‘Exactly so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘It was a bizarre case and the Lady Étain was so deranged that you agreed that she was a dásachtach, suffering the worst condition of madness. She was sent to Gleann na nGeilt, the Glen of Lunatics, which is under the authority of the Abbey of Imleach.’
‘Lady Étain was the leader of the uprising in the west. Are you saying that was a continuance of what happened at Lios Mór?’ demanded the Brehon.
Abbot Ségdae shifted uneasily on his chair. ‘I hope there is no reflection on how my abbey oversees its duties in the matter of Gleann na nGeilt?’
‘As we understand it,’ continued Fidelma, ‘because of Lady Étain’s rank and position, one third of her lands were used to provide for her upkeep and care during her lifetime. Two thirds were reverted to her family and to the payment of compensation to her victims and for fines.’
‘That is the law,’ agreed Brehon Áedo.
‘And her family were …?’ prompted Fidelma.
It was Abbot Segdae who answered. ‘You know well, Sister …’ He paused, remembering her previous rebuke. ‘You know well, Fidelma. She was of the Déisi Muman, the widow of a prince of that clan.’
‘And thus related to the late Bran Finn, Prince of the Déisi?’
‘Of course.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying it was Bran Finn who brought the funds so that she could employ her mercenaries?’
‘Not at all. He went to the Glen of Lunatics to discover who was involved in this plot. The funds actually came from Cronán, the Lord of Gleann an Ghuail, who was Étain’s cousin. He had inadvertently told me that he had a cousin who married a noble of the Déisi.’
Eadulf nodded slowly. Before Fidelma had questioned Étain, he had entirely forgotten the exchange at the meal in Liath Mór.
Light was beginning to dawn on their faces. Colgú leaned forward in his chair. ‘So this unrest in the west — Étain’s raids against farms and settlements, particularly religious houses — they were master-minded by Cronán?’
‘Those who were at Lios Mór will bear witness that the Lady Étain’s crimes were inspired by a religious fanaticism. It was that which motivated the murder of her own son. When Cronán was devising his plot, he played on this. He sent to Étain, pretending that he was speaking as an abbot, and telling her that the seventh angel, a figure from the Holy Scriptures, had appeared and said that she was to lead an army to cleanse the land of the impure of faith.’
‘But she was supposed to be confined in the Glen of Lunatics. How would she get the money to pay her band of cut-throats and escape?’ Brehon Áedo stopped at a gesture from Fidelma.
‘The Glen of Lunatics is no prison, and while the most dangerous are closely watched by the religious of Imleach, it would be easy for someone aided by outsiders to escape. Her own cousin, Cronán of Gleann an Ghuail, sent her money and support, probably via his son, Sillán, or one of his men like Biasta. I shall come to them later. Brother Ailgesach had become aware of the conspiracy during his last days working among the unfortunates in the Glen of Lunatics, and he warned Gelgéis — is that not so, lady?’
Gelgéis immediately confirmed it.
‘Ailgesach promised her that he would try to get some proof of the conspiracy and find out what was behind it,’ Fidelma went on. ‘Unfortunately, he did not name Étain — and only at the last moment mentioned Bran Finn. He arranged with the latter to get that proof and bring it to him, at the same time arranging for me and Tormeid to meet with Bran Finn at his chapel. We were there at the appointed time but Bran Finn did not appear.’
‘That is because he was already dead,’ Eadulf told them. ‘It was his body that Tóla found at the stream bordering his farm. The fellow was killed on his way to the rendezvous.’
‘But I thought the body bore the emblem of the Uí Máil, the Kings of Laigin?’ Colgú frowned.
‘That was part of the proof to show the alleged involvement of Laigin. It was what was inside that brooch that was the real evidence,’ Fidelma said. ‘But whoever killed Bran Finn had removed the paper inside the brooch yet neglected to take the evidence of the brooch itself.’
‘So Fianamail was waiting to hear that Cronán and Étain were rampaging through the kingdom,’ Colgú said. ‘Then he would use the excuse to enter the kingdom to stop civil strife. But Étain has been captured and Cronán must soon surrender or be destroyed.’
Gelgéis sighed deeply. ‘So close and yet so far.’ There were frowns from several who had gathered there. ‘If Bran Finn had reached us, he would have brought proof of the conspiracy and told us who was involved. We waited in vain at Ailgesach’s place. When he did not appear, I returned here to Durlus. Tormeid decided to go to the river, intent on travelling to Imleach or the Glen of Lunatics to see what he could discover about Bran Finn.’
There was a silence for a while.
‘There is one thing that mystifies me,’ Abbot Ségdae said slowly.
‘Only one thing?’ Fidelma smiled.
‘We know that Étain suffered from extreme religious zeal. I can accept that was what inspired her madness, sent her riding forth to murder and pillage under the banners we have seen. Are we to understand that Cronán, who has declared himself to be an abbot, is similarly cursed?’
‘His purpose and that of Étain, his cousin, were not the same,’ explained Fidelma. ‘He was simply prepared to allow her to be the distraction in the west of the country. True, he had his warriors carry out some similar raids under religious banners against the Uí Duach. That was in order to fool people into thinking it was all part of a general unrest to provide the excuse for Fianamail. But Cronán’s goal was power. Power and pure avarice. He was waiting until he knew the warriors of Laigin were gathered on the border before he unleashed his main assault. His belief was that the conflict would bring Laigin in on his side and precipitate him to power.’
Colgú shook his head with a smile. ‘For the first time there is a flaw in your argument, Fidelma. You have overlooked the most important point, sister. Cronán is no Eóghanacht. As powerful as the Laigin men could make him, he would never be able to claim the throne of Muman as a legitimate King. The derbhfine of the Eóghanacht have to make that choice according to law, not only from the most worthy to govern — the best able, if you like — but also from the bloodline. Cronán is of the Osraige. He is not of the Eóghanacht bloodline. Anyway, he is answerable to Tuaim Snámha, the Prince of Osraige.’
Brehon Áedo was puzzled. ‘This is complex. Are you saying that Tuaim Snámha is involved?’
‘I cannot prove that, but I suspect that he is not. I believe that Cronán’s conspiracy with Fianamail of Laigin would be that Tuaim Snámha would be displaced and that Cronán would be made ruler of Osraige.’
‘Then what of Muman?’ demanded the Brehon. ‘If this conspiracy was to overthrow Colgú, surely that means there is someone else involved?’ His eyes widened. ‘There is only one who can succeed in Cashel. Finguine, son of Cathal Cú-cen-máthair, your tánaiste, your heir apparent. He is of the bloodline. And he has been left safe in Cashel with an army at his command.’
All eyes turned to Fidelma. ‘Finguine is-’
She was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door and when Spealáin opened it, they could hear Caol’s voice outside whispering urgently. Spealáin turned back into the room with a shocked expression. He seemed unable to articulate for a moment and Colgú looked to Caol, who stood framed in the door behind the steward’s shoulder.
‘What is it, man?’ he demanded testily.
The commander of his bodyguard took a quick step into the room, glancing round awkwardly.