Eadulf wore an uneasy expression. ‘I am afraid the evidence does make sense. I believe you thought so when you reflected that the killer could have been someone who entered the apartment without being questioned or raising alarm.’

  ‘Dar Luga is a suspect,’ Fidelma replied stonily. ‘We must be diplomatic in our questioning, but we cannot dismiss her as a suspect just because we have known her for so long.’

  ‘But there is no reason why she would attempt to kill your brother and his wife,’ Eadulf said. ‘What if Cera was the intended victim? She might have reason there.’

  Luan was shaking his head. ‘I refuse to believe Dar Luga is capable of murder. What reason would she have to kill the girl? Dar Luga was a friend to everyone.’

  Fidelma shook her head in sad contradiction. ‘That statement has several weaknesses. Reasons for murder are all unknown until they are discovered. A murderer can have friends, families, before they commit an act that makes them into a killer. That does not make them less a friend or part of a family. It does not turn them into an alien. Even in the right circumstances, a matronly grandmother can conceal emotions that can explode into a murderous intent.’

  Luan looked at her with scepticism. ‘But Dar Luga …? I believe that these items were hidden in her room without her knowledge. I do not believe Dar Luga would turn into a murderess.’

  ‘Belief is not fact. Anyway, it is not your task to make a judgement.’

  Luan handed the items to Fidelma with a sullen attitude. ‘So the keys fit the lock, lady. They must be the ones the killer used to enter and relock the door when they escaped after the killing. Now what?’

  ‘Find me a bag to carry these items in,’ Fidelma instructed, ignoring his surly manner.

  When a bag had been found and the bloodstained items put into it, Fidelma stood for a moment or two looking round the room, giving it a final examination.

  ‘Let us assume that the account Dar Luga gave me and Eadulf was correct,’ she said, almost speaking to herself. ‘Somehow Cera enters the bathroom of my brother and his wife. She is attacked by the killer. A noise, perhaps a dying scream, awakens my brother, who rushes into the bathroom room to find Cera slain, the killer has fled into the corridor and even locked the door behind them. The killer has an apron, which perhaps is used to absorb the blood splatters. They also have the dagger and the keys.

  ‘By this time Colgú is shouting an alarm. Luan is standing guard on the stairway, the only entrance and exit to these bedchambers. He comes running up the stairs in answer. Colgú stands at his bedchamber door, the only exit he has on to the corridor as the bathroom door is locked. When Luan arrives at the top of the stairs he sees Colgú at his door and Dar Luga has by now emerged from her room opposite. She seems tired. Do you follow thus far?’

  ‘Of course.’ Eadulf frowned in annoyance.

  ‘So we have questions.’ Fidelma smiled thinly. She turned to Luan. ‘How long was it from when Colgú raised the alarm, to when you got up the stairs to a level to see the passage outside the murder room and for Dar Luga to come out of her room? She was in her night attire – was there blood upon it?’

  ‘It was a short time, lady. I did not see any blood on Dar Luga’s clothing, but it all happened so quickly that I could not swear to that on oath.’

  ‘The killer, in those moments, has fled from the bathroom and locked the door behind them, at which point Colgú has raised the alarm. But where is the killer? They must have run straight to Dar Luga’s bedchamber to take off the apron and then hidden it with the keys and then …’

  ‘Vanished,’ Luan responded.

  ‘We now know they had to go into Dar Luga’s room to place the bloodied items. So, if they vanished …?’ Fidelma left the question in the air.

  ‘They escaped,’ Luan amended.

  ‘Then escaped how? As we know, there are no outside windows, only the forlés high above. It would take more than an acrobat to achieve that as an exit after hiding the items and before Dar Luga was roused from her sleep in answer to Colgú’s call.’

  ‘Or did the killer hide and wait until everyone had left, then simply come down the stairway and leave as well?’ Luan suggested.

  ‘But the stairway has been constantly under surveillance since the alarm. And someone has always been inside. So how could anyone have left without being seen or heard?’

  ‘So we are back to saying that they could only have come into Dar Luga’s room, or else Dar Luga is the culprit.’

  ‘She told us that she was awoken when Colgú raised the alarm,’ Fidelma reflected. ‘It was dark and she awoke with the onset of the ague. Her first reaction was to reach out and take some water. When I was questioning her, she took some more water, and that’s when she broke this glass.’

  Luan smiled grimly, glancing to the shattered fragments. ‘It fits that she was asleep and so it was possible and dark enough for the killer to slip into her room and hide the things before Colgú raised the alarm.’

  ‘But the same query follows,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘The killer came to this room and then what? Dar Luga found Colgú at the door, raising the alarm. She answered him and even returned into her room to get a robe. If we accept this, how had the killer time to hide the items and disappear?’

  Something made Fidelma and Eadulf look up at the skylight together. The room had been searched by Luan and Enda before Dar Luga was left to keep watch over the corpse while Fidelma was summoned. So where was the bloodstained killer at that time, unless …? When all the possible answers had been found wanting, only the improbable was left. They were quiet as they looked at each other with reluctant expressions. There seemed only one logical conclusion, which no one wanted to admit.

  SIX

  ‘It is difficult to accept the logical conclusion,’ Fidelma began slowly. ‘Yet what is the alternative? The logic seems without question. Dar Luga killed the girl and, hearing that she had disturbed Colgú, she then exited the bathroom, remembering to lock the door behind her, which gave her time to run back to her own room, taking the apron, the dagger and keys, put them in a careful bundle and place them in her trunk. She drew attention to the ague as an effective means of hiding her lack of breath in hurrying to hide the items and her emotional state.’

  ‘The killer still could have hidden here before Dar Luga was awakened,’ Luan protested, but there was little conviction in his voice.

  ‘Still wearing the bloody apron and holding the weapon and keys?’ Fidelma smiled with scepticism. ‘There were only moments between the killer fleeing the bathroom and Colgú raising the alarm.’

  ‘He could have hidden until Dar Luga left the room to join Colgú, emerged and then hid the items in that chest and then …’

  ‘And then … suddenly vanished? Perhaps floating up like some mystical bird to the skylight? Or, perhaps, being of athletic propensity, the killer was able to perform Cúchulainn’s famous salmon leap and reach it?’

  Luan flushed at Fidelma’s irony. His lips compressed in a hard line. ‘There must be a way,’ he said stubbornly.

  ‘When faced with impossible explanations one should admit defeat and accept the least unlikely,’ Fidelma advised with a weary grimace.

  ‘Perhaps we are not furnished with a possible explanation at the moment,’ Luan replied somewhat bitterly.

  ‘We will question Dar Luga first,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘Should we not look for alternatives?’ Luan’s question was more of a demand.

  ‘What alternatives? I certainly have no alternatives. Do not think that I am not appreciative of any suggestions and ideas. But I am afraid the only path I can see is that we put the facts before Dar Luga and ask her version.’

  ‘We will treat Dar Luga gently,’ Eadulf added. ‘And with the respect that she deserves.’

  ‘In fact, Luan, go and find Dar Luga. Tell her to join Eadulf and me in our own apartment. That will put her at ease. We will be there shortly. Do not tell her anything of what we have discovered here.’

  Luan hesitated a moment before turning and leaving them. He was clearly unhappy with the task.

  Eadulf waited until he had vanished before saying: ‘I am afraid, like Luan, I think there must be another explanation. I just don’t believe Dar Luga is capable of murder.’

  ‘We must follow where logic dictates,’ Fidelma replied.

  ‘How long has Dar Luga served your house?’ Eadulf pressed. ‘As I recall, she is the sister to Lassar, the wife of Ferloga, who keeps the tavern at Ráth na Drinne. Both sisters were well respected, and aren’t they both known to your friend Della?’

  ‘Even murderers have relatives and friends. Judge only by the facts.’

  With Dego leading the way, they returned down the stairway to the main entrance hall.

  ‘My brother does not seem to have luck with his stewards,’ Fidelma observed dryly, turning to Eadulf as they reached the lower floor. ‘There was Madagan, who was then replaced by Beccan. Beccan was murdered to keep him silent when he was involved in a conspiracy. Colgú never sought to replace his office, allowing Dar Luga to control the affairs of the household. As you will recall, she was doing the work of the steward of the household, albeit officially as just cook and housekeeper.’

  ‘I remember,’ Eadulf confirmed. ‘At the Council of seven princes, when we were threatened by insurrection and by the pestilence, no one objected to her being confirmed in the role of stewardess by your brother. She has been loyal to your family. That’s why I believe she could not have done this killing.’

  ‘Belief is one thing; judgement of the facts is another. To judge something, you must have patience until you have all the information to do so,’ Fidelma replied in a stony manner. In her own mind, she was inclined to agree with Eadulf, but she was also aware that, as a dálaigh, she must not allow personal feelings to interfere, especially in a case of murder.

  A young warrior named Cano had replaced Dego on guard at the main doors. That reminded Fidelma that the day had progressed into the second cadar. It had been a long night. She realised that Dego was looking exhausted and was about to suggest he go for his rest when she remembered Enda.

  ‘We were to see Enda when he was rested. Have you seen him?’

  ‘That I have not, lady. Certainly he was behaving very curiously this morning. I overheard some of what Luan was saying to you.’

  ‘Well, forget it. Imagine waking up and finding your loved one murdered. Would that not make you behave in a manner that seemed unnatural to those who knew you?’

  ‘How swiftly attitudes change,’ Dego admitted with a sigh. ‘Last night there seemed an air of merriment, as if we were still celebrating the wedding of the King. Everyone was overjoyed at this marriage of the King. Now this event casts a dark shadow over everything.’

  ‘As you say, now things have changed. So, among our warriors here in Cashel, do you know of anyone who is a malcontent about the King’s marriage?’

  Eadulf always admired how Fidelma could manipulate a conversation to gain information and then drop in an unexpected question that provoked a thought-revealing response. With Dego, however, he was disappointed.

  ‘You know us too well, lady,’ the one-armed warrior replied. ‘We of the Nasc Niadh take an oath as warriors to give our lives in defence of the legitimate King and his family.’

  ‘Are the Nasc Niadh affronted by the fact that the Princess Gelgéis brought her own female bodyguards to her marriage?’

  Dego chuckled. ‘You refer to the Daughters of the Storm? A group of young girls ready to put on a ceremonial show of martial arts at the forthcoming fair in the township? They are not real warriors.’

  ‘But they have reputations as real warriors.’

  ‘Reputations? That was in the ancient stories. That was in the old times when, saving your presence, lady, women could command entire armies. Indeed, when we gave up the old goddesses of war, who were always women. But after what Luan has said, may I ask if Enda is still in command of the household troop?’

  ‘Enda remains in command until otherwise announced.’ Fidelma was annoyed. It seemed everyone was listening to Luan’s theory. ‘If you see Enda, remind him that I have need to question him.’

  ‘If he is not to be found? Who commands, lady?’

  ‘There is no reason to think Enda will not be found,’ she said shortly.

  Dego saluted with his one good arm.

  ‘Where will you be, lady?’ he called after Fidelma as she and Eadulf left him to begin to cross the courtyard.

  ‘We are returning to our own apartments to await Luan and Dar Luga. Then we will wash and rest.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘Doubtless if any changes are to be made, my brother will give the orders.’

  It was now almost mid-morning, with the summer sun spreading its light over the limestone buildings of the fortress. In crossing the courtyard to their own apartments, they passed old Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary opposite to the chapel door. They used this route so often that it was automatic, although Fidelma could not help the feeling of sadness as she viewed the deserted, empty building where her old mentor and tutor, Conchobhar, had been cruelly slain.

  He had been a close mentor since the death of her father, Failbe Flann. What was more, and the reason why he had been slain, was that he had been Keeper of the Sacred Sword of Nuada, Gatekeeper to the House of Death, the symbolic keeper of the knowledge of her family to the time beyond time. In him reposed knowledge of the generations of the Eóganacht who claimed their descent from Eibhear Fionn, son of Golamh, who brought the Children of the Gael to the island. The sword Frecraid, ‘The Answerer’, was the symbol of the power of the Eóganacht dynasty to rule Muman. It now hung in the Great Feasting Hall of the palace. With an ironical twist of fate, Fidelma now found herself Keeper of the Sword, with a suspicion that she could not even share with her brother.

  She was suddenly aware of Eadulf nudging her.

  ‘The door of the apothecary is open,’ he pointed out.

  She looked across to see the door was moving slightly in the morning breeze.

  ‘We’d better secure it,’ she said, going in the direction of the building. ‘The place should be empty.’

  As she pushed open the door with the intention of making a check, she paused on the threshold, Eadulf close behind her. The nostalgic pungent smells that she expected to catch her breath were no longer heavy on the air. Usually the claustrophobic and almost choking odours of herbs and musty spices forced her and Eadulf to stand at the threshold and adjust their senses. This first room was where the old apothecary used to mix his potions, and at the back was where many a corpse had been examined and prepared for burial in the adjacent chapel.

  Fidelma was one of the few who knew that a trap door at the back led to a souterrain, an underground chamber, which in turn led into an ancient and surprisingly large cavern in which the ancient Sword of Nuada had been stored.

  Fidelma was about to turn and swing the door shut to secure it when Eadulf, peering over her shoulder, laid a hand on her arm.

  ‘That’s odd,’ he said softly, and pointed.

  In the morning sunlight, little as it was that entered the shadowy apothecary, she followed his gaze to the bench where Brother Conchobhar used to mix his herbs. A few jars and a pestle and mortar stood there, and nearby the remains of some fresh plant. Someone had obviously been mixing some concoction.

  ‘I didn’t think anyone was allowed in here after Brother Conchobhar died,’ Fidelma commented.

  Eadulf moved forward and looked down at the remains of the plant. The leaves that were left were large and deep green. There were some roots that were black, conical and tapering. There were traces of violet-blue flowers. But a good portion had been mixed in the mortar, especially the roots and leaves.

  ‘What is it?’ Fidelma asked, peering over his shoulder.

  ‘I am not sure what you would call it in your language,’ Eadulf admitted. ‘It is a highly poisonous plant. We call it wolfsbane because, when I was a child, the farming folk in my village would poison wolves with scraps of meat soaked with it. Aconitum … that’s what the educated religieux called wolfsbane.’

  ‘You mean ciarsú?’ Fidelma provided the name in her language.

  ‘Whatever it is called here, it is very poisonous,’ Eadulf replied. ‘It looks as though someone had made a recent attempt to distil it.’

  ‘I’ve seen this flower in summer months in the mountain fields. Why should anyone be mixing this plant and its roots?’

  ‘When I was studying, we were told that it should not be used, but some apothecaries did so. They claimed it was good for all feverish conditions and palpitations of the heart. However, I think more deaths followed its use than cures.’

  ‘Well, we had better shut and secure the door, and ask who is responsible later. Whoever was making this should not have left the remains just lying there.’

  They checked around before they exited, then closed the door and secured it. Eadulf was standing outside while Fidelma made sure the lock was fast, and he happened to glance at the door of the chapel, which was opposite.

  ‘Here is a reminder that we were supposed to alert the new chaplain to arrange to take the body of the poor girl for preparation and the traditional watching,’ he whispered, indicating with his head.

  Fidelma saw that a youthful figure in religious robes was emerging from the side door to the chapel. The figure was accompanied by a female figure, who seemed to tower over him. She was dressed in black, but not religious robes. Both Fidelma and Eadulf recognised Father Socra, the new chaplain, for they had both met him briefly on his arrival. He was young but already had some silver flecking his curly, sand-coloured hair, which he wore in long fashion, and so unkempt that it fluttered as the wind took it.

  In fact, there was no colour to his dirty undyed robes other than the sparkle reflected from a silver chain from which hung the glinting silver emblem of the Chi-Rho, the ‘XP’ being the first Greek letters of ‘Christ’. It was one of the several emblems by which Christians had recognised each other in the early days. Fidelma had to admit she had not taken a liking to the young priest. There was something brooding in his brown eyes, an early ageing that did not go with his youthful fair skin, and those eyes seemed too close together. His brows arched over the bridge of his nose, which had a prominent hook form. His thin lips were dark red as if he had used some red berry juice to brighten them. Fidelma knew that it was wrong to have taken an immediate dislike. Cucullus non facit monachum, she had once been fond of declaring – do not judge people at face value. Yet now she was doing just that and trying to justify it as a simple human failing.