Chalice of Blood

‘Glassán, as you know, was a master builder. What some of you may not have known was that he was master builder to the King of Laighin until ten years ago. Ten years ago he undertook to build a hall in stone for one of the King’s relatives in the south of the kingdom. However, he was a vain man who undertook many tasks at once. He did not fulfil his obligation and duty to the King to act as overseer on the building. Mistakes were made. The building collapsed, killing relatives of the King.’

‘Then why wasn’t he brought before the King of Laighin and his Brehon for this act?’ demanded Brehon Aillín.

‘He was,’ Fidelma replied calmly. ‘He argued that it was his assistant at the site who was to blame and not himself. This was technically true and the assistant had to pay the honour price of those who died to the families of the victims. But because Glassán tried to shift the blame for his own responsibility, the King and his Brehon dismissed him from the King’s service and ordered him to pay the court fines. Glassán went into exile in the kingdom of Connachta where he settled down among the Uí Briuin Sinna. He began to build up a reputation again as a builder.’

‘The Uí Briuin Sinna?’ Abbot Iarnla intervened. ‘But that’s where-’

‘Where your steward, Brother Lugna, comes from, yes,’ Fidelma said. ‘Brother Lugna knew of Glassán and his work before he went to Rome. When Brother Lugna returned from Rome and was given permission to rebuild this abbey in stone, he naturally called for someone he knew — he brought Glassán here as his master builder.’

‘No crime in that,’ snapped the sullen steward.

‘Of course not,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘But in bringing Glassán here as your master builder it did open the path that was eventually to lead to his death.’

‘How so?’ demanded Brother Lugna.

‘We are not far from the borders with Laighin and eventually Glassán’s presence here was noted. Brother Echen, for example, is from Laighin.’

Heads turned towards the stableman who stood frowning.

‘Am I being accused of involvement in killing Glassán? I am innocent. Was it not I that actually told you about his background? ’

‘Indeed it was,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘Brother Echen had a cousin who was in charge of the stables of the King of Laighin. He knew the story of Glassán and when his presence here was mentioned in conversation, that knowledge spread to certain people. Sit down, Brother Echen, you are not to blame, although, like Brother Lugna, you also prepared the path to his death.’

‘But you have said that Glassán paid his fines to the King of Laighin and exonerated himself before the law,’ pointed out Brehon Aillín.

‘It is true that he paid fines to the King but there were members of the families of those who perished who felt that Glassán had not answered to them for the deed. He was theperson who designed the building and should have overseen the work. The relatives of the dead received no compensation from him and did not believe he had repented. Eventually, the word came to the son of the chieftain who had perished in that building. As a young man he had sworn that his role would be the díglaid — the person who would take vengeance on behalf of his clan. He came to this abbey, ascertained that it was, indeed, Glassán who was working here and then sent for one of his clansmen to help him. That clansman was Saor.’

She paused and looked at Saor.

‘I was told that it was not long after Saor arrived that several accidents began to happen on the building site. No one was badly injured until Eadulf went to look at the site because of something that had occurred to him. Thankfully, he had a lantern with him. As he came under a half-finished doorway, he heard a lintel being pushed. It would have fallen on his head had he not raised his lantern to discover the source of the noise. The light on his features showed he was not the intended victim. One of the two would-be vengeance-seekers recognised him in time and gave him a hard shove in the back, just as the lintel fell. The lintel missed him but Eadulf smashed his head on a wooden support which knocked him out.’

Saor was looking at the ground.

‘Am I not right, Saor? You were the person who pushed the lintel.’

The assistant master builder shrugged but said nothing.

‘I accept that you felt duty bound, under law, to assist your chieftain in pursuing this blood feud,’ went on Fidelma. ‘You told young Gúasach that you were from a clan called the Uí Bairrche in southern Laighin. That was where the building collapsed, wasn’t it? Your chieftain demanded yourhelp in pursuing vengeance against Glassán. Since that is the reason for your actions, you will not feel the full weight of the law.’

Saor looked up with a resigned expression. ‘It was not only that I obeyed the call of my chieftain,’ he said slowly. ‘My brother was the carpenter working on the building that fell. He was killed. I was willing and pleased to help against Glassán.’

‘So when you were called by your chieftain, you came willingly?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you for confirming that your chieftain is here with us. Was it him or was it you who paid Gealbháin, the previous carpenter and assistant master builder on this job, to leave the site so that you could present yourself to Glassán as his replacement?’

Saor’s lips compressed and he shook his head. ‘I will say no more.’

‘No matter.’ Fidelma swung round and looked at the physician, Brother Seachlann. ‘Your chieftain can speak for himself.’

The physician stood up and gave her a curious half bow.

‘I am Seachlann of the Uí Bairrche,’ he said quietly.

There were several gasps round the hall.

‘Do you deny these charges that are levelled against you?’ demanded Brehon Aillín.

Seachlann stood erect, his head held high.

‘There is no need to deny them. I am the díglaid and, as such, I claim that the law supports me. When the perpetrator does not compensate the victims and their families, the Críth Gabhlach says that the díglaid can pursue a blood feud even into other territories where the perpetrator might seek refuge.I have done so and I rejoice that I have fulfilled an obligation to my family and clan.’

‘Are you, in truth, chief of the Uí Bairrche and therefore related to King Fáelán of Laighin?’ queried Colgú in surprise.

‘I am. Both my parents perished in the building that Glassán was supposed to construct. My brother, who was heir to my father, also perished, along with fifteen others of my people, including Saor’s brother. I was a young man and had newly entered the religious. I was just finishing my studies in the healing arts at the abbey at Sléibhte.

‘Glassán showed no remorse for his negligence. He claimed he should not be held responsible in any way. He complained when the King imposed the fines and exiled him, although we whose family members perished felt it was a mild punishment. Glassán was clever and he disappeared quickly and for years we could not discover where he had fled. I had been inaugurated chieftain. My tanist, my heir, was chosen, and so I left the affairs of my people to him while I continued in the practice of medicine. Then I heard from Brother Echen’s relative at the palace of my kinsman, King Fáelán, that Glassán was here. As you rightly deduced, Fidelma of Cashel, that is why I came.’

‘And is everything else correct as Fidelma has charged?’ demanded Brehon Aillín.

‘Everything else is correct. But, as the Críth Gabhlach states, I acted as the díglaid. I acted under the law and therefore no charge can be brought against me.’

‘Except that you may have overlooked one thing,’ Fidelma said quietly. ‘In my preamble, I explained carefully what the basis of our law was. Recompense and rehabilitation. The matter of blood feud can only be enacted against an incorrigible, one who refuses to come to law and be judged. Underspecial circumstances, a king’s Brehon could approve of the díglaid. Glassán had been judged and paid the requirements of the law.’