‘It is then that Grella entered the picture again to provideinformation to Salbach. Grella had become soul-friend to Sister Eisten at Rae na Scríne. Eisten, by one of those apparent coincidences which are all too common in life, was the very person to whom the young sons of Illan had been given for safekeeping after their removal from Sceilig Mhichil. They had been sent to her orphanage at Rae na Scríne. Sister Eisten made the biggest mistake of her life. She confessed the intrigue to her soul-friend, Sister Grella.
‘Grella triumphantly informed Salbach. He thought he would lay a trap by inviting Eisten and her orphans to his fortress. Once he was able to identify her charges … well, Eisten accompanied Grella but did not take her children. There was plague in the village and she did not want to move the children unnecessarily. It was a decision which actually saved the lives of the sons of Illan but which cost the village its existence.
‘In desperation, Salbach told Intat to go to Rae na Scríne and destroy the children. The trouble was that Intat had no means to identify them. He decided, brutal man that he was, to destroy the entire village. When I and Cass came along, Intat tried to disguise the true nature of this crime by claiming that there was plague in the village and presenting himself and his men as frightened neighbouring villagers burning out the plague. Sister Eisten and some of her children survived.
‘Eisten was shocked. I thought she was shocked by the death of the people and especially by the death of a baby she tried to save. However, in reality she was shocked because she had worked out the real reason for the killings. She even knew who had betrayed her. She asked me if a soul-friend could betray a confidence. I should have listened to her more closely for then she might not have been killed. I might have saved her. Do you follow the events so far, Salbach?’
Salbach’s mouth was pressed tight. He was clearly shocked at the extent of her awareness and knew that there was little he could say in the face of Fidelma’s remorseless knowledge except to resort to truth.
‘You have a brilliant mind, Fidelma. I knew that I should not underestimate you. Yes, you are right. I accept your knowledge.’
‘When you came to this abbey and found that Sister Eisten had survived with several of her children, you could not dare allow that to pass. Intat, doubtless on your orders, managed to waylay Sister Eisten while she was down at the harbour. He tortured her to find out where the sons of Illan had been taken. She would not reply and so he killed her, dumping her body in the waters of the inlet.
‘Grella came to your aid once more, eventually discovering that some children from Rae na Scríne had been taken to the house of Molua. The bodies of four religious and twenty children and the charred ruins of their houses are the mute testament to Intat’s visit.’
‘I will deny nothing. But let me take oath that my cousin, Scandlán of Osraige, did not know my plans to safeguard the kingship of Osraige for our family. Neither did Grella. She is innocent of the blood that I have spilt.’
Fidelma regarded Salbach with an expression of undisguised revulsion. She found it difficult to accept that a man could admit responsibility for such death and destruction but could seek to protect others with a twisted concept of honour and love. But then it was a strange world and humankind were the strangest creatures in it.
Grella was sobbing openly now, crying: ‘I did not know any of this! I did not know!’
Fidelma glanced at her without pity.
‘You were so besotted by your love for Salbach that you had not reasoned out the truth. I concede that it is possible but find it difficult to believe. You would not believe that your lover was capable of ordering the death of little children. I think the reality is that you did not want to know what was going on around you.’
There was a commotion at one of the doors. Fidelma smiledsourly when she saw that Scandlán’s seat was empty. The Chief Brehon had noticed also and waved to a member of the fianna and issued instructions in a low voice.
‘Your cousin will not get out of this abbey,’ Barrán told Salbach.
‘What does it matter now?’ Salbach gave an eloquent shrug. ‘I have admitted my guilt in this matter. I am prepared to stand for judgment. Doubtless my wealth and chieftainship will be forfeit as compensation and I shall be sent into exile. I am prepared for it. Let us proceed with the judgment forthwith.’
Forbassach had risen from the Laigin benches amid the pandemonium that had broken out. He was smiling crookedly.
‘We are grateful to Sister Fidelma for discovering the culprit. But I must point out that Salbach, as chieftain of the Corco Loígde, still owes his allegiance to Cashel. What Fidelma is proving is that responsibility for the death of Dacán still rests with Cashel. Our demand for Osraige as his honour price is still valid.’
The Chief Brehon, Barrán, looked grave.
‘That appears true. Or is there more to this story you wish to tell us, Sister Fidelma?’
‘Much more,’ Fidelma affirmed grimly. ‘For I am not accusing Salbach of the death of Dacán. He is only responsible for the slaughter of the innocents, for the death of those I have named. Neither he nor Grella killed the Venerable Dacán. ’
Chapter Twenty
There was a murmur of excitement from the Muman benches as Sister Fidelma made her surprising announcement. Colgú had been wearing a long face. He had already been aware of the point which Forbassach was bound to make. Now he stared in astonishment at his sister.
‘If Salbach did not kill Dacán,’ the Chief Brehon demanded, with an air of exaggerated patience, ‘are you going to reveal to this assembly who did?’
‘We must come to that logically,’ Fidelma replied. ‘First let us go back to the day when, going through the genealogies here, Dacán discovered the whereabouts of the heirs of Illan. I have already said that he sat down and wrote a letter to his brother Noe.’
Noé leaned forward in his seat and spoke rapidly to Forbassach.
The fiery advocate rose again.
‘There is no proof that Dacán, even if engaged in such a search, reported to the Abbot Noé; there is no evidence that he had even been asked to report to the abbot. In view of that, this assertion is an affront to the abbot and to Fianamail of Laigin.’
‘I will contest that,’ replied Fidelma with assurance. ‘I have also requested the presence at this hearing of Assíd of the Uí Dego. Is he within the court?’
A well-built man with the rolling gait of a sailor came forward. His skin was tanned, his hair sun-bleached and therefore it was impossible to discern its colour.
‘I am Assíd,’ he announced in an almost defiant tone. ‘I appear before this assembly by order of the Chief Brehon but I appear unwillingly for I have no intention of bringing harm to my king.’
He stood before the cos-na-dála with arms folded, staring in antagonism towards Fidelma.
‘Let that be so recorded,’ the Chief Brehon cautioned his scriptor.
‘Let it be recorded that Assíd is, indeed, a loyal subject of Fianamail of Laigin,’ added Fidelma lightly with a smile.
‘I do not deny that,’ affirmed Assíd suspiciously.
‘Are you the captain and owner of a coastal trading barc?’
‘I do not deny that, either.’
‘For the last year or so have you traded between Laigin and the lands of the Corco Loígde?’