There was another commotion from the benches behind Fidelma.
Barrán raised a tired head and called for order while his ollamh began hurriedly speaking in an undertone to him.
Fidelma turned and saw Sister Grella standing, her face distorted and filled with passion.
‘Sister Grella, be seated!’ ordered Barrán as his ollamh identified her.
‘I will not sit and be insulted!’ cried Grella hysterically, ‘nor unjustly accused.’
‘Has Sister Fidelma insulted you?’ demanded the Chief Brehon wearily. ‘I am not aware that she has. If so, please tell me in what way has the insult been made? Were you or were you not married to Dacán of Fearna?’
‘Mugrón, the captain of the Laigin warship, stands ready togive witness,’ warned Fidelma quickly, pointing to where the seaman sat on the Laigin benches.
‘I was married to Dacán but …’ conceded Grella.
‘And that marriage ended in divorce?’ interposed the Chief Brehon.
‘Yes.’
‘When Dacán came to Ros Ailithir, did he know that you were librarian of the abbey?’
‘No.’
‘But he enlisted your help for his research?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you gave it willingly?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you share Dacán’s motives for this research?’
Grella’s face reddened and she hung her head.
‘Then there is no insult,’ Barrán said, assuming her answer. ‘Be seated, Sister Grella, lest you insult this court by your animosity.’
‘But I know that this woman is trying to claim that I killed Dacan! She is playing like a cat with a mouse! Let her accuse me openly!’
‘Are you accusing Sister Grella of the murder of Dacán?’ asked the Chief Brehon of Fidelma.
Fidelma smiled wryly.
‘I think that I may eventually clear this matter up, Barrán, but by questioning Salbach, chieftain of the Corco Loígde.’
‘Whatever accusations you make, Fidelma, you must substantiate them,’ Barrán warned.
‘That I am prepared to do.’
Barrán motioned to one of the warriors of fianna, the High King’s bodyguard. A few moments later Salbach was brought, his hands bound before him. He stood somewhat defiantly before the assembly.
‘Salbach of the Corco Loígde,’ Fidelma began, ‘you already stand before this assembly denounced as responsible for theactions of your bó-aire, Intat. Intat was responsible for the slaughter of many innocents in your name both at Ros na Scríne and at the house of Molua.’
Salbach raised his chin belligerently but did not reply.
‘You do not deny these charges?’ demanded the Chief Brehon.
Salbach still did not speak.
Barrán sighed heavily.
‘You do not have to answer the accusation but some inference will be placed on your silence by this court. If you do not answer then the allegations must be considered as true and punishment must follow.’
‘I am ready for your punishment,’ Salbach said curtly. It was apparent that Salbach had reflected on the weight of the evidence against him and saw no alternative to admitting his culpability.
‘And is Sister Grella also ready to accept punishment?’ Fidelma asked, hoping that she had judged Salbach’s feeling for the librarian correctly. If Salbach was reconciled to his punishment, she wondered whether he was as willing to inflict it on Grella? Salbach swung round to Fidelma, his expression impassive.
‘She is not guilty of any of the misdeeds attributed to me,’ he said quietly. ‘Let her go.’
‘Yet Sister Grella was your lover, wasn’t she, Salbach?’
‘I have admitted that.’
‘It was either your cousin, Scandlán, or you — it matters not where the idea came from — who suggested that Grella might use her position as librarian to look through the genealogical books of Osraige, which are kept at the abbey, in an attempt to find Illan’s heir. Isn’t that true?’
‘You are bound to reply,’ instructed the Chief Brehon as Salbach hesitated.
‘It is true.’
‘Then came a coincidence. Grella told you, probably duringyour pillow talk, that her former husband, Dacán, had arrived at Ros Ailithir for exactly the same purpose. He, too, was searching for Illan’s heir. Knowing him to be the better scholar, Grella persuaded him to work closely with her so that she could then inform you how he was proceeding. Isn’t that so? You wanted to know who the heir of Illan was as much as Dacan did. But whereas Dacán was interested in finding them to use him to serve Laigin’s purpose, you wanted to find him to destroy the last of the family of native kings. That would forever safeguard the dynasty of the Corco Loígde in Osraige.’
There was a tense silence. No one spoke. All eyes were on Salbach. It was Sister Grella who broke the silence with a wail of fear as, for the first time, she finally realised the enormity of what had been done.
‘But it is not true … I did not know that Salbach … I did not know he wanted to kill them … I am not responsible for the death of all those innocent children … I am not.’
Salbach turned and snapped at her to be silent.
‘When Dacán discovered the whereabouts of the heir of Illan,’ Fidelma went on remorselessly, ‘Grella ran to tell you. It was the day before Dacán’s death. He had found that the Father Superior of Sceilig Mhichil, the monastery of Michael the Archangel, was a cousin of Illan. He had discovered that Illan’s heir had been taken there for safety. He wrote of his news and announced that he was about to set out for Sceilig Mhichil. He was killed before he did so.’
‘How did he discover this information? Surely the records placed here would not announce the hiding place of Illan’s heirs?’ demanded the Chief Brehon.
‘Curiously enough, they did. Dacán found Illan’s will on some rods of the poets. The irony of this tale is that when Scandlán killed Illan, he seized his fortress and goods. Illan’s library was also seized. In that library was his will, which he had specifically chosen to write in Ogham on rods of the poets.The irony was that Scandlán, unable to read it, had sent it, with other books, as a gift to this abbey, the chief abbey of the Corco Loígde.’
‘Even so,’ protested Barrán, ‘surely any reasonable scholar could have read the Ogham of the will and ultimately deciphered the information?’
‘Illan was obviously a literary man, for the will was coded. I found a wand from the will in Dacán’s chamber where he had carelessly left it. It went unnoticed by his murderer. I have only an extract from one rod. The others had been destroyed.’
She turned and retrieved the small piece of burnt stick which she had taken from the sepulchre the previous night.
‘Only this piece now remains. This says “the resolve of the honourable one determines the fosterage of my children”.’
‘That sounds gibberish,’ laughed Forbassach.
‘Not if you know the code and the full text. The piece that I recall from the wand I found in Dacán’s chamber stated: “let my sweet cousin care for my sons on the rock of Michael as my honourable cousin shall dictate”.’
‘Even more gibberish!’ sneered Forbassach.
‘Dacán did not think so. He knew that the rock of Michael was Sceilig Mhichil. It was easy to learn that the Father Superior was named Mel. The meaning of that name is “sweet”. Mel was, therefore, Illan’s “sweet” cousin!’
‘You make the interpretation of the puzzle sound easy,’ observed the Chief Brehon.
‘Then allow me to return to it later. Sufficient to know at this time that Dacán deciphered the will’s puzzle and wrote a report of his finding. Sister Grella saw that report and informed Salbach. Salbach dispatched Intat immediately to “the rock of Michael”. But Illan’s sons were no longer there. Indeed, Intat learnt that there were two sons of Illan on that rock but they had been removed by a religieux. This religieux was a cousin of Father Mel.