‘I am more experienced in law, which is why I am your Chief Brehon.’

  ‘By default!’ exclaimed Abbot Ségdae, softly but audibly. He had no time for the elderly judge.

  ‘I would at least be independent of undue influence,’ retorted the Brehon heatedly, glancing at Eadulf, who now picked up what was being implied and coloured hotly.

  ‘Independent?’ Fidelma found it hard to control her irritation. ‘By which I presume you imply that I am biased? As I recall, you wanted to blame the death of Brother Cerdic on Eadulf, based on the simple fact that he, too, was of the same nation. Is that so?’

  Brehon Aillín would not back down. ‘I would have used logic, not emotion. The fact that Brother Eadulf has now been shown to be in the proximity of both deaths would not be ignored by me.’

  Eadulf took an involuntary step forward, his hands clenched at his sides, but Colgú raised his hand to stay him. His own scowl had deepened. His voice became cold and deliberate.

  ‘You forget yourself, Brehon Aillín. In the matter of the death of this man, Rudgal, your logic may recall that Eadulf was here with us from the time Rudgal was brought into the palace until the time he went with Gormán to bring him before us and discovered the body. As for the death of Brother Cerdic, I thought you were joking when you claimed that Eadulf should be regarded as a suspect. Now I think I see some prejudice in your reasoning, for I see nothing else that needs to be responded to. You may now leave us.’

  Brehon Aillín’s figure was rigid as the King spoke. His lips were bloodless; it seemed he had difficulty in articulating. ‘B-but the death of Rudgal,’ he stammered. ‘That has to be investigated.’

  Colgú stared moodily at him for a moment. Then he said: ‘I shall appoint someone to consider the matter. I suggest you now retire to consider your own position. You are impugning the character of my sister’s husband without just cause and before witnesses.’

  Brehon Aillín continued to stand absolutely still for a moment or two. His lips were still twitching, as if he were trying to respond. Then his jaw clenched, he swung round and strode out of the council chamber.

  Fidelma’s expression had softened from anger to sadness. ‘Perhaps we were too hard on him, brother,’ she ventured.

  Colgú regarded her in surprise. ‘You have a changeable temperament, sister.’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘I admit my faults. Sometimes I allow my passion to control me. I am inclined to think that Aillín is an old man and old men are sometimes wont to foolishness.’

  ‘He is Chief Brehon of Muman,’ Colgú replied sternly. ‘Even if he came to the position by the untimely death of poor Áedo, he is still the chief official of the law in my kingdom. He has standards to uphold.’

  Eadulf cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘I would not like to see the man suffer simply because he dislikes me,’ he ventured.

  ‘Dislike is one thing, Eadulf,’ Colgú pointed out, ‘but accusing you of murder on the basis of dislike only, places him beyond service to the law. We all take an oath to pursue the truth.’

  ‘And to commit such a breach of etiquette in front of visitors…’ It was the voice of Abbot Ségdae which brought them back to reality. Throughout the exchange Prince Cummasach had been sitting in silence with his Brehon standing at his side. They had been shocked by the exchange, and the news that had engendered it, but they had offered no comment. Now Cummasach rose from his chair.

  ‘We are wasting time,’ he announced distantly. ‘I have done my duty in capturing the man who led the attack on the religious on the river. I brought him here and placed him in the custody of the King. Now he is dead. I shall return to the Land of the Déisi.’

  ‘One thing remains, however.’ It was the Déisi Brehon, Furudán, who demanded their attention. ‘Although a confessed killer, Rudgal was killed unlawfully and in the palace of the High King. He was brought here under the protection of Cummasach, Prince of the Déisi. Therefore reparation must be given to Cummasach, whose reputation is thus impaired as being unable to extend his protection to those who have submitted to him.’

  There was a silence before Colgú turned with a helpless glance to Fidelma.

  ‘Is that true?’ he asked.

  Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘It is so. However, an adequate time must be given for a Brehon to be able to investigate and consider who was responsible for the unlawful killing before reparation is offered.’

  ‘An adequate time?’ queried Colgú, looking relieved and turning back to Brehon Furudán.

  ‘It is the law,’ agreed the Brehon. ‘Yet “adequate” is a word that can be debated.’

  ‘That which is acceptable for the task to be undertaken?’ suggested Fidelma softly.

  ‘Comchirte,’ replied the Brehon. It was the legal word for ‘acceptable’.

  ‘Then, as we are approaching the full of the moon,’ Fidelma said, ‘so let us wait until the next full of the moon. We will endeavour to complete the investigation by that time. Is that acceptable?’

  Brehon Furudán and Cummasach exchanged a glance and both nodded at once.

  ‘Comchirte,’ repeated Furudán.

  The rituals of the departure of Prince Cummasach and his Brehon were amiable enough. The laws of hospitality were adhered to. They had been pressed to stay and attend the evening meal, but politely declined. If the truth were known, Colgú was relieved.

  After they had gone, he said to his sister, ‘It’s all very well, but what if you can’t resolve this matter? Now we have that to deal with as well as the death of that emissary of the deputation from Canterbury.’

  ‘There is no mystery without a solution, Colgú,’ Fidelma said firmly. ‘Leave it to us. A period between the full moons is adequate.’

  The King did not look confident but accepted her optimism.

  ‘Gormán is already questioning the members of the bodyguard to see if they noticed anything,’ Eadulf told him.

  ‘The body should be taken to Brother Conchobhar to prepare for a funeral,’ Colgú declared. ‘Where is Egric? Did he identify the man as his attacker?’

  Eadulf was unhappy. ‘My brother hasn’t returned from Rumann’s tavern since Cummasach brought his prisoner here. He’s with Dego. I will fetch him now and take him to view the body.’

  ‘Let us try to resolve this matter quickly,’ Colgú urged. ‘Now that Fidelma has informed me that this coming deputation includes none other than a brother of the Bishop of Rome, it becomes even more urgent.’

  ‘Are we sure that this Venerable Verax is truly brother to the Bishop of Rome?’ Abbot Segdae looked questioningly at Eadulf. ‘Brother Madagan did not know.’

  ‘If the man is the Venerable Verax, son of Anastasius of Segni, then that is the case. And he has great authority in the Church. There was no reason why Brother Madagan should know this. Only I recognised the name, having been in Rome for a while.’

  ‘Well, it is known now,’ Colgú said heavily. ‘This means we are dealing with someone of importance, a prince among princes. It also means,’ he turned with a scowl in search of his steward Beccan, ‘that we will have to prepare a feast and entertainment fit for such a man.’

  ‘What of Brehon Aillín, brother?’ Fidelma asked, still feeling guilty about the departure of the disgraced elderly judge.

  Colgú sat back with a look of resolution at Fidelma. ‘I shall need a new legal adviser.’

  ‘Aillín is still your Chief Brehon,’ she demurred.

  ‘The man is a liability. He has never liked you nor accepted Eadulf. Now he has gone beyond reasonable behaviour. He has dishonoured me in front of the Prince of the Déisi and his Brehon.’

  ‘It will be up to the Council of Brehon to see if he has erred in any way and whether he needs to be replaced,’ Fidelma reminded him. ‘You cannot take his title from him before that happens.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ her brother sighed. ‘However, I can appoint whoever I like to advise me, so long as they are qualified. We have two unexplained deaths on our hands. You have already been charged with investigating one, Fidelma. Now you must take on the investigation of the other. Also…’ he paused for a moment. ‘You and Eadulf will have to hold yourselves ready to advise me when this deputation arrives.’

  Eadulf cleared his throat awkwardly.

  ‘You have a problem with this, friend Eadulf?’ the King wanted to know.

  ‘Brehon Aillín should be at your side during the visit by this deputation. Won’t it look strange if your Chief Brehon is absent?’

  Colgú made a dismissive gesture. ‘I want someone I can trust, someone without prejudice. Moreover, someone forward-looking rather than the pedant and conservative that Aillín is.’

  ‘He will not take kindly to being dismissed,’ Fidelma warned.

  ‘I do not like doing it,’ confessed her brother. ‘But it is one of the responsibilities of kingship.’

  ‘It is up to you who you appoint to advise you, but it is the Council of Brehons who must appoint their Chief Brehon,’ repeated Fidelma.

  ‘The Council appointed Áedo as Chief Brehon,’ replied Colgú. ‘When Áedo was killed a few months ago while trying to save me from that murderous assassin, Aillín took over the office because the Council had made him deputy out of respect for his age and service. They did it as an honour for his age, not expecting him to accede to the office. Now it is time they convened and a new Chief Brehon was appointed.’

  Abbot Ségdae smiled meditatively at Fidelma. ‘You stood against Áedo for the position last time.’

  Fidelma replied, without amusement, ‘That is true. But it taught me that being Chief Brehon was not the position I thought it would be. I need to be involved in administering the law. A Chief Brehon spends most of their time administering the work of judges and lawyers throughout the kingdom and dealing with complaints and appeals. They become removed from the people – and it is with the people that my strength lies. I am content to remain an advocate.’

  Eadulf disguised the relief that he felt at her words. For a while he had wondered if Fidelma would seize the opportunity to apply again for election before the Council of the senior Brehons of the kingdom. If truth were told, he had been delighted when she was rejected in favour of Áedo.

  ‘Well, we must ask the Brehons to convene their Council soon,’ Colgú decided. ‘I will send a messenger to let the leading Brehons know of my request.’

  ‘What of Brehon Aillín? How is he to be told?’ Fidelma asked, still concerned.

  ‘I will have a private talk with him,’ Colgú assured her. ‘He is a widower but his daughter and her husband have a farmstead south of Rath na Drinne. He will be well looked after.’

  ‘He might not accept this without protest,’ Fidelma said anxiously.

  ‘But accept it he must,’ Colgú replied, his voice firm. ‘Now we all have much work to do. Keep me informed of the events of your investigation.’

  He rose, indicating their meeting was over.

  Outside the King’s chamber, Fidelma seemed dispirited. ‘I wish there was some more pleasant way to end Aillín’s career. After all, he was not always an aging curmudgeon. Many young lawyers learned from him.’

  ‘It is out of our hands now,’ Eadulf responded philosophically.

  Fidelma did not reply for a moment. Then she said: ‘Let us go in search of Gormán and see if has come up with anything. With luck, someone saw something around the storehouse.’

  ‘First I must find Egric and get him to identify the body, if he can,’ Eadulf reminded her.

  As they entered the courtyard they found old Brother Conchobhar hurrying towards them.

  ‘I was coming to find you,’ he murmured, casting an almost conspiratorial look around him. ‘There is something that you must see.’

  He turned and led them to his apothecary. They asked no questions, for the physician seemed in a state of some agitation. They followed him to a small room at the back of his workshop – a place where he usually examined and prepared bodies ready for burial. The corpse of Rudgal was stretched out on the table, ready to be washed for the burial. A racholl or winding sheet loosely covered him.

  ‘I was undressing the body,’ explained Brother Conchobhar, ‘when I found this object tied around the waist.’ He turned, and from beneath a bundle of clothes on a nearby chair he picked up a piece of material and handed it to Fidelma.

  It was a narrow band of woven lambswool, once white in colour, but stained and dirty now. It was a curious shape – a band some three fingers thick, made as if to loop through itself. Embroidered on it were six black crosses.

  ‘In the old days,’ Brother Conchobhar recalled, ‘something like this was a ritual vestment worn by all bishops of the New Faith. Although this seems to be of a slightly different design.’

  ‘But why would Rudgal be hiding it around his waist?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Was this what he thought was significant?’

  ‘Do you think that Rudgal stole it from Victricius?’ Eadulf wondered. ‘Maybe Victricius was a bishop and this was his vestment?’ He took the lambswool from her and examined it carefully.

  ‘If so, he must have known something more about it,’ Fidelma said sensibly.

  ‘But what would someone like Rudgal know about the vestments of the ecclesiastics?’ Eadulf was frowning. ‘According to Brehon Furudán, Rudgal claimed that someone at Láirge’s harbour had paid him and his thugs to attack and kill the Venerable Victricius and my brother. I suppose that person may have told him something about it.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound likely.’ Fidelma was dubious. ‘If they were just hired thugs, Rudgal and his gang of cut-throats would not be let into any secret which gave them additional power, surely.’

  ‘Then if they weren’t told, why did he take it and hide it on his person? Why did he come here confident we would make a bargain with him? And why was he killed?’

  Fidelma returned his gaze thoughtfully. ‘You are asking too many good questions, Eadulf. Anyway, I think we can be sure that he kept it as a means of bargaining for his freedom. But now I think we have another question to pursue.’

  ‘Which is?’ prompted Eadulf.

  ‘We know that this used to be a symbol that was worn by bishops years ago. Perhaps that symbolism has changed?’

  Brother Conchobhar intervened. ‘I can make some discreet enquiries. Our Keeper of the Books is a man of great knowledge, and an enquiry from me would not give rise to any undue attention.’

  ‘But don’t show him this,’ Fidelma warned, folding the band. ‘Just describe it to him as if it was something you had once seen. In the meantime, I suggest you hide it somewhere safe.’

  They emerged from Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary more perplexed than they had entered it. They found Gormán looking for them.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you that I have spoken to all the members of the bodyguard who were around the Laochtech while the prisoner was held there.’ He sounded frustrated. ‘None of them saw anything. Enda was in charge, since he and Luan secured the prisoner in the storehouse, as Eadulf will have told you. The Déisi warriors never left the brandubh game. Everyone else had their guard duties to perform and have been accounted for.’

  ‘The trouble is that the storehouse is behind the Laochtech,’ Fidelma observed. ‘Anyone could have gone round it and entered it without being seen by the warriors in the Laochtech.’

  ‘Well, there are other matters that I must proceed with,’ Eadulf said. ‘Has my brother returned yet? He needs to identify Rudgal’s body to say whether he was one of the attackers. He can’t still be in Rumman’s tavern, surely?’

  Gormán turned to him in surprise. ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  Eadulf frowned. ‘Tell me what? I haven’t seen him since I asked you where he was earlier.’

  The young warrior nervously cleared his throat at Eadulf’s response. ‘He has left with Dego. They will be gone for a few days.’

  Eadulf was staring at Gormán in incomprehension. It was Fidelma who asked the question. ‘Gone where for a few days, Gormán?’ she asked softly.

  ‘I told friend Eadulf here earlier that they were talking about fishing or hunting.’

  ‘And?’ snapped Eadulf, his voice dangerous. ‘What are you saying now?’

  ‘Well, Dego had permission from me to take some days’ rest after our recent trip. He was going to spend a few days fishing and hunting. He has a cabin somewhere in the Sliabh na gCoille.’

  Eadulf knew that the Mountains of the Forest was the name of the peaks to the south-west. It was a large area.

  ‘When did you learn this?’ he asked coldly.

  ‘When you went to tell the King about the discovery of the body of the prisoner. Dego came back to the fortress at that moment to tell me he was leaving. As he had been in the township, the matter of questioning him about the death of the prisoner did not relate to him. I saw no objection to allowing him to leave.’ The warrior looked embarrassed.

  ‘That was not the problem.’ Fidelma spoke quietly. ‘This prisoner was supposed to be the man who attacked Egric, so Egric was needed as an official witness. Why did you not keep him here so that he could identify him?’

  Gormán raised his arms in a helpless gesture.

  ‘Egric did not come back with Dego. I presumed that he was waiting for him in Rumann’s tavern. I thought that he had already told Eadulf his intention when Eadulf went to the tavern to see him earlier. In fact, I’ve just seen Beccan, who was asking whether Egric would be feasting with the King this evening. He was worrying about the arrangements as usual. I never saw a steward so worried about details. But … well, didn’t you say that you were speaking about fishing to your brother?’

  Eadulf shook his head in annoyance. ‘He did not mention any intention of leaving immediately with Dego on a fishing or hunting trip.’

  The warrior was looking unhappy. ‘I did not realise that he had not told you, and it did not occur to me that you would disapprove.’

  ‘It’s not that I disapprove,’ muttered Eadulf fiercely. ‘However, the timing and circumstance are … are odd.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Gormán,’ Fidelma intervened. ‘We just needed to ask if Egric could identify this Rudgal as his attacker. But it is no matter, since that was just a formality. We have evidence aplenty. But with this second murder and the fact that the arrival of the deputation from the east is imminent, it would be better had all the trusted members of the King’s bodyguard remained in the palace.’