‘Brother Ailgesach told Gelgéis about the arrangement. Gelgéis, knowing that Cronán had recently built a fortress less than a day away across the Suir, was worried. She also knew that Brother Ailgesach in his condition would scarcely be a credible witness if anything developed, so she arranged that she and Tormeid would go to see him. He failed to turn up. He had been murdered before he could bring the evidence to Ailgesach’s cabin. When Eadulf and I searched the place, we found a note signed by the initial B. The writer said he had evidence of the conspiracy and would arrive with it to show Ailgesach about the time of the third quarter of the moon.
‘As I say, he was the young noble whose body had been found in the stream near Cashel. Bran Finn had said in his note that the best place to hide something was in full sight. The connection was therefore simple.
‘A brooch bearing the emblem of the Uí Máil of Laigin was pinned on his cloak. This had a hollow niche inside it where a message could have been hidden. I do not doubt it contained the proof of the conspiracy. The killer removed the incriminating message but left the brooch, probably not realising it could be identified as belonging to the Royal House of Laigin. That was also evidence that Bran Finn carried in full sight. However, the killer did know that the wand of office that Bran Finn carried had the emblem of the Déisi on it, which would identify Bran Finn. That evidence was snapped off at the top and the telltale emblem discarded.’
She took up her marsupium and from it she removed the brooch with the emblem of the Uí Máil on it, then the piece of paper with Bran Finn’s note and, finally, the broken bottom half of the wand of office and gave them to Brehon Áedo.
‘Sometimes in these matters, not all details can be discovered. We know that warnings about Brother Ailgesach were sent to Cronán. Who sent them, whether Étain or the person I shall call “the chief conspirator”, we will probably never know. We do know that Cronán sent Biasta to kill Ailgesach. And we know that Cronán’s own son Sillán was sent to Durlus disguised as a religieux. Perhaps some word of Ailgesach having visited there had reached Cronán.
‘This was the complicated part. Still worried about why Bran Finn had not appeared, Tormeid went to meet Ailgesach and Bran Finn. When Bran Finn still failed to appear, they decided to return to Durlus. Tormeid later chose to go to Imleach to try to find him. Gelgéis took their horses back to Durlus while Tormeid attempted to get a boat on the River Suir. Sillán found this out and sent some of his men to abduct Tormeid and Gelgéis, not knowing that Gelgéis had already reached the safety of Durlus. Unfortunately for me, the abductors thought I was Tormeid’s companion. I have already explained that part. I do not want to confuse things by going into that matter again …’
‘But I am confused,’ Tormeid said, stepping forward. ‘May I speak?’
Colgú glanced at Fidelma and she signalled her assent.
‘You said Biasta was on the road south to Fraigh Dubh in order to kill Brother Ailgesach. How could he be, when he had already killed Bran Finn to prevent him meeting with us at Ailgesach’s chapel?’
‘I did not say it was Biasta who killed Bran Finn,’ Fidelma replied. ‘The killer was our fourth conspirator. In fact, he was the man who orchestrated the entire conspiracy.’
For the first time Colgú became alert. Craning forward, he stared at his sister.
‘Did you say — man?’
‘I did,’ she confirmed. ‘Everyone would be led to believe there was some religious turmoil in this kingdom. Then, Colgú, you would be assassinated. That would be the point when Fianamail would seize the opportunity to march his warriors through Osraige and against Cashel on the pretext of securing peace. He would then place a new ruler — who would be his puppet — on the throne of Cashel.’
‘We have spoken of this before,’ Colgú said with a frown. ‘And I told you that such a successor had to be of the Eóghanacht bloodline to gain approval. Finguine, our cousin, is my tánaiste. He is the one who would succeed me.’
‘That was not the idea.’ Fidelma was grim. ‘Finguine would be disposed of; probably he would be made to seem responsible for the plot to overthrow you, so that the real conspirator could grasp power. Finguine would be declared unworthy by him. So Fianamail would place a new person in Cashel as legitimate ruler, someone the Eóghanacht derbhine, the electoral college of the family, would deem suitable. That person would have to be another Eóghanacht.’
Gelgéis was nodding in agreement. ‘That was why Tormeid and I were not forthcoming with you, Fidelma. You could easily have been in a conspiracy against your brother. Such things have been known.’
Colgú was trying to follow the logic. ‘The succession is clear … If Finguine were to be ousted as my heir apparent, then who would have any legitimate claim?’
Fidelma paused for a moment and then spoke slowly. ‘Our father’s nephew, Máenach, succeeded to the Throne of Cashel and ruled wisely and well for over twenty years. He died eight years ago. But he had a son.’
There was a sudden and complete silence in the hall as many eyes turned on the figure standing behind Dúnliath.
It happened very abruptly. With a cry of rage Ailill sprang forward, drawing his sword and swinging it around his head to clear a path. Using this method, he fought his way towards the doors. With the hall crowded, however, he did not stand a chance. Many voices were calling on him to surrender and he was forced to halt. His sword in one hand, no one noticed that he had also drawn a dagger in the other. Giving one more desperate glance around for an avenue of escape, he drew himself up, uttered a harsh laugh and drove the dagger straight up under his chin. Blood spouted and sprayed from the wound and he fell backwards without a sound.
The profound silence of shock was broken by a shriek of grief as Dúnliath half-rose from her chair and then collapsed senseless on to the floor.
It was a while before those crowded around were brought to order. The body of Ailill mac Máenach was carried away and Dúnliath escorted to her chamber. There was a quiet in the hall.
‘Ailill by his action seems to have confirmed your accusation, Fidelma,’ Brehon Áedo said gruffly. ‘However, it would be best if you explained how you came to your conclusions.’
Fidelma sighed as she spoke. ‘I never thought that he would kill himself,’ she confessed. ‘However, potius mori quam foedari — better to die than to be dishonoured. But the death of any member of our family is a matter of sadness. In this instance, the sadness is intermingled with shame as we of the Eóghanacht claim our true descent from Eibhear Foinn, son of the incomparable Míle Éaspain who brought the Children of the Gael to this land at the dawn of time. We are proud of our lineage and our honour. The fact that our cousin could be party to such a conspiracy against his own family is a grievous blemish on our honour.’