The Monk Who Vanished

economy with truth is no better than a lie, Solam. Be warned. I shall not tolerate a half truth.’

Solam bowed his head penitentially.

Fidelma surprised everyone by saying: ‘I do not blame Solam, learned judges, for attempting to find his truth by leaving aside what he feels unnecessary to state. Would we could all find truth as easily as we can uncover untruth.

‘However, the facts are that the King was also injured and was struck down first in the attack and in the furore that ensued may lie the true reason why the assassin was not able to find a fatal target in the body of the Prince of the Uí Fidgente. Or, perhaps, he did not want to?’

‘That is a conjecture!’ cried Solam, springing to his feet. ‘It is an insult and a charge against the Uí Fidgente!’

‘No more a conjecture than Solam’s interpretation,’ rejoined Fidelma calmly. ‘Further, it is true that Gionga, captain of Donennach’s bodyguard, chased after the assassins. But so did the tanist of Muman, Donndubháin. Both men had a hand in the death of the would-be assassins.

‘My contention is that there was no plot by the King of Muman to assassinate the Prince of the Uí Fidgente. This I shall prove.’

Solam was once again on his feet. ‘That proof will be interesting. I will now add to my initial outline of the case against Muman. I have shown that one of the assassins was a member of the elite bodyguard of the King of Cashel …’

‘You have shown no such thing!’ Fidelma challenged. ‘The fact that he carried the emblem of the Golden Chain does not make him a member of the Order.’

‘We will judge that in the weight of the evidence,’ Brehon Rumann assured her.

‘The evidence will show another link,’ went on Solam triumphantly. ‘I have said that the other assassin was the brother of the Keeper of the Holy Relics at Imleach. On the evening before the attemptedassassination, the Keeper of the Holy Relics disappeared from Imleach with the Relics of Ailbe. He faked his departure from the abbey so that it looked as if he had been carried off by enemies. He was to make it appear so, in order that blame was put on the Uí Fidgente for this action. Learned judges, I have managed to secure the person of this conniving religieux, Brother Mochta, whose twin Baoill was the assassin to whom I refer. He sits waiting to be called as a witness and, I am pleased to say, that Gionga of the Uí Fidgente recovered the reliquary of Ailbe, hidden here, in Cashel, whose theft was going to be blamed on the Uí Fidgente.’

Fidelma was on her feet, flushed and angry. ‘Learned judges, this is a travesty of the truth.’

Solam was equally excitable. ‘Truth? The dálaigh of Cashel has much to tell us of truth. Can she tell us why she also hid Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics? Why she smuggled Mochta and those Relics, without telling anyone, from Imleach to Cashel and tried to hide them in the house of a well-known prostitute of this town? A prostitute?’

There was uproar in the court as everyone now, finally, responded to Solam’s dramatics.

‘Is this true, Fidelma?’ demanded the Brehon Rumann after he had called for quiet.

Eadulf groaned for he knew what Fidelma would have to answer.

‘The facts are true but …’

Another burst of noise drowned the rest of her words.

‘Furthermore, furthermore …’ cried Solam quickly, without allowing her a moment to finish the answer when the clamour died away. ‘Furthermore, another plot to discredit the Uí Fidgente is revealed. A band of mercenaries were hired to attack Imleach, to cut down the sacred yew-tree there and put blame on the Uí Fidgente by carving a boar on the trunk, the symbol of my Prince.

‘In all these things, I say that the hand of the King of Muman is there. The purpose is to discredit the Uí Fidgente in order to have an excuse to destroy them. I say that all the Eóghanacht are involved in this plot from the King and his sister, who purports to be an unbiased advocate on his behalf, to the Princes of Muman to the Comarb of Ailbe himself.’

He sat down abruptly amidst the fury and anger of the Great Hall.

The Brehon Rumann waited until order was restored before turning his sharp gaze on Fidelma.

“These are the gravest charges that I have heard; charges so grave that no dálaigh would make them unless he had the strongest grounds for doing so. Before we start to hear the proofs which Solam will offerup, it is my duty to allow you to make your counter-plea, Fidelma. As you do so, I will have to bear in mind that you, yourself, have admitted the truth of the particular charges which Solam levelled against you. Will you speak?’

Fidelma rose. There was a complete silence in the Great Hall as all strained forward to hear her.

‘I will, learned judges,’ she began. ‘Allow me to say that I admitted the facts but not the interpretation placed on them by Solam.’

The Brehon Rumann frowned quickly. ‘The facts seem to speak for themselves,’ he observed. ‘We are all imprisoned by facts and facts cannot be altered.’

‘With respect, learned judge, a fact is many-sided. A fact is like a grain bag. Does a grain bag stand up when it is empty? No. You must fill the grain bag with grain. Only then will it stand up. The fact is like the empty grain bag. It, too, cannot stand up unless it is filled. The fact must be considered with the reasons which cause it to exist.’

The Brehon Rumann was about to reply when he realised the meaning of what Fidelma said. ‘I see. You doubtless intend to fill our grain sack for us?’

‘I do, learned judge.’

‘I presume that your argument against Solam is that the Kingdom of Cashel is not culpable in any conspiracy to discredit the Uí Fidgente? That it is, in fact, the Ui Fidgente who are conspiring against the Kingdom of Muman and the Eóghanacht.’ Rumann sat back. ‘Am I correct in that?’

There was a brief pause.

Then Fidelma said: ‘No, learned judge. You are not correct.’

There was a stillness. The Brehon Rumann stared at her as if he had not heard her correctly. His colleagues, Dathal and Fachtna, were similarly confounded.

‘I am not sure that I understand you. I repeat, your argument against Solam is surely that the Eóghanacht are innocent of conspiracy which therefore follows that the Uí Fidgente are guilty of conspiring against Cashel.’

‘Learned judges,’ said Fidelma clearly and slowly, ‘the Uí Fidgente are innocent of conspiring against Cashel.’

The silence was now almost oppressive.

‘Furthermore,’ she went on, ‘I cannot absolve the Eóghanacht from responsibility in a conspiracy to cause strife in this kingdom.’

‘Fidelma! What are you doing?’ Colgú was on his feet, his face ashen. His voice cracked like a whip across the horrified silence of the Great Hall. ‘You have betrayed me!’

Chapter Twenty-Four

Pandemonium erupted in the Great Hall after the silence which met the King’s outburst. Cries of anger from the nobles of Muman mingled with those of outrage from the people. Threats were hurled against Fidelma from all sides as she stood there calmly before the judges.

The Brehon Rumann looked disconcerted. It was against all protocol that a King should disrupt the proceedings with such an outburst. It was against all proceedings that a defending counsel should turn prosecutor against those whom she represented. The clamour in the Great Hall was deafening. Rumann’s gavel alone could not restore order. The steward found that it took some time, banging with his staff, before the noise ebbed away to an uneasy muttering.

‘Colgú of Cashel-’ Rumann turned sternly to the King — ‘you must resume your seat.’

Colgú, looking distraught, unable to believe what his sister had said, hesitated and then was helped back to his seat by Cerball, his bardic adviser. Abbot Ségdae had not moved. He was looking pale and