Fidelma used the legal term which indicated that a suicide was classed as a kin-slayer, and as the horrendous crime of fingal or kin-slaying struck at the very heart of the kin-based society of her people, the law could apply heavy sanctions.
‘But he had no control over his actions,’ Brother Biasta protested.
‘That is not a good defence,’ replied Fidelma. ‘He did have control and he chose not to exercise it, in drinking more than he knew was good for him. All else follows — but there may be mitigating circumstances. So let us try to discover them.’
Brother Biasta grimaced helplessly. ‘What can I tell you? I had not seen him in such a long time — I have already told you that. I can offer no explanation as to what ailed him.’
‘Then answer my question to the best of your ability and we will see how far we can progress.’
The religieux stared at her for a moment almost in defiance and then he relaxed with a sigh, realising that he could raise no other protest.
‘What was your question?’
‘To start with, where did he come from and what clan? And I mean before he entered the Abbey of Biorra. You say that you are his cousin.’
‘We are of the Muscraige Tíre.’
Fidelma knew that the Muscraige Tíre inhabited the north-west of the kingdom and were one of six Muscraige sub-lordships that were widely separated but subscribed to one overlord. They had long ago accepted the authority of the Kings of Cashel. From the north-east, the Muscraige stretched almost in a diagonal line south-west to the Muscraige Mittine in the Valley of the Laoi, one of the great rivers of the south-west.
‘So you are of the race of Cairbre Musc?’ she asked quietly.
For a moment Brother Biasta looked lost, and then he repeated defensively: ‘We are of the Muscraige Tíre.’
‘I know your territory,’ Fidelma replied. ‘When I was a child I went for my initial education to the Abbey of Inis Celtra in the Red Loch. That was before I went to study law,’ she added for Eadulf’s benefit.
Brother Biasta said quickly: ‘We came from the territory of the two streams, Tír Dhá Ghlas, to the north of the loch.’
‘Indeed a beautiful country. And your family — who are they?’
‘Just farmers, but my cousin and I went for our education at Biorra, as I said.’
Once again Fidelma had the impression that Brother Biasta was not going to tell her much, if anything, about his own background or that of Brother Ailgesach.
‘What was your cousin’s name before he adopted his saintly servant’s name?’ she tried.
Brother Biasta blinked. Then he said: ‘It was his real name. His parents were devout and intended him to join the religious.’
Once more Fidelma suspected that he was blocking her questions.
‘So you last saw your cousin … where and when?’ There was sharpness in her voice as she ended her question.
‘Why, as I told you, about a year ago and at Biorra before he came south.’
‘To the Abbey of Imleach?’
Brother Biasta’s eyes narrowed. ‘I told you, I do not know, only that he was coming south.’
‘And you remained at Biorra? Serving in the abbey?’
Brother Biasta seemed to be gathering confidence. ‘I went back to Tír Dhá Ghlas …’
‘To the abbey?’ interposed Fidelma, for she knew of the Blessed Brendan’s foundation there.
‘I crossed into the country of the Uí Maine and preached there awhile.’
‘And you said that you received a message from your cousin?’
‘A week ago I returned to Biorra and found a message waiting there for me. It said that he was ill and would like to see me.’
Fidelma’s expression was implacable. ‘Indeed, you told me as much but I am still curious.’
‘Curious? About what?’
‘Your cousin would surely have sent the message to his family at Tír Dhá Ghlas. And you say that you had gone into the country of the Uí Maine … that is in Connacht. You had both left Biorra, so why did he think his message would find you there?’
Brother Biasta hesitated and then simply shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I can only say what happened.’
‘Very well. His message said no more than that he was ill and wanted to see you?’
‘No more than that. So I came here straightaway.’
‘Forgive my inquisitiveness, but by what means did you come here?’
‘What means …?’ Brother Biasta was looking suspicious.
‘What road, what means?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘There is only one road from the north and you can see the means.’ The man gestured towards his feet.
Fidelma’s expression hardened. Now she knew he was lying but she did not comment on the fact.
‘So you came here … and found matters thus?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Just a few points more,’ Fidelma said, as the religieux began to rise from his seat. He sank back sullenly.
‘There is nothing more to tell,’ he grumbled. ‘I should go to the chapel and start making arrangements for the burial of my cousin and the person who you found.’
‘Indulge me for a moment more.’ Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘Fedach Glas took you to the guests’ hut. Did he enter with you?’
‘He did not. Only I entered.’
‘He remained outside?’
‘Excuse me, lady,’ Fedach Glas intervened. ‘I told you that I left Brother Biasta to go in alone. I saw that one of the horses was nervous and went to attend to it. An old wolf was sniffing about and I threw a stone to chase it away. Sometimes you can encounter an old male wolf that has been driven from the pack by a younger animal. They can resort to scavenging.’
‘So you went inside on your own, Brother Biasta. Tell me what you saw.’
‘I found my cousin dead.’
‘I asked what you saw, not what you found,’ she prompted him quietly.
Brother Biasta frowned as he tried to work out the difference. ‘My cousin was lying on the cot.’
‘On his back?’ queried Fidelma.
‘Of course. I saw that he was choked on his own bile and vomit. I felt for signs of life and seeing none, came straight to tell you. That is all.’
‘Very well. Did you touch anything apart from checking that Ailgesach was dead? Did you move anything, for example?’
‘I did not,’ snapped the man.
She stood up abruptly. ‘Eadulf and I will go to the chapel and examine Ailgesach’s cabin. Gormán, you will come with us. Everyone else will stay here until our return. Enda, you are in charge and will see that my wishes are carried out.’
Brother Biasta had also risen. ‘I am my cousin’s nearest relative. I demand to come with you, if you are searching his cabin and belongings.’
‘I thought that I had made my instructions clear?’ Fidelma’s eyes flashed a little.
‘By what right do you issue orders?’ blustered the religieux.
It was Gormán who answered. ‘By the right of being a dálaigh of the courts of the qualification of anruth, as well as by the right of being sister to King Colgú. Is that enough?’
Brother Biasta sat down again, looking sullen.
Fidelma led Eadulf and Gormán out of the tavern to where their horses were tethered. As they were mounting them, Eadulf commented: ‘I am not sure what information we have gained from that.’
‘We know that Biasta is a liar and that he smothered Ailgesach.’
As they moved down the highway towards the chapel, the afternoon held a strange quiet, broken at intervals by the deep, harsh voice of the omnivorous feannóg or hooded crow.
‘Carrion birds,’ muttered Gormán in disgust. ‘Maybe they can smell the bodies in this place. And speaking of bodies, lady, what do you mean about Brother Biasta?’
Fidelma told Gormán of the evidence behind their suspicions about Brother Biasta.
‘As for the rest, we know that Biasta is not of the Muscraige. I suspect that he is not even a cousin of the inebriated Ailgesach. Biasta was lying about journeying from the north along the highway on his own two feet. Had he done so, we would have seen him as we came up from the chapel.’