‘I abide by facts.’
‘The facts are simple. Bishop Petrán was found dead in his chamber. He was poisoned. You fled from Cashel on that very day. On the previous evening you were seen to have had a violent row with the bishop. Do you deny these facts?’
‘I do not deny that I had a row with Petrán but I deny it was violent. I deny that I fled from Cashel. I left Cashel, leaving a note for Fidelma, after I had discovered something that led me to believe that I might find my son. And find him I did. I had no idea that Petrán was dead until Caol told me on my return.’
‘And you expect me to believe that?’
‘I do not expect anything except the courtesy of being heard without bias.’
Brehon Dathal coloured. ‘You dare accuse me, the Chief Brehon of Muman, of being biased?’
‘I do not accuse you. I merely comment on what I see,’ snapped Eadulf.
‘Things will go badly for you, stranger, unless you confess your misdeed now.’
‘You threaten me?’ Eadulf sprang up.
A warrior appeared in the doorway. He looked apologetic.
‘Brother Eadulf, it would be wise if you remained seated and answered the Brehon’s questions with respect,’ he said quietly.
Eadulf realised that he was doing himself no good by giving vent to anger. He returned to his seat on the bed.
‘I refuse to answer any questions from someone who seems to have prejudged my guilt and does not offer me the slightest evidence to back his accusation apart from the fact that I was seen to have an argument with the bishop.’
Brehon Dathal, the skin stretched tight around his mouth in anger, rose and strode from the room. The warrior picked up the abandoned stool. The cell door slammed shut.
Eadulf began to feel rage overtaking his sense of despair and he fought to control it.
Fidelma, having confirmed the story of Corb and Corbnait and ensured that they were receiving proper hospitality as witnesses, hurried to Brother Conchobar’s apothecary shop.
‘You should have warned me,’ she said immediately on entering, irritation and disapproval in her voice.
The elderly apothecary glanced up in surprise from the herbs he was pounding in a pestle with a mortar.
‘Warned you, lady?’ he asked blankly.
‘About the results of your tests on Bishop Petrán,’ she snapped.
The man’s face was blank. ‘Why would I warn you about that?’
‘Because Brehon Dathal has had Eadulf arrested and charged him with the killing. Eadulf is in serious trouble and I need to know from you how this poison was administered and anything you can tell me about its nature.’
Brother Conchobar looked utterly confused.
‘Poison? Killing? What are you talking about, lady?’
Fidelma tried to contain her impatience.
‘I am talking about Bishop Petrán. Eadulf is charged with administering the poison that killed him.’
Brother Conchobar raised his arms helplessly.
‘Bishop Petrán was not poisoned.’
It was now Fidelma’s turn to look utterly bewildered.
‘Then how was he killed?’
The old apothecary ran a frail hand through his thinning grey hair.
‘I do not know how you came by this information, lady. Petrán was not killed. He died, true. He died of failure of his heart to continue to beat. It happens and no one is to blame. I have seen the signs before but I wanted to conduct a few tests to make sure. If death is ever deemed natural, he died a natural death. I told that old fool Dathal as much before I left for Lios Mhór. Didn’t he …?’
Fidelma stared at him in astonishment.
‘Lady…?’ he prompted nervously.
‘Who told Brother Dathal that it was poison?’ she finally whispered. ‘Who said that it was murder?’
‘Not I,’ the apothecary replied firmly. ‘In fact, I explained clearly to Brehon Dathal that Petrán’s heart had simply failed. It was before I left for Lios Mhór, as I told you. I said that I would make a formal statement to that effect after my return but he has not sent for it.’
‘Not sent…?’ Fidelma was silent for a moment. ‘Thank you, old friend,’ she said softly. ‘Your statement may well be wanted soon.’
Brother Conchobar shrugged. ‘I am getting used to Brehon Dathal’s not taking formal statements on matters relating to the cause of death,’ he said irritably.
‘What do you mean?’ Fidelma enquired, turning back from the door.
‘Sárait’s manner of death, for example.’
‘You examined the body?’
‘I did, and should have been required to give evidence. No one asked me for a statement.’
Fidelma stared at him in surprise. In the initial confusion about who was investigating the case, the fact that Conchoille and Capa had mentioned the blood about the head and the stab wounds, she had neglected to ask who had made a formal pronouncement of death.
‘What evidence would you have given?’ she asked softly. ‘That she died from a heavy blow to the head?’
Brother Conchobar made a negative gesture.
‘That Sárait was already dead when the blow was struck. She had been the subject of a frenzied knife attack. There were five stab wounds in her chest and lacerations on her arms where she had tried to protect herself from the descending knife. She was facing her attacker when it happened. The blow to the head looks to me as if she fell during the attack and hit her head on something.’
There was a silence. Then Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘You have been a great help this day, my old friend,’ she said in thoughtful satisfaction.
A few minutes later she was in her brother’s reception chamber. The king’s conference had just broken up but he was still discussing what has been said with his tanist Finguine. They both glanced up in surprise as she entered without being announced.
With a quick wave of her hand to still their questions, she told them what she had discovered about Brother Conchobar’s report on Bishop Petrán.
Colgú sat in silence for a moment or two before turning to Finguine. ‘Go and release Brother Eadulf at once and bring him here.’ When he had gone, Colgú glanced uncomfortably towards his sister. ‘The duties of a king are arduous, Fidelma. Brehon Dathal is elderly.’
‘He is Chief Brehon of the kingdom. He cannot act like this.’
‘I agree. I do not mean to excuse him but I think age and pressure are telling on him. You know I have been trying to think of a way of asking him to stand down from his position. He is making increasingly erroneous judgements. Some time ago he made a really bad misjudgement at a hearing in Lios Mhór and it went to appeal. The appeal was successful and Dathal has had to pay several fines and compensation.’
Fidelma regarded her brother silently for a moment.
‘I recall being told that it was Brehon Dathal who was asked to hear the claims that Sárait’s husband, Callada, was killed by one of his men at Cnoc Áine. He found no case to answer. I wonder…?’
‘Too much time has passed to speculate on that judgement, Fidelma. However, Dathal has recently been getting ideas which become fixed in his mind and he has often pursued them without sufficient reflection on the evidence. He no longer has the sharp mind that is needed to be a Brehon, let alone Chief Brehon. But I need to allow him to leave with some dignity, Fidelma. You will appreciate that.’
Fidelma tried to put aside her personal feelings and view the matter objectively.
‘I can understand there are politics to be played here, but he must be made to stand aside and you have the responsibility for making him do so.’
Colgú nodded unhappily. ‘I would rather persuade him than force him.’
‘You are the king,’ she said grimly.
There was a knock on the door and Finguine came in. Eadulf was behind him.
Fidelma hurried towards Eadulf, catching him by the hands. ‘Everything is all right. It was all a mistake on Brehon Dathal’s part.’
Eadulf grimaced cynically. ‘I could have told you that,’ he said with an attempt at humour. ‘Finguine has just told me the news.’