especially after your brother defeated the rebellion of Eoganán at Cnoc Áine.’
‘You may recall that Brother Eadulf and I spent some time among the Uí Fidgente when we went to the Abbey of Ard Fhearta,’ Fidelma said.
‘As I recall,’ Brehon Aillín responded in a pedantic tone, ‘you went there at the invitation and under the personal protection of Conrí the son of Conmáel, the warlord of the Uí Fidgente.’
‘That is true,’ Finguine agreed. ‘But since then there has been much disturbance in that country.’
‘Disturbance?’ Fidelma’s tone was dismissive. ‘That was mainly due to the fanaticism of Étain of An Dún and nothing to do with the Uí Fidgente. Even though they are reluctant to accept the rule of Cashel, Prince Donennach has made a peace with us and has kept to it.’
Finguine seemed to be struggling with the proposition. ‘Do you think that such a journey is the only way to resolve this matter?’
‘The corpse will not reveal any more information,’ Fidelma replied. ‘And if Aibell is lying, then she is quite proficient in her lies. Her story of her arrival is supported by two independent witnesses. Yes, I think there is more to be discovered — and the means of doing so is not, sadly, in Cashel.’
Finguine suddenly turned to Eadulf, who had been sitting silently at Fidelma’s side.
‘You do not speak, friend Eadulf. What have you to say in this matter?’
Eadulf stirred himself. ‘I do not speak out of respect to this assembly for it is not my right, being a stranger in this kingdom.’
‘Nonsense!’ Finguine almost snapped the word. ‘You are no longer a cú glass, an exile from over the sea. When you married our cousin you were accepted as a deorad Dé, an exile of God, with an honour price in your own right. Colgú the King has always respected your advice. So do I, and now I ask for your opinion on this matter.’
Caol muttered something in support and even Beccan nodded assent.
‘Very well.’ Eadulf learned forward slightly in his seat. ‘I think you will all agree that since my partnership with Fidelma, we have spent longer away from Cashel than in its vicinity. You may also know that it has been my preference to stay in one place long enough to see our son, Alchú, grow to the age for what you call áilemain, the act of education. Personally, I would prefer to be the boy’s teacher myself, but this I know is not your way.’
Brehon Aillín seemed to suppress a snort. ‘I fail to see how this is answering the question of the tánaiste, the heir apparent.’
‘I preface my remarks in order that you will know that I am not responding lightly,’ replied Eadulf, looking him straight in the eye.
‘Continue,’ Finguine ordered, casting a frown at the Brehon.
‘I have said what I have said so that you will know that my preference would be for Fidelma and me to stay here to look after the wants of our son. However, in this case, the only logical path to discovering who is behind the attempted murder of Colgú and the death of the Chief Brehon, is to follow what little information has been given to us. That is the path Fidelma has outlined to you. If there is any other way we can proceed, then let me hear it now.’
There was a silence among the gathering. It was finally broken by Brehon Aillín. ‘This opinion contains a rather arrogant presumption.’
Fidelma’s head came up quickly. There was a dangerous look in her eyes.
‘I was responding to a question,’ Eadulf said quietly. ‘I fail to see the arrogance in my response.’
‘Perhaps “arrogance” is too strong a term,’ Brehon Aillín replied with a thin smile. ‘And yet the opinion you express is that only you and the lady Fidelma would be fit to take on the task of investigating this matter among the Uí Fidgente.’