A Scream From The Sepulchre

the tomb.

By the beam of the lantern, Fidelma noticed that a small trail of blood led from a point before the iron cage of the skeleton to where the corpse of Fiacc lay before the doors. She could also see scratch marks on the granite floor.

Irel, standing beside her, articulated her thoughts.

'He was obviously stabbed while standing by the cage and then contrived to drag himself to the doors.'

Fidelma did not bother to glance at him.

'Obviously,' she replied shortly.

At the entrance of the tomb, Garbh, the keeper of the cemetery, was standing with Tressach and the other warrior, watching her progress with fascination.

'Speaking of things obvious, does it not surprise you that there is so little dust and dirt on the floor of this tomb?' she asked Irel. 'It is almost as if it had been recently swept.'

Irel stared at her, wondering whether she was making a joke. But she had passed on, examining the floor and looking carefully at one of the stone slabs that made up its surface. She pointed to the scratch marks across the floor.

'Bring your lantern closer,' she instructed. 'What do you make of those?'

The captain shrugged. 'It is probably where the floor stones were scored by ropes while they were being dropped into place.'

'Exactly so,' agreed Fidelma quietly. 'And have you noticed anything else that is curious about this sepulchre?'

Irel glanced quickly around but shook his head.

'Tigernmas, although he subsequently developed an evil reputation, is accredited as the king who first encouraged gold and silver to be smelted and works of great art to be produced in this land.'

'I have heard the stories,' replied Irel.

'And it was the custom of our people to place grave goods in the tombs, together with symbols of their wealth and power.'

'That much is well known,' acknowledged Irel, slightly irritated at Fidelma for not addressing the more urgent problem.

'Apart from a few golden brooches and a silver bar, which I see lying on the floor there as if they were hurriedly discarded, where are the riches that one would have expected to find in this tomb? It is singularly devoid of any such items.'

Irel tried to see some connection that Fidelma's remark might have with the murder of Fiacc but failed. He was not interested in the customs of the ancients.

'Is that significant?' he asked.

'Perhaps.'

Fidelma walked back to the corpse and looked down at it once more. There was a movement outside and Abbot Colman came hurrying back.

'Fiacc was certainly due to attend the convention tomorrow,' he confirmed. 'The steward says that Fiacc and his wife, Etromma, arrived in Tara a few days ago. However, and this is interesting, there was a problem, for, the steward says, Fiacc was to be heard before the Chief Brehon to answer charges which, if proved, would have debarred him from practice as a judge.'

'A special hearing?' Fidelma had heard nothing about such a contentious matter. She cast a final look around the tomb before returning her gaze to Colman.

'Does the steward have details of the charges against Fiacc?'

'Only that it was something to do with malpractice. Only the Chief Brehon has the details.'

'Has Etromma been informed of her husband's death?'

'I took it upon myself to send word to her.'

'Then I think I should go and speak with her.'

'Is that necessary? She will be distraught. Perhaps tomorrow would be a more suitable time?'

'It is necessary to see her now in order to clear up this mystery.'

Abbot Colman spread his hands in acquiescence.

'Very well. What about . . . ?' He did not finish but gestured towards the tomb.

It was Garbh who finished the question: 'Shouldn't the body of this man be removed so that I can reseal the tomb?'

'Not for the moment,' replied Fidelma. 'Irel, have a guard mounted outside the tomb. Everything is to be left as it is until I order otherwise. Hopefully, I shall have resolved the mystery before midnight. Then the tomb can be resealed.'

She left the tomb and began to walk slowly and thoughtfully back through the graves of the High Kings. She paused for a moment, waiting for Abbot Colman to catch up with her. He had paused a moment to issue final instructions to Irel. Her eyes flickered towards the yawning pit of a freshly dug grave and suppressed a shiver. Colman came panting along a moment later and together they walked leisurely towards the lights of the main palace complex.

Etromma was surprisingly young to be the wife of a middle-aged judge. She was scarcely more than eighteen years old. She sat

stiffly but in complete control of herself. There was little sign of anguish or of grieving on her features. The cold, calculating blue eyes stared with hostility at Fidelma. The lips were thinned and pressed together. A small nerve twitching at the corner of her mouth was the only sign of expression on her features.

'I was divorcing Fiacc. He was about to be disbarred and he had no money,' she replied coldly to a question Fidelma had asked her.

Fidelma was seated before her, while Abbot Colman stood nervously by the fire.

'I do not see how the two things fit together, Etromma,' she commented.

'I do not want to spend my life in poverty. It was an agreement between us. Fiacc was an old man. I married him only for security. He knew that.'

'What about love?' queried Fidelma mildly. 'Had you no feelings for him?'

For the first time Etromma smiled, a humourless parting of her lips. 'Love? What is that? Does love provide financial security?'

Fidelma sighed softly.

'Why was Fiacc facing disbarment from practice as a judge?' Fidelma chose a new tack.

'During this last year he had made many wrong judgments. He was, as you know, judge of the Ardgal. After so many wrong judgments, he was no longer trusted by the people. He had made himself destitute from the continual payment of compensation.'

Fidelma knew that a judge had to deposit a pledge of five sed, or ounces of silver, for each case he tried as a surety against error. If, on appeal by the defendant to higher judges, a panel of no fewer than three more experienced judges, a judge was found to have made an error, then this pledge was confiscated and the judge ordered to pay further compensation of one cumal, the equivalent of the value of three silver sed.

'How many wrong judgments had your husband made this last year, then? How could he have become poverty-stricken?'

'There were eleven wrong judgments during this last year.'

Fidelma's eyebrows raised in surprise. Eighty-eight silver sed, which could buy nearly thirty milch cows, was a staggering sum to have to pay out in compensation in a single year. No wonder there was talk of disbarring Fiacc.

'He was to be heard before the Chief Brehon to answer the fact that he had gone into debt to pay fines and to answer for his competency as a judge,' Etromma added.

'Are you saying that he had borrowed money to pay?'

'That is why I was divorcing him.'

Fidelma realised that a judge who turned to moneylenders to support him would certainly be disbarred if he could not present a valid argument to endorse his actions. Clearly, Fiacc had been in considerable trouble.

'So your husband was worried about his situation?'