Whispers of the Dead

Findach shrugged.

“Just after dawn.”

“Did you know that boy was coming to help with your wife’s herd?”

“I knew. I never trusted him. His father was a bothach, always cadging money from the better off.”

“I understand that you were not one of them.” Fidelma’s riposte caused Findach’s face to go red.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said defensively.

“I heard that you were regarded as poor.”

“Silver and gold costs money. When I get a commission, I have to find the metals and don’t get paid until the commission is complete.”

“Braon had worked for your wife often before, hadn’t he?” Fidelma changed the subject.

“He had.”

“And you had no cause to complain about him before? Surely you have left valuable items in your house on other occasions?”

“My wife is murdered. The silver cross is gone. The boy was a bothach.”

“So you imply that you were always suspicious of him? As you say, he was a bothach. Yet you left the silver cross in your house and went to the forge. Isn’t that strange?”

Findach flushed in annoyance.

“I did not suspect that he would be tempted. .”

“Quite so,” snapped Fidelma. She turned to Brehon Tuama.

“I suppose that you have asked Brother Caisín to remain in Droim Sorn until the case in concluded?”

“Indeed, I have. Much to his annoyance. But I have sent a message to his abbot to explain the circumstances.”

“Excellent.” Fidelma swung ’round to Findach. “Now, I would like to see your forge.”

Findach was astonished.

“I do not understand what relevance. .?”

Fidelma smiled mischievously.

“You do not have to understand, only to respond to my questions. I understand the forge is a hundred yards from here?”

Findach bit his lip and turned silently to lead the way.

The forge lay one hundred yards through the trees in a small clearing.

“The furnace is out,” observed Fidelma as they entered.

“Of course. I have not worked here since yesterday morning.”

“Obviously,” Fidelma agreed easily. Then, surprising both Findach and Brehon Tuama, she thrust her right hand into the gray charcoal of the brazier. After a moment, she withdrew her hand and without any comment went to the umar, or water trough, to wash the dirt off. As she did so, she surveyed the cartha, the term used for a forge. It was unusual for a forge to be so isolated from the rest of the township. Smiths and their forges were usually one of the important centers of a district, often well frequented. Findach seemed to read her mind.

“I am a craftsman only in silver and gold these days. I do not make harnesses, shoe horses, or fix farm implements. I make works of art.”

His voice possessed arrogance, a boastfulness.

She did not answer.

The great anvil stood in the center of the forge, near the blackened wood-charcoal-filled brazier and next to the water trough. A box containing the supply of wood charcoal stood nearby, ready for fueling the fire. There was a bellows next to the brazier.

“Do you have examples of your work here?” she asked, peering around.

Findach shook his head.

“I have closed down my forge out of respect to my wife. Once this matter is cleared up. .”

“But you must have molds, casts. . pieces you have made?”

Findach shook his head.

“I was just curious to see the work of a smith who is so renowned for his fine work. However, to the task at hand. I think, Brehon Tuama, I shall see the boy now.”

They retraced their steps to Odar’s house. The chieftain was out hunting, but his tanist, his heir-apparent, led them to the room where the accused boy was held.

Braon was tall for his sixteen years. A thin, pale boy, fair of skin and freckled. There was no sign that he had yet begun to shave. He stood up nervously before Fidelma.

Fidelma entered the room while Brehon Tuama, by agreement, stayed outside as, under law, if she were to defend the boy, it was her privilege to see him alone. She waved him to be seated again on the small wooden bed while she herself sat on a stool before him.

“You know who I am?” she asked.

The boy nodded.

“I want you to tell me your story in your own words.”

“I have already told the Brehon.”

“The Brehon is to sit in judgment on you. I am a dálaigh, who will defend you. So tell me.”

The young boy seemed nervous.

“What will happen to me?”

“That depends if you are guilty or innocent.”

“No one cares if a bothach is innocent when there is a crime to be answered for.”

“That is not what the law says, Braon. The law is there to protect the innocent whoever they are and to punish the guilty whoever they may be. Do you understand?”

“That is not how Odar sees it,” replied the boy.

“Tell me the events of that morning when you went to work for Muirenn,” Fidelma said, thinking it best not to pursue the matter of Odar’s prejudice.

“I did not kill her. She was always kind to me. She was not like her husband, Findach. He was mean, and I heard her reprimanding him often about that. He claimed that he did not have money but everyone knows that smiths have money.”

“Tell me what happened that morning.”

“I arrived at the house and went inside. .”

“One moment. Was there anything out of the usual? Was there anyone about, so far as you saw?”

The boy shook his head thoughtfully.

“Nothing out of the usual. I saw no one, except for Odar’s hunting dogs. . he has two big wolfhounds. I saw them bounding into the woods by Findach’s forge. But there was no one about. So I went to the house and found the door ajar. I called out and, receiving no answer, I pushed it open.”

“What did you see?”

“From the open door I could see a body on the floor of the kitchen beyond. It was Muirenn. I thought she had fallen, perhaps struck her head. I bent down and felt her pulse, but the moment my hand touched her flesh I could feel a chill on it. I knew that she was dead.”

“The flesh felt chilled?”

“It did.”

“What then?” she prompted.

“I stood up and. .”

“A moment. Did you see any sign of the silver cross in the room?”

“It was not there. Something as unusual as that I would have noticed even in such circumstances. In fact, I was looking ’round when I heard a noise. Someone was approaching. I panicked and hid myself in an adjoining