Outside, when they had relocked the cell door and hung the key back on the hook, Conr was apologetic.
‘I suddenly remembered hearing tales about this man,’ he explained. ‘I never knew him personally and he was not at the battle of Cnoc Aine, but I think he was with Torcan, the son of Eoganan, in the south-west.’
‘Well, your comment at least provoked the man to speech.’
‘I fear that he is a die-hard, lady,’ Conr replied. ‘If, as we have been told, Uaman still lives, then it seems that some of this activity must be concerned with an attempt to place Uaman in control of the U
Fidgente…’
‘But that would never happen because the law is specific. No one with a physical blemish can be king. Even one of the greatest of High Kings, Cormac Mac Art, had to abdicate when he was blinded by a spear cast. Even Olcan seemed to discredit the idea that he took his orders from Uaman.’
Conr did not agree.
‘We have had Uaman identified. If it is not Uaman, then I can think of no descendant of the U
Choirpre Aedba who can claim the chieftainship of our people.’
Eadulf looked blankly at him.
‘I thought that the U
Fidgente were the descendants of Fiachu Fidgennid? That Donennach is just as much a descendant as was Eoganan?’
Conr was patient.
‘It is easily explained. Our current ruler, Donennach, is descended from the line of the family we call U
Chonaill Gabra, from Fidgennid’s grandson Daire. Eoganan was descended from Fidgennid’s grandson Coirpre, hence that line is now called the U
Choirpre Aedba.’
It didn’t clear Eadulf’s understanding at all. He knew that the Eirean-nach placed much store by their ancient genealogies, delineating cousins and distant relatives; more store, he felt, than the Saxon kings set by their own simple direct father to son genealogies. He shrugged but did not pursue the matter.
Fidelma, however, seemed to follow the argument.
‘You have never heard of any other legitimate successor to Eoganan who might be persuaded to attempt a coup against Donennach?’
Conr shook his head at once.
‘Uaman was certainly the only male descendant of Eoganan who survived after Cnoc Aine.’
They had emerged by the closed doors of the tech-screptra and saw Brother Eolas standing before them, talking to Sister Buan and Sister Uallann.
‘Brother Eolas,’ Conr called, before Fidelma could stop him. ‘Do you have a genealogy of the princes of the U
Fidgente?’
The librarian turned curiously in their direction.
‘We do have such a manuscript,’ he confirmed.
‘Is it up to date? I am interested in the children of Eoganan.’
Brother Eolas shook his head.
‘It is as up to date as time allows. My assistant and I have much to do in maintaining the records of the library and there was the fire
…’
‘Can we see it now?’ interrupted Conr.
Brother Eolas sniffed in irritation at Conri’s demanding manner.
‘The library is closed. You will have to return tomorrow.’ He inclined his head in farewell to his companions and turned on his heel.
Sister Buan and Sister Uallann seemed to decide their presence was no longer required, muttered an excuse, and also left, leaving Conr looking a little crestfallen.
‘I thought that it might have given us some further information,’ he
Eadulf was shaking his head in disagreement but he said: ‘There must be a means of getting Olcan to talk further about this master.’
Fidelma was not optimistic.
‘I doubt it.’ She found that the steward, who had waited outside so that he could ensure the cell was locked, was still standing with them. ‘We will not detain you further, Brother Cu Mara,’ she said, bidding him good night before leading the way back to the hospitium. Once out of earshot of the steward she lowered her voice.
‘I’ll wait until tomorrow, but I now realise that I may have something up my sleeve that might induce our friend Olcan to talk. He has a close relation in the abbey and that fact may induce him to speak.’
Conr and Eadulf stared at her in surprise but her expression forbade any further questioning.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brother Cu Mara reached for the key and unlocked the cell door.
It was dark inside. The lamp had been allowed to go out, so the steward held up the candle he had brought with him.
The first thing that Fidelma, who was standing at his shoulder, noticed was that Olcan was sitting on his bed with his back to the wall. He was slightly slumped forward. Then she saw a dark stain on his tunic just below his heart.
She called to the steward to stand aside, took the candle from his hand, and went forward. She knew what she would find even before she touched the cold body.
‘He’s dead,’ she announced.
The steward let out a long gasp of breath.
‘A single stab to the heart,’ she continued, holding the candle nearer to the wound.
‘But he had no knife,’ protested Brother Cu Mara. ‘I made sure of that. Even when his food was brought to him, it was already cut.’
Fidelma turned with a grim face.
‘This was no self-inflicted wound. Olcan was murdered.’
The steward stared at her with wide, frightened eyes.
Fidelma was annoyed with herself for not pressing Olcan harder the evening before with her questions. She had thought of an idea which might have led the man to start talking, but she had kept it to herself, thinking to use it this morning if he was still uncooperative. Now it was too late. One thing she now knew for certain was that the Ui Fidgente warrior was a mere pawn in this strange mystery and not its chief architect. But her suspicion that whoever was behind the mystery was connected with the abbey itself seemed confirmed.
She gazed down a moment on the corpse and then turned to Brother Cu Mara.
‘You had better inform the abbot and also the physician, Sister Uallann.’ She glanced quickly round the cell before returning her gaze back to the dead body. ‘There is nothing more in here for me.’
Brother Cu Mara relocked the cell after they exited. As he was about to leave to find the physician Fidelma halted him.
‘One question for you, Brother Cu Mara — do you remember when I questioned you and Sister Sinnchene together?’
Reluctantly, the steward nodded.
‘Do you have cause to visit the workroom where the members of the community polish and prepare gemstones?’
Brother Cu Mara was clearly puzzled by the question, but acknowledged that he did. ‘I am the steward. It is my task to see that everything is in order. I visit all the workshops regularly.’
‘Very well. You can find Sister Uallann now.’
She knew what she had to do first as she watched him hurry off in search of the physician. Her expression hardened a little as she walked towards the hospitium buildings.
She found Sister Sinnchene engaged in the task of sweeping the floor.
‘I have some bad news for you,’ she announced without preamble.
Sister Sinnchene straightened and returned her gaze uncertainly, perhaps with a little hostility. She waited in silence.
‘It is about your father,’ Fidelma said.
At that the young woman blinked but fought to control her features. She still made no reply.
‘It is about Olcan.’
Sister Sinnchene’s chin came up defiantly.
‘What makes you think Olcan is my father?’ she demanded belligerently.
Sister Fidelma was unrelenting.
‘You fainted when you saw Conr
’s prisoner being brought into the abbey yesterday afternoon.’
The girl replied sourly. ‘There can be any number of reasons for fainting
‘But the one which caused you to pass out,’ Fidelma replied, ‘was the shock you had when you beheld your father in manacles.’
‘That is a weak reason to accuse me of being Olcan’s daughter.’
‘Then let me give you the other reasons. Olcan’s name means “wolf” and his warriors were known as the “wolf clan”. Your mother, I understand, died a few years ago of the pestilence. Didn’t she tell the merchant, Mugron, that your father was named “wolf” and he was known as “chief of the wolf clan” and that is why you were named “little vixen”?’