Gelgéis greeted Fidelma and Eadulf with a worried expression as they entered her chamber. Spealáin, her steward, stood to one side with Bishop Daig of Durlus. They obviously shared her anxiety. She waved them to seats without rising herself. That she had forgotten the etiquette of greeting the King’s sister was a token of her concern at the recent news.
‘This is a bad business,’ were her first words.
‘Have you informed Dúnliath?’ Fidelma asked.
‘I have indeed. Bishop Daig has tried to give her comfort but she has withdrawn to her chamber with her grief.’
‘And has Ailill been informed? He is commander of Drón’s bodyguard.’
‘He has, and is making preparations.’
‘What preparations?’ Fidelma was puzzled.
Gelgéis looked at her in surprise. ‘Why, to take the body of Drón back to Gabrán for the aire, the watching, and the funeral obsequies due to a chieftain of Gabrán. Dúnliath intends to join them as soon as she has composed herself.’
It was custom that a day and a night were usually given over to a vigil for the corpse of a noble before burial at midnight on the next available day. Fidelma knew that it would take a few days to reach Gabrán.
‘She cannot leave,’ Fidelma said quietly but firmly.
Gelgéis’s expression now was one of bewilderment mixed with irritation. ‘Who is to say she may not?’ she demanded aggressively. ‘I have agreed to her request to do so.’
‘With respect, lady, the matter is not in your hands. It is a matter of law.’
‘Law? May I remind you, lady, that you are not in your brother’s court now, to dictate what is or what is not the law! This is Durlus Éile and I have my own Brehon by whom I will be guided.’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed; a sign of warning to those who knew her. ‘I am acting by commission of my brother, the King of all Muman, and believe this is-’
‘Your belief is no concern of mine, Fidelma. My own Brehon will determine the cause of Drón’s death and who is responsible,’ snapped Gelgéis, unnerved by events.
‘Your own lawyer … who is he?’ asked Fidelma mildly.
‘He is named Brocc. He is well-qualified to handle this matter.’
‘Ah, I think I have heard of him. But I am told he is qualified only to the level of cli.’ There was a pause and Gelgéis’s brow furrowed. She sensed what Fidelma was about to say.
‘I suppose you hold higher authority over his qualification?’
Fidelma smiled tightly. ‘I am qualified to the level of anruth, as well you know,’ she said.
Gelgéis sighed with resignation: ‘So, are you assuming authority over this matter?’
‘I am.’
‘Then we must await your orders.’ She glanced at her steward and Bishop Daig, saying with faint sarcasm: ‘We must all cooperate with Fidelma of Cashel.’
The two men shuffled uncomfortably but said nothing.
Fidelma did not even look at them. ‘My orders are firstly that Dúnliath and her retinue must remain at Durlus until my investigation is concluded.’
‘And secondly?’
Fidelma held Gelgéis’s eyes with her sharp gaze as she spoke. ‘Secondly, you will now produce the man called Torna.’
It was Bishop Daig who answered her. ‘I think that you have asked once before about a man called Torna and were told that no one in Durlus knows anyone by that name.’
‘Then perhaps you know him as Tormeid? By whichever name you know him, I want him produced.’
She saw Gelgéis’s eyes widen at the sound of the name. It was only a slight movement before her features tightened into a mask. This time it was Spealáin who spoke. ‘I am confused, lady. When you were here a few days ago I recall that you told us that this person, Torna, had been taken against his will into Osraige. Why would he now be here?’
‘He was taken to the Abbey of Liath Mór across the river in Osraige and made prisoner there. However, he managed to escape. I saw him a short while ago in the passage that runs below Drón’s chamber, just after Eadulf and I found the body of Drón. So please do not waste time playing word-games with me, nor pretend that he is not in this fortress!’
Gelgéis was silent, staring at the floor. The others waited uneasily for her response.
‘The time for prevarication is over, lady,’ prompted Fidelma. ‘I speak not only as sister to the King but as a dálaigh, and there is little need for me to remind you that there are penalties for one who ignores the request to speak the truth. Torna, as I know him, or Tormeid, as I think you know him, is one who, by whatever name he bears, has suffered the events that I have told you about — abduction, imprisonment at Liath Mór, escape and arrival here in your fortress. Do you deny knowledge of him?’
She caught sight of Bishop Daig’s glance towards Gelgéis and said, ‘I see that some spark of memory is now awoken in you, Bishop.’
‘I know of no one called Torna,’ he muttered stubbornly.
‘That was not the last question I asked,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘As a Bishop, you will recall that you should not bear false witness. That is part of the Faith as well as our law.’
Bishop Daig flushed. ‘I do not think you need lecture me about matters appertaining to the religious, Fidelma of Cashel. As I recall, you have formally renounced your vows in this matter.’
‘My vow is to uphold truth and the law, and that was made long before I entered a religious community and found it as corrupt inside its walls as the world is outside! So I ask you again — and please consider my question before you answer it.’
Bishop Daig flicked a tongue over his dry lips.
Gelgéis intervened before he could reply. ‘Are you accusing this man, Tormeid, of the murder of Drón of Gabrán?’
‘How can I decide that until I have questioned him?’ Fidelma replied, sensing that she was finally breaking through the barrier of denial.
Gelgéis then said: ‘Can you tell me something of what you know about Tormeid?’
Eadulf groaned inwardly as he recognised another prevarication. Nonetheless, Fidelma stretched almost lazily in her chair.
‘Let us concede that the real name of the man I know as Torna is Tormeid of the Uí Duach. He pretended to be a poet and knew Torna was the name of a famous bard. Tormeid, however, was a warrior. I saw, even in the darkness on the riverbank, how he attempted to fend off the abductors that night.
‘Not everything he said was a lie when we camped with him by the river, and so I have interpreted what he said using some of the information that we have gathered recently. I believe I can recount his background. Cronán is not well disposed to the Uí Duach clan and had asserted his authority over them. Tormeid told me that he had been taken prisoner during warfare between his clan and a powerful chieftain. That powerful chieftain was, of course, Cronán. Cronán had seized many of the Uí Duach and made slaves of them — daer-fuidir.’
She paused. There was a quiet tension in the room as everyone waited for her to continue the story. Gelgéis cleared her throat a little and motioned to her to go on.
‘So there was Tormeid, a prisoner — a slave — in the fortress of the Lord of Gleann an Ghuail … a daer-fuidir. There he fell in love. The girl was called Muirne. Unfortunately, Muirne was Cronán’s daughter. They were about to be betrayed by a fellow prisoner whom Tormeid had consulted and so they eloped. They were crossing a river, which I believe was the Suir, when the girl was drowned.’
Eadulf leaned forward eagerly and added: ‘Hence, when Cronán’s project for the rebuilding of the Abbey at Liath Mór as a fortress was coming to fruition, he insisted that it would be renamed Dún Muirne in his daughter’s memory — even though it was his action that caused her death.’