The Monk Who Vanished

proof is there? The ninth day will be here soon. I am told that the Brehon Rumann from Fearna, with his entourage, will be here shortly. Perhaps tomorrow. The Brehons Dathal and Fachtna are already come. The nobles of the kingdom are also gathering. Oh, and our cousin Finguine has come escorting Solam, the dálaigh for the Uí Fidgente.’ Colgú did not disguise his anxiety. ‘I am worried, Fidelma. I freely confess it. Do you have a solution to this conundrum yet?’

Fidelma was torn between sounding optimistic and telling her brother the brutal truth.

‘I believe that I can see various paths along which the truth may be found but they are paths to be explored only. The short answer is, alas, I do not have the solution as yet.’

‘I thought as much, otherwise you would have told me immediately. It seems that we will have to trust that your skills in the court will discover the truth during the hearing.’

Fidelma wished that she could reassure her brother, but instead she asked, ‘Is Donennach of the Uí Fidgente still persuaded to go ahead and claim conspiracy against you?’

‘So far as I know, Solam is persuaded to argue that I was involved in a plot to kill Donennach. The nobles of Muman have let it be knownthat they will have none of it. Rightly or wrongly, they believe in me as their King and say that I have done no wrong …’

‘That is true.’

‘But we must be able to prove it. If I and the Eóghanacht are condemned in a court, then I fear the nobles will cry conspiracy, even as Donndubhain is doing! They will take matters into their own hands to punish the Uí Fidgente. Donndubháin has become increasingly incensed at the behaviour of the Uí Fidgente. For him, there is no doubt that it was they who attacked Imleach. I can see a position arising where Donndubhain will lead the nobles in an attack on all the Dál gCais clans. The kingdom could be split by wars. Instead of this peace that I had hoped for, we could enter another cycle of conflict lasting for centuries.’

‘The nobles of Muman will obey you, if you order them …’ Fidelma began but her brother interrupted.

‘Already there are threats and mumblings against the Uí Fidgente. It is claimed that the whole affair has been a deliberate attempt to destroy the Eóghanacht and the power of Cashel. What can I answer them about the attack on Imleach …?’

‘We do not know yet if the raid on Imleach was inspired by the Uí Fidgente,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘Brother, you must control the nobles of Muman for if anything happens before the hearing then we will truly stand condemned before the five kingdoms of Eireann.’

Colgú was unhappy. ‘All my efforts are being made to that effect, Fidelma. But I fear … truly I do … I know just how hot-headed some of the younger nobles can be and they might take justice on the points of their swords and ride into the lands of the Uí Fidgente to take revenge for the destruction of the great yew at Imleach.’

‘I can only tell you that there is more to this matter than mistrust between the Eóghanacht and the Uí Fidgente, brother. Tell me, as I was away from Cashel at the time, was there ever any dissension between you and Finguine of Cnoc Aine?’

Colgú was slightly bewildered by the question.

‘Finguine? Our cousin? Why should there be?’

Fidelma did not feel his questions needed an answer. ‘Was there?’

‘None as I recall. Why do you ask?’

‘When the derbfhine of our family met to appoint the tanist to his father Cathal Cú cen Mathair, was there dissension between you?’

Cathal had been King of Cashel before Colgú.

‘I do not think so.’ her brother frowned.

‘Cathal had two sons,’ she pointed out. ‘Finguine, who is now Prince of Cnoc Aine, and Ailill, who is Prince of Glendamnach. Of the two, Finguine was of age to be elected tanist; surely hewas hurt when he was not chosen to succeed his father as King of Cashel?’

‘So were many others of the derbfhine who were equally qualified, Fidelma. But that is the law of our kingship succession. It has been so even when our ancestor Eber Fionn settled with the children of the Gael in this land and it will be so while noble Gaelic families survive in this land. Our young brother, Fogartach, might well have been my tanist if he had chosen but he prefers to stay away from politics. So when Donndubhain was elected my tanist, my heir-apparent, it could be said that many of our cousins were disappointed. Yet the heir is always elected by the derbfhine of the family. The tanist must be appointed and confirmed by the derbfhine.’

Fidelma understood the kingship succession of the kingdoms of Eireann very well. There was no automatic eldest male heir succession as in other lands. Among the children of the Gael, the family of the king formed an electoral college, and a tanist, or heir-apparent, was chosen as being the man best fitted for the task of kingship; he could be a son, but equally a brother, uncle or cousin of varying degrees of relationship. While usually a male tanist was chosen, it had even been known that a female could be chosen as leader but only for the term of her life, for her offspring could only be regarded as belonging to the clan of their father and not to the people of their mother’s father.

‘What makes you ask about Finguine?’ Colgú was interested.

‘I was interested, that’s all. Some idea that I had.’

‘Well, I can’t recall any animosity between Finguine and myself when I was made Cathal’s heir-elect although …’ he paused, as if he had suddenly remembered something.

Fidelma raised her head and looked searchingly at him. ‘What?’

‘I do recall that there was some quarrel between Finguine and Donndubhain when he was elected my tanist. Finguine was favoured to be tanist but he seems to have accepted the decision. He was undoubtedly vexed at that time. Though I cannot understand it. Finguine is nearly my age and I plan to live a long life, so that the chances of him ever becoming king, even if he were my heir-elect are slim indeed.’ Colgú grinned at his sister: ‘I plan to be King of Muman a long time in spite of conspiracies and assassinations.’

‘Then,’ Fidelma observed quietly, ‘I have much work to do, brother, to ensure that this hearing does not go against us.’

She rejoined Eadulf after the midday meal and they took a stroll around the walls of the palace. The wind was blowing strongly from the south and it was chill. They had put on their woollen cloaks and wrappedthemselves against the icy fingers of the southerly winds as they paced the battlements.

‘Apparently there is quite a lot of excitement in Cashel,’ Eadulf remarked as they gazed down on the town below. ‘People have been flocking in to attend the hearing from many places. I understand that there is a lot of ill- feeling towards the Uí Fidgente since news of the attack at Imleach and the fate of the yew-tree has been spread about the country.’

Fidelma looked troubled. ‘Have you ever played tomus?’ she asked.

Eadulf shook his head. ‘I have never heard of it,’ he assured her.

‘It’s a word that means “seeking out”, “weighing matters”. It’s the name we give to a game here in which we have numerous little wooden pieces which can fit together to form a picture.’

‘Tomus? No, I’ve never come across it.’

‘No matter. It’s just that I feel that I have all the pieces spread out on a table before me. Some of them have already fitted themselves into a pattern. Some are more intriguing and seemed to fit here or to fit there. But what it needs is one more single piece which would suddenly make all the pieces fit and thus the picture will be clearly revealed.’

‘Then you feel that you are close to the answer to this mystery?’

Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘So close … and yet …’

‘Fidelma!’

They turned at the call and were confronted by Finguine, who came up behind them. He was also dressed for the winds that blew across the Rock of Cashel; his thick, dyed woollen cloak was fastened around his neck by his round silver, solar-symbol brooch with its garnet stones.