Eadulf leant forward quickly. ‘Are we saying that Sárait told a lie to the guard? That she was really going to some other assignation?’
‘Summon the woman Gobnat again,’ ordered Brehon Dathal while they were considering the point.
‘Have you done with me, my lords?’ queried Conchoille. He had been waiting patiently during this discussion.
‘You may wait outside,’ Colgú told him absently.
Gobnat was ushered back into the chamber.
‘We have a puzzle that you may help us with,’ Brehon Dathal began. ‘You say that you did not summon your sister to your house?’
‘That is so, lord.’ She nodded quickly.
‘And did you see her at all that evening, any time after dusk in the afternoon, that is?’
‘I did not summon her.’
‘That is not what I said. Did you see her?’
‘I did not. My sister and I are not very close and I cannot say that she is a frequent visitor to my house.’
Capa was frowning at her, and now he interrupted.
‘My lords, we have already established that my wife did not send for her sister. I can confirm it.’
‘But if Sárait believed that Gobnat had summoned her, she would have made her way directly to your house?’ Finguine asked.
Gobnat shrugged indifferently.
‘Where is your house situated?’ pressed the tanist.
‘Everyone knows that,’ the woman replied. ‘It is in the square near the smith’s forge.’
‘And to get to the path that leads south to Ferloga’s inn and Rath na Drínne, one would have to pass through the township?’
‘Of course, and-’
‘And that is where your sister was found slaughtered,’ Bishop Ségdae said softly, a frown crossing his face. It was not a question.
‘And are you sure that your sister did not come to your house that evening before passing to the track beyond?’ demanded Brehon Dathal. ‘Is there a chance she might have come there and neither you nor Capa, if he was there at the time, heard her?’
‘She did not. Capa and I heard nothing until Conchoille arrived.’
Capa was frowning.
‘I do not understand this questioning of my wife, my lords. Do you doubt the truth of what she and I-’
It was Brother Eadulf who replied.
‘A learned dálaigh once told me that a great legal philosopher, the Brehon Morann, said that thought is a human weapon by which reality is captured. During these last few days we have been endeavouring to find facts and we heard those facts but we did not think about them. We have been manacled by activity, but now our thoughts must set us free to find reality.’
While the others stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language, Colgú grimaced ironically.
‘I swear, Eadulf, that you are beginning to sound like my sister.’
Eadulf smiled wanly. ‘That is a great compliment, Colgú, because she is the dálaigh that I am quoting.’
‘I still do not understand what you mean, Brother Eadulf,’ Capa said.
Eadulf leant back, his hands palm downward on the table before him.
‘We should be trying to let our thoughts run with the facts we have. By thinking about them, ideas might come. Some we can dismiss, others might lead us to new paths. For example, if Sárait left the fortress, carrying the baby Alchú, in the belief that it was in answer to a summons from her sister, Gobnat, why did she not go to see Gobnat … make her way to Gobnat’s house? Instead, she appears to skirt around the village and head away from her sister’s home.’
‘But, as we have been told, Gobnat never sent the message,’ the Brehon Dathal pointed out irritably.
‘So what caused Sárait to go in the opposite direction unless she knew that her sister had not sent the message and she lied to Caol? If so, who was she going to see and why take the child?’
‘She could have been forced,’ Capa pointed out.
‘At what stage?’ replied Eadulf. ‘The child who had delivered the message had left the palace before her. Caol saw no one forcing her when she went.’
‘She could have been forced once she came into the township and before she could reach our house,’ Capa said. ‘That is the simple explanation.’
‘True enough,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Although at that hour, even in the dark, there would still be people about in the main square. The occasional lantern or light would provide illumination. So whoever forced her, if she was so forced, would be taking a risk of being seen.’
‘Such risk-taking is not unknown,’ commented Bishop Ségdae.
‘I point this out as something we should think about,’ Eadulf replied. ‘We have heard the facts and now, in thinking about them, we should be able to see before us a path of questions along which we must progress to the truth.’
Brehon Dathal’s tone was disparaging as he looked at Eadulf.
‘And do you feel that you are chosen to lead us along that path, Saxon?’
‘That is unfair,’ snapped Bishop Ségdae. ‘Eadulf has a right to say what he feels as father of the missing child.’
‘That is just my point,’ returned Brehon Dathal with a sneer. ‘Because he is the father, he is too emotionally blinded. He will see what he wants to see and it is no use quoting Brehon Morann’s philosophies to justify himself. The same goes for Fidelma. She may be a dálaigh but any attempt by her to lead an inquiry into her own baby’s kidnapping is doomed to failure. I will take charge of this case.’
‘You will not.’
The words were spoken softly. A tall, red-haired woman in her late twenties had slipped into the chamber unnoticed and stood regarding Brehon Dathal with her green eyes flashing with a curious fire.
Eadulf rose hurriedly and in concern.
‘Fidelma!’
Chapter Three
Before anyone else could move, Fidelma had walked across and taken a vacant seat at the table without being asked. Not only was she sister to Colgú but being a dálaigh, qualified to the level of anruth, she could sit unbidden in the presence of provincial kings and even speak before they did. Eadulf dropped back into his seat looking worried. Was only he aware of her red-rimmed eyes and haggard features?
‘I thought that you were sound asleep,’ he muttered.
Fidelma grimaced. ‘No thanks to your noxious brews that I am not,’ she replied, but there was no bitterness in her voice. ‘I know that you meant well, Eadulf. But I have slept enough. There is much to be done.’
Brehon Dathal was frowning in irritation. ‘Certainly there is, but not by you. You must hand over to one who is not emotionally involved in this case.’
‘Do you think that I have not the ability to investigate my own son’s disappearance?’ she replied coldly. ‘And has Eadulf lost the capacity to follow logic because the subject of the inquiry is his child? Many times we have been entrusted with investigations on which the safety of this kingdom has hinged. Does that now count for nothing?’
Brehon Dathal’s cheeks crimsoned at her challenge.
‘You and the Saxon are too emotionally involved,’ he protested again.
Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘That only enhances our determination and resolve to find the culprits.’
‘I am Chief Brehon of this kingdom and I-’
Colgú raised a hand to still him. ‘Let us not quarrel at this stage, for we are being sidetracked. We are all involved in this matter. Brother Eadulf was making an interesting point when we interrupted him. We can at least hear what he has to say.’
Eadulf glanced at Fidelma but she was still regarding Brehon Dathal with ill-concealed anger.
‘I was merely saying that considering the evidence we have heard, being able to reflect calmly on it, a path of questions should come to our minds,’ he said.
‘And does it?’ prompted Bishop Ségdae. ‘Do questions come to mind?’