‘I think confession counts as evidence,’ Brehon Faolchair said to Prince Donennach, his heart heavy for the young prince.
Suddenly, a knife appeared in Airmid’s hand – one of her sharp surgeon’s scalpels – and she had whirled round on her still-seated brother, who sat frozen in shock. She was in the act of throwing herself on him, her brother, screaming with hatred, when Ceit struck. Later, it emerged that he had merely meant to disarm her knife hand, at the very worst sever it. But Airmid was moving so swiftly, her right hand raised, that the sharp point of his sword went in, under the arm, through the ribcage and into her heart. Almost without a sound, the sister of Donennach collapsed to the floor at her brother’s feet, blood gushing from her hate-twisted mouth.
Prince Donennach sat paralysed with horror, looking down at his dead sister.
L’ENVOI
The body had been taken away. In a broken voice, Prince Donennach had called for the hall to be cleared but Brehon Faolchair had countermanded the order and told the guards to remain where they were. He gently explained this to the prince.
‘I hate to contradict you,’ he said, ‘but this is a court of law and must conclude in a legal manner. It is essential, under law, that we hear what else Fidelma was going to say about the motivation of your sister to this treacherous act.’
Prince Donennach collapsed back into his chair and gave a listless assent.
Fidelma regarded the Prince of the Ui Fidgente with sympathy. ‘I am sorry that it has come to this, Donennach. But many things caused me to pose questions that brought me to this conclusion. When we first met, Airmid told me she had studied the healing arts at the Abbey of Inis Faithlian. I wondered why Tuaman, who had studied at Inis Faithlian at the same time as Airmid, pretended not to know her, or her very name, when she was called upon to examine the body of Abbot Segdae. It was Conri who told me the name of the physician who attended. Yet when I came upon Airmid and Tuaman playing fidchell last night, in this very hall, and Airmid was winning, what did Brother Tuaman say? That she had always been an excellent player even when she was a student.
‘I do not say it was conclusive. But then I recalled something else. Your cousin Eoganan was Prince of the Ui Fidgente when Airmid left her studies to practise her healing arts. Your family had been displaced by Eoganan. I was told that your sister fell in love with someone that your family did not approve of. In spite of their protests, Airmid married that person. Now what family would be powerful enough to stand up to your family’s disapproval? The only one would be the rival branch of the royal line. The man she married was a son of Eoganan … that son was Lorcan. Lorcan, who had survived his father’s defeat, killed his twin brother – the religieux, Lughna – and hid for some years in the Abbey of Mungairit, plotting the death of my brother, Colgu, and your overthrow, Donennach.’
There was an icy silence in the hall.
‘During all that time,’ Fidelma continued, ‘you were led to believe that Airmid was a widow. Six months ago, when I uncovered the truth that Lorcan was alive and plotting in Mungairit, he was captured and sent by me as a prisoner to this very fortress to await your pleasure when you returned from your visit to the High King. I learned that he had escaped from his cell, but that the watchful guards had mortally wounded him. He died being nursed by Airmid who then became his widow in reality and swore vengeance on you.
‘One more thing,’ she concluded. ‘It was thought he had help to escape. If we speculate that it was his wife who helped him, I do not think we would be far wrong. You had been so used to thinking of her as a widow during the years that had passed since Cnoc Aine that it did not occur to you that she might still be infatuated with him.
‘Conri was mid-way through telling me the story when we were interrupted before he could name the man that she had married. Had I insisted on the end of that story, in spite of my distraction, we might have achieved a quicker resolution to this matter.’
‘At least the matter is resolved now,’ Brehon Faolchair said with satisfaction. ‘Needless to say, Gorman of Cashel leaves here without a stain on his character and reparation will be offered according to law. Tuaman will not be allowed to return to Imleach and his punishment will be decided later. As for Nannid and Cuineain, they will be handed to the community of Nechta for their council to decide what is to become of them.’
Prince Donennach rose from his seat almost like a sleepwalker and stared round at those assembled in the hall.
‘I take the burden of my sister’s guilt on my shoulders and ask for your forgiveness,’ he said slowly. ‘I assure you that reparation of the honour price of each of those who met their death at the hands of her evil plot will be swiftly paid – the honour price of Abbot Segdae, that of Ciarnat and of Mael Anfaid. This I have said and so it will be done.’
Brehon Faolchair waited a moment and heaved a sigh before announcing: ‘This court, this hearing, is now terminated.’
As Fidelma and her companions rode through the gates of Dun Eochair Mhaigh, she silently prayed it would be for the last time. Conri, Socht and Ceit stood at one side of the gates and raised their hands in salute as they rode by. The atmosphere at the farewell feasting in the great hall during the previous evening had been mixed with sadness. Prince Donennach had not attended, but took his farewell of Fidelma privately. He continued to be visibly devastated by his sister’s treachery and violent death whilst trying to kill him. For Fidelma and her companions there was a mixture of relief – and even happiness – at the prospect of returning to Cashel. She and Eadulf had missed their son. Prior Cuan and the young steward Brother Mac Raith were certainly relieved that the truth had been uncovered, but contemplated the future with uncertainty. There were, of course, notable absences at the feast. Brother Tuaman now occupied the cell once occupied by Gorman, while Nannid and Cuineain had been taken to the Abbey of Nechta to be heard before the community.
Prior Cuan and Brother Mac Raith had left earlier that morning in a mule cart, joining a group of travelling merchants heading for the great Abbey of Imleach. However, Fidelma and her group had slept long past the usual hour and now, with Enda leading the way, followed by Fidelma and Eadulf, with Gorman and Aibell bringing up the rear of their small group, they finally left the fortress. Passing down the slope into the main square of the township, they heard the sounds of sawing, hammering and happy raised voices. On the far side of the square, the forbidding wooden walls of what had been the Abbey of Nechta were being hauled down with a joyous will.
Brother Eladach was hurrying across the square to speak to them.
‘I had to say farewell, lady,’ he gasped, ‘and to give our thanks to you for preserving our way of life.’
Fidelma halted her horse for a moment and smiled down at him.
‘You were not long in making a decision, my friend, as to whether to adopt the pretensions of an abbey or simply become part of the community of this township again.’
‘It needed no great thought, lady. We can do without abbots and bishops to tell us how to live our lives, or walls to separate us from the knowledge and friendship of our fellow citizens.’
‘What of Nannid and his companion, Cuineain?’
‘At the same time that our community decided to rejoin the real world, we informed them that they could leave at once, taking only whatever they had arrived with. Even that was more than they deserved.’
Eadulf pulled a face. ‘With any luck, they took less than they arrived with. I am referring to the weight of their arrogance, their pretensions and their fanaticism.’