‘Do you know any details of this terrible affair?’ she asked.
‘None that I was not told, lady,’ he confessed. ‘I was not at the fortress when it happened, so I only know what others have passed on to me. I came to the fortress because I received a message from Prince Donennach to say that Gorman had arrived to warn him about Glaed. It seems that Glaed had somehow escaped from the custody of his brother, Artgal, had killed him and set himself up as head of that band of thieves and cut-throats who dwell in the fastness of Sliabh Luachra.’
‘The message did not mention that Gorman was charged with the killing of the Abbot of Imleach?’
Conri shook his head. ‘No. I was at my own fortress at the Ford of Oaks and knew nothing of that until the next day when I arrived at Dun Eochair Mhaigh. It was then I heard that Abbot Segdae had been stabbed to death the previous evening and that Gorman stood accused. I found it impossible to believe that he did it! I knew from previous encounters that Gorman honours the warriors’ code. He would never strike down an unarmed man – let alone a churchman. Yet, lady, I sat through the Brehon’s hearing and heard the facts presented. One cannot argue with facts, it seems.
‘Although one can argue with the interpretation of the facts,’ Fidelma pointed out swiftly.
‘It would take a sharper mind than I possess to see how they could be interpreted in any other way,’ the warlord observed. ‘Anyway, I have tried my best to help in the circumstances. I listened closely to Gorman’s defence. I felt sympathy for his young wife.’
‘So there is little that you can tell me from your own knowledge of the details of the killing?’
‘Nothing at all.’
‘I gather the murder was uncovered by the abbot’s steward and by a guard of the household. Do you know him? Is he a reliable witness?’
‘Certainly. His name is Lachtna, and he has served in Prince Donennach’s personal guard for over a year or so. He is a good man in battle but has to be directed, if you understand my meaning. He is not imaginative and sees everything in terms of black and white. To him, the bottle is half empty. It is not half full.’
Fidelma sighed. ‘Such people often make the best witnesses for they do not let imagination interfere with what they see, nor do they speculate with interpretation.’
‘That makes it more awkward for Gorman,’ Conri acknowledged.
‘The task is to discover the truth, however unpalatable. And what about Abbot Segdae’s steward, Brother Tuaman? He was newly appointed and I have only seen him at a distance. Did you form an opinion about him?’
Conri managed a grin. ‘I saw him at the Brehon’s hearing, and to me, he seems to be following the wrong calling. He is taller than I am and has the build of a warrior, being strong and muscular. However, I would say he possesses the fault of vanity.’
‘Vanity?’
‘Yes. He is full of his own importance.’
‘I suppose a man who becomes steward of the Abbey of Imleach has earned some degree of status,’ Fidelma conceded. ‘So, you have formed no opinion on the abbot’s death other than listening to the facts that were presented to the Brehon?’
‘As I said, lady, the facts were such that I could not see a way of contending with them. Even Gorman offered no real defence or explanation other than stating that he did not do it. If I had not known Gorman before this, I would have said that there was no question of his guilt.’
‘But you are uneasy?’
‘It is not only because the man I knew would not be capable of such a crime against an unarmed cleric. There is something else.’
‘What is it?’
‘Something that you taught me, lady. You once said, find a motive and you will usually find a culprit. There seems no motive here.’
‘Cui bono?’ Fidelma mused.
‘Pardon, lady?’
‘It is something a Roman lawyer named Cicero once said. “To whom is the benefit?” And you are right. What gain was there for Gorman in killing the abbot? Abbot Segdae was known to him as a friend and mentor, as he was a friend and mentor for many of us at Cashel. Also, Gorman had come there by chance to warn the prince about Glaed.’
‘I heard that he was in an ill temper when he went to see the abbot.’
‘Why would that be?’
‘There was some gossip suggesting that his warning about Glaed was not taken seriously by Prince Donennach, and that Gorman went to complain about this to the abbot. It was strange, because the prince had already sent for me.’
‘So Prince Donennach did take the warning seriously … What has been done about Glaed?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Prince Donennach’s intention was for me to lead a punitive raid into Sliabh Luachra to see if we could capture Glaed and discourage his followers. My opinion was that Glaed, having killed his own father, Fidaig, and then his own brother, Artgal, would be at the mercy of many of his own people who would be inclined to join us against him. They might be concerned about who Glaed would turn on next.’
‘What happened about this raid?’
‘That matter was delayed while Donennach deals with this greater threat and attempts to resolve it. I merely posted sentinels along the western routes to ensure we had warning of any hostile movement from Glaed.’
‘You call it the “greater threat”?’ Eadulf put in.
‘The growing insistence of the Ui Fidgente clerics, led by our old acquaintance, Abbot Nannid, demands that Gorman should be punished by execution under their Penitential rules,’ the warlord told him bleakly.
‘But Gorman was not tried by an ecclesiastical court of the abbot and bishops of the Ui Fidgente,’ Fidelma objected. ‘And the crime actually happened in the fortress of the prince whose Brehon has heard the matter. Irrespective of guilt or innocence, the Brehon and the prince are representatives of the law of this kingdom, of all the Five Kingdoms, and the law of the Brehons is still the law.’
‘That is true,’ nodded Conri, ‘but Nannid has many followers and he is now a great advocate of the Penitentials.’
‘Are you saying that he is powerful enough to even dictate law to the prince’s Brehon?’ Fidelma asked, shocked. ‘Surely Donennach supports his Brehon? The judgements and punishments given by him must be in obedience to the Council of Brehons of Muman, submissive to the kingdom and also to the entire Five Kingdoms under the Chief Brehon of the High King.’
Conri’s expression was one of resignation. ‘When I said the “greater threat”, I meant it. You know our diverging history, lady. The Eoghanacht of Cashel and the Ui Fidgente do not always see the world from the same mountain top.’
‘We have recently concluded a peace between us – an amicable peace – and have re-entered a community of spirit in one ancient kingdom,’ she reminded him.
‘Except that such a matter as this may well turn into another crossroads where our paths may once more diverge.’
‘That they must not do,’ Fidelma said.
‘I’ll put it bluntly, lady,’ returned Conri. ‘Our clergy knows your brother vehemently opposes the growing influence of these Pententials. That is the very reason why Abbot Nannid is demanding these ecclesiastical punishments.’
‘But Abbot Segdae was a foremost advocate for keeping to our native laws. He would never have condoned the use of these Penitentials to replace the laws of our kingdom!’
‘That is not Abbot Nannid’s logic,’ Conri said. ‘The situation is thus: Prince Donennach finds himself sitting on a knife-edge. You, above all people, will know just how fragile is the peace between our people. A word out of place, a jibe, a threat – and all may be blown away like a house of straw. If Donennach defies his clergy he may face another attempt to oust him as ruler of the Ui Fidgente or, at best, face an internal war among us. If he accepts the demands of Abbot Nannid, then he risks war with Cashel and even retribution from the High King. Either way, there will be bloodshed.’
Fidelma’s mouth tightened at his words. ‘I am well aware of what is at stake here,’ she said. ‘Abbot Nannid doubtless still chafes at being rebuked for the conspiracy we discovered at his Abbey of Mungairit, even though he was not directly involved.’