* * *

  It was mid-morning when King Colgú, on Fidelma’s advice, summoned all those concerned to attend in his council chamber. He sat with the newly appointed young Chief Brehon Fíthel. The latter was gaunt in appearance with sandy, almost frizzy hair and elfin-like features. Yet the first thing one noticed about him was the icy-blue eyes that fixed one with an almost unblinking stare and seemed to penetrate to the very soul. He sat on Colgú’s right side on the dais.

  Before them, to the right of the council chamber, sat Fidelma and Eadulf, and beyond them Abbot Ségdae, Abbess Líoch, Brother Madagan and Brother Conchobhar. On the left side of the council chamber, directly opposite them, were the Venerable Verax, Bishop Arwald and Brother Bosa.

  Deogaire had been brought from his place of imprisonment and Muiredach, the warrior of Clan Baiscne, had been summoned from Rumann’s inn. They were seated at the far end of the chamber facing the King and Brehon Fíthel. Placed strategically around the chamber were Gormán, Enda, Aidan and Luan, the senior warriors of the King’s bodyguard.

  The air of expectancy was palpable.

  Having ascertained that everyone was in their correct places, as Fidelma had advised, Colgú addressed them all.

  ‘It is usual for my steward to commence these proceedings,’ Colgú began. ‘But as he is no longer of this world, I shall take this task upon myself and be advised by my new Chief Brehon, who will be sole judge in this matter. As I understand that Latin is common to all the participants, excepting some of my guards, the proceedings shall be in that language unless there are difficulties in comprehension. Is it agreed?’

  There was a mumbling of agreement from the gathering. Colgú then glanced to Brehon Fíthel, who cleared his throat and asked if Fidelma was ready.

  Fidelma rose from her seat, inclined her head quickly to her brother and the Chief Brehon, before walking to the centre of the chamber.

  ‘I have often had difficult matters to deal with in my years as a dálaigh,’ she began. ‘For an advocate of the courts of this kingdom, no matter is more frustrating than when there are no witnesses to the actual crimes; when we have to rely on piecing together the events by conjecture and then making deductions. This was the problem I was faced with in this matter. Because no one seemed willing to tell us the truth, we had to create a picture from odds and ends of evidence. That led me to devise a ruse so that the person I had begun to suspect would declare their own guilt.

  ‘I submit that, after I make my arguments, this ruse should be regarded in law as a method of obtaining the perpetrator’s coibsena or confession, and under that they are self-declared bibamnacht … guilty of the crimes.’

  She paused for a moment to glance at Brehon Fithel, who nodded to show that he did not disagree with her opening submission.

  ‘So now, let us proceed and piece together this sad story.’ She swung round to the Venerable Verax. ‘Tell us how the theft took place of those items that you had brought from your brother, Vitalian, the Bishop of Rome, to give to Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury?’

  The Venerable Verax started in surprise at the direct question. He glanced at Brother Bosa who was seated nearby but simply shrugged indifferently. The Venerable Verax turned back to Fidelma, his eyes narrowed.

  ‘Are you clever, Fidelma of Cashel, or are you just guessing?’

  Fidelma shook her head with a sad smile. ‘You should have learned one thing about me from the nomenclator of the Lateran Palace, the Venerable Gelasius, whom I was proud to have called a friend in Rome. I never guess.’

  The Venerable Verax paused for a moment, as if undecided. Then he replied: ‘Then you will know that I set out from Rome on a mission to Theodore of Canterbury, bearing with me certain items that were given by the Holy Father and intended for Theodore and none other.’

  ‘I presume that you had but recently arrived in Canterbury when the theft occurred?’ she prompted. ‘But I should like to know the exact circumstances.’

  ‘I had brought with me certain holy objects. These I carried with me in a chest which was never out of my sight nor that of my personal servant.’

  ‘Except at the time when they were stolen?’ she pointed out with dry humour.

  ‘I thought them to be safe in the chest in my residence whilst I was in discussion with Archbishop Theodore. I returned to my chamber late one night, however, and found that my servant had been attacked, the chest had been forced open, and these items and papers removed. Enquiries were made. At this time Bishop Arwald was serving Archbishop Theodore as the head of his custodes. He undertook the task of helping to track down the thief or thieves.’

  Fidelma turned to Bishop Arwald. ‘Archbishop Theodore had decided to copy the Lateran Palace and set up a group called the custodia which took care of the security and valuables of the church at Canterbury. Is that so?’

  ‘He had.’

  ‘And you were placed in charge of them?’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘And they included Brother Bosa and Brother Cerdic?’

  ‘They did.’

  ‘So, you undertook to discover the thief. When did you learn that a thief, passing himself as a priest called Victricius, was responsible for the theft of these objects?’

  ‘It did not take long. There is no honour among thieves, and Victricius was a known thief. Witnesses saw him at the Archbishop’s residence and leaving the quarters used by distinguished guests. He was later observed at various taverns meeting with a young man – a warrior from the descriptions. This young man had previously been seen by both Bishop Arwald and Brother Bosa, but it was only later that a connection was made. The young man resembled Brother Eadulf there, as had already been pointed out. It was not long before their hiding place was betrayed by other thieves. One of the custodes went there to investigate but the two had already fled, leaving behind, I should say, some inconsequential documents from their theft, which evidence confirmed their guilt.’

  ‘Was it Brother Cerdic who was sent to investigate their hiding place?’

  Bishop Arwald seemed surprised but nodded. ‘He was but newly joined in our custodia. He had impressed me with his enthusiasm.’

  ‘He reported back that the thieves had fled?’

  ‘When thieves fall out, truth is to be found,’ replied the Bishop Arwald. ‘I afterwards questioned the innkeeper where they had been hiding and learned that they had set off for the coast north of Canterbury. Riders went after them but found they had embarked on a merchant ship heading for this kingdom. We realised they would doubtless find buyers for those items they stole here.’

  ‘What made you believe that?’

  It was the Venerable Verax who answered. ‘I knew from my brother and in our archives that Ard Macha had already petitioned to be recognised as a primacy here. Obviously there would be interest in these objects.’

  ‘Are we to be told what these objects are?’ asked Chief Brehon Frithel.

  ‘Yes; we will come to them in a moment,’ Fidelma replied. She turned back to the Venerable Verax. ‘So you decided to follow the thieves here?’

  ‘There was no option but to make an attempt to retrieve the items.’

  ‘It puzzles me that you did not follow by the same sea route,’ Fidelma commented.

  ‘Storms were coming up and we were told it might be several days before we could find a ship. We took advice from Brother Bosa, who had been here before, and it was decided that we ride for a harbour in the land of the West Saxons and take ship from there. Brother Bosa had studied here in Darú and knew the route well. He felt that we might even land in advance of the merchant ship because of the long voyage it had before it.’

  ‘A question!’ It was Eadulf who interrupted, and receiving permission of the Brehon Fíthel, he asked: ‘I can understand the custodes giving chase in this fashion, but why was the presence of the Venerable Verax necessary? He was a distinguished visitor from Rome.’

  ‘I was given a commission by the Holy Father,’ explained the elderly prelate. ‘It was my task to see it carried out. Anyway, I alone knew what these items were and could identify them.’

  ‘Well, the thieves could identify them as well,’ Eadulf replied pointedly.

  Brehon Fíthel leaned forward and declared: ‘I must now insist that we are told exactly what these valuable items were.’

  ‘Items of extreme value to certain people within these kingdoms wishing to show authority from Rome,’ Venerable Verax prevaricated.

  ‘Certain people?’ Fidelma smiled indulgently. ‘To be succinct, those who wanted to be recognised as Chief Abbot or Bishop of the religious over all these kingdoms. That, of course, is why you were so interested in finding out which of our abbots and bishops would want to claim this primacy. The intention of Victricius and his companion was clearly to sell these items to the highest bidder, as they would seemingly confer the authority of the Bishop of Rome on whoever owned them.’

  Abbot Ségdae now intervened with a frown. ‘Surely, it must have occurred to the thieves that such a transaction would be as illegal as it would be invalid?’

  ‘Invalid because the items would not have the authority of the Bishop of Rome and because they were presumably intended for another,’ agreed Fidelma.

  The Venerable Verax smiled tightly. ‘Unfortunately, the declaration of the name and office on the parchment, given under the Holy Father’s own seal, was left to be filled in later by a scribe.’

  ‘I thought that you said these items were sent to and intended for, Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury?’ Eadulf said sharply.

  ‘Theodore was already Archbishop,’ agreed the Venerable Verax. ‘He needed no such authority. But he was finding it hard to control all the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons. He had sent an emissary to Rome with the request that he be allowed to elevate a bishop called Wilfrid as Archbishop of Northumbria, with his cathedral in a town called York. This Wilfrid would therefore become the second Chief Bishop among the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons. However, Theodore wanted the power to do this without Wilfrid being specifically named, until such time as Theodore was certain of his ability, since there were still some matters of contention between them. My task was to take the pallium and the declaration, given under the Holy Father’s seal, to Canterbury. As I said before, the name and bishop’s see, the official centre and jurisdiction of the bishop, was left for one of Theodore’s scribes to fill in.’

  ‘In other words,’ Eadulf summed up, ‘someone could purchase these items from the thieves and then append their own name? Rome might deny it, but the claim could be announced and could convince enough people to cause a schism that might last for generations.’

  ‘Exactly so,’ confirmed the Venerable Verax.

  ‘Well, I would have had nothing to do with such false baubles,’ Abbot Ségdae declared immediately.

  ‘But there may be others who have no such scruples,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘I have attended councils at Streonshalh and at Autun; I have seen how bishops and abbots are no better than temporal princes in their quest for power. No doubt there would be many who would pay a king’s honour price for such items. Fortunately, some of these items were destroyed.’

  The Venerable Verax leaned forward with a gasp. ‘I hear they were stolen from the thieves – but do you know for certain that they were destroyed?’

  ‘Having come thus far, let us finish.’ Fidelma ignored his question. ‘You landed in the Kingdom of Laighin. You told people there you were on a deputation to learn the views of the abbots and bishops. But you also asked questions of merchants and travellers to see whether your thieves had reached there. In fact, they had landed in a port further south but not in Laighin. It was a port in this Kingdom of Muman called Láirge. They had hired a river boat to take them here.’

  Brehon Fíthel interrupted. ‘One of these thieves you say was someone who called himself Victricius?’

  ‘He called himself the Venerable Victricius of Palestrina, passing himself off as an elder of the religious,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘He had already been caught stealing and was flogged in Canterbury.’

  ‘I am afraid that his companion was my own brother, Egric,’ Eadulf added stiffly. ‘My young brother, who by the strangest coincidence of fate survived the attack and was brought to Cashel. He tried to keep up the disguise that he was a religious, travelling with this Venerable Victricius on some religious mission. I felt he was lying but could not accept it.’

  ‘So Victricius and Egric were the thieves who stole the items from Canterbury and brought them to Port Láirge?’ Colgú concluded.

  ‘Indeed,’ Fidelma nodded. ‘Victricius and the boatmen were attacked and killed on the river. Egric survived. The items were initially thought to have been stolen or destroyed.’

  Everyone was tense now, looking towards her. She turned and motioned to Eadulf, who produced something wrapped in a cloth, which they had brought into the council chamber.

  ‘Unfortunately, when the thieves arrived at the harbour of Láirge, they met the person who was to set in motion the events that led to all the deaths here. Until he makes a full confession, we can only surmise the details. He met Victricius and Egric at Láirge. He discovered what they had to trade. He saw the tremendous value of the items and knew that, with them, he could acquire rank and power. There was just one problem: he personally could not afford to purchase them.

  ‘So he told Victricius and Egric to take a boat up the River Siúr, to head for Cluain Meala, the Field of Honey, where they would be contacted. Of course, he had no intention of them ever reaching that township. He arranged with a small band of outlaws, led by Rudgal, to ambush them. They were to steal what they could, but ensure that certain items were taken and brought to him. As we know, Rudgal and his companions killed Victricius and the two boatmen, and also believed they had killed Egric.’

  ‘But you said some items were saved?’ the Venerable Verax pressed anxiously.

  Fidelma gestured to Eadulf, who unwrapped the cloth he had before him. From it, he produced the embroidered lambswool band that Brother Conchobhar had found wrapped around the waist of Rudgal. The Venerable Verax rose and took the item from Eadulf, his eyes wide and hands trembling.

  ‘It is the pallium!’ he gasped. ‘The same pallium blessed by the Holy Father.’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ continued Fidelma, ‘Rudgal and his gang of cut-throats were not too mindful either of life or the value of the written word. Rudgal found and kept the pallium, but his companions simply ransacked and destroyed the papers, including the document given under the Bishop of Rome’s seal. Rudgal and his attackers took what items they deemed of immediate value and set fire to the rest.’

  ‘How can we be sure that the document with the Holy Father’s seal was destroyed?’ demanded Venerable Verax.

  Eadulf reached into his robe and drew out the small lead fragment that looked like a coin.

  ‘It is lucky that when I was in Rome, I had seen similar items,’ he said. ‘Here is the lead seal with the letters V.I.T.A. inscribed on it and an emblem. When our warriors came across the scene of the attack by the river, one of them, Dego, spotted this lead token on the ground. It was among the burned papers. He picked it up, thinking it was merely a worthless coin, and decided he would use it as a weight for his fishing line. So this was the only other item that survived.’

  He dropped it into the Venerable Verax’s outstretched hand. The man glanced at it and uttered a deep sigh. ‘It is indeed the Holy Father’s bullae – his seal – which is attached on all official documents from his hand.’

  Brehon Fíthel asked to see the item, turning it over between his fingers. ‘Curious, indeed,’ he remarked. ‘I would have thought such an important seal would have been made of a metal of finer quality than mere lead. What do you call it? A bull?’

  ‘The word bullae means a seal,’ explained the Venerable Verax, taking it back from the Chief Brehon before glancing at Fidelma. ‘So this is all that has survived? No other documents?’

  ‘It is all,’ confirmed Fidelma.

  ‘Then it seems that our journey has been wasted.’ Bishop Arwald was clearly disappointed.

  ‘Wasted?’ rebuked Fidelma. ‘Is any journey wasted? I hope not. You have the pallium and you have the bullae. And perhaps you and your party may have learned something about our kingdoms.’ She looked the Venerable Verax straight in the eye and added, without a change of expression, ‘You may even inform people that Strabo was in error when he told the world that we were cannibals. Learning that fact, surely, was no waste of a journey!’

  ‘I mean that our fear of these items falling into the wrong hands was no fear at all,’ Bishop Arwald replied stiffly.

  ‘On the contrary,’ Fidelma returned, ‘there was a fear – and that fear has engendered the deaths of eight people! In addition, a young warrior is now disabled for life and, had Eadulf and I not been lucky, it might have meant our deaths or injury as well.’

  ‘Eight deaths?’ The Venerable Verax frowned.

  ‘Your thief and his companion, Egric, two innocent boatmen, Brother Cerdic, Rudgal, Sister Dianaimh, Beccan the steward … I am not even counting the gang of outlaws led by Rudgal.’

  ‘Are you saying that all these deaths were caused by the same event – all came about through the robbery of these items in Canterbury?’ It was the Chief Brehon Fíthel who asked the question.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Post hoc, ergo propter hoc,’ Bishop Arwald commented sarcastically. ‘As these events happened after the first event, so you claim that they must have been caused by that event. Well, it does not follow.’

  ‘On the contrary, I have already said that when the theft took place in Canterbury, the thieves came to this kingdom, and landed in Láirge’s harbour, where they met the person who was determined to get what they carried by any means. So their fate was sealed – and that action had a series of reactions.’

  ‘And who was this someone?’ asked Chief Brehon Fíthel. ‘Are you going to identify him?’

  ‘Of course. Some here already know his identity. However, let me lead you through the morass of deceptions, so you will understand the logic. After the attack by the Déisi outlaws, and the report of the incident to the Brehon at Cluan Meala, Cummasach, the Prince of the Déisi, set out to find the band of outlaws to track them down. They put up a fight and most of the band perished. There were three exceptions. Two men escaped – Maon and his companion, who are now dead. But their leader, Rudgal, was taken captive. He had been told the value of the cloth. He wrapped it around his waist and intended to bargain it for his freedom.