“Before I comment further I would ask you some questions, Sechnasach of Tara.”
The High King made a motion of his hand as though to invite her questions.
“Who would gain if you were prevented from assuming the High Kingship?”
Sechnasach grimaced with bitter amusement.
“Ailill, of course. For he stands as Tanist by choice of the Great Assembly.”
Whenever the Great Assembly elected a High King, they also elected a Tanist or “second”; an heir presumptive who would assume office should the High King become indisposed. Should the High King be killed or die suddenly then the Great Assembly would meet to confirm the Tanist as High King but at no time were the five kingdoms left without a supreme potentate. Under the ancient Brehon Law of Ireland, only the most worthy were elected to kingship and there was no such concept of hereditary right by primogeniture such as practiced in the lands of the Saxons or Franks.
“And no one else? There are no other claimants?”
“There are many claimants. My uncle Diarmuid’s son, Cernach, for example, and Ailill’s own brothers, Conall and Colcu. You must know of the conflict between the southern and northern Uí Néill? I am of the southern Uí Néill. Many of the northern Uí Néill would be glad to see me deposed.”
“But none but Ailill stand as the obvious choice to gain by your fall?” pressed Sister Fidelma.
“None.”
Compressing her lips, Sister Fidelma rose.
“That is all at this time, Sechnasach,” she said.
The High King glanced at her in surprise at the abruptness of her questioning.
“You would give me no hope of finding the sacred sword before tomorrow?”
Sister Fidelma detected a pleading tone to his voice.
“There is always hope, Sechnasach. But if I have not solved this mystery by noon tomorrow, at the time of your inauguration, then we will see the resolution in the development of events. Events will solve the puzzle.”
“Little hope of averting strife, then?”
“I do not know,” Sister Fidelma admitted candidly.
She left the audience chamber and was moving down the corridor when a low soprano voice called to her by name from a darkened doorway. Sister Fidelma paused, turned and gazed at the dark figure of a girl.
“Come inside for a moment, Sister.”
Sister Fidelma followed the figure through heavy drapes into a brightly lit chamber.
A young, dark-haired girl in an exquisitely sewn gown of blue, bedecked in jewels, ushered her inside and pulled the drape across the door.
“I am Ornait, sister of Sechnasach,” the girl said breathlessly.
Sister Fidelma bowed her head to the High King’s sister.
“I am at your service, Ornait.”
“I was listening behind the tapestries, just now,” the girl said, blushing a little. “I heard what you were saying to my brother. You don’t believe Ailill stole the sacred sword, do you?”
Sister Fidelma gazed into the girl’s eager, pleading eyes, and smiled softly.
“And you do not want to believe it?” she asked with gentle emphasis.
The girl lowered her gaze, the redness of her cheeks, if anything, increasing.
“I know he could not have done this deed. He would not.” She seized Sister Fidelma’s hand. “I know that if anyone can prove him innocent of this sacrilege it will be you.”
“Then you know then that I am an advocate in the Brehon Court?” asked Sister Fidelma, slightly embarrassed at the girl’s emphatic belief in her ability.
“I have heard of your reputation from a Sister of your order at Kildare.”
“And the night Ailill was arrested in the chapel, he was on his way to see you? It was foolish of him not to tell me.”
Ornait raised her small chin defiantly.
“We love each other!”
“But keep it a secret, even from your brother?”
“Until after my brother’s inauguration as High King, it will remain a secret. When he feels more kindly disposed toward Ailill for standing against him before the Great Assembly, then we shall tell him.”
“You do not think Ailill feels any resentment toward your brother, a resentment which might have motivated him to hide the sacred sword to discredit Sechnasach?”
“Ailill may not agree with my brother on many things but he agrees that the decision of the Great Assembly, under the Brehon Law, is sacred and binding,” replied Ornait, firmly. “And he is not alone in that. My cousin, Cernach Mac Diarmuid, believes that he has a greater right to the High Kingship than Sechnasach. He dislikes my brother’s attitude against any reform suggested by Rome. But Cernach does not come to the age of choice for a while yet when he can legally challenge my brother to the High Kingship. Being too young to challenge for office, Cernach supported Ailill in his claim. It is no crime to be unsuccessful in the challenge for the High Kingship. Once the Great Assembly makes the decision, there is an end to it. No, a thousand times-no! Ailill would not do this thing.”
“Well, Sister?” The Abbot stared at Sister Fidelma with narrowed eyes.
“I have nothing to report at the moment, just another question to ask.”
She had gone to see Abbot Colmán in his study in the abbey building behind the palace of Tara. The Abbot was seated behind a wooden table where he had been examining a colorful illuminated manuscript. He saw her eyes fall on the book and smiled complacently.
“This is the Gospel of John produced by our brothers at Clon-macnoise. A beautiful work which will be sent to our brothers at the Holy Island of Colmcille.”
Sister Fidelma glanced briefly at the magnificently wrought handiwork. It was, indeed, beautiful but her thoughts were occupied elsewhere. She paused a moment before asking:
“If there were civil strife in the kingdom, and from it Ailill was made High King, would he depart from the traditional policies propounded by Sechnasach?”
The Abbot was taken off-guard, his jaw dropping and his eyes rounding in surprise. Then he frowned and appeared to ponder the question for a moment.
“I would think the answer is in the affirmative,” he answered at last.
“Particularly,” went on Sister Fidelma, “would Ailill press the abbots and bishops to reform the Church?”
The Abbot scratched an ear.
“It is no secret that Ailill favours a rapprochement with the Church of Rome, believing its reforms to be correct. There are many of the Uí Néill house who do. Cernach Mac Diarmuid, for instance. He is a leading advocate among the laymen for such reforms. A bit of a hothead but influential. A youth who stands near the throne of Tara but doesn’t reach the age of choice for a month or so when he may take his place in the assemblies of the five kingdoms.”
“But Sechnasach does not believe in reforms and would adhere strongly to the traditional rites and liturgy of our Church?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“And, as one of the pro-Roman faction, you would favour Ailill’s policies?”
The Abbot flushed with indignation.
“I would. But I make no secret of my position. And I hold my beliefs under the law. My allegiance is to the High King as designated by that law. And while you have a special privilege as an advocate of the Brehon Court, may I remind you that I am Abbot of Tara, father and superior to your order?”
Sister Fidelma made a gesture with her hand as if in apology.
“I am merely seeking facts, Abbot Colmán. And it is as
“Then here is a fact. I denounced Ailill Flann Esa. If I had supported what he has done in order to overthrow Sechnasach simply because Ailill would bring the Church in Ireland in agreement with Rome, then I would not have been willing to point so quickly to Ailill’s guilt. I could have persuaded the guards that someone else had carried
