The Monk Who Vanished

know whether what occurred was an attempt by Cashel to destroy you? Can I be as assured that this was not some Uí Fidgente plot against my life?’ he said evenly.

‘A plot by me? Here in Cashel? I was nearly killed by the assassin’s arrow.’ Donennach’s voice was developing a tetchiness.

‘Instead of hurling accusations at one another, we should be working together to discover the identity of the culprits,’ Colgú repeated, trying to curb his annoyance with his guest.

Donennach gave a bark of derisive laughter.

Fidelma rose abruptly and went to stand between the two men, palms held out to each in symbolic gesture.

At this a silence descended, for a dálaigh could command silence even from kings in such a fashion.

‘There is a dispute here,’ she said quietly. ‘But the disputants lack sufficient facts to argue logically and in depth for their respective cases. This matter must go to arbitration. We must resolve the mystery of what has happened here and identify who was responsible. Do you agree?’

She glanced at Donennach.

The Prince’s lips became a thin line as he stared back at her. Then he relaxed and shrugged. ‘All I want is that the facts be examined.’

Fidelma turned to her brother and raised her eyebrows in interrogation.

‘An arbitration is agreed. How shall it be done?’

‘The law text called the Bretha Crólige states the terms,’ replied Fidelma. ‘There will be three judges. A judge from Cashel, a judge from the Uí Fidgente and a judge from without the kingdom. I would suggest a judge from Laighin as being of sufficient distance to sit without bias. The judges shall be assembled here as the law prescribes in nine days. The facts will be placed before them and we shall all abide by their judgement.’

Donennach looked at Gionga before he turned back to examine Fidelma suspiciously. ‘Will you be the judge from Cashel?’ he gibed. ‘You are the King’s sister and should not sit in his judgement.’

‘If you imply that my view of law is biased then I deny it. However, I shall not be the judge from Cashel. There are others more qualified than I. I would request that the Brehon Dathal be asked to sit. But, with the King’s permission, I will engage to gather the evidence on behalf of Cashel and be its advocate just as you, Donennach, are free to nominate a dálaigh to gather evidence that supports your contentions.’

The Prince of the Uí Fidgente sat in thought, clearly suspecting some trap.

‘Nine days it is then. The court will sit on the feastday of the Blessed Matthew. I will send for my dálaigh and judge. You may appoint your sister as your advocate, Colgú, if you so wish.’

Colgú smiled briefly at Fidelma. ‘It will be as my sister has said. She is the advocate of Cashel.’

‘So be it,’ Donennach agreed then added, thoughtfully, ‘but which judge from Laighin shall be our outside arbitrator?’

‘Do you have someone in mind?’ asked Colgú.

‘The Brehon Rumann,’ Donennach replied immediately. ‘Rumann of Fearna.’

Colgú did not know of the man. ‘Have you heard of this judge named Rumann, Fidelma?’ he inquired.

‘Yes; I have heard of his reputation. I have no objections to his being asked to sit as our third and chief judge.’

Donennach rose from his seat, helped by Gionga.

‘That is good. As for our judge, I appoint the Brehon Fachtna. He is already in Cashel for he travels in my retinue. Our dálaigh will be Solam and we shall send for him and expect the fullest cooperation when he arrives to present our case.’

‘You shall be assured of it,’ replied Colgú coldly. ‘You may expect nothing less than our cooperation to get to the bottom of this matter. We will have our scribes draw up the protocol for the proceedings. We will sign it and so ensure everyone is gathered on the appointed day.’

When the Prince of the Uí Fidgente had gone, Colgú sat back, clearly troubled. ‘I know the suggestion was correct, Fidelma, but, as you pointed out earlier, the evidence is against Cashel.’

Donndubhain shook his head. ‘A bad move, cousin.’

Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘You doubt my abilities as an advocate?’

‘Not your abilities, Fidelma,’ interposed Colgú. ‘But an advocate is usually only as good as the evidence that is available. Do you know this advocate of the Uí Fidgente … what was his name?’

‘Solam. I have heard of him. He is said to be effective although given to an uneasy temperament.’

‘How will you defend Cashel?’ demanded Donndubhain.

‘I know that this was not some attempt to assassinate Donennach by Cashel. There remain three alternatives.’

‘Only three?’ demanded Donndubháin moodily.

‘Only three that makes sense. Firstly, it could be counter-claimed that the Uí Fidgente were plotting against Cashel; that this was an elaborate hoax to lay blame on us. Secondly, it could be argued that the assassins were part of a blood feud; that they acted on their own account seeking vengeance against Colgú or Donennach. Thirdly, it might be contended that the assassins acted on their own account merely to destroy the peace now being negotiated between the Uí Fidgente and Cashel.’

‘Do you favour any one of these, Fidelma?’ asked Colgú.

‘I have an open mind though I would say the first possibility was unlikely.’

‘The possibility that the Uí Fidgente are behind would-be assassins? Why so? Because Donennach was shot also?’ Colgú queried.

‘Because, for all that I dislike Donennach, he accepted arbitration and nominated the Brehon Rumann of Fearna easily enough. I know Rumann and his reputation. He is a fair man and not given to bribery. If this were some plot, I would expect the Uí Fidgente might want to weight the odds more in their favour for much will depend on the decision of this third independent judge.’

Colgú turned to Donndubhain. ‘You had best devise the protocol and I shall sign it with Donennach. Then we must send emissaries to Rumann at Fearna, also Solam of the Uí Fidgente.’

When Donndubhain had departed to fulfil his task, Colgú turned anxiously to Fidelma. ‘I still do not like this, Fidelma. The onus is still on us to refute the Uí Fidgente’s accusations.’

Fidelma was not reassuring. ‘Then, as your dálaigh, my brother, I will have to start finding something with which we can refute the accusations.’

‘But we have all the evidence there is … unless you can find a sorcerer to resurrect the assassins.’

Eadulf, not used to such humour, genuflected swiftly. Neither Colgú nor Fidelma took any notice of him.

‘No, brother. I mean to start where our only real clue allows us to start.’

Her brother frowned. ‘Where?’

‘In the country of our cousin, Finguine of Cnoc Aine, where else? Perhaps I can discover who made those arrows. If I can do that, perhaps I can discover the identity of the archer.’

‘You have only nine days.’

‘I am aware of it,’ agreed Fidelma.

Colgú’s face suddenly brightened. ‘You can seek the hospitality of Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, for he is an expert on ecclesiastical art. He might be able to provide you with information about the crucifix. I am sure it is familiar but I can’t think where I have seen it before.’

Fidelma had already thought of the idea but instead of confessing as much she smiled and nodded.

‘However,’ she replied, ‘while I can take one of the arrows as a sample, I cannot take the crucifix, which must remain here as evidence for Donennach’s dálaigh. If I take it, I will be accused of interfering with the evidence. I will get old Conchobar, who is a rare draughtsman, to make me a sketch of it.’

‘Excellent. Perhaps there is a small ray of hope in this confusion after all?’ cried Colgú. ‘When will you