Finguine glanced nervously at the judges. ‘Action needed to be taken immediately when Nion reported the matter to me. I was in Solam’s company at the time Nion chose to speak to me. Solam insisted that Gionga accompany me. He was suspicious and wanted an Uí Fidgente witness. I did not have time to send for my warriors and so I had to trust Gionga.’
Solam turned and nodded agreement. ‘That was so, Fidelma.’
‘Having discovered that I had brought Brother Mochta and thereliquary to Cashel, Finguine, why did you think it necessary that they be removed from my safekeeping?’
Finguine looked uncomfortable and then he held her eye for a moment. ‘Because we believed it was you who was behind the conspiracy against Cashel.’
Fidelma was not often given to an astonishment in which she became speechless. This time she was.
Her silence encouraged Finguine to continue.
‘You have only just come back to this kingdom after years away. When you were young you went and studied with the Brehon Morann at Tara. Then you went to Cill Dara and were many years in that abbey. You have been abroad, to Oswy’s kingdom in the land of the Angles and to Rome. How could we trust you?’
‘I still do not see why you felt that I was part of such a conspiracy?’ Fidelma finally voiced her astonishment.
Nion came to Finguine’s defence. ‘I told Finguine what I had heard from Samradán. He once boasted that his patron was powerful. Someone who was very close to the King of Cashel. He never mentioned whether the patron was male or female. It is only now that we have heard that the patron was addressed as a rígdomna.’
‘And rígdomna being male and not female?’ Fidelma reacted with a soft chuckle.
‘It is no laughing matter,’ cut in the Brehon Rumann irritably. ‘You had almost argued yourself into the position of your prime suspect.’
Fidelma suddenly grew serious. ‘Then I had best come to the point, learned judge, before you find me guilty of the conspiracy. Oh, one more question, Finguine. What were you doing at Samradán’s house the other night?’
Finguine frowned. ‘The other night? I was looking for Samradán as I wished to ask him some questions. I rode up to his house but there was no response to my knocking.’
‘You didn’t go in?’
‘I didn’t even get off my horse. I merely rode up to the door and knocked. When there was no response, I turned away. Then the next day I heard the news that Samradán was dead — murdered.’
‘In death, the answer still lies with Samradán,’ observed Fidelma. Once more an icy silence descended and everyone leant forward to catch her words. ‘I mentioned that I had unwittingly asked him if he traded in silver, having been told he did. He had denied it. This was because his trade was illegal. Outside of his co-workers and Nion who extracted the metal from the ore, only his co-conspirator knew of his mining in silver. That same co-conspirator was the rígdomna who sought to overthrow Muman.
‘That man, that young rígdomna, when he rode into Cashel that morning, was the one who raised his hand to give the signal for the assassins to shoot at Colgú. Only Colgú leaning forward suddenly to greet me made the assassin miss his target. The second arrow struck where it was supposed to. A bad but not serious wound for Donennach. Then Gionga, having spotted the assassins, galloped forward.
‘The last thing this man wanted was his conspirators to be captured alive. If they were dead the plot could still work. He had given one of them the emblem of the Golden Chain and told them to drop it at the spot. He had not realised that the other man, Baoill, still carried the crucifix of Ailbe which would mark the start of the trail that led to the conspirators.’
‘Are you saying that Gionga acted wrongly in killing the assassins?’ Solam interjected.
‘He did what he thought was right. He killed the assassins believing that he might be in danger. Probably, if he had hesitated, the chief conspirator, who had ridden after him, would have ensured that both men were killed on some pretext before they could talk. As it was, both men were killed. But, no, Gionga is not to blame.’
Gionga was standing with his brow wrinkled as if deep in thought. He was remembering the incident more clearly in the light of what she was saying.
Fidelma glanced encouragingly across the hall to him.
‘I’ll take a bet with you, Gionga. The same person who came hot on your heels and ensured you killed the two men at Samradán’s warehouse was the same man who suggested that I was determined to conjure evidence to incriminate Prince Donennach. Is that not so? Didn’t he suggest that you would be wise to send warriors to block my way to Imleach? To put a guard on the bridge?’
Gionga’s face lightened. He nodded rapidly. ‘That is so. But he …’
‘You did not realise that you fell into his trap because, by sending your warriors to prevent my leaving Cashel, you immediately brought down more suspicion on your Prince. Your behaviour seemed to compound the guilt of the Uí Fidgente.’
Gionga raised a hand to his forehead and groaned. ‘I did not think of that.’
‘Who is this man?’ cried the Brehon Rumann in frustration. ‘Enough innuendoes. Name him.’
‘What man raised his hand when the bodyguard of King Colgú entered the market square that morning?’ asked Fidelma. ‘We all thought it a signal to his horsemen but it was a signal to the assassins. What man immediately galloped after Gionga? What man told Giongato set a guard on the bridge across the Suir? What man told me, in an unguarded moment, that he had traded a certain silver brooch from Samradán when Samradán kept his silver dealing such a dark secret that the only person outside of Nion who would know of it was the man who was his partner and protector?’
Slowly, Donndubháin had risen in his place and walked forward to face Fidelma before the Brehons. Throughout the proceedings he had remained silent. He had sat in his seat without responding to events, with no emotion on his stony face. He had simply stared ahead of him, looking neither right nor left. Now the moment had come when everyone finally knew whom Fidelma was accusing. He left his seat and stood a few feet from Fidelma. Even then, he managed a good-natured expression on his features.
‘What are you trying to do to me, cousin?’ His voice was pleasant. Yet the eyes were hard and unblinking.
‘Do — to you? You are the architect of an evil conspiracy, cousin. You were angry and jealous when Colgú was elected as tanist and became King of Muman when you considered that the kingship should have been yours by right. Even when you were elected tanist, heir-apparent, to Colgú, it was not enough. Colgú was young and bar an unforeseen accident, you could never hope to be King. So you decided to make that “accident” occur.
‘Colgú would be assassinated. The Uí Fidgente would be blamed. Disorder and turmoil would rip Muman apart and you, dear cousin, would come forward and claim the crown, promising to unite the kingdom once again. You would have the support of the whole kingdom behind you when you marched to destroy the Uí Fidgente and from the ashes of that land you would give the Uí Néill tribute, allowing Mael Duin of Ailech to once more reach out his blood-red hand to take control of our kingdom.’
Many had risen in the Great Hall and began to crowd towards the spot where the drama was being played out. Eadulf felt himself pushed from his seat and urged forward in their forefront. He clung on desperately to his pilgrim’s staff as a means of keeping his balance in the throng.
He found himself near Donndubhain and Fidelma. He did not like the expression that was changing the tanist’s face from its handsome pleasant features to a mask of uncontrolled hatred. It was clear that Fidelma’s truth had struck home.