‘Out of order?’ cried the burly farmer, his anger bubbling over. ‘My daughter is dead. I am here not for order but for vengeance! I am here to speak for the farmers who have been killed, for our wives and daughters who have been deprived of their husbands and fathers and sons. And for those who have been violated by these vermin. I speak for all the dead who have perished by the hand of this Dove of Death!’
King Alain raised his strong baritone voice to suppress the rising babble in the room.
‘Let no one be under any illusion. This hearing will be conducted in the name of justice, not of vengeance, and in accordance with our traditions and spirit of our laws. The guilty shall be punished. If they are guilty, they shall be punished, even though they sit at my side.’
Lord Canao flushed but made no response, staring doggedly ahead of him.
The King turned to Fidelma and motioned her to continue.
‘Having landed here on this peninsula, we heard of these attacks of which the farmer, Barbatil, has spoken. We found the merchants of Biscam after they were attacked and slaughtered. My companion, Eadulf here, discovered this banner clutched in the dead hands of one of them…’
Eadulf stood up, unfolded the silk banner he had brought with him and held it up before the assembly, allowing them to see it and recognise it before he sat down again. A ripple of voices spread through the great hall.
‘The evidence is obvious,’ shouted someone. Fidelma thought it was Coric, the friend of Barbatil. ‘That is the flag of Lord Canao.’
King Alain was looking thoughtful.
‘From what I have heard, these attacks began only two weeks ago. But for what purpose? They seem senseless, particularly so if they were being carried out on the orders of the lord of Brilhag — who, I have to say, for these last two weeks has been constantly in my company both at Naoned, Gwenrann and with me hunting along these shores.’
‘I have said, and I say it again,’ Lord Canao intervened. ‘These attacks have not been ordered by me or the house of Brilhag.’
‘Yet the act was done under your emblem,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘We must, therefore, ask — why?’
The mac’htiern frowned in annoyance.
‘Why would I, or any of my family, attack and despoil those very people who exist under the protection of Brilhag? I am their chieftain. They look to me and mine for their wellbeing. Our existence is symbiotic. I cannot exist without them nor they without me. Will there be honey if the queen bee should turn and kill the worker bees?’
As eloquent as this was, his words provoked some angry murmuring from Barbatil and his comrades.
‘We are here to bring Macliau to justice,’ cried Barbatil, ‘not Lord Canao. If the father won’t admit responsibility then his son must accept the evidence of his guilt.’
Fidelma ignored the cries of support for the farmer.
‘Lord Canao has asked a good question. And now, I will answer it. These attacks started when those responsible for them learned that Alain Hir, King of the Bretons, was coming as guest to Brilhag. To what end were all these senseless attacks directed? The lady Trifina has provided the answer. Trifina, what was your response?’
Trifina hesitated and then rose uncertainly.
‘I told you that someone was out to destroy the reputation of my family,’ she said. ‘I believed that the person using the banner of my family did so as a ruse, to bring disgrace on us.’
‘Just so’ agreed Fidelma mildly. ‘But for what end? Just to bring disgrace on a family is not a strong enough motive in itself to go to such murderous lengths. Murder is not an end in itself. There must surely be something more.’
‘What more could there be?’ Lord Canao bent forward and asked. ‘My daughter has given you good reason and has suffered because of it. Bleidbara has brought back half-a-dozen prisoners from his encounter with the Koulm ar Maro — they must be made to confess who their leader was. Confess if there was anyone else in conspiracy with them.’
‘The truth is that they do not know,’ Fidelma replied. ‘They are mercenaries. Their captain, a man called Taran from Pou-Kaer, was the only one to have direct dealings with the person who organised them. They were paid from the booty they took, but they never saw their real leader unmasked. Perhaps Taran could have identified the real Dove of Death, but he lies at the bottom of the Morbihan.’
‘It is true, Lord Canao,’ called Bleidbara. ‘They might be willing to talk to save their lives by confession, but they do not know what to confess.’
‘I will come to the identity of the leader in a moment,’ Fidelma said confidently. ‘But firstly I will tell you the reason why this has taken place.’ She allowed a few seconds to pass; the great hall was completely silent. ‘The lady Trifina was right. This “Dove of Death” as this person became known, was using the emblem of Brilhag for a purpose. However, it was not merely to bring disgrace to this family — but to bring blame.’
‘Blame?’ enquired King Alain, showing bewilderment. ‘Blame for what?’
‘Your death.’
Fidelma waited until the wave of incredulous voices began to recede.
‘These attacks started and built up so that people would already be in the frame of mind to hate and mistrust Brilhag. Who else would they blame if the King of the Bretons, arriving on a visit to Brilhag, were to be assassinated? Assassinated in such a way that the Dove of Death was blamed? The family are descended from the kings of Bro-Waroch, and some believe that they have long had a grudge against the house of Judicael, whose son is Alain Hir. Who would question their motive? Macliau, himself, bemoaned the loss of the kingship of Bro-Waroch to Domnonia, and boasted that he wanted to retrieve the ancient rights of his family.’
Lord Canao cast a look of dismay at his son. Macliau sat white-faced, staring unseeingly at his feet. It was as if he had withdrawn into himself.
‘So he is guilty! He is the Dove of Death!’ shouted Barbatil.
Alain Hir was grave and thoughtful.
‘You seem to have gathered a lot of information in your investigation, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ he said.
‘My old mentor in law in Hibernia, the Brehon Morann, used to say that once you have a motive you will be led to the culprit. I am afraid that in this instance he was wrong. The motive was to kill you and place the blame on the family who might have claimed this kingdom on your death. But if that family were not guilty of the assassination…who else could possibly benefit from such events as have occurred here?’
‘You mean, a beneficiary other than the house of Brilhag?’
‘Exactly. As a Roman lawyer, Cicero, once argued before a judge — cui bono? Who stands to gain? That is the basis of this matter. Curiously enough, a short time before his death, my Cousin Bressal and I were speaking of the very motivation behind the assassination of a king or chieftain, and of our concerns for the wellbeing of our own High King. From the attack on our ship, we have made a long journey through many dark minds, but now all shall be revealed.’
‘Let us confine ourselves to the accusation that Macliau killed his mistress Argantken and is, in fact, the Dove of Death,’ demanded the bretat Kaourentin. ‘That is why this hearing has been called and that should be the first thing we do.’
An expectant murmur ran through the audience.
‘We cannot confine ourselves to that alone,’ retorted Fidelma. ‘However, let us put Macliau out of his misery. He was not guilty of Argantken’s murder any more than he was responsible for the outrages that have been committed under the flag of Brilhag. He was a victim of the Dove of Death, a victim of another outrage which would make people think that Brilhag was responsible. And when the last of these actions, the assassination of the King and his replacement, would occur, everyone would blame the family of Brilhag, so that the person responsible could be swept to the kingship on an hysterical wave of support.’