‘Patience!’ cried Fidelma, through the translation of Brother Metellus. ‘I have promised this man justice but I need answers to more questions.’
She turned back to Barbatil.
‘A few more questions,’ she repeated softly. ‘For your daughter will not rest quietly if the truth remains unknown.’
‘What more do you want?’ grunted the farmer, recovering his composure. ‘The evidence explains itself.’
‘Having come on this terrible scene, what did you do?’
‘One of my neighbours took the dagger from her breast and covered her body.’
‘Do you still have the dagger?’
‘Coric, do you still have the dagger?’ asked the farmer, turning to one of his companions.
A small man, whose short stature belied his thick, muscular body, came forward and held up a knife. Fidelma took it: it was exactly the same design as the one she had found in the body of Abbot Maelcar. The same emblem of a dove was engraved on it.
‘I will keep this as evidence,’ she said. ‘And then…what of Macliau? What did you do then?’
The farmer scowled. ‘He was drunk. We tried to rouse him. We hit him across the cheeks, but he was too far gone to respond. So we carried him outside and threw him in a stream. Even then it took us time to make the swine come to and comprehend his surroundings. Finally we told him that we were going to hang him for what he had done.’
The little man, the one who had been addressed as Coric, spoke for the first time.
‘He started weeping like a child, pleading with us for his life, even claiming that he was not responsible and knew nothing of the killing. The lies that poured from his cowardly mouth made us sick.’
‘We took Argantken’s body back to my farm,’ continued Barbatil, ‘so that my wife and family could mourn her in the proper manner. And we took Macliau to my pigpen and locked him in. We decided that we would hang him after we had interred my daughter’s body. That was to be midday today.’
‘So what happened?’
‘We buried my daughter. All these good folks came,’ he encompassed his companions with a motion of his arm. ‘Then we went to the pigpen. We found Macliau had managed to break free. We soon picked up his trail and it led us here. The coward has taken refuge in the chapel but we will drag him out like the animal he is and-’
‘You will do no such thing. I have promised you justice and we,’ Fidelma threw an arm towards the religious and the warriors, ‘will not countenance vengeance. Vengeance only breeds more vengeance. Do you know what sanctuary is?’
Barbatil snorted derisively, replying, ‘Just a cunning means to prevent the guilty from punishment.’
‘No, my friend, it is a means to prevent injustice. The Church recognises the right of giving protection to all peoples. Asylum is recognised by all civilised people, and rules and laws are devised to govern it. For a person to qualify for the protection of the Church there are rules, my friend. Rules not only for them to qualify, but rules as to how long that protection may be extended. So I tell you this: I must now hear what the accused has to say in his defence. When the evidence is heard, then — and only then — can a judgement be made.’
There was a muttering of discontent among the crowd.
Fidelma continued to speak directly to Barbatil through Brother Metellus.
‘You hold the decision, my friend. You lead these people. Your word may stop your friends from pursuing a misguided course. Your word may even stop them squandering their blood needlessly for, make no mistake, the warriors you see before you will defend this right of sanctuary. Not to defend Macliau, but to defend a higher principle — the right of the Church to offer sanctuary. They will sell their lives dearly in this cause. Are you prepared for this unnecessary effusion of blood? Death of many for the pursuit of vengeance? Do you believe your daughter would rest happy in the knowledge that such injustice was carried out in her name?’
She saw the man wavering and she prayed that Brother Metellus was translating her words with the same eloquence as she was trying to give them.
‘Send your friends away, so that they may not die this day. Remain here with me and hear the words of Macliau. Then you may see that I am not merely defending him for the sake of who he is, but rather to search for the truth. Out of this truth, justice will come to you.’
The farmer stood hesitantly. Then he sighed deeply and turned, handing his weapon to his companion Coric.
‘I will go with the foreigner from Hibernia,’ he said slowly. ‘Wait for me here, Coric.’ Then he turned to the rest and raised his voice. ‘Friends, I thank you for what you have done. I am a man who believes in the Church and in the law. And I believe the law is for everyone, not only for our lords. I am going to give this foreign Sister of the Faith a chance to demonstrate that her words are not mere sounds that vanish on the air. I will go with her to see and hear what she intends, and how she will conjure this justice for my family and me. Indeed, justice for all of us who have suffered from the raids of this Dove of Death.’
‘What do you want us to do, Barbatil?’ cried a voice from the crowd.
‘For the moment, disperse to your homes. Disperse, but hold yourselves ready, for if lies are being told here, then these lies must be met by a force that is born of our truth.’
There was a muttering among the crowd but then they slowly turned, in ones and twos, and began to remove from the buildings of the abbey, taking their weapons with them.
Brother Metellus had been sweating in his anxiety and now he almost physically collapsed.
Bleidbara moved in an aggressive manner towards Barbatil. Fidelma saw what was passing in his mind and spoke sharply.
‘Bleidbara, I was not amusing myself with false words. Barbatil is under my protection and will not be harmed, for no one can condemn his actions entirely, given what he has suffered. He will come into the chapel and sit unharmed while we question Macliau. Do I make myself clear?’
Bleidbara reddened a little and then he bowed his head stiffly.
‘You have made yourself clear, lady.’
Brother Metellus turned to her; the sweat stood out on his forehead and the relief was plain on his features.
‘I can only commend your action, for I have never seen a woman stand up to an angry mob and turn their anger to a peaceful solution before. I was afraid for all of us.’
‘Yet not so afraid that you were prevented from giving Macliau sanctuary and were prepared to defend your decision with your life,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘You did the right thing.’
‘From time immemorial the right of protection on a holy spot has been inviolable. Of course I could not contemplate giving in before an armed mob,’ replied Brother Metellus.
Fidelma glanced to where Coric had gone to sit on a stone wall nearby, still holding the weapons he and Barbatil had brought with them.
‘There seem to be some essential witnesses missing,’ she said, after a moment’s thought.
‘Essential witnesses?’ queried Bleidbara, puzzled.
‘Where are the companions of Macliau? He left Brilhag not only with Argantken but with two huntsmen and two warriors. Where are they?’ She turned to Barbatil. ‘Did you see any sign of the rest of Macliau’s hunting-party when you found him?’
When Brother Metellus had translated this, the farmer shook his head.
‘There was no sign of anyone else but the body of my daughter and her murderer.’
‘That is a cause of worry,’ Fidelma observed. ‘Bleidbara, I suggest that you send out a couple of your men in search of these lost souls. You can spare them now. It is of concern that they have deserted Macliau.’
Bleidbara turned to his warriors and relayed the orders to two men, who immediately left on horseback. Meanwhile, Fidelma led her companions into the chapel, leaving the guards and most of the religious outside.
Macliau was slumped on the floor against the altar. He was in a pitiful condition. The stench of stale drink and the excrement of pigs was nauseous. There was blood on his face and clothing, and he was shivering as if with some ague. Trifina was standing over him and her angry voice faded as they entered.
Brother Metellus, hearing Fidelma’s sharp intake of breath and the disgust on her face as she viewed Macliau, whispered: ‘We have had no time to cleanse him or give him clean clothes.’
‘At least give him a chair to sit on,’ she instructed. ‘By the altar, if he prefers not to leave it,’ she added, for
