‘There is a legal objection to your request, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He spoke in sharp, incisive tones. ‘It must be made clear that this is not a court in which the guilty can be prosecuted. If it is found that anyone else has acted in collusion with the assassin, then this Great Assembly cannot make judgement. The procedure as laid down in the Cóic Conara Fugill, the Five Paths of Judgement, must be followed. Today is simply a hearing of your report … ’
Fidelma inclined her head towards him. ‘I would like to plead a precedent for bringing the witnesses here … ’
‘A precedent?’ snapped Brehon Sedna. ‘Surely the assassination of the High King has no precedent?’
Fidelma smiled softly. ‘I would respectfully refer the learned Brehon to the scribes who record that the High King Muirchertach, son of Erc, was drowned in a vat full of wine at his house at Cleiteach on Ucht Cleitig by the banks of the Bóinn. It is true this took place many generations ago. Indeed, so we are told, it happened in the very year of the death of the Blessed Ailbe of Imleach, who brought the Christian teaching to our poor kingdom of Muman.’
Brehon Sedna flushed, turning to one of the scribes whose task it was to record the decisions of the Great Assembly and was learned in its protocols and history. He beckoned the man forward and there was a whispered exchange between them. Brehon Sedna turned with a surprised look to Fidelma.
‘May I congratulate you on your knowledge,’ he said. ‘I am reminded that a woman named Sin was considered the culprit in the death of the High King Muirchertach which happened as you have said.’
Fidelma was not triumphant at making the point.
‘You will find that, according to the records, it was a strange death. His house was set on fire and the High King climbed into a vat of wine to escape the flames. The ridgepole of the house, having been burned away, fell on the High King’s head, knocking him unconscious, so that he fell back into the vat and drowned. This Great Assembly held a hearing and witnesses were brought to sit before it to hear the report presented by the Brehon appointed to investigate. That is the precedent that I argue.’
Brehon Sedna turned back to the scribe who nodded rapidly in agreement with her summary.
‘We will accept the precedent and allow your witnesses to sit in the Great Assembly to hear your report.’
There was a silence while Irél led in Gormflaith and her daughter Muirgel, which caused a great deal of outspoken surprise among the Assembly. They were shown to empty benches guarded by members of the Fianna. Then came the warriors Lugna, Erc and Cuan, the latter closely guarded. All the servants of the High King’s household, Brother Rogallach, Torpach, Brónach, Báine, Cnucha, Maoláin and Duirnín followed. Bishop Luachan, still limping, and his steward Brother Céin came next. Finally, Iceadh the apothecary entered and took his place. Brehon Sedna waited until they were all seated before addressing Fidelma.
‘This procedure now brings forward a second point of law. Abbot Colmán must surely take his place with the witnesses and be excluded from sitting here.’
Abbot Colmán looked at his companion in surprise at the contention but Fidelma raised her hands to still the murmuring that broke out.
‘Not so, Brehon Sedna. The abbot is not a witness to the events as I shall state them. He merely took charge of the royal household until the return of Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán. There was no reason for him to be excluded from conducting this meaning.’
Brehon Sedna looked as relieved as the abbot.
‘Then if this procedure is acceptable to the Great Assembly …?’
Everyone signified their agreement perhaps somewhat impatiently and several called out that the report be proceeded with.
‘So, having clarified procedure, you may continue,’ Brehon Sedna summed up, addressing Fidelma.
Fidelma paused, as if gathering her thoughts. Then she began her speech.
‘All murder is heinous. The assassination of a High King is especially so. One fact has been absolutely clear from the start. Dubh Duin, the chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre, entered the bedchamber of the High King, cut his throat and then turned his knife on himself when he realised that there was no escape from capture. There is no disputing this fact.
‘We initially had two main questions to ask. One: did Dubh Duin act alone? And two: what was his motive?’
She let her gaze sweep the Assembly as if seeking an answer there. It was a piece of drama that Eadulf had witnessed several times before when Fidelma was arguing before the airechtaí or courts.
‘You may be assured that Dubh Duin did not act alone,’ she went on confidently. ‘This was no spur-of-the-moment killing, nor was it a matter of one person acting alone for reasons of personal hate. Indeed, there was a conspiracy to kill Sechnussach.’
A wave of outrage swept the hall and she allowed it to swell and ebb before she spoke again.
‘As for the motive, at this stage I will firstly tell you what Dubh Duin’s own motive was. I fear it was not the same motive of all those in the conspiracy. Dubh Duin was a traditionalist. He believed in the old ways and customs. Moreover, he believed in the Old Faith. Those in this Great Assembly already know how he argued here for the recognition of the rights of those who still held to their veneration of the old gods and goddesses. Some may recall his dispute on the matter with Sechnussach?’
There were many who were nodding, recalling the debate. Only Gormflaith among the witnesses seemed to shake her head in disbelief.
‘Dubh Duin was fully committed to the Old Faith as we are to the New Faith,’ Fidelma continued. ‘Ardgal, now chief of the Cinél Cairpre, will testify to this. There is no need for me to tell you that scarcely two centuries have passed since the great teachers Patrick, Ailbe, Brigit, Brendan, Ciaran and the others, brought the word of Christ to this land. There are still areas which that word has not reached or where it is not accepted. Even within a day’s ride of Tara, there are still many who gather at Uisnech, which the ancients regarded as the navel of the world, the centre of the five kingdoms, to practise the old rites.
‘Further, there is no need for me to tell you that there is a movementabroad intent on overthrowing the new teachings and returning this land to the old ways.’
Abbot Colmán bent forward quickly. ‘And are you claiming that Dubh Duin was part of this?’
‘I am.’
‘It can’t be true!’ cried Gormflaith, her strident tone startling everyone.
Fidelma looked at her sadly. ‘I am afraid it can be, and it is,’ she replied, before turning back to the Assembly. ‘We know that there are pagan raiders, the dibergach, who have been attacking the abbeys and churches. They started by attacking small, isolated churches and communities, but those attacks are increasing. Many members of the religious have been killed.’
A member of the Great Assembly stood up and signalled that he wished to ask a question.
‘I am sworn to the New Faith and have no advocacy for the old. But I must point out that the faith of our ancient fathers did not advocate violence and death as a way of life. Our fathers believed in the peace and oneness of this world. This was the teaching of our Druids. Why would they be raiding and killing in the name of the old gods and goddesses? It seems illogical.’
Fidelma acknowledged the man’s statement, for it was hardly a question.
‘There has been one sect among our forefathers which did advocate death and sacrifice,’ she said. ‘It was an aberration quickly dealt with by the Druids. It is claimed that during the days of Tigernmas, the twenty-sixth High King, dementia overtook him and he set up a great idol on Magh Slecht, the Plain of Slaughter, and demanded that people sacrifice to it. So much bloodshed was caused that finally the Druids rose up and destroyed both the idol and Tigernmas. The idol was called Crom Cróich.’