room and bringing it near the fire.
‘I am sure my wife had overlooked that fact, Fidelma,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Let us to this business.’
There was a soft hissing sound as the breath whistled through Aíbnat’s teeth but the woman said nothing further.
‘Very well. Tell me what happened.’
Muirchertach looked disconcerted. ‘You don’t know?’
Fidelma frowned irritably. ‘What I have been told is beside the point. If I am to defend you, I need to know from your own words how you perceive the matter.’
‘How can he defend himself in detail, if he does not know the accusations?’ Aíbnat broke in with a sarcastic tone.
Fidelma did not even bother to glance in her direction.
‘I thought that you were aware that you have been charged with the murder of Abbot Ultán of Cill Ria, the bishop of the Uí Thuirtrí?’ she said quietly.
‘I am aware,’ admitted Muirchertach.
‘Then that is all you need to be aware of. If you are innocent of the matters charged, you do not need to know the details of the accusation. But a guilty man can often use the details given by his accusers to find a path out of their accusations. Tell me your story first.’
Muirchertach glanced swiftly at his wife and then nodded quickly.
‘My story is simple. I went to Abbot Ultán’s chambers. .’ He glanced towards the window and saw it was already dawn. ‘It was last night. The door was closed. I knocked lightly on it but, receiving no answer, I tried the handle and found it unlocked. I went in and the first thing I saw was Ultán. He was sprawled on his back on his bed. I thought he was asleep even though he was fully clothed. I went to his side, calling to him to wake up. Then I noticed the dark stains on his robes, and that his eyes were wide and staring. I have seen too many men in death not to realise that he was dead — and not only that, but death had come to him with violence. Horrified, I turned and fled from the room. I think that panic overcame me. I came straight back here wondering what to do. That is all I know.’
Fidelma waited for a moment or two before commenting. Then she said: ‘Realising the abbot’s death was violent, you left the scene and came back here without informing anyone?’
‘I told you, my mind was confused. I was wondering what to do.’
‘And the lady Aíbnat was here when you returned?’
‘Of course.’ The reply came quickly.
‘And did you tell her what had happened?’
‘Of course.’ Again it was a sharp response.
‘So why didn’t you raise the alarm then?’
Muirchertach flushed and glanced nervously at his wife. ‘She said. .’
‘I said,’ intervened Aíbnat sharply, ‘that the matter was no concern of ours. Abbot Ultán’s body would be found soon enough without our being involved.’
Fidelma pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘A poor piece of advice, for it merely endorses the suspicion that your husband was involved in the matter. It was counsel, Muirchertach, that you would have done better to ignore. But the milk has been spilt and there is no mopping it up now. We must proceed. So you and the lady Aíbnat were here, hoping that someone else would find the body and raise the alarm and that you would not be involved.’
Lady Aíbnat’s expression was one of malignant dislike but Fidelma simply ignored her.
‘I do not understand?’ Muirchertach frowned.
‘No matter. What happened next?’
‘Brehon Baithen and the commander of Colgú’s guard came here soon after. Baithen told me that I had been seen fleeing from Abbot Ultán’s chamber moments before they had discovered his body. He accused me of the murder and of fleeing from the scene.’
Fidelma’s expression did not change. ‘Did Baithen claim that he had witnessed the murder?’
Muirchertach gave her a hard look. ‘How could he?’ he demanded. ‘I did not do it.’
‘So you would argue that all he saw was you leaving the chamber?’
‘I do not dispute that he saw me leave the abbot’s chamber. What I do dispute is the claim that I killed Ultán.’
‘And all you know of the circumstances of the death of Abbot Ultán is that you went to his chamber and found him dead and left?’
‘That is all I know,’ agreed Muirchertach.
Fidelma eyed him thoughtfully. ‘There is surely something more to tell me?’
Muirchertach looked uncertain.
‘The most important thing,’ prompted Fidelma. ‘Why did you go to see Abbot Ultán in his chamber at that time? It was close to midnight.’
‘Why?’ Muirchertach blinked as if he had not expected the question.
‘You must have had a reason,’ she pointed out.
Once again Fidelma saw the king glance helplessly towards his wife. It was as if he was seeking her permission to speak. Fidelma swung round to the woman, meeting her hostile gaze levelly.
‘Was it a matter that concerned you, lady Aíbnat?’ Her tone was abrupt.
Aíbnat’s expression told her that her guess had hit home. Muirchertach’s wife made no reply. The corners of her mouth tightened in defiance.
Fidelma heaved a sigh. ‘This matter can be dealt between us in a sympathetic way now or it can be extracted in the legal proceedings before the Chief Brehon of the Five Kingdoms. .’
Muirchertach frowned and broke in: ‘What has Brehon Barrán to do with this matter?’
‘Have you not been told?’ Fidelma asked softly. ‘When it comes to a hearing, then it is Brehon Barrán who will sit in judgement and the High King himself will sit with him.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘Unless you can provide me with evidence of facts to counter the accusation, it is definitely
Muirchertach looked confused for a moment or two before his shoulders slumped and he nodded.
‘I suppose that is logical,’ he commented in a low voice. Once more he gave his wife an almost pleading look.
Aíbnat suddenly said, ‘Does that mean that there is a chance that it will not come to a public hearing?’
Fidelma glanced at her. ‘There is always a chance in these matters. If I am told the truth and can persuade both the prosecutor and the Chief Brehon that this truth is such that the guilt must lie elsewhere, then there is no need for a hearing before the courts. It depends on your husband and yourself, as a witness to his defence, as to how I am to proceed.’
Aíbnat’s thin lips compressed into a line for a moment before she turned to glance at Muirchertach and nodded slightly.
Her husband cleared his throat softly. ‘I fear the truth will do me no good, Fidelma of Cashel.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because I went to Ultán’s chamber to kill him.’
Eadulf was too restless to go back to his chamber and rest and he was not hungry enough to enjoy the first meal of the day. Instead, he put on his cloak of beaver skins and went out on the walkway round the great walls of the fortress. Below he could see the town stirring, thin wisps of smoke from many fires rising into the turbulent air. He could hear the distant noise of people unaware of the drama of the night, making their preparations for the great fair and entertainment that was due to be held later that day. Surrounding the wood and stone structures of the town were many pavilions and tents that were housing the visitors who had come to witness and join the celebrations.
Eadulf walked slowly round the walls. The cloudy sky was lowering again and there was the promise of
