‘You have a theory then which connects the murder of Brother Cerdic with this young outlaw?’ Colgú invited, not being as perceptive as his sister in the matter.
Fidelma could not restrain herself. ‘Yes — speak, Aillín. Share your insight with us and explain how the solution of the first murder might have prevented the second one?’
Brehon Aillín flushed angrily at her mocking tone. ‘Am I to be questioned by a junior, a dálaigh?’ he demanded.
‘I presume you do have an explanation?’ Colgú asked quietly. ‘The investigation into the death of Brother Cerdic has been placed in the hands of my sister who, junior or not, is experienced in such matters. But if you have a theory. .?’
Brehon Aillín drew himself up to his full height and his scowl deepened.
‘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.’