‘I will not keep you all longer than I have to. Yet I have to peel away the strands that envelop this mystery. I will begin by showing you the prime cause behind what has happened here. The prime motivation behind the deaths and abductions. I regret to say that we have to return to the ages-old conflict between the Ui Fidgente and the Eoghanacht of Cashel.’
An immediate murmur of outrage came from several quarters. Conr looked about him unhappily.
Fidelma was slowly shaking a finger at them.
‘Noise does not drown out truth,’ she remonstrated.
‘Nor words without evidence will make it the truth,’ snapped the Venerable Mac Faosma.
‘Then listen and you will soon hear the evidence that supports the words,’ replied Fidelma, unperturbed. ‘Or is that demanding too much courtesy from this gathering?’
There were still some angry protests from the predominantly Ui Fidgente gathering. Conri rose, facing them, and held up his hands to motion them to quiet.
‘There is a saying — do not bring your reaping hook into a field without being asked.’ It was a reminder to the assembly to behave properly. ‘We will hear what Fidelma of Cashel has to say and we will hear her without insult, jest or clamour. Remember that truth can come like bad weather, uninvited. But denial of bad weather does not make the day fine nor make the truth less than the truth. If I, as warlord of the Ui Fidgente, can bear to listen, then you can also.’
He sat down again, folded his arms, and stared woodenly ahead of him.
The murmurs of dissent subsided.
‘I shall not trouble you with history,’ Fidelma continued. ‘Nor with arguments of who is right and who is wrong in that conflict. We all know the conflict has lasted many generations between U
Fidgente and Eoghanacht. A short time ago, both peoples thought that the conflict was at an end. A new ruler of the Ui Fidgente came to the belief that peace was a better way of life than conflict. We hoped that we had all moved on.
‘However, there were still members of the Ui Fidgente who refused to
This time there was an uncomfortable silence in the oratory. Finally the Abbot Erc spoke with a querulous note.
‘You forget, Sister Fidelma, that Eoganan’s son Torcan was slaughtered as well.’
‘I have not forgotten. Eoganan had more than one male offspring.’
‘She means Uaman!’ called Sister Uallann, and her tone showed that it was meant as a jeer.
‘As a dalaigh, you should know that Uaman could not become chief of the Ui Fidgente,’ the librarian Brother Eolas intervened. ‘Even I know enough law to realise that. It was well known that he was a leper and therefore ineligible to claim the office. He would not be recognised as legitimate even if he arrived at Loch Derg with a thousand warriors behind him to place him on the seat of his ancestors.’
Slebene, the chief of the Corco Duibhne, was nodding slowly.
‘What if Uaman still lives?’ he demanded, causing some surprise among them. ‘We have heard many rumours that it is so.’
Sister Uallann turned to him, exhaling sharply.
‘The stories cannot be true,’ she snapped. ‘Wasn’t it said that before the last Nativity he perished in the quicksand of his own island? Several travellers brought the story to the abbey.’
Eadulf was about to stir when he caught Fidelma’s eye and saw the slight shake of her head.
It was Conri who replied.
‘It was so reported. There was an eyewitness.’ He cast a quick look at Eadulf. ‘But we saw that there are burnt-out villages among the passes of Sliabh Mis, there are mothers who weep for the loss of their sons, wives for their husbands, children for their fathers. We met with people who reported seeing Uaman leading a band of warriors through these passes.
‘And Uaman as well?’ called Brother Eolas. ‘Where is he, then, who would be “master of souls”?’
Sister Easdan now rose in her place.
‘While we did not know who the man was, Olcan took orders from a man clad from head to feet in robes and whom he called “the master”. Esumaro will bear me out. Others identified him as the one they call Uaman the Leper.’
The Gaulish seaman nodded in support.
Brother Cillin called out from his seat.
‘You mean that man you imprisoned here, Olcan, was one of Uaman’s men?’
‘Even if it were so,’ smiled the Venerable Mac Faosma sceptically, ‘you have heard that Uaman would have no chance at all of being regarded as ruler. He might force himself upon the Ui Fidgente as their chief by force of arms but then he would split his people — there would be warfare. The Ui Chonaill Gabra would appeal to the Brehons. They would appeal to Cashel. Cashel would intervene with the support of the High King because the law is clear. Blood feuds would rip the Ui Fidgente asunder… parties of avengers would rule the country by fear. We could not have someone unqualified by law force his rule upon us. I freely confess that I was a supporter of Eoganan and all he stood for. I believe that the rule of the Eoghanacht of Cashel is unjust. But I believe in the rule of the law and not of the sword. I would condemn Uaman, if he usurped the power of the Ui Fidgente. Only a ruler qualified by law can take Donennach’s power from him.’
Slebene was smiling cynically.
‘As you all well know, I am chief of the Corco Duibhne and it is against my eastern borders, the valley passes, where Uaman the Leper has been seen. Many times have I sought to confront him and he has outwitted me. Now, there sits Conri, warlord of the Ui Fidgente. I give him this invitation. Bring those men that are loyal to him and his lord, Donennach, and come into the passes of Sliabh Mis and together we will hunt this leper down.’
He sat down and there was a murmur of applause.
Conri was about to rise to accept the challenge when Fidelma motioned him to remain seated. She had been standing with a whimsical smile on her features at Slebene’s suggestion.
‘Well said, Slebene, well said,’ she applauded, but they could hear the cynicism in her voice. ‘But I think you know as well as I do that Uaman the Leper will not be found in the passes of Sliabh Mis. Chasing shadows in the passes of Sliabh Mis would merely take Conri and his men away from the area where the rebellion against Donennach would occur, wouldn’t it?’
Her quiet tone held their attention and for a moment there was total silence.
‘What do you mean, Sister Fidelma?’ Abbot Erc finally demanded.
‘The stories that you heard in the month before the Nativity were true. Uaman, son of Eoganan, was dragged into the quicksand surrounding his own island fortress. Eadulf here was a witness to his death.’
The silence continued as Abbot Erc remained staring at her with a puzzled frown.
‘Then what are we discussing? With Uaman dead as well as his elder brother Torcan, there is no one else of the Ui Choirpre Aedba to claim the chieftainship.’
‘If Uaman is dead,’ called Esumaro, ‘who is this “master” who gave orders to Olcan?’
Fidelma glanced towards the Venerable Mac Faosma.
‘Perhaps you could enlighten us?’ she invited.
As they all turned towards him, the Venerable Mac Faosma leant back and stared at her with growing astonishment.
‘Of course! That is why you were examining the genealogy. Eoganan had three children. But surely that doesn’t help us because the third name was removed from the genealogy?’
The librarian had picked up the train of the argument.
‘You told us so yourself,’ Brother Eolas said. ‘Something had been cut from the page of the genealogy. Was it the name of the third son of Eoganan?’
‘It was the name of Eoganan’s third child. The one who now means to overthrow Donennach and claim the rulership of the Ui Fidgente.’
A whisper of surprise spread like a tide around the oratory with people looking at one another in surprise.
‘I said,’ Fidelma told them, ‘that there were many strands that had to be unravelled. I have given you the motive for the events that have happened here. I have told you who was behind it but have not yet identified that person. So let us now turn to this strand of identity, bearing in