‘I was riding by. With all the people coming into Cashel for the hearing, I thought that I ought to check the watches around the town. I was in the back alley when I saw a light and noticed the back door was open and I saw figures moving. The dog seemed asleep and wondered whether there was something the matter. So I came in. I was downstairs and I heard a movement above. And here you are.’ He glanced dispassionately at Samradan’s body. ‘Did you kill him?’
‘Of course not!’ snapped Eadulf. ‘We saw Fin — ’
‘We also saw the dog and the door open,’ Fidelma interrupted, lying naturally. ‘We have only just arrived ourselves.’
‘A robbery?’
Fidelma pointed to a leather purse still tied to Samradán’s belt.
Donndubháin leant across and opened it. He drew out a handful of silver coins.
‘Not a robbery then,’ he mused. ‘It can’t be something to do with the assassination? What would Samradán have to do with that?’
‘There seems to be nothing here to enlighten us,’ Fidelma said.
Eadulf was puzzled as to why Fidelma was being so frugal with the facts.
She turned down the stairway to the ground floor.
Eadulf and Donndubhain followed.
‘If we can leave this matter in your hands,’ Fidelma told him, ‘Eadulf and I will return to the palace.’
‘I will alert the watch,’ the heir-apparent agreed. He went to the back door where he had left his horse and on the threshold paused as if a thought had struck him. ‘Have you searched Samradán’s stables at the back there? Perhaps it was robbery after all? Something to do with what he kept there?’
‘I thought Samradan kept all his trade goods at his warehouse on the market square?’ Fidelma said.
‘Whether he does or not, I would not know. But there is a stable which belongs to him on the other side of the stream there.’
He pointed towards the dark shadow of a building at the back of the house.
‘Then we’d better see if there is anything there that can enlighten us,’ Fidelma replied.
Donndubhain took down a lamp and lit it from the fire.
He had left his horse tethered by the back gate of the yard and they passed the still drugged animal lying by its post. There was a small enclosure through which a stream passed, providing water for the house. Beyond it was a dark building, not large at all.
‘I didn’t know that this barn belonged to Samradán,’ Fidelma mused as they approached the building. Donndubháin led the way and opened the door for them.
Inside were a couple of stalls. Two horses were stabled inside.
‘I didn’t know Samradán owned as many horses,’ Donndubhain muttered. ‘But these are not dray horses … they are thoroughbreds.’
Fidelma’s gaze had encompassed the stables. There was certainly nothing else in there but the horses and tackle. The pungent smell of leather and the faint odours of hay and barley were almost overpowering to the senses.
Fidelma went to the larger of the two animals, a great chestnut mare. She could see some long-healed scars on one shoulder and flank. Old wounds. The animal had been used as a war horse. She leant forward and patted its muzzle. Then she opened the stalls and went in. The mare stood calmly, allowing her hands to traverse its warm, sweaty coat. She glanced down at its hooves.
‘Not the sort of animal a mere merchant might own,’ observed Donndubháin.
‘A war horse, so it seems,’ she agreed. ‘But the other animal is not.’
Fidelma turned her attention to the second horse. ‘It is a strong and well-bred mare but not a horse for battle. A good riding horse though.’
She patted it and turned back.
She found that Donndubháin was examining a saddle and bridle nearby.
‘Look, Fidelma,’ he said eagerly, ‘this is a warrior’s equipment. Look, there is no mistaking it.’
Eadulf had already begun examining the richly equipped saddle. It was well ornamented.
‘The Prince is right,’ he muttered. ‘Here …’
Attached to the saddle was a small, long sack. It was the shape of a quiver but not a quiver. It was where a warrior might carry a spare supply of arrows. Eadulf had undone the strings and drawn an arrow out.
‘Isn’t this …?’ he began.
Fidelma took it and examined it. ‘Yes. The arrows have Cnoc Aine markings. The same arrows which our assassin friend, the archer, used. They are the same as those made by Nion the smith.’
‘And look at this …’ Donndubháin pointed to a silver emblem among the ornaments on the saddle.
‘Why,’ Eadulf said excitedly. ‘Isn’t that a boar which is the emblem of the Prince of the Uí Fidgente?’
‘Then we were right!’ cried Donndubháin. ‘Do you remember that we wondered if the assassins must have come on horseback and tethered them behind the trees at the back of Samradán’s warehouse? Didn’t we say that a third person must have led the horses away when the assassins were killed. And here they are, showing that Samradán was involved.’
‘Yet Samradán had been in Imleach for at least a week at that time,’ pointed out Fidelma.
‘Well, he could have instructed one of his men to place the horses here. An accomplice.’ Her cousin was momentarily crestfallen.
‘There is much that needs to be considered,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘The appearance of these harnesses certainly tends to clarify the puzzle. Is there anything in that saddle bag?’
She pointed to the small leather bag that was attached. Donndubhain, undid the straps and opened it. He began to take out some items of clothing.
‘There’s nothing here but clothes,’ Eadulf said, in disappointment.
‘There’s nothing that tells us anything apart from the Uí Fidgente emblem which says a lot,’ observed Donndubháin. ‘But that is enough.’
Fidelma reached for the bag and peered into it, feeling with her hand inside before returning it to him.
‘So it seems.’
They left the stable and walked slowly back to the gate of the yard. They paused by Donndubháin’s horse.
‘Well, I will alert the watch about this murder,’ Donndubhain said, untying his horse. ‘Will you wait here until I raise the guard so that I may accompany you back to the palace?’
‘No,’ Fidelma replied. ‘We will make our own way back. It is not far. Don’t worry, we shall be safe, Donndubháin.’
They watched him swing up and ride off into the night and then began to walk slowly back to the house. They passed through it and out into the main street. Isolated figures were still moving here and there, some late-night revellers scurrying back to their own houses from the inns and taverns. No one challenged nor bothered them as they continued towards the tall walls of the palace.
‘Well,’ ventured Eadulf, ‘the horses now prove completely that Samradán was involved. They must have been there since the attempted assassination.’
‘No. They have been there less than half an hour,’ Fidelma contradicted him with confidence. ‘Their coats were still sweaty from the exertion of being led from wherever they were hidden to being placed there.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened. Then he was more amazed to hear Fidelma break into a soft chuckle. She paused by the light of a tavern and held out something for him to see.
He peered closely at it. It was a tiny silver coin.
‘I found it tucked away in a corner of the bag. It had been overlooked.’
‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘A coin of Ailech, the capital of the northern Uí Néill kings. It is called a píss.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘My dear, Eadulf-’ he had not heard such contentment in her voice for some days now — ‘tonight has shown me the truth in this matter. My mentor, the Brehon Morann, once said that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, it must be theanswer. I know who is behind the assassination and conspiracy. In spite of attempts to mislead me and, indeed, to lay false trails which, I confess, did confuse me until this evening, I have sighted the fox!’