“That is so. Rumann and Muirgel were standing at the opposite end of the table, on either side of Ruisín.”
“And you were the only person to pour the ale and place the jugs on the table?”
“True enough.”
She gestured for him to withdraw and turned with a fretful expression to Abbot Laisran.
“So, as far as I can see, there are only two possibilities. One possibility is that the poison was introduced into the jug destined for Ruisín between the time of it being poured and the time of his drinking it.”
“That surely means that Cobha is chief suspect, for if anyone else had introduced the poison then they would surely be seen.” replied Laisran.
“But I fail to see the second possibility.”
“That would involve introducing the poison to Ruisín before the contest so that it would affect him later.”
Laisran immediately shook his head.
“I know of no such poison that could have such a long-term effect as has been described. By all accounts Ruisín was well until the second jug was placed before him.”
“Importantly, we are told that he did not drink from it. So the poison must have been in the first jug.”
There was a moment of silence between them.
“It seems an impossible crime, for it was carried out in front of so many witnesses,” Laisran sighed.
“We don’t even know how the crime was committed let alone who committed it. Although a young dálaigh I knew would say, solve the one and find the other.”
Fidelma shook her head with a wry smile.
“That young dálaigh was being a little glib,” she confessed.
“You were correct then. The principle is also correct now.”
“Let us see what Lennán has to say,” she sighed. “At least he is the only person who seems to have had some dislike for Ruisín.”
She called to Lígach to bring in the man.
Lennán was another of those people that she felt should be distrusted on sight. Shifty weak eyes, light and flickering here and there but never focusing on the person he was addressing. His was not thin but wiry; the mouth seemed malleable and he had a weak jaw. Nothing seemed firm about him. A vivid white line curved across his forehead, the scar of some terrible wound. The aura he gave out was intangible; that was the word Fidelma came up with. There seemed nothing substantial about the man that would even give a reason for her feeling of distrust.
“Well, Lennán,” she began sharply. “We understand that you did not like Ruisín.”
The man actually cringed before her. It was not a pleasant sight.
“With good reason, Sister. With good reason,” he whined.
“And what good reason?”
“He was having an affair with my sister, and he being married to Muirgel. It is a matter of her honor.”
“How did you know Ruisín was having an affair with your sister?”
“How do I know the midday sun is bright?” retorted the man.
“Sometimes the midday sun is obscured by gray cloud,” Fidelma pointed out dryly. “I ask again, how did you know this?”
“She was always going to Ruisín’s house.”
“But isn’t that naturally explained? Ruisín’s wife was her friend.”
Lennán sniffed in annoyance, the closest gesture he came in defiance of her.
“Ruisín’s wife was an excuse. It was not Muirgel that she was going to see.”
“I still cannot see how you can be so sure. I presume you asked her?”
“She denied it.”
“Did you ask Ruisín?”
“He also denied it.”
“So did you kill Ruisín?”
The question was put in the same tone and without pause so that Lennán was about to answer before he realized what he was being asked. He frowned in annoyance.
“I would have done so if I had had the chance,” he replied in surly tone.
“That seems honest enough,” admitted Fidelma.
“You take your sister’s honor seriously. I think you take it more seriously than she does. I wonder why?”
The man said nothing.
“You can offer no facts about this affair between your sister and Ruisín?”
“I don’t need facts. I base my knowledge on logic.”
“Ah, logic. My mentor, Brehon Morann, once said that anything could be demonstrated by logic. By logic we can prove whatever we wish to. Very well. During this contest, I am told you were standing at the table next to Crónán?”
“I was. My sister was beside me, mooning across the table at that oaf, Ruisín.”
“And you saw no one interfere with the drinking vessels?”
“I would not stoop to poison, Sister. If I reached the point where I wished to kill Ruisín, my weapon would be a sword or axe.”
Abbot Laisran was smiling in satisfaction when Lennán left the tent.
“That is our man, Fidelma. A whole screpall on it. That’s worth a good barrel of Gaulish wine.”
“I think you are a little free with your money, Laisran,” she smiled. “Before taking the wager, let us have a word with his sister, Uainiunn.”
Uainiunn looked nothing like her brother. She was fleshy; almost voluptuous, with an animal magnetism and a provocative way of looking at one, from under half-closed eyelids. She was dark of hair and eyes and had full red lips.
“I understand that you attended this drinking contest.”
“With my brother. He insisted.”
“He insisted?”
“He wanted to see Ruisín beaten by Crónán.”
“And you?”
The girl shrugged.
“It was a matter of indifference to me.”
Fidelma examined her closely.
“Why would that be so?” she asked.
Uainiunn sniffed.
“What entertainment is there is watching men drink themselves senseless?”
“True enough, but didn’t you want to see Ruisín win the contest?”
“Not particularly. I am sad for Muirgel, though. The loss of Ruisín is going to be a heavy blow for her. However, I do not doubt that she will find another man to take care of her. Rumann for example. It might stop Rumann chasing me. He does not interest me.”
“Ruisín’s death does not affect you in any way?” demanded Abbot Laisran, slightly outraged at the seeming callousness of the girl.
Uainiunn frowned.
“Only inasmuch as it affects my friend, Muirgel.”
“It sounds as though you did not care much for Ruisín,” Fidelma reflected.
“He was my friend’s husband, that is all.”
“I understand that is not what your brother thought.”
The girl’s eyes blazed for a moment. It was like a door opening suddenly and for a moment Fidelma glimpsed something equivalent to the hot fires of hell beyond. Then they snapped shut.
“I am not responsible for what Lennán thinks,” she snapped.
“So you would deny his claim that you were having an affair with Ruisín?”
The girl threw back her head and laughed. Yet it was not a pleasant sound. There was no need to press her further on her opinion.
“Very well,” Fidelma said quietly. “You may leave us.”
Abbot Laisran turned eagerly after she left.
“You think that she did it? She is callous enough.”
Fidelma raised an eyebrow.
“Are you about to place another wager, another screpall on it?” she asked.
Laisran flushed.
“Perhaps either one of them did it,” he countered.
Fidelma did not reply directly. She turned to Lígach.
“Let Muirgel come in.”
Laisran looked slightly crushed and sat back. He whispered stubbornly.
“No, she didn’t do it. A screpall on Lennán. He’s your man, I am now certain. After all, he confessed that he wanted to murder Ruisín.”
“But says that he did not. If he were guilty of the fact, he would surely have attempted to hide his intention?” replied Fidelma.