A Prayer for the Damned

Fiachracha Muaide, whose bloodline is that of the great High King, Niall Noigiallach! If it was known that I had been unhorsed in a mere hunt, then the satirists of the five kingdoms would claim that Muirchertach Nár had been succeeded by Dúnchad Náire;.’

Despite his concentration on the matter in hand, Eadulf’s attention was caught. He knew that the word nár, which had been the epithet appended to Muirchertach’s name, meant noble, honourable and generous, but now it seemed that a similar word, born of the same root, had come to mean disgraced and shamed.

‘I decided, then, that if I recovered my horse, I would pretend that I had never lost it, in order to preserve my reputation.’ Honour and reputation meant a great deal to the nobles and warriors of Éireann. Dúnchad Muirisci sat back. ‘That’s the truth of it,’ he said simply. ‘I am not proud of it.’

‘But you found your horse again and gave out the story as you told it to me and Finguine when you returned to the fortress,’ Fidelma concluded.

Dúnchad Muirisci looked uncomfortable. He hesitated before replying and Fidelma leaned forward.

‘So you did not recover your horse immediately? You lied. So what is the truth? I want the whole truth now.’

‘The truth?’ he asked. ‘Is it so important? I found the horse again — what does time matter?’

‘The truth is always important,’ she assured him.

‘I did not find my horse for a long time,’ he confessed. ‘I was on foot for what seemed ages. In fact, my long bir became an encumbrance. I finally tossed it aside in the bushes, to be the better able to travel on foot. I wandered about for a long time trying to find the animal. I had almost given up and decided that I would have to face the shame of the loss and come back to Cashel on foot.’

‘But you did find it,’ Fidelma pressed. ‘How was that?’

‘That is curious,’ Dúnchad said. ‘I came through the forest to a place where there was a hilly mound.’

Eadulf now leaned forward eagerly. ‘Describe it,’ he insisted.

The Connacht noble looked surprised at his intervention but then shrugged and gave a quick description.

‘But did you not go up to the mound and look down in the gully beyond?’ Eadulf asked.

Dúnchad Muirisci shook his head. ‘Is it important?’

‘It is important, because that is where Muirchertach Nár was killed,’ explained Eadulf. ‘His body lay in the gully beyond that mound.’

The Connacht noble appeared shocked. ‘I did not know. I had come to the foot of the mound when I heard the sound of horses nearby.’

‘Horses?’

‘Having given up on saving my reputation, I gave a shout and hurried towards them, thinking that I might be able to get a ride behind one of the other members of the hunt. Distinctly, I heard horses. I thought that I had not been heard. The track these riders had taken led back in the direction of Cashel and so I felt there was nothing for it but to set my footsteps along that path. I had not gone more than a short distance when I came to an area where the path turned rocky and just then I saw my own mount. It was waiting docilely there.’

‘You said this was curious,’ Fidelma said. ‘In what fashion was it so?’

‘My horse was tethered to a bush.’

‘The reins were not simply entangled?’

Dúnchad Muirisci shook his head quickly. ‘I know the difference between entanglement and the way reins are wrapped over a branch so that the animal does not wander.’

‘There was no one about? Not another horse tethered there?’

‘No one about and no other horse.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I decided to keep to my initial story. I mounted and returned to the fortress. Oh, I forgot. I noticed the horse was limping slightly, so checked and found it had cracked a shoe. It may have been on the rocky area. It was re- shod on my return. Now,’ he looked from Fidelma to Eadulf and back again, ‘tell me what this is about. You think that I killed my king?’

‘Tell me, what was your relationship to Muirchertach? I don’t mean your blood relationship.’

‘I am. . was. . his tánaiste,’ replied Dúnchad Muirisci hesitantly.

‘So you were close to him? He was a good friend?’

Dúnchad shook his head immediately. ‘He was of the Uí Fiachracha Aidni. I am of the Uí Fiachracha Muaide. I am five generations in descent from Náth Í, of the senior line, while Muirchertach Nár was eight generations from the second son of Náth Í. We were not even close as cousins, let alone as friends.’

‘But, presumably, you were friendly enough for you to be in accordance in governing the kingdom?’

‘We had an agreement that I would govern the western territories of Connacht and Muirchertach would spend his time in the eastern territories, and it worked well. He was, to be truthful, not a man who was assiduous in his pursuit of government. He preferred the pleasures of kingship to its duties.’

‘Now that he is dead, what will happen to the lady Aíbnat? I believe that she is not grief-stricken at his demise?’

Dúnchad shrugged indifferently. ‘Doubtless she will be disappointed that she no longer has a position of power. But then her family is of the Uí Briúin Aí. Their word is law in northern Connacht and we have little say in the government of their territories. They have long claimed the right to be regarded as kings of Connacht. They descend from Bríon the brother of Niall Noigiallach but only Aíbnat’s father ever became king, and he held the throne for twenty-five years. Aíbnat always thought that her brother Cellach should have been tánaiste if not king. She will doubtless support him when the assembly meets to choose my tánaiste.’

‘Was her position all that she cared about?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I certainly received the impression that she did not think highly of her husband.’

‘I doubt if she felt highly about anyone except herself,’ Dúnchad confirmed. ‘My cousin’s rule was short and not altogether spectacular. His father, Guaire, eclipsed him in deeds and valour and in bestowing lands to the church so that they might flourish. He worked hard to buy people’s loyalty and praise rather than earn it.’

Fidelma looked carefully at Dúnchad. ‘You sound as if you disapproved of him.’

‘Disapproved? A good word. I’ll be honest with you, even if it does endorse your obvious suspicion that I had a role in his death. I did not like my cousin. He was a vain man and he had acquired a reputation. But, on the other hand, I did not hate him to the point that I would kill him.’

‘A reputation?’ Fidelma smiled. ‘A moment ago you were all for reputations and protecting them.’

‘Not the sort of reputation that my cousin had acquired. He had a reputation as a clúanaire.’

Eadulf recognised the word as being concerned with deceit, but he had not come across its use in this fashion before. He asked Fidelma to explain.

‘It means someone who beguiles another, usually a seducer of women.’

Dúnchad nodded in confirmation. ‘That is exact what his reputation was. They said that no noble’s lady was safe in his company.’

‘What did the lady Aíbnat think of that?’

‘I don’t think she was concerned if it didn’t threaten her position at court. She was content to let Muirchertach Nár get on with his own life, provided it did not interfere with hers.’

‘I see. And what were your thoughts on that?’

‘I thought that so long as he did not jeopardise the safety of the kingdom, there was no harm to it.’

‘I presume that none of the ladies involved ever complained?’

‘Not to my knowledge. If they did, he would simply have paid them and their husbands, if husbands there were, whatever their price was for silence.’

‘And yet one would have thought that he was possessed of high morals. He went to such lengths to bring