“Since you are here, Brocc, you may tell me a little about your son, Braon. Did he frequently work for Findach?”
“Not for Findach, that mean. .!” Brocc caught himself. “No, my boy worked for his wife, Muirenn. Muirenn was a kindly soul, a good soul. My boy would never have harmed her.”
“How often did he work for Muirenn and in what capacity?”
“My boy and I are cowherds. We hire our labor to those who need an expert hand.”
“So you knew Braon was going to work for Muirenn that morning?”
“I did. She had asked him to tend her cows in the pasture above the house.”
“And that was a usual task for him?”
“Usual? It was.”
“Did anyone else know he was going to Muirenn’s house this morning?”
“The boy’s mother knew and doubtless Muirenn told that mean husband of hers.”
Fidelma was interested.
“Why do you call Findach mean?”
“The man was tightfisted. It was well known. He behaved as if he was as poor as a church mouse.”
Fidelma glanced to Brehon Tuama for confirmation. The tall magistrate shrugged.
“It is true that Findach was not renowned for his generosity, Sister. He always claimed he had little money. The truth was he spent a lot on gambling. In fact, only the other day Odar told me that Findach owed him a large sum. Ten séds, as I recall. Yet Findach would not even employ an assistant or an apprentice at his forge.”
“Yet he did pay for help with his cow herd.”
Brocc laughed harshly.
“The herd was his wife’s property and she paid my son.”
A wife, under law, remained the owner of all the property and wealth that she brought into a marriage. Fidelma appreciated the point.
“So, as far as you knew, your son went off to work as usual. You noticed nothing unusual at all?”
“I did not.”
“And during that day, you never went near Findach’s house nor his forge?”
“Nowhere near.”
“You can prove it?”
Brocc glowered for a moment.
“I can prove it. I was in Lonán’s pastures helping him thresh hay. I was there until someone came with the news of Braon’s arrest.”
“Very well.” Fidelma rose abruptly.
“I think I would like to see Findach’s house and speak with this renowned smith.”
The house of Findach the Smith stood on the edge of the township. It was isolated among a small copse of hazel and oak.
Findach was a stocky, muscular man of indiscernible age. He had a short neck and the build that one associated with a smith. He gazed distastefully at Fidelma.
“If you seek to defend my wife’s killer, dálaigh, you are not welcome in this house.” His voice was a low growl of anger.
Fidelma was not perturbed.
“Inform Findach of the law and my rights as a dálaigh, Tuama,” she instructed, her eyes not leaving those of the smith.
“You are obliged by law to answer all the dálaigh’s questions and allow free access to all. .”
Findach cut the Brehon short with a scowl and turned abruptly inside the house, leaving them to follow.
Fidelma addressed herself to Brehon Tuama.
“Show me where the body was lying.”
Tuama pointed to the floor inside the first room, which was the kitchen.
“And where was the boy found?”
Findach answered this time, turning and pushing open a door sharply.
“The killer was hiding in here,” he grunted.
“I understand that you knew that Brother Caisín would be arriving to collect the silver cross you had made for his abbey?”
Findach glanced at Brehon Tuama who stood stony-faced. Then he shrugged. His voice was ungracious.
“I expected someone from the abbey to come to collect the piece. It was the agreed day.”
“You brought the cross from your forge to the house. Wasn’t that unusual?”
“I brought it here for safekeeping. There is no one at my forge at night and so I do not leave valuable items there.”
“How valuable was this cross?”
“My commission price was twenty-one séds.”
“Describe the cross, its weight and size.”
“It was of silver mined at Magh Méine. Just over a meter in height and half of that across the arms. It was heavy. The only way I could carry it was by means of a rope slung across my back.”
“Brother Caisín was to carry it in the same fashion?”
“I believe he arrived on an ass, realizing the weight to be transported.”
“And where did you leave the cross?”
“It was standing in that corner of the room.”
Fidelma went and looked at the corner that he indicated.
“You believe that the boy, Braon, came into your house, saw this cross, killed your wife, and took it, as heavy as it was, and then-presumably having hidden it-returned to this house? Having done that, hearing the arrival of Brother Caisín, he then hid himself in that room, where he was discovered?”
Findach scowled at her smile of skepticism.
“How else do you explain it?”
“I don’t have to, as yet. What time did you leave that morning to go to your forge?”
Findach shrugged.
“Just after dawn.”
“Did you know that boy was coming to help with your wife’s herd?”
“I knew. I never trusted him. His father was a bothach, always cadging money from the better off.”
“I understand that you were not one of them.” Fidelma’s riposte caused Findach’s face to go red.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said defensively.
“I heard that you were regarded as poor.”
“Silver and gold costs money. When I get a commission, I have to find the metals and don’t get paid until the commission is complete.”
“Braon had worked for your wife often before, hadn’t he?” Fidelma changed the subject.
“He had.”
“And you had no cause to complain about him before? Surely you have left valuable items in your house on other occasions?”
“My wife is murdered. The silver cross is gone. The boy was a bothach.”
“So you imply that you were always suspicious of him? As you say, he was a bothach. Yet you left the silver cross in your house and went to the forge. Isn’t that strange?”
Findach flushed in annoyance.
“I did not suspect that he would be tempted. .”
“Quite so,” snapped Fidelma. She turned to Brehon Tuama.
“I suppose that you have asked Brother Caisín to remain in Droim Sorn until the case in concluded?”
“Indeed, I have. Much to his annoyance. But I have sent a message to his abbot to explain the circumstances.”
“Excellent.” Fidelma swung ’round to Findach. “Now, I would like to see your forge.”
Findach was astonished.
“I do not understand what relevance. .?”
Fidelma smiled mischievously.
“You do not have to understand, only to respond to my questions. I understand the forge is a hundred yards from here?”
Findach bit his lip and turned silently to lead the way.
The forge lay one hundred yards through the trees in a small clearing.
“The furnace is out,” observed Fidelma as they entered.
“Of course. I have not worked here since yesterday morning.”
“Obviously,” Fidelma agreed easily. Then, surprising both Findach and Brehon Tuama, she thrust her right hand into the gray charcoal of the brazier. After a moment, she withdrew her hand and without any comment went to the umar, or water trough, to wash the dirt off. As she did so, she surveyed the cartha, the term used for a forge. It was unusual for a forge to be so isolated from the rest of the township. Smiths and their forges were usually one of the important centers of a district, often well frequented. Findach seemed to read her mind.
“I am a craftsman only in silver and gold these days. I do not make harnesses, shoe horses, or fix farm implements. I make works of art.”