Time passed. He was just beginning to drift off as natural tiredness overcame him, when he heard a noise and was suddenly wide awake. There was a movement at the side window. He pressed back into the shadows. There was a faint tinkle of breaking glass and the squeak of a catch. He felt the cold night air as the window was opened. Heavy breathing followed, and a grunt, as someone hauled themselves through the opening which, he recalled, was not large but just big enough to take a human.
Now the figure was in the apothecary, standing upright and trying to adjust to the darkness.
‘I was hoping that you would be the first to arrive, Brother Bosa,’ Fidelma’s clear voice rang out.
The man whirled round with a gasp. ‘I am-’ he began.
‘Stay still, do not speak,’ Fidelma ordered in an even voice before calling: ‘Conchobhar!’
The adjoining door at the rear of the apothecary opened and Brother Conchobhar’s voice whispered: ‘Do we have him?’
‘We have our first visitor,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘Brother Bosa, go with Brother Conchobhar and wait with him quietly until I say so. Oh, and be careful. Brother Conchobhar has in his hand an altan — what you would call a sharp surgical knife. Its cut can be painful. So I suggest that you say and do nothing.’
Eadulf was starting to crawl from his hiding place but her voice ordered him to stay where he was. Time passed and he was getting restless again when he heard another sound. Fidelma had insisted that the door of the apothecary be shut and locked to avoid any suspicion, for she had estimated that her adversary would realise the door would be locked. If it had been left unlocked, then it would have looked suspicious — like a trap. There was a scraping of metal on metal, followed by a snapping sound. Eadulf was feeling tense now, peering forward in the darkness.
In spite of the depth of the night, he could make out from the difference in tone when the door opened. Something dark appeared — and then there was complete blackness again. Eadulf presumed that the door had swung shut behind the intruder. There was silence for a moment and then the soft sound of stone on metal as the newcomer tried to light a lamp in the darkness. Then came a flame — and suddenly there was illumination.
Eadulf heard Fidelma rising on the other side of the room and he too stood up, staring with amazement at the figure revealed by the light. Shock registered on their features. This was the last person he had expected to respond to Fidelma’s ruse.
The figure dropped the lamp, which was immediately extinguished, but the door swung open and a tall shadow was blocking it. Gormán’s voice was sharp.
‘There is no escape, so just relax.’
At that moment, the interior door opened and the place was flooded with light again as Brother Conchobhar came in holding high a lantern with one hand and his knife in the other. Briefly, the figure seemed to be trying to decide whether to put up some resistance. Then there came a deep sigh and the shoulders slumped in resignation.
It was mid-morning when King Colgú, on Fidelma’s advice, summoned all those concerned to attend in his council chamber. He sat with the newly appointed young Chief Brehon Fíthel. The latter was gaunt in appearance with sandy, almost frizzy hair and elfin-like features. Yet the first thing one noticed about him was the icy-blue eyes that fixed one with an almost unblinking stare and seemed to penetrate to the very soul. He sat on Colgú’s right side on the dais.
Before them, to the right of the council chamber, sat Fidelma and Eadulf, and beyond them Abbot Ségdae, Abbess Líoch, Brother Madagan and Brother Conchobhar. On the left side of the council chamber, directly opposite them, were the Venerable Verax, Bishop Arwald and Brother Bosa.
Deogaire had been brought from his place of imprisonment and Muiredach, the warrior of Clan Baiscne, had been summoned from Rumann’s inn. They were seated at the far end of the chamber facing the King and Brehon Fíthel. Placed strategically around the chamber were Gormán, Enda, Aidan and Luan, the senior warriors of the King’s bodyguard.
The air of expectancy was palpable.
Having ascertained that everyone was in their correct places, as Fidelma had advised, Colgú addressed them all.
‘It is usual for my steward to commence these proceedings,’ Colgú began. ‘But as he is no longer of this world, I shall take this task upon myself and be advised by my new Chief Brehon, who will be sole judge in this matter. As I understand that Latin is common to all the participants, excepting some of my guards, the proceedings shall be in that language unless there are difficulties in comprehension. Is it agreed?’
There was a mumbling of agreement from the gathering. Colgú then glanced to Brehon Fíthel, who cleared his throat and asked if Fidelma was ready.
Fidelma rose from her seat, inclined her head quickly to her brother and the Chief Brehon, before walking to the centre of the chamber.
‘I have often had difficult matters to deal with in my years as a dálaigh,’ she began. ‘For an advocate of the courts of this kingdom, no matter is more frustrating than when there are no witnesses to the actual crimes; when we have to rely on piecing together the events by conjecture and then making deductions. This was the problem I was faced with in this matter. Because no one seemed willing to tell us the truth, we had to create a picture from odds and ends of evidence. That led me to devise a ruse so that the person I had begun to suspect would declare their own guilt.
‘I submit that, after I make my arguments, this ruse should be regarded in law as a method of obtaining the perpetrator’s coibsena or confession, and under that they are self-declared bibamnacht. . guilty of the crimes.’
She paused for a moment to glance at Brehon Fithel, who nodded to show that he did not disagree with her opening submission.
‘So now, let us proceed and piece together this sad story.’ She swung round to the Venerable Verax. ‘Tell us how the theft took place of those items that you had brought from your brother, Vitalian, the Bishop of Rome, to give to Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury?’
The Venerable Verax started in surprise at the direct question. He glanced at Brother Bosa who was seated nearby but simply shrugged indifferently. The Venerable Verax turned back to Fidelma, his eyes narrowed.
‘Are you clever, Fidelma of Cashel, or are you just guessing?’
Fidelma shook her head with a sad smile. ‘You should have learned one thing about me from the nomenclator of the Lateran Palace, the Venerable Gelasius, whom I was proud to have called a friend in Rome. I never guess.’
The Venerable Verax paused for a moment, as if undecided. Then he replied: ‘Then you will know that I set out from Rome on a mission to Theodore of Canterbury, bearing with me certain items that were given by the Holy Father and intended for Theodore and none other.’
‘I presume that you had but recently arrived in Canterbury when the theft occurred?’ she prompted. ‘But I should like to know the exact circumstances.’
‘I had brought with me certain holy objects. These I carried with me in a chest which was never out of my sight nor that of my personal servant.’
‘Except at the time when they were stolen?’ she pointed out with dry humour.
‘I thought them to be safe in the chest in my residence whilst I was in discussion with Archbishop Theodore. I returned to my chamber late one night, however, and found that my servant had been attacked, the chest had been forced open, and these items and papers removed. Enquiries were made. At this time Bishop Arwald was serving Archbishop Theodore as the head of his custodes. He undertook the task of helping to track down the thief or thieves.’