Atonement of Blood (42 page)

‘I will not go into the personal details but suffice to say, Liamuin had an unhappy relationship with her husband Escmug, a brutal, dominant man. Fortuitously, he was away when Lennán had brought her the
Cathach
. She knew if her husband returned, she would not be able to carry out the dying wish of her brother. Her daughter was also away from the house, working in the fields. Liamuin had no time to waste. She decided to flee to a relative, Marban the millwright, whom you see before you. She told him the whole story. Marban sent her for safety to his friend Menma. It was at Menma’s rath that she buried the
Cathach
. Is this not so, Marban?’

The miller shuffled awkwardly. ‘It is even as I told it to you, lady.’

‘It was then that Liamuin’s evil husband played a cruel hand. He went searching for her. He threatened Marban. In his rage he even illegally sold his own daughter, Aibell, as a bondservant to Fidaig of the Luachra, to spite his runaway wife.’

Gláed showed some surprise for the first time.

‘You did not know that Aibell, who served your father, was the daughter of Liamuin?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Ah well, the fate of Aibell does not concern us for the moment; I will deal with it elsewhere. Marban, tell us something about Liamuin’s character.’

‘She was a dutiful wife, even though Escmug beat and ill-used her,’ Marban told them. ‘It was only when her brother gave her a sacred charge to take the
Cathach
and hide it that she found the courage to finally break away from Escmug. She had remained with him simply to protect her daughter.’

‘A dutiful wife,’ mused Fidelma. ‘Was she also a dutiful daughter?’

‘She was,’ affirmed Marban.

‘Her father was Brother Ledbán, who had come to this very abbey to work as a groom in the stables after his wife died from the Yellow Plague,’ Fidelma went on. ‘Isn’t that so, Brother Lugna?’

The man started when his name was called but he nodded quickly in agreement. ‘It is so. I became the stable-master here long ago, as anyone will tell you. When Brother Ledbán came to join his son Lennán at the abbey, I realised he had served in the stables of our nobility. It was natural that I gave him work in our stables. It was only recently that age and illness caught up with him.’

‘So, surely you would know if Liamuin communicated with her father while he was here?’

The stable-master frowned. ‘After he came here? Of course, all this was a long time ago. I am not sure.’

‘Well, if old Ledbán told anyone here about his daughter, surely it would have been you?’

‘Not necessarily so,’ replied Brother Lugna. ‘Ledbán was friendly with many people. There was a young scribe here that he often talked with. I also remember that he was once visited by a very disagreeable man, who shouted at him – I had to intervene. As I remember, he kept shouting the name Liamuin. Maybe that was this Escmug that you have mentioned?’

Fidelma sighed. ‘Then this is where I must speculate, which is something I do not like to do. Liamuin managed to contact her father and tell him not only where she was, but that she had possession of the
Cathach
given her by her brother. Liamuin was a dutiful daughter. In the joy of hearing from his daughter, old Ledbán revealed that information to someone he trusted.’

There was a silence and then Marban said: ‘Are you saying that Liamuin was killed – indeed, that Menma’s rath was attacked and burned – because of the
Cathach
?’

‘That is precisely what I am saying,’ Fidelma replied.

‘But we know that a warrior of the Golden Collar led the raid that destroyed Menma’s rath,’ Marban declared. ‘It was the same warrior who had been staying at the rath and with whom Liamuin was supposed to have fallen in love. Are you trying to exonerate whoever that Cashel warrior was?’

‘I do not intend to exonerate anyone,’ Fidelma returned in an even tone. ‘I intend to uncover the truth. The truth certainly is that, in the aftermath of Cnoc Áine, my brother sent his commanders and warriors into this territory and stationed them in certain areas to maintain the peace while Prince Donennach negotiated the treaty. Such a warrior was, indeed, sent to the rath of Menma. Apparently he fell in love with Liamuin and she with him. I should add that Liamuin’s husband had already been killed by Marban, who justly claims self-defence. Is that not so, Marban?’

‘I have no shame in admitting it,’ Marban said sombrely. ‘He was my own brother but he was evil and a brute. I should have dealt with him many years ago, and much anguish could have been avoided.’

‘I have already said that there is no legal consequence from what you told me,’ replied Fidelma gravely. ‘Liamuin was, apparently, a woman of beauty and charm. Several men fell in love with her when she was at Menma’s rath, but she responded only to the warrior from Cashel.’

‘And
he
was the person who killed her!’ Marban said heatedly.

‘Not so. The person who wanted to recover the
Cathach
killed her. A raid was led by someone wearing a gold torc and carrying my brother’s shield – the very shield which is on the table before you. It was a shield abandoned at Cnoc Áine. That same person took some men to Menma’s home and killed all the inhabitants, including Liamuin, in order to recover the
Cathach
. The ruse worked, for the one survivor – an old woman named Suanach – described the leader as wearing a golden collar, and she also described the shield. She did not, however, know the significance of its device. The story was then handed down among locals that it was the warrior from Cashel and his men who were responsible. The blame was laid squarely on them.’

‘You claim that this shield, your brother’s shield, was the one used in that attack? But this shield has been kept in the abbey all these years. You are making wild speculations.’ Brother Cuineáin’s tone was angry. ‘You are trying to shift the blame onto the abbey.’ He went suddenly pale. ‘In fact, you are accusing the abbot or myself – as we have the keys to the shrine! You are trying to say that whoever led the raid on this Menma’s rath came from the abbey and used items from our special collection to mislead people. You are trying—’

Fidelma decided to bring a halt to his rising hysteria. ‘I am not
trying
to say this, Brother Cuineáin,’ she said sharply. ‘I am
saying
it.’

Conrí was frowning, attempting to follow her arguments. ‘I do not see how this fits in with your claim of a plot to kill your brother or overthrow Prince Donennach and all else that follows?’

‘Be patient, my friend,’ Fidelma chided gently. ‘I will explain. This story of the raid on Menma’s rath was swiftly spread, much to the real culprit’s satisfaction. The blame was put on the nameless Cashel warrior and his men – the horror being that he had this relationship with Liamuin and claimed her love, only to ruthlessly cut her down. But two other men happened to be hopelessly in love with Liamuin.

‘One of them was the apothecary who had nursed Suanach, the survivor of the attack on Menma’s rath. His name was Lachtine, as Gláed will know because he killed him a few days ago. We will come to that in a moment.’ Gláed made no response and Fidelma continued: ‘The other lover of Liamuin was a young man, the son of a neighbouring farmer and his wife, who heard the story of her death from the lips of the sole survivor and witness. He was told that the man who led that raid wore the golden collar of the bodyguards of the King of Cashel. Further, he was also told of the particular device on the shield of the warrior who led the attack. He did not know what it meant – but brooding with his grief and anger, the Fates had it that he came to this abbey to work among the copyists. Here he fell into the hands of the conspirators. He was told what the shield device meant – and so was groomed to become the assassin of my brother.’

T
he silence that followed was one in which only the quickened breathing of those gathered could be heard.

‘I am speaking about Maolán,’ Fidelma finally announced.

Abbot Nannid let out a startled exclamation. ‘Maolán the copyist! He was a farmer’s son – a talented copyist, but hardly a conspirator!’

‘I said he was the tool of conspirators, not one of them,’ Fidelma replied.

‘He came to study and work in our abbey library …’ The abbot’s voice trailed off as he began to assess the consequences of the accusation.

‘He was not one of the brethren,’ said Brother Cuineáin hurriedly. ‘He took no vows; he remained a layman.’ The steward was clearly trying to point out that the abbey would not be legally responsible for someone who was not one of the brethren.

Fidelma ignored him and continued, ‘Curiously, he came here to recover from his grief. Maolán was the archetypal rejected lover: he had convinced himself that, had Liamuin lived, he would have eventually won her favour.’

‘Maolán was the young scribe I mentioned,’ Brother Lugna said excitedly. ‘He and Brother Ledbán often spoke together.’

‘But Maolán could not have betrayed the fact that Liamuin was hiding at Menma’s rath to anyone in this abbey,’ pointed out Eadulf quickly. ‘He only arrived at the abbey after the attack in which Liamuin was killed. Someone else betrayed where Liamuin was hiding long before Maolán came here.’

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf with appreciation before she continued. ‘Once Maolán’s story became known, it was realised that he was in the right emotional state to be manipulated. With his hatred festering of the warrior whom he thought had killed Liamuin, he was told about the shield and that it belonged to none other than King Colgú of Cashel. Maolán needed little persuasion to go to Cashel and attempt to kill Colgú, even if it cost him his own life. He was well schooled with information, doubtless gained by the treacherous merchant Ordan. Ordan passed on the information of the location of a hut in the woods where he could change his clothes and leave his equipment and horse ready if he was able to escape from Cashel. He was even told that the woman on whose land he could leave his horse, possessed a dog.’

Gormán’s eyes widened. ‘Of course, my mother’s dog was sedated.’

‘It could have been worse. The dog could have been poisoned, but Maolán was a farmer’s son. He cared about animals. That is why he did not turn his horse loose in the forest, as doubtless he had been advised. But he decided to leave it in Della’s paddock, safe from any ravening wolves.’ Fidelma glanced at Conrí. ‘If you’ll forgive the choice of words.’

‘Except that he had no chance of escaping alive from Cashel after the manner of attack that you described to me earlier,’ Conrí replied.

‘That poor frenzied creature had no wish to live. Once he had killed the person whom he thought had destroyed the woman he loved, he was prepared to give his own life. It was a suicidal attack.’

‘Maolán …’ Abbot Nannid was muttering. ‘He had been with us for several years, working as a copyist. He never joined the religious. But I was told that he left the abbey over a week ago to go east …’

‘Maolán was told lies that made him into a tool of conspiracy. He was sent to assassinate my brother.’

‘You spoke of Lachtine,’ interrupted Conrí. ‘We know that Gláed, in his disguise as Adamrae, killed him – but why?’

‘You remember what Sitae, the inn-keeper, told us?’

‘Remind me.’

‘Sitae told us what Lachtine had witnessed in the forest. He saw Gláed, or Adamrae if you like, receiving the broken
Cathach
from a man in religious robes and then passing it to the merchant Ordan. Ordan had contacts with the smiths of Magh Méine, renowned for their brilliant metalwork. Ordan was the go-between to get the damaged
Cathach
repaired. Gláed – Adamrae – must have spotted Lachtine and realised that he had witnessed that exchange some weeks before. Gláed had arranged to meet Ordan at the Ford of Oaks. He was some days early, and while in Sitae’s inn he encountered Lachtine. It was obvious that they both recognised one another. That was when Gláed decided to kill him. He did so, but he still had to wait for Ordan. Hence the complicated method of disguising himself, so that he could wait at the Ford of the Oaks for Ordan to show up. But the one thing he did not allow for was the arrival of my companions and I.’

‘So once uncovered, he had to flee?’ asked Conrí.

‘Exactly so. And instead of waiting for Ordan to bring the repaired
Cathach
to the Ford of the Oaks, he had to make other arrangements. Ordan was bringing the
Cathach
by a circuitous route when he was waylaid by Fidaig, whose guests we were at the time. When we went to question Ordan, one of Gláed’s men, Loeg, killed him to stop him telling us what he knew. Loeg escaped to warn Gláed but Gláed had already been captured by Conrí.’

‘It’s complicated but it begins to fit,’ Conrí said thoughtfully. ‘The
Cathach
is a powerful symbol that would cause the Uí Fidgente to rise up to support the person who held it. And you say the man who handed the broken
Cathach
to Gláed to be repaired was a religieux?’

‘So you
are
accusing my abbey?’ cried Abbot Nannid, scandalised. ‘The abbey is plotting some uprising against Prince Donennach? Nonsense!’