Fidelma smiled quickly.
“But this is no longer a derbfine meeting but a legal investigation. Berrach, you have the right to speak.”
Berrach inclined her head toward Fidelma for a moment.
“My son and I left the antechamber a moment or so after Selbach. I had noticed that Selbach was having a word with Talamnach and I am unsure what passed between them. But I know that Talamnach left the room but not to come into the hall. After which, Selbach waited a while and then left. Then Augaire and I left to enter this hall. That is all I have to say.”
“And all this while the mugs of mead remained on the table in the antechamber?”
Augaire chuckled softly.
“That is obvious, even for a dálaigh to deduce.”
Fidelma’s featured did not alter as she turned to face him.
“In all matters of observation, young man,” she added emphasis on the “young man,” which made the youth flush for he obviously prided himself on his manhood, “in all matters of observation, people often see only what they are prepared to see, so nothing should be deemed obvious without confirmation.”
She suddenly turned back to Declan.
“You have just been placed alone in the antechamber with the mead.”
Brehon Declan stared at her a moment and then smiled broadly.
“Not exactly. Talamnach had returned by the time Augaire and his mother were leaving.”
“So you were not alone there.”
“In fact,” Declan said thoughtfully,“Talamnach himself was alone because shortly after he re-entered, I went out to see if Cúan was approaching.”
“And do you suggest that Talamnach took the opportunity to poison his own mead?” Fidelma smiled thinly.
“Maybe the mead was meant for my father,” Augaire’s sneering tone came again. “Maybe the poor fool mixed up the mugs and drank from the one which he meant my father to drink out of.”
Fidelma looked at him in exasperation.
“You have spoken of observation. I would suggest that you spend time in developing the art, Augaire. Had you been observant, you would have noticed that I tested both mugs. Both were laced with poison. I suspect the person who did this was not particular as to whether Cúan or Talamnach died. Perhaps they hoped they both would.”
There was a sudden hush in the great hall.
Fidelma looked toward Selbach.
“You were talking to Talamnach and then he left the room. Is that a correct observation?”
Selbach thought for a moment.
“It is correct.”
“What did you speak to Talamnach about?”
Selbach grinned wryly.
“There was one matter preoccupying us. That is the reason why we gathered here tonight. I told Talamnach that Illan would challenge him and nominate me. I wondered if we might reach a compromise in order to keep our family together. He laughed at the idea. He was confident of overwhelming support.”
“How confident were you, Selbach?” intervened Declan, speaking after some time of silence.
“I would not have allowed myself to be named as a nominee if I was not assured of support.”
“And now it seems that you are the only surviving candidate,” sneered Declan.
Selbach flushed.
“Again you seem to imply something, cousin Brehon. Do you have the courage to be honest in your accusation?”
Declan took a step forward.
“You have come back from exile-albeit a self-imposed one-because you did not agree with the way your brother, Cúan, ruled. You abrogated your responsibility in this clan and now, seeing a chance for power, you return. You seek office. The question is just how ambitious are you for that office and what are you prepared to do in order to obtain it?”
Selbach was red with anger now and only Illan, at his side, restrained him from coming forward.
“Declan!” Fidelma was quietly outraged by her former colleague’s behavior.
“This is not the way for a Brehon to conduct himself.”
Declan stood still for some moments, his mouth thin in a tight expression. Then he relaxed.
“I apologize, Fidelma.” He turned and smiled, although it was a smile without any warmth. “I suppose that I am not a very good Brehon. But this is also a family matter and my cousin, Talamnach, lies dead on the ground.”
Fidelma nodded.
“This is why I must conduct the rest of this inquiry. You are too close to it and not detached in your judgment.”
Declan compressed his lips for a second and then shrugged.
“Carry on.” The Brehon walked to the vacant seat left by Talamnach and sat down in an attitude of expectancy.
Fidelma turned to the chief. “I think, at this stage, and with your permission, Cúan, your warriors might remove the body of Talamnach.”
The chief turned to one of the warriors and indicated this should be so.
The people in the hall were getting restless.
“Selbach, a few more questions, if I may,” she began again.
“I am intrigued. There is only one office open for this derbfine to vote on. What compromise did you seek with Talamnach?”
“I suggested to him that if he stood down in favor of my nomination, when I am chief, he would be my chosen heir-apparent.”
There was an audible gasp from some sections of the hall.
Cúan’s face was creased in anger.
“Do you expect my departure so soon, brother?” he said menacingly. “You are younger than I am by merely one year. When was your expectation of becoming chief if you had been elected my heir?”
Selbach was not abashed.
“I have not heard that age debarred a person from office, brother,” he retorted.
Declan’s voice was accusing but he remained seated.
“It is true, Selbach. But I think many here will draw conclusions.”
Fidelma wheeled ’round in annoyance.
“The only conclusion to be drawn here will be when we have the facts and can conclude the truth. At the moment, Selbach has been open in his opinions when it might best have served his purpose had he not been so. What made Talamnach leave the chamber?” she suddenly asked, turning back to Selbach.
The chief’s brother shrugged.
“No great mystery, I am afraid. Nothing more sinister than the call of nature. However, it was clear that he would not entertain my compromise and so I left. As I said, at the time, Augaire and his mother and our cousin the Brehon, were left in the room.”
“Had you noticed the mead?”
“Oh yes. When the servant, Muirecán, put it on the table, young Augaire went to grab one of the mugs.”
Fidelma’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Did he drink?”
“Thanks be to God, I did not!” roared Augaire, his laughter echoed by his friends. “I think even your observation will show that I still live, dálaigh.”
“It is a moot point whether your existence has life in it, young man,” snapped Fidelma. “It strikes me that it has more of dissoluteness than real life. However, you seem certain that the mead was already poisoned when it was placed on the table in the antechamber. Can you share your knowledge with us? How did you know it was poisoned.”
Augaire flushed angrily.
“I did not know. I. . I assumed.”
Fidelma smiled cynically.
“Ah, assumption? Only a short time ago, we had your views on conjecture, did we not?” Then sharply: “Why did you not drink the mead if you took up the mug?”
“I stopped him,” came Berrach’s firm tone.
Fidelma swung ’round on her.
“For what reason?”
The woman still bore her expressionless face. She did not even bother to look at Fidelma.
“The reason is simple enough. The mead was there as was normal practice to be carried in for the use of my husband and his tanist, also. .”
“Also?” prompted Fidelma when she paused.
“Also, my son had, in my opinion, drunk too much already before coming to this derbfine.”