Ciarnat stood silent, looking wretched and uneasy.
‘But the most puzzling aspect of this escape was something which the guard let slip,’ Fidelma added. ‘He overheard Aibell tell Gorman that they had been betrayed. By whom were they betrayed – and about what? Was this so-called betrayal the reason for the escape?’
‘You see now, Ciarnat, why we might need to ask questions of you,’ pressed Brehon Faolchair.
‘The girl is clearly the accomplice,’ Abbot Nannid asserted. ‘I am glad that the dalaigh appears to admit this. Those who help the murderer share the crime. We might not be able to hang Gorman but we can make an example of his accomplice.’
Ciarnat gave a small cry, a clenched fist raised to her mouth as she understood the meaning behind his words.
Fidelma glanced at him, infuriated. She felt sure she could have coaxed some more information from the girl, but the abbot’s brutal tactic had spoiled any chance of that by scaring her.
‘You have a way of distorting words, Abbot Nannid, and that can be a dangerous trait,’ she reproached him. ‘I have merely put some facts forward to seek answers and have yet to draw any conclusions from them.’
‘The conclusions should be obvious,’ returned the bellicose abbot.
‘They might be to you, but not to one trained in law.’ Fidelma was losing patience.
Ciarnat was trembling. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she began hesitantly.
‘Say what you know and what you believe to be the truth,’ Eadulf advised encouragingly, ‘and you will not be at fault.’
‘You told me that you would see Gorman and Aibell after the questioning of the witnesses. With the warrior, Enda, I took this news back to Aibell and Gorman. Enda is witness to this. Then I left the fortress and went to my mother’s house. That is all I know.’
‘If you didn’t help your friends to escape, who did?’ boomed Abbot Nannid.
‘I have already told you what I know. I cannot invent anything else.’
‘I for one do not believe you,’ the abbot snapped.
‘Thankfully, it is not up to you to believe the statements of a witness,’ Eadulf suddenly exploded at the man. He had been feeling his temper simmering at the rudeness and disrespect to his wife from the Abbot of Mungairit ever since the previous evening. ‘Your ability in the matter of belief has been questionable in the past. If I remember correctly, when we were uncovering the conspiracy against Prince Donennach in your own abbey, you were either gullible about believing people or you had your own purpose!’
The abbot wheeled round on Eadulf, his face livid, his mouth working. For a moment it looked as if the man would forget his religious calling and resort to violence.
Brehon Faolchair moved forward with a restraining hand to separate them.
‘I do believe that all our tempers have become a little heated today. It is not often that we find our trust abused – and this can often lead to anger.’
Fidelma shot a warning glance at Eadulf. In a way, he had been right in that the abbot had either been an innocent participant in the conspiracy at Mungairit Abbey, or that he had played his part with knowledge. In any event, she was sure that Prince Donennach’s sister Airmid had made a correct assessment that Nannid was watching the prince’s office with covetous eyes. At Mungairit, Fidelma had decided that she could allow some leniency in her judgement and did so. But now Nannid seemed to have emerged in what seemed, if Airmid was right, another conspiracy to overthrow her brother.
‘Brehon Faolchair is correct,’ Prince Donennach was saying to his cousin. ‘There is no need to be unduly harsh on the girl. I recall that Etromma, her mother, did serve our household well for many years. She has explained her absence from the fortress. It is easy to check.’
‘But in the meantime, we should keep her in the cells until we are sure,’ Abbot Nannid said eagerly.
‘I do not think we need be so drastic,’ Brehon Faolchair reproved him. ‘Anyway, if she were part of the escape plan, why should she return here? She would have ridden off with her friends. Is this not so?’
He asked the question of Fidelma who bowed her head in response.
‘The logic is unassailable,’ she replied solemnly.
‘Then I will suggest a compromise,’ Prince Donennach offered. ‘My sister, Airmid, will take her into her household, where she may feel safe. Then we can have time to consider matters.’
‘Once again, I protest.’ Abbot Nannid would not let it go. He said snidely, ‘Surely we do not have to continue appeasing the Eoghanacht?’
However, Brehon Faolchair was nodding his approval. ‘An excellent suggestion. So be it.’ He turned to the two warriors who had brought Ciarnat into the hall. ‘Take the girl to the lady Airmid and tell her that she is to be treated as a guest in her household by order of the prince. I will come later and explain the situation in more detail.’
As the men escorted Cairnat from the hall, Prince Donennach rose. Abbot Nannid did not disguise his rage as he too rose and, with a swift jerk of his head towards the prince, strode away. His steward, Brother Cuineain, followed – almost scampering behind him.
Prince Donennach looked after them as the doors of the hall were slammed shut with a force that shook the walls. He turned apologetically to those who remained. ‘This prelate cousin of mine is a man of fixed vision. I fear he admits of no opinions, judgements or interpretations other than his own. Remember, you have nine nights to find the fugitive and return him to face trial, otherwise we face difficult decisions.’
With this comment he left for his private chamber, followed by Brehon Faolchair.
Brother Tuaman rose, bowing to Prior Cuan. ‘Forgive me, I have more matters to attend to in respect of the debates between Imleach and the Mungairit.’
Prior Cuan regarded him in astonishment. ‘Do you mean, after all this, that you expect there to be some sort of debate continuing between Imleach and Mungairit?’
‘We should not abandon the work now.’ The steward’s voice rose slightly in admonishment. ‘We can still achieve much.’
‘For what purpose is this work when we have heard so clearly that Abbot Nannid will not retreat from his position? He and his acolytes will insist on keeping to the Penitentials and the argument that they should supplant the laws of the Five Kingdoms.’ Prior Cuan concluded dryly, ‘I, for one, would say that the only course was for us to return to Imleach.’
‘Just because the abbot has been removed from the debate,’ Brother Tuaman argued, ‘there is no need to abandon it entirely. After all, Abbot Segdae was reconsidering his view on this matter of church law.’
Fidelma could not contain her surprise at his remark.
‘Brother Tuamam, I have known Abbot Segdae since he became Abbot and chief ecclesiastical adviser to my brother. Are you seriously claiming that he was considering adopting the Penitentials? Is that what you mean?’
The tall man reared up and said in a pompous tone, ‘As steward it has been my privilege to have discussed many of these matters with the abbot, and his attitudes were not as fixed as has been suggested. I hope, when I have gathered my notes, to have similar discussions with Prior Cuan, to carry on this momentous work with our brethren of the Ui Fidgente churches.’
With an all-embracing bob of his head to the company, he strutted off.
Prior Cuan then struggled to his feet, pausing for a moment, leaning heavily on his stick. ‘I cannot believe Segdae would have contemplated supporting the Penitentials,’ he said.