Fidelma glanced at Eadulf with appreciation before she continued. ‘Once Maolán’s story became known, it was realised that he was in the right emotional state to be manipulated. With his hatred festering of the warrior whom he thought had killed Liamuin, he was told about the shield and that it belonged to none other than King Colgú of Cashel. Maolán needed little persuasion to go to Cashel and attempt to kill Colgú, even if it cost him his own life. He was well schooled with information, doubtless gained by the treacherous merchant Ordan. Ordan passed on the information of the location of a hut in the woods where he could change his clothes and leave his equipment and horse ready if he was able to escape from Cashel. He was even told that the woman on whose land he could leave his horse, possessed a dog.’
Gormán’s eyes widened. ‘Of course, my mother’s dog was sedated.’
‘It could have been worse. The dog could have been poisoned, but Maolán was a farmer’s son. He cared about animals. That is why he did not turn his horse loose in the forest, as doubtless he had been advised. But he decided to leave it in Della’s paddock, safe from any ravening wolves.’ Fidelma glanced at Conrí. ‘If you’ll forgive the choice of words.’
‘Except that he had no chance of escaping alive from Cashel after the manner of attack that you described to me earlier,’ Conrí replied.
‘That poor frenzied creature had no wish to live. Once he had killed the person whom he thought had destroyed the woman he loved, he was prepared to give his own life. It was a suicidal attack.’
‘Maolán …’ Abbot Nannid was muttering. ‘He had been with us for several years, working as a copyist. He never joined the religious. But I was told that he left the abbey over a week ago to go east …’
‘Maolán was told lies that made him into a tool of conspiracy. He was sent to assassinate my brother.’
‘You spoke of Lachtine,’ interrupted Conrí. ‘We know that Gláed, in his disguise as Adamrae, killed him — but why?’
‘You remember what Sitae, the inn-keeper, told us?’
‘Remind me.’
‘Sitae told us what Lachtine had witnessed in the forest. He saw Gláed, or Adamrae if you like, receiving the broken Cathach from a man in religious robes and then passing it to the merchant Ordan. Ordan had contacts with the smiths of Magh Méine, renowned for their brilliant metalwork. Ordan was the go-between to get the damaged Cathach repaired. Gláed — Adamrae — must have spotted Lachtine and realised that he had witnessed that exchange some weeks before. Gláed had arranged to meet Ordan at the Ford of Oaks. He was some days early, and while in Sitae’s inn he encountered Lachtine. It was obvious that they both recognised one another. That was when Gláed decided to kill him. He did so, but he still had to wait for Ordan. Hence the complicated method of disguising himself, so that he could wait at the Ford of the Oaks for Ordan to show up. But the one thing he did not allow for was the arrival of my companions and I.’
‘So once uncovered, he had to flee?’ asked Conrí.
‘Exactly so. And instead of waiting for Ordan to bring the repaired Cathach to the Ford of the Oaks, he had to make other arrangements. Ordan was bringing the Cathach by a circuitous route when he was waylaid by Fidaig, whose guests we were at the time. When we went to question Ordan, one of Gláed’s men, Loeg, killed him to stop him telling us what he knew. Loeg escaped to warn Gláed but Gláed had already been captured by Conrí.’
‘It’s complicated but it begins to fit,’ Conrí said thoughtfully. ‘The Cathach is a powerful symbol that would cause the Uí Fidgente to rise up to support the person who held it. And you say the man who handed the broken Cathach to Gláed to be repaired was a religieux?’
‘So you are accusing my abbey?’ cried Abbot Nannid, scandalised. ‘The abbey is plotting some uprising against Prince Donennach? Nonsense!’
‘Is it such nonsense?’ Fidelma said coolly. ‘The attempt to assassinate my brother, the confusion that would be created, the fact that Prince Donennach was away visiting the High King in Tara and being advised to take most of his loyal advisers with him, with the exception of Conrí, his warlord … presented the ideal opportunity.’
Some suspicious looks were cast towards Conrí by those surrounding him. Brother Cuineáin was quick to seize on the idea.
‘So why was Conrí left behind, to ensure all was peaceful during the Prince’s absence?’ he demanded. ‘It was a perfect position to be in if he was one of the conspirators. He is a Prince of the Uí Fidgente.’
Conrí flushed angrily. ‘Are you accusing …?’
Fidelma held up her hand to still the inevitable outburst. ‘Things were coming together for the person who had probably begun plotting this when he left the bloody field of Cnoc Áine.’
‘I did not fight at Cnoc Áine, as you know,’ snapped Conrí.
Brother Cuineáin glowered at Fidelma. ‘This sounds like fairytales spun for the entertainment of children. You will have to do better than simply speculate that someone in this abbey is orchestrating this so-called conspiracy.
‘Only someone of the ruling family of the Uí Fidgente could make such a claim to re-animate our people to rise up once more,’ Brother Cuineáin said nastily.
‘Suanach has already told us who that person is.’ Fidelma spoke casually but the effect was gratifying. Astonished faces were turned towards her. She paused a moment and then resumed. ‘Let me show you the way forward. Remember that Suanach was the sole survivor of the attack on Menma’s rath.’
‘But you say that this survivor saw only what she was meant to see and spread the word that this unknown Cashel warrior led the attack,’ pointed out Marban. ‘She did not even identify him correctly, for she described the shield whose emblem was that of your brother.’
‘All true,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘Except that you have forgotten the most important part. She added something else.’
They waited patiently while Fidelma relished the dramatic pause she had often practised in pleading cases for a Brehon. However, Eadulf spoiled it.
‘She was able to describe how Liamuin was killed,’ he intervened excitedly. ‘Liamuin apparently picked up an axe to defend herself as the warrior rode towards her. As he lunged at her, she swung the axe and knocked the sword from his hand. She wounded him so that the blood flowed from his wrist. Liamuin was then shot by the warrior’s companions — killed by two arrows.’
Fidelma glanced in approval at Eadulf. ‘Such a wound would have left a scar on the man’s sword wrist,’ she added. ‘Even weakened it.’
Gormán turned quickly to Brother Cuineáin, whose face now had a pallid tinge. He began to back away from the young warrior.
‘You have all seen how he is constantly massaging his right wrist with his other hand,’ Gormán said in ringing tones. ‘When we were here days ago, he dropped a beaker because he was unable to hold it. It was the same when he nearly dropped the lantern a moment ago.’
Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘I suspect that Brother Cuineáin did enter this abbey after the defeat at Cnoc Áine not to escape attention but because he was steward to Prince Eoganán. I think he is actually Codlata from the Ford of Flagstones.’
‘I did not know Codlata,’ Conrí said, staring in curiosity at the man. ‘His relationship was distant to that of my family.’ He moved towards the steward, hand on the hilt of his dagger. It was Eadulf who intervened.
‘It is not a wound that causes Brother Cuineáin’s hand to shake. It is what you call crithlam — a palsy. It is just as he said — he suffers from some strange ague that causes the hand to be weak and to shake uncontrollably.’