‘It is obvious that Laigin, whose admitted ambition all these years has been to have Osraige returned to it, have watched and perhaps even encouraged the unrest there.’
There was a chorus of angry shouts from the benches on which Laigin’s representatives sat. Many even stood up and shook their fists at Fidelma.
The Chief Brehon rapped his staff upon the table for order.
Forbassach had sprung to his feet again but Barrán turned and stared at him in such a way that he sank back without speaking.
‘I must warn the representatives of Laigin that it will do their case little good to demonstrate in such a manner.’ He turned, his eyes glinting, to Fidelma. ‘And must I remind you, Sister Fidelma, that a fine of one séd is payable if an advocate incites a court to violence?’
Fidelma bowed her head.
‘I am contrite, Barrán. I had not thought my words would provoke anger nor, in fact, did I think that they would be contested. What I have said is simply a matter of common knowledge.’
At this point the High King leant towards his Chief Brehon and whispered something. The Chief Brehon nodded swiftly and instructed Fidelma to continue her plea.
‘The struggle for the kingship of Osraige developed last year into a struggle between Scandlán, the cousin of Salbach of the Corco Loígde, and Illan, a descendant of the line of native kings. Illan was killed by Scandlán over a year ago.’
There was a sound of disturbance, this time from the benches of Muman. A stocky, florid-faced man had risen with anger on his features. He had a mass of sandy hair and a bushy beard, standing like a bear at bay.
‘I demand to speak!’ he cried. ‘I am Scandlán, king of Osraige.’
‘Sit down!’ The Chief Brehon’s heavy bass voice quelled the whispering that was echoing through the church. ‘As king you surely know the rules of procedure of this assembly?’
‘My name is being sullied!’ protested the muscular chieftain. ‘Do I not have a chance to answer my accuser?’
‘There is no accusation at the moment,’ Fidelma said. ‘What then is in error?’
The High King was again whispering to the Chief Brehon. Fidelma saw a smile hovering on the High King’s lips.
‘Very well,’ agreed the Chief Brehon. ‘There is one question that I will ask of Scandlán now. King of Osraige, did you kill Illan?’
‘Of course I did,’ snapped the sandy-haired man. ‘It is my right as king to protect myself and Illan was in insurrection against me and …’
The Chief Brehon raised his hand for silence.
‘Then it seems that Sister Fidelma has only stated the truth. She has impugned no mean motive, so far. We will hear you later if either of the learned advocates call upon you to give testimony. Until then, you will not interrupt the proceedings.’
He returned his gaze to Fidelma and indicated that she might continue again.
‘The death of Illan was not the end of the contention. Illan had offspring who were not then at the age of choice when they might take their official claims to the people. Theproblem was that no one seemed to know who the offspring of Illan were, for it appeared that he had several children. They had all been sent out of Osraige into fosterage until the time when the eldest of them would be of age and able to present his claim to his people.
‘There were two people who were interested in the heirs of Illan. Scandlán was interested because he knew that sooner or later those heirs would once more contend with him for the kingship of Osraige. And Fianamail of Laigin was interested. Fianamail felt that if the heirs could be found and supported in their fight to throw out Scandlán, then Laigin might influence the future of Osraige so that it would eventually be returned to their authority.’
She paused expectantly but this time there was no outcry.
‘But the heirs of Illan had vanished. The question was how to discover who they were and where they were. One way to discover the identity of these heirs, so it was thought, was to examine the genealogies of the Osraige. Now since the Corco Loígde had ruled Osraige, it had been their scribes who had kept the detailed genealogies and histories. And where were these genealogies kept?’
Fidelma paused again and glanced around at the expectant faces in the now silent abbey church.
‘They were kept here, here in Ros Ailithir.’
There was a muttering as some began to see where her arguments were leading.
‘Fianamail of Laigin sent his best scholar to Ros Ailithir to examine the genealogies in order to trace the heir of Illan. That scholar was none other than Dacan, brother of Abbot Noé of Fearna, and cousin to Fianamail, the king. Now let Fianamail deny this on his sacred oath!’
‘A question!’ cried Forbassach. ‘I have the right to ask a question!’
The Chief Brehon conceded that he had.
‘If the current king of Osraige was, as Muman’s advocatesuggests, so keen to track down Illan’s heirs, why did he not send his own scholar to examine these records which are here, in his own family territory? That would have been easy for him to do.’
‘The simply answer is that he, or rather his family, did,’ Fidelma replied evenly. ‘But I have asked Fianamail to deny that Dacán was sent here with that task on his behalf. I deserve an answer.’
Forbassach turned to exchange a hurried word with Fianamail and the grim-faced Abbot Noé. The Chief Brehon cleared his throat meaningfully and Forbassach smiled.
‘Whatever research Dacán may have been conducting, it does not cancel out the fact that he was murdered, and responsibility for his death lies with the abbot and ultimately with the king of Muman.’
His voice was firm but less assured than he had been in his opening argument.
‘Not,’ replied Fidelma with emphasis, ‘if Dacán’s purpose for being here was not what he claimed it to be.’
This time it was the ollamh of the Chief Brehon who bent forward and whispered into Barrán’s ear. The Chief Brehon regarded Fidelma gravely.
‘If this is the basis of your counter-plea, Sister Fidelma, then I am advised to caution you that it is a tenuous defence. Dacán stated that he wanted to research and teach at Ros Ailithir and on that condition he was granted the hospitality of the king of Cashel and the abbot of Ros Ailithir. The fact that he did not stipulate the precise nature of that research does not exclude him from legal protection. He was, after all, conducting research.’
‘I would have to argue this,’ conceded Fidelma, ‘but I made my opening plea with two points. We will leave the first for the time being. I think I can demonstrate later that it is a means of dismissing culpability. But we have more important matters to deal with first. Such as the identity of Dacán’s killer.’
There was another outburst of muttering among the assembly. Barrán’s eyes narrowed as he leant forward in his chair and rapped for silence.
‘Are you saying that you know the identity of the murderer?’ he demanded.
Fidelma smiled enigmatically.
‘We will come to that in a moment. I must be allowed to explain some other matters.’
Barrán gestured impatiently for her to continue.
‘As I have said, Dacan came to Ros Ailithir for a single purpose. The purpose was to trace the genealogy of the Illan. To his surprise, Dacán found that his former wife, Grella from the abbey of Cealla, was working here as librarian. He thought that he had been the recipient of good fortune for Grella was from Osraige and her relationship with Dacán had not ended in enmity. So Dacán enlisted her help to obtain the records which he required. She gave that help willingly because she was also interested in finding the heirs of Illan. Alas, her reasons for that interest were not the same as those of her former husband.’