‘I don’t know,’ confessed her brother. ‘But I do not think that even Fianamail of Laigin would make so light an accusation.’
‘Have there been any steps to find out?’
‘The envoy from Fianamail has simply stated that all evidence and arguments will be placed before the High King and his Chief Brehon at the great assembly at Tara. The assembly will be asked to support Laigin and hand over Osraige to Fianamail.’
Fidelma bit her lip as she thought for a moment.
‘How can Fianamail be so sure that he can prove that Dacán’s death is the responsibility of Muman? Forbassach, his envoy, is a vain and arrogant man, but he is an ollamh of the court. Even his friendship with the Laigin king, his pride in being a man of Laigin, would not blind him to the law. He must know that the evidence is strong enough to lay a claim before the High King’s court. What is that evidence?’
Colgú had no answer. Instead he said quietly: ‘Fidelma, the assembly of Tara is due to meet in three weeks. That does not leave us much time to resolve this matter.’
‘The law also allows one month from the decision of the assembly before Fianamail can march an army into Osraige to claim the land by force if it is not handed over in peace,’ observed Fidelma.
‘So we have seven weeks before there is bloodshed and war in this land?’
Fidelma drew her brows together.
‘Providing, that is, judgment goes to Laigin. There is much mystery here, Colgú. Unless Fianamail knows something that we do not, I cannot see how the High King and his assembly could give a judgment against Muman.’
Colgú poured another two glasses of wine and handed one across to his sister with a tired smile.
‘These were the very words of Cathal, our cousin, before he succumbed to the fever. It was the reason why he asked me to send for you. The morning after the messenger had been sent to Kildare, he fell a victim to the Yellow Fever. And if the physicians are right, I shall be king before this week is out. If there is war, then it will be on my hands.’
‘It will not be a good start to your rule, brother,’ agreed Fidelma as she sipped at her wine and considered the matter carefully. Then she raised her eyes to examine her brother’s careworn face. ‘Are you giving me a commission to investigate the death of Dacán and then present the evidence to you?’
‘And to the High King,’ added Colgú quickly. ‘You willhave the authority of Muman to carry out this investigation. I ask you to be our advocate before the High King’s assembly.’
Fidelma was silent for a long while.
‘Tell me this, my brother; suppose my findings are such as to support the king of Laigin? What if Dacán’s death is the responsibility of the Eóganachta? What if the king of Laigin does have the right to demand Osraige as an honour price from Cashel? What if these unpalatable arguments become my findings? Will you accept that judgment under law and meet Laigin’s demand?’
Her brother’s face worked with complex emotions as he wrestled with the decision.
‘If you want me to speak for myself, Fidelma, I shall say “yes”. A king must live by the law established. But a king must pursue the commonwealth of his people. Do we not have an old saying? — what makes the people higher than a king? It is because the people ordain the king, the king does not ordain the people. A king must obey the will of his people. So do not ask me to speak for all the princes and chieftains of this kingdom nor, indeed, of Osraige. I fear they will not accept liability for such an honour price.’
Fidelma regarded him with a level gaze.
‘Then it will mean bloody war,’ she said softly.
Colgú attempted a grim smile.
‘Yet we have three weeks before the assembly, Fidelma. And, as you say, seven weeks before the implementation of the law if the decision goes against us. Will you go to Ros Ailithir and investigate Dacán’s death?’
‘You do not have to ask that, Colgú. I am, above all things, still your sister.’
Colgú’s shoulders sagged in relief and he gave a long, low sigh.
Fidelma laid a hand on his arm and patted it.
‘But do not expect too much of me, brother. Ros Ailithir is a minimum three days’ journey from here, and lies throughsome harsh country. You expect me to travel there, solve a mystery and travel back in time to prepare a case for the assembly at Tara? If so, you are, indeed, asking for a miracle.’
Colgú inclined his head in agreement.
‘I think that King Cathal and myself both demand a miracle of you, Fidelma, for when men and women use their courage, intelligence and learning, then they are capable of inspiring a true miracle.’
‘It is still a heavy responsibility you place on me,’ she admitted with reluctance. She realised that she had no other decision to make. ‘I will do what I can. I shall rest in Cashel tonight and hope this storm abates by tomorrow. I shall set out at first light for the abbey of Ros Ailithir.’
Colgú smiled warmly.
‘And you will not set out alone, little sister. The journey to the south-west is, as you say, a harsh one, and who knows what dangers will await you at Ros Ailithir? I shall send one of my warriors with you.’
Fidelma shrugged diffidently.
‘I am able to defend myself. You forget that I have studied the art of troid-sciathagid, battle through defence.’
‘How can I forget that?’ chuckled Colgú, ‘for many is the time that you have bested me in our youth with your knowledge of unarmed combat. But combat in friendship is one thing, Fidelma. Combat in earnest is another.’
‘You do not have to point this out, brother. Many of our religious missionaries going into the kingdoms of the Saxons, or into those of the Franks, are taught this method of self-defence in order to protect their lives. The training has already served me well.’
‘Nevertheless, I must insist that you be accompanied by one of my trusted warriors.’
Fidelma was unconcerned.
‘I am instructed by your commission, brother. You are tánaiste here and I am acting according to your wishes.’
‘Then that is agreed.’ Colgú was relieved. ‘I already have instructed a man for the task.’
‘Do I know this warrior whom you have chosen?’
‘You have already met him,’ her brother replied. ‘He is the young warrior who earlier threw Forbassach out. His name is Cass of the king’s bodyguard.’
‘Ah, the young, curly-haired warrior?’ asked Fidelma.
‘The same. He has been a good friend and I would not only trust my life to him but yours as well.’
Fidelma gave a mischievous grin.
‘That is precisely what you will be doing, brother. How much does Cass know of this problem?’
‘As much as I have been able to tell you.’
‘So you trust him well?’ observed Fidelma.
‘Do you want to speak with him on this matter?’ asked her brother.
She shook her head and stifled a sudden yawn.
‘Time enough to talk during the three days of our journey to Ros Ailithir. Now I would prefer a hot bath and sleep.’
Chapter Three
It had not been a pleasant journey through the great glens and across the high mountain ranges of Muman. While the storm had abated on the second day, the incessant rains had left the ground soaked with cloying mud which sucked at their horses’ hooves and fetlocks like anxious, delaying hands and slowed their pace. The valley bottoms and grassy plains were turned into swampy, and often flooded, lands across which passage was almost impossible, and certainly not made with any speed. The skies continued sulky grey and threatening, with no sign of a bright autumnal sun breaking through and the moody clouds continued to hang low and dark like hill fog. Even the occasional whining wind, moaning in the tree tops, where the leaves had almost vanished, did not dispel their shroud.
Fidelma felt cold and miserable. It was not the weather for travelling. Indeed, if the matter were not so urgent, she would never have contemplated such a journey. She sat her horse stiffly, her body felt chilled to its very marrow despite the heavy woollen cloak and hood which normally helped her endure the icy fingers of inclement temperatures. In spite of her leather gloves, the hands that gripped her horse’s reins were numb.