A Prayer for the Damned

Muirchertach actually stab Abbot Ultán.’

Ninnid made a curious cutting gesture with his hand as if dismissing the protest. ‘The law accepts circumstantial evidence.’

Eadulf frowned at the unfamiliar term. To him the basic word imthoicell was an act of encompassing or encircling. It took him some moments, putting it with the word for evidence, to arrive at the idea of what ‘encircling evidence’ meant.

Ninnid was continuing. ‘If the suspect is seen acting in a manner that appears to incriminate him, this evidence may be acknowledged. Muirchertach was seen fleeing from Abbot Ultán’s room. .’

‘Fleeing?’ snapped Fidelma.

‘That is what the eyewitnesses saw and we have another witness who will say that for many years Muirchertach was in enmity with Abbot Ultán because. .’

Fidelma held up her hand. ‘We know the circumstances.’

Ninnid smiled condescendingly. ‘Then I admire you for agreeing to make a defence. Naturally, should Muirchertach plead provocation, I will consider his arguments. However, I have to tell you that it may be difficult due to the circumstances of the crime. It is clear that Abbot Ultán was violently attacked as he prepared for bed.’

‘There is no reason to suppose that Muirchertach will plead anything but total innocence,’ replied Fidelma firmly.

Ninnid actually chuckled. ‘When you have had more experience in these matters you will come to know that it is sometimes better to make a bargain over one’s degree of guilt. I would suggest as much to Muirchertach if I were in your place.’

‘Thank you for the benefit of your advice,’ Fidelma said coldly.

‘I am always willing to advise,’ replied the other obliviously.

‘It has been instructive speaking to you, Ninnid,’ Eadulf intervened hastily, seeing the fiery glint in Fidelma’s eyes. ‘But you will excuse us. .’

They began to move off but Ninnid stayed them again.

‘You have not answered my question,’ he protested mildly.

Fidelma turned back sharply. ‘What question was that?’

‘Why, when I can instruct the Chief Brehon Barrán to start the trial proceedings.’

Fidelma was quiet for a moment but Eadulf made an inarticulate sound that he again covered by a fit of coughing. Then she spoke quietly.

‘You’ll forgive us, Ninnid, but we have many things to do. Have no fear, when I am ready I shall let Barrán be advised and then he can instruct you as to when he will start the proceedings.’

They hurried down the corridor. Eadulf was still chuckling.

‘Beati pauperes spiritu,’ he laughed, quoting the Gospel of Matthew. Blessed are the poor in spirit.

Fidelma indulged in a mischievous grin.

‘Our friend Ninnid is not so blessed,’ she replied. ‘I doubt if I have ever met such a colossal ego.’

‘Perhaps the defence of Muirchertach will not be so difficult after all with such a pompous idiot prosecuting,’ Eadulf suggested.

‘Do not build your sty until the litter is born,’ she replied, quoting an old proverb.

Eadulf shrugged. ‘You think that there is some talent hidden in that pomposity?’

‘You do not become brehon, even of Laigin, without some talent for law and good sense. Remember that Barrán himself recommended Ninnid because of his success as a prosecutor. Perhaps Ninnid merely dons the cloak of someone without humility to force his opponents into a false sense of superiority and then, when they are in such a vulnerable state, he will strike.’

‘Could he be that clever?’

‘We should never take things for granted. That is what I am saying. There is an old saying — things do not always end as we expect.’

From Caol, still looking chagrined at the belief that it was his failure to supply a guard which had led to the murder, they discovered where the guest chamber of Abbot Augaire was situated and made their way there.

The abbot himself opened the door to their discreet knock.

‘Abbot Augaire, I trust we do not disturb you?’

Abbot Augaire greeted them with a smiling countenance. In many ways, he reminded Fidelma of her cousin and mentor Abbot Laisran except that Augaire was physically the opposite of the abbot of Durrow. He was a sturdy man, well muscled, with a tan that bespoke an outdoor life rather than one lived in the shadows of the cloisters. He had deep blue eyes that reminded her of the sea. His hair was of a sand colour, though not exactly golden. His smile was no mere superficial movement of the facial muscles but an expression that seemed to come from deep within him. The hand he held out to greet Fidelma and Eadulf was firm and strong.

‘Fidelma — I have looked forward to our meeting.’ He grimaced wryly. ‘Though perhaps I was not expecting the current reason for it.’

He waved them into his small chamber and was not above pulling forward seats for them both.

‘I have heard of the departure of Abbot Ultán, perhaps to a better world,’ he said, smiling, as he sat on the edge of his bed after they had been seated in the only available wooden chairs.

Fidelma frowned.

‘You speak with some levity, Abbot Augaire,’ she said, making the words sound not a reproof but merely a question.

Again, Abbot Augaire grimaced with the corner of his mouth, and he glanced at Eadulf.

‘Surely you must know from your companion that Ultán and I were not on the best of terms? I think I saw Brother Eadulf witnessing my last meeting with the northern cleric?’

Eadulf stirred a little.

‘Was that the last time you saw Ultán?’ he asked quickly.

‘It was to speak to. I am not over-burdened with sorrow by that fact, nor, in all honesty, can I say that I mourn deeply, although he was a brother in Christ. Ultán of Cilia Ria was not a man who contributed to making this world a place of joy.’

‘You are honest, Abbot Augaire,’ Fidelma observed.

‘Probitas laudatur et alget,’ replied the abbot.

‘You read Juvenal?’ Fidelma recognised the quotation: honesty is often praised but ignored by most people.

‘I admire his Satires.’

‘Well, I not only praise honesty but will not neglect it in my considerations. But since it is obvious that you did not like the late Abbot Ultán, perhaps we should begin by clarifying where you were last night around midnight?’

Abbot Augaire actually chuckled. ‘I have heard that you are an honest dálaigh, Fidelma of Cashel. That is why it would be pointless for me to pretend that I felt other than I did about Ultán. As to where I was. . I was playing a game of brandubh with Dúnchad Muirisci of the Uí Fiachracha Muaide until close to midnight.’

‘Dúnchad Muirisci, the heir apparent to Muirchertach Nár?’

Abbot Augaire nodded absently. ‘Then I came directly here to my chamber and fell asleep almost immediately. And,’ he added with a smile, ‘I regret to say that no one saw me do so. So I can only prove my whereabouts until the moment I left Dúnchad Muirisci. Oh, I tell a lie. I passed one of your brother’s bodyguards on my way from Dúnchad Muirisci’s chamber to my one. I bade him a peaceful night and he answered me.’

‘Dúnchad Muirisci’s chamber was a short distance along the corridor from Abbot Ultán’s chamber. In which direction were you heading?’ Eadulf asked.

‘My way did not pass Ultán’s chamber, even though you could see the door to it from Dúnchad Muirisci’s doorway.’