There was a quiet murmuring as her logic was followed.
“Meanwhile, Talamnach leaves Declan and goes to speak to Selbach. Selbach puts his proposition. Stand down this time and I’ll make you my tánaiste when I am chief. Not a particularly subtle proposal. I am sure that Selbach offered something more.”
She turned to gaze at the chief’s brother.
“I have some small wealth in the land of Kernow. That was offered,” he admitted.
“Very well. And Talamnach treated your offer with contempt. He then leaves the antechamber and goes to answer, as Selbach tells us, a call of nature. Is that correct?”
Selbach nodded.
“And you say that as soon as Talamnach left, you came in here?”
“I did.”
“Berrach confirms this. After Selbach left she and her son came into the hall as well.”
“That is true,” said Berrach. “A moment or so after Selbach went into the hall, we followed.”
Fidelma nodded, smiling softly.
“Now, we were all witness to the entrance of Selbach, Berrach and Augaire. Can anyone give a good estimate between their entrance and when Cúan, Talamnach and the attendant with the drinks entered this hall?”
It was Illan of Cluain Mult who answered.
“It was no more than ten minutes.”
“So, Cúan and the attendant, Muirecán, informs us that when they reached the antechamber, Talamnach was there, having returned from his call of nature. He was there with Declan. Is this right?”
Cúan agreed.
“One person was alone in the antechamber for awhile,” Fidelma said softly.
Declan rose.
“If you are accusing me, Fidelma,” he said angrily, “you have forgotten one thing. I followed Berrach and Augaire out here to speak to Selbach and if Selbach does not acknowledge that then Illan is my witness.”
Illan of Cluain Mult looked unhappy.
“That is true,” he agreed. “You did speak to Selbach.”
“Don’t worry, Declan,” Fidelma went on. “I observed you come and speak to Selbach.”
Declan relaxed and smiled.
“Then I suggest we end this game. There is only one person who gains and I now order Selbach to submit to a search. I am sure we will find the phial that contained the poison on him.”
“This is a lie!” protested Selbach.
Fidelma raised her hands for order as the hall went into an uproar.
It took some time to quieten them.
“There is no need to search. The phial of poison, emptied of its contents, will be found in the pocket of Selbach’s leather jerkin.”
Immediately, Selbach thrust his hand into the pocket and his face went white.
“Is it not so, Selbach?” called Fidelma.
The man could not speak but he was holding a small phial in his hand.
“Warriors, arrest Selbach,” called Declan with triumph in his voice.
“Do not!” cried Fidelma, staying them in mid-stride. “Arrest the Brehon Declan for his is the hand that placed that phial in Selbach’s pocket.”
There came a stunned silence.
Declan stared at her in amazement.
“What are you saying, Fidelma?” He tried to sound angry but his tone was somehow deflated.
“It does not take long to introduce poison into two drinking mugs. I am not sure whether your planning was precise or opportunist. You suggested that Talamnach dispatch the attendant to fetch Cúan, leaving the drinks unguarded. As soon as Berrach and her son left, it took a moment to empty the phial and follow them out into this hall. I suspect, had the antechamber not emptied, you would have found some other ruse to poison the drinks. Then you came out and pretended that you wanted to speak to Selbach.”
“I wanted to ask him if he meant to go on with his challenge. He will tell you that.”
“Why could you not ask in the antechamber? Why come into the hall to challenge him in front of people? You turned, stumbled and by sleight of hand placed the phial in his pocket. Even before this meeting you had told me, disparagingly, of Selbach’s tendency to wear the new fashions that had been introduced among the Britons, that of Roman pockets in robes.”
“But what motive have I? I am a Brehon,” replied Declan.
“Is a Brehon precluded from chiefship?” returned Fidelma. “You are of this derbfine and can be accepted in office. Indeed, you are first cousin to Talamnach and Augaire. Your ultimate hope, I think, was both Cúan and Talamnach would be poisoned. You did your best to point the finger at Selbach. With him under suspicion you knew no one would support Augaire and that would leave you open to declare yourself rechtaire, steward of this clan, until you could dispose of your rivals and get yourself installed properly as chief. As it was, with Talamnach dead, you were prepared to go through with your plan and eliminate Selbach and then persuade Cúan to nominate you his heir-apparent anyway.”
Fidelma shook her head slowly.
“You almost had me fooled, Declan.”
Cúan had stood and motioned to his warriors to secure the pale-faced Brehon.
“What stopped you being fooled, Fidelma?” he asked softly.
“I was suspicious at how aggressive Declan was in laying the blame at Selbach. No Brehon worth his salt would be so forgetful of his office, and the need for impartiality, to act as he did. However, what really alerted me and made me realize what had happened was the fact that Declan had mentioned a phial of poison. How did he know that the poison had been introduced into the mugs by means of a phial and not by some other method? There are many ways of introducing poison other than a phial. Only the murderer would know this and then the meaning of the pantomime of his stumbling against Selbach became clear to me.”
Fidelma watched with sad eyes as the warriors escorted Declan from the hall.
“Nobody has a more sacred obligation to obey the law than those who take on the robes of Brehons to judge others by the law.”
WHO STOLE THE FISH?
Sister Fidelma glanced up in mild surprise as the red-faced religieux came bursting through the doors into the refectory where she and her fellow religieuses were about to sit down at the long wooden tables for the evening meal. In fact, Abbot Laisran had already called for silence so that he could intone the gratias.
The man halted in confusion as he realized that his abrupt entrance had caused several eyes to turn questioningly upon him. His red cheeks, if anything, deepened their color and he appeared to wring his hands together for a moment in indecision. He knew well that this was no ordinary evening meal but a feast given in welcome to the Venerable Salvian, an emissary from Rome who was visiting the Abbey of Durrow. The patrician Roman was even now sitting by the side of the abbot, watching the new arrival with some astonishment.
The red-faced monk apparently summoned courage and hurried to the main table where Abbot Laisran stood with an expression of irritation on his rotund features. He bent forward. A few words were whispered. Something was wrong. Fidelma could tell that by the startled look which formed momentarily on the abbot’s face. He leaned across to his steward, who was seated at his left side, and muttered something. It was the steward’s turn to look surprised. Then the abbot turned to his guest, the Venerable Salvian, and seemed to force a smile before speaking, waving his hand as if in emphasis. The old patrician’s expression was polite yet puzzled.