substitute, the
A ripple of amusement went through the great hall in support of Fidelma.
Solam was flushing in anger. He began to rise.
The Brehon Rumann gestured for Solam to remain seated while Brehon Dathal was clearly delighted.
‘Does anyone in the court object to a substitute being seated in the chair of the defendant?’ he asked. ‘Does anyone object to a substitute who will be the physical representative of the King being seated before us?’
Brehon Rumann sniffed in annoyance. It was clear that he had not recalled the law and while Fidelma had scored a legal point, Eadulf could see that it had not placed her in good standing with the Chief Brehon. The displeasure of the Brehon Fachtna was obvious to everyone.
‘I see no reason to simply place a body in the chair. We may proceed on the grounds that the empty seat is symbolically representing the kingship of Muman.’ Rumann’s voice was peevish. ‘Now, are there any other protests or counter-claims or may we proceed to the substance of these proceedings?’
Solam cleared his throat and rose again hurriedly.
‘I am in accord with you, noble Brehon,’ he began, forcing a smile, as he attempted to pour oil on the troubled waters he had raised. ‘I believe in the formality of these procedures for which you argued in your opening address to this court. Correct procedure is no cause for levity.’
‘We are so pleased that you agree with the court’s ruling,’ interposed the Brehon Dathal sarcastically.
Brehon Rumann’s face had assumed a stony composure and it was not clear whether Solam’s attempt to mollify his irritability had succeeded or not.
There was a pause and when Rumann did not say anything further, Solam continued.
‘Learned judges, this is a serious matter that I bring before you. It is no less than a case of attempted
Solam paused and glanced around, as if expecting some reaction to his opening statement. The silence in the Great Hall was marked. There was no reaction. Everyone in Cashel knew what the hearing was about.
Brehon Rumann was still snappish. ‘You will doubtless proceed to tell us the facts behind your charge?’ he asked acidly.
Solam adjusted his composure. ‘Learned judges-’ he paused and cleared his throat, then pressed on — ‘it was on the feastday of Ailbe, the patron of this kingdom, that my Prince, Donennach, came with a small party to Cashel to discuss ways and means of cementing the friendship between his dynasty of the Dál gCais and the Eóghanacht of Cashel. Colgú of Cashel had met Donennach at the Well of Ara with a small retinue and conducted him and his party to Cashel. Donennach came in peace and friendship and in innocence.’
Solam’s excitable voice grew in strength. He flung out his arm for dramatic effect.
‘The Prince’s party rode into the market square in the town below this castle’s walls. Unsuspecting of the fate that had been planned for him, my Prince rode forward. Without warning, the arrow from an assassin’s bow struck him. God be praised! The bowman’s hand was ill-guided. Perhaps the breath of God blew on the flight of the arrow … perhaps the eye of the Almighty One …’
Brehon Rumann raised a hand in exasperation. ‘I would suggest that the advocate leaves aside speculation on the actions of God in this case and concentrate on the actions of men,’ he advised.
Solam swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
Fidelma lowered her eyes and compressed her lips for the sight of the blinking, confused Solam was comical.
‘Er, just so. Just so. The bowman’s hand … the arrow did not strike its intended target. The arrow hit Donennach in the thigh. A bad wound, yes, but not life-threatening and, as you see-’ he gestured to where Donennach was sitting impatiently in his chair — ‘my Prince recovered.’
‘Well, it would seem obvious that he did not die,’ remarked Brehon Dathal loudly. A ripple of amusement spread through the Great Hall.
Solam paused and blinked. Then he struggled on.
‘There was pandemonium. Donennach had fallen from his horse and thus prevented the assassin getting a further shot. Gionga, the captain of Prince Donennach’s bodyguard, ever alert, had seen the direction from which the arrow had been fired. He rode his horse across the market square and found two assassins who had placed themselves on the roof of the warehouse. They were attempting to escape to their horses. Gionga, faced with two implacable enemies, was forced to cut them down with his sword.
‘The two bodies were brought before my Prince, and before other witnesses. The truth of the identity of the assassins was to be seen ontheir bodies. One of them wore the collar of the Order of the Golden Chain which everyone knows is the elite bodyguard of the King of Cashel …’
Solam was apparently fond of dramatic pauses but again he was met in total silence for nothing he had said so far was new to anyone in the Great Hall.
‘The second man was a brother of a senior cleric of the abbey of Ailbe, the primacy of this kingdom. This man carried with him one of the Holy Relics of Ailbe, the Ailbe crucifix, to be precise. Our contention is that the Keeper of the Holy Relics had given the crucifix to him, for this Holy Relic was to be symbolic that this assassination had the blessing of the Comarb of Ailbe. I shall demonstrate that the assassin carried this crucifix during this nefarious work as a talisman. The Holy Relic could only have left the abbey of Imleach with the approval of the Comarb of Ailbe. This compounds that both the King and his religious head were involved in the assassination attempt on the Prince of the Uí Fidgente.’
This time there was a murmur of mingled anger and surprise from the people. Abbot Ségdae gave an audible gasp and started to rise from his seat. Colgú reached forward and laid a hand on the elderly abbot’s arm, shaking his head in warning not to interrupt the proceedings.
The Brehon Rumann rapped the table with his gavel to call for order. ‘Continue,’ he instructed Solam.
Solam gestured nervously. ‘I have little more to add in this opening statement. All I can say is that Muman never wanted peace with the Uí Fidgente and sought to eliminate its Prince, perhaps to send an army into the country of the Dal gCais in the wake of the turmoil that such an act would provoke. They would take control of the Uí Fidgente and exert the vain claims that Muman have maintained over the centuries — that they are Kings, by right, over our people.’
He sat down abruptly.
The Brehon Ruman turned to Fidelma. ‘Are you prepared with your opening counter-plea, Sister Fidelma?’
Fidelma rose. ‘I am. Learned judges, it is my intention, during these proceedings, not only to reject the claims of the Uí Fidgente, but to demonstrate where the real culpability lies.’
‘Are you challenging the facts that Solam has laid before us?’ Rumann asked in an unfriendly tone. ‘Do you question his truth?’
‘At this stage, I will say,’ replied Fidelma, ‘that Solam has told you only one aspect of the truth but not the entire truth. He did not relate to you the fact that when the King of Muman and his guest, the Prince of the Uí Fidgente, rode into the market square of Cashel, the first arrow fired by the assailants was fired at the King of Muman. It would havestruck him in the heart had he not suddenly bent forward to greet me as his sister. Because of that lucky action, the arrow struck him in the arm and badly wounded him. Why did Solam not mention this?’
Solam sprang to his feet, his face flushed and sneering. ‘I am here to represent the Prince of the Uí Fidgente,’ he snapped in his excitable fashion. ‘Fidelma will speak for her brother.’
‘Did you know this fact and withhold it?’ demanded the Brehon Rumann, showing disapprobation.
‘I knew the fact but also knew that Fidelma would make it known. It is not incumbent on me to present her arguments for her.’
Solam’s excitable temper was working against him for the Brehon Rumann began to frown. ‘Sometimes
