His voice possessed arrogance, a boastfulness.
She did not answer.
The great anvil stood in the center of the forge, near the blackened wood-charcoal-filled brazier and next to the water trough. A box containing the supply of wood charcoal stood nearby, ready for fueling the fire. There was a bellows next to the brazier.
“Do you have examples of your work here?” she asked, peering around.
Findach shook his head.
“I have closed down my forge out of respect to my wife. Once this matter is cleared up. .”
“But you must have molds, casts. . pieces you have made?”
Findach shook his head.
“I was just curious to see the work of a smith who is so renowned for his fine work. However, to the task at hand. I think, Brehon Tuama, I shall see the boy now.”
They retraced their steps to Odar’s house. The chieftain was out hunting, but his tanist, his heir-apparent, led them to the room where the accused boy was held.
Braon was tall for his sixteen years. A thin, pale boy, fair of skin and freckled. There was no sign that he had yet begun to shave. He stood up nervously before Fidelma.
Fidelma entered the room while Brehon Tuama, by agreement, stayed outside as, under law, if she were to defend the boy, it was her privilege to see him alone. She waved him to be seated again on the small wooden bed while she herself sat on a stool before him.
“You know who I am?” she asked.
The boy nodded.
“I want you to tell me your story in your own words.”
“I have already told the Brehon.”
“The Brehon is to sit in judgment on you. I am a dálaigh, who will defend you. So tell me.”
The young boy seemed nervous.
“What will happen to me?”
“That depends if you are guilty or innocent.”
“No one cares if a bothach is innocent when there is a crime to be answered for.”
“That is not what the law says, Braon. The law is there to protect the innocent whoever they are and to punish the guilty whoever they may be. Do you understand?”
“That is not how Odar sees it,” replied the boy.
“Tell me the events of that morning when you went to work for Muirenn,” Fidelma said, thinking it best not to pursue the matter of Odar’s prejudice.
“I did not kill her. She was always kind to me. She was not like her husband, Findach. He was mean, and I heard her reprimanding him often about that. He claimed that he did not have money but everyone knows that smiths have money.”
“Tell me what happened that morning.”
“I arrived at the house and went inside. .”
“One moment. Was there anything out of the usual? Was there anyone about, so far as you saw?”
The boy shook his head thoughtfully.
“Nothing out of the usual. I saw no one, except for Odar’s hunting dogs. . he has two big wolfhounds. I saw them bounding into the woods by Findach’s forge. But there was no one about. So I went to the house and found the door ajar. I called out and, receiving no answer, I pushed it open.”
“What did you see?”
“From the open door I could see a body on the floor of the kitchen beyond. It was Muirenn. I thought she had fallen, perhaps struck her head. I bent down and felt her pulse, but the moment my hand touched her flesh I could feel a chill on it. I knew that she was dead.”
“The flesh felt chilled?”
“It did.”
“What then?” she prompted.
“I stood up and. .”
“A moment. Did you see any sign of the silver cross in the room?”
“It was not there. Something as unusual as that I would have noticed even in such circumstances. In fact, I was looking ’round when I heard a noise. Someone was approaching. I panicked and hid myself in an adjoining room.” He hesitated. “The rest you must know. Brother Caisín came in and discovered me. There was blood on my clothes where I had touched Muirenn. No one listened, and hence I am accused of theft and murder. Sister, I swear to you that I never saw such a cross nor would I have killed Muirenn. She was one of the few people here who did not treat me as if I were beneath contempt!”
Fidelma found it difficult to question the sincerity in the boy’s voice.
She joined Brehon Tuama outside.
“Well?” asked the Brehon morosely. “Do you see the difficulty of this case?”
“I have seen the difficulty ever since you explained it to me,” she replied shortly. “However, let us now find this Brother Caisín and see what he has to say.”
“He has accommodation in the hostel.”
They went to the town’s bruighean, which was situated in the center of Droim Sorn and provided accommodation and hospitality to whoever sought it there.
Brother Caisín was well built and, in spite of his robes, Fidelma noticed that he was muscular and had more of a build associated with a warrior than that of a religieux. It was when she examined his features that she found herself distrusting the man. His eyes were close set in the narrow face, shifty and not focusing on his questioner. The lips were too thin, the nose narrow and hooked. He spoke with a soft, lisping voice that seemed at odds with his build. The line from Juvenal came to her mind: fronti nulla fides-no reliance can be placed on appearance.
“Brother Caisín?”
Caisín glanced quickly at her and then at Brehon Tuama before dropping his gaze to focus on a point midway between them.
“I suppose you are the dálaigh from Cashel?”
“You suppose correctly. I am Fidelma of Cashel.”
The man seemed to sigh and shiver slightly.
“I have heard of your reputation, Sister. You have a way of ferreting out information.”
Fidelma smiled broadly.
“I am not sure whether you mean that as a compliment, Brother. I will accept it as such.”
“I must tell you something before you discover it for yourself and place a wrong interpretation on it.” The monk seemed anxious. “Have you heard of Caisín of Inis Geimhleach?”
Fidelma frowned and shook her head.
“I know Inis Geimhleach, the imprisoned island, a small settlement in Loch Allua, a wild and beautiful spot.”
At her side, Brehon Tuama suddenly snapped his fingers with a triumphant exclamation.
“Caisín. . I have heard the story. Caisín was a warrior turned thief! It was ten years ago that he was found guilty of stealing from the church there. He claimed that he had repented and went into the service of the church and disappeared. .”
Brehon Tuama’s voice trailed off. His eyes narrowed on the religieux before him.
“Caisín of Inis Geimhleach? Are you saying that you are that man?” Fidelma articulated the conclusion of his thoughts.
The monk bowed his head and nodded.
Brehon Tuama turned to Fidelma with a glance of satisfaction: “Then, Sister, we. .”
Fidelma stilled him with a warning glance.
“So, Caisín, why do you confess this now?”
“I have paid penance for my crime and have continued to serve in the abbey of Cluain. You might discover this and leap to the wrong conclusion.”
“So why did you not reveal this before, when the Brehon questioned you?” she demanded.
Caisín flushed.
“One does not always do the correct thing at the correct time. This last day, I have had a chance to think more carefully. I realized it was foolish not to be completely honest even though it has nothing to do with the current matter.”
Fidelma sighed.
“Well, your honesty does you credit in the circumstances. Tell me, in your own words, what happened when you discovered the body of Muirenn, the wife of the smith.”
Caisín spread his arms in a sort of helpless gesture.
“There is nothing complicated about it. My abbot told me that some time ago he had commissioned a new silver cross for our high altar from Findach the Smith. I was instructed to come to Droim Sorn to collect it.”