Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

‘One thing remains, however.’ It was the Déisi Brehon, Furudán, who demanded their attention. ‘Although a confessed killer, Rudgal was killed unlawfully and in the palace of the High King. He was brought here under the protection of Cummasach, Prince of the Déisi. Therefore reparation must be given to Cummasach, whose reputation is thus impaired as being unable to extend his protection to those who have submitted to him.’

There was a silence before Colgú turned with a helpless glance to Fidelma.

‘Is that true?’ he asked.

Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘It is so. However, an adequate time must be given for a Brehon to be able to investigate and consider who was responsible for the unlawful killing before reparation is offered.’

‘An adequate time?’ queried Colgú, looking relieved and turning back to Brehon Furudán.

‘It is the law,’ agreed the Brehon. ‘Yet “adequate” is a word that can be debated.’

‘That which is acceptable for the task to be undertaken?’ suggested Fidelma softly.

‘ Comchirte ,’ replied the Brehon. It was the legal word for ‘acceptable’.

‘Then, as we are approaching the full of the moon,’ Fidelma said, ‘so let us wait until the next full of the moon. We will endeavour to complete the investigation by that time. Is that acceptable?’

Brehon Furudán and Cummasach exchanged a glance and both nodded at once.

‘ Comchirte ,’ repeated Furudán.

The rituals of the departure of Prince Cummasach and his Brehon were amiable enough. The laws of hospitality were adhered to. They had been pressed to stay and attend the evening meal, but politely declined. If the truth were known, Colgú was relieved.

After they had gone, he said to his sister, ‘It’s all very well, but what if you can’t resolve this matter? Now we have that to deal with as well as the death of that emissary of the deputation from Canterbury.’

‘There is no mystery without a solution, Colgú,’ Fidelma said firmly. ‘Leave it to us. A period between the full moons is adequate.’

The King did not look confident but accepted her optimism.

‘Gormán is already questioning the members of the bodyguard to see if they noticed anything,’ Eadulf told him.

‘The body should be taken to Brother Conchobhar to prepare for a funeral,’ Colgú declared. ‘Where is Egric? Did he identify the man as his attacker?’

Eadulf was unhappy. ‘My brother hasn’t returned from Rumann’s tavern since Cummasach brought his prisoner here. He’s with Dego. I will fetch him now and take him to view the body.’

‘Let us try to resolve this matter quickly,’ Colgú urged. ‘Now that Fidelma has informed me that this coming deputation includes none other than a brother of the Bishop of Rome, it becomes even more urgent.’

‘Are we sure that this Venerable Verax is truly brother to the Bishop of Rome?’ Abbot Segdae looked questioningly at Eadulf. ‘Brother Madagan did not know.’

‘If the man is the Venerable Verax, son of Anastasius of Segni, then that is the case. And he has great authority in the Church. There was no reason why Brother Madagan should know this. Only I recognised the name, having been in Rome for a while.’

‘Well, it is known now,’ Colgú said heavily. ‘This means we are dealing with someone of importance, a prince among princes. It also means,’ he turned with a scowl in search of his steward Beccan, ‘that we will have to prepare a feast and entertainment fit for such a man.’

‘What of Brehon Aillín, brother?’ Fidelma asked, still feeling guilty about the departure of the disgraced elderly judge.

Colgú sat back with a look of resolution at Fidelma. ‘I shall need a new legal adviser.’

‘Aillín is still your Chief Brehon,’ she demurred.

‘The man is a liability. He has never liked you nor accepted Eadulf. Now he has gone beyond reasonable behaviour. He has dishonoured me in front of the Prince of the Déisi and his Brehon.’

‘It will be up to the Council of Brehon to see if he has erred in any way and whether he needs to be replaced,’ Fidelma reminded him. ‘You cannot take his title from him before that happens.’

‘I wish I could,’ her brother sighed. ‘However, I can appoint whoever I like to advise me, so long as they are qualified. We have two unexplained deaths on our hands. You have already been charged with investigating one, Fidelma. Now you must take on the investigation of the other. Also. .’ he paused for a moment. ‘You and Eadulf will have to hold yourselves ready to advise me when this deputation arrives.’

Eadulf cleared his throat awkwardly.

‘You have a problem with this, friend Eadulf?’ the King wanted to know.

‘Brehon Aillín should be at your side during the visit by this deputation. Won’t it look strange if your Chief Brehon is absent?’

Colgú made a dismissive gesture. ‘I want someone I can trust, someone without prejudice. Moreover, someone forward-looking rather than the pedant and conservative that Aillín is.’

‘He will not take kindly to being dismissed,’ Fidelma warned.

‘I do not like doing it,’ confessed her brother. ‘But it is one of the responsibilities of kingship.’

‘It is up to you who you appoint to advise you, but it is the Council of Brehons who must appoint their Chief Brehon,’ repeated Fidelma.

‘The Council appointed Áedo as Chief Brehon,’ replied Colgú. ‘When Áedo was killed a few months ago while trying to save me from that murderous assassin, Aillín took over the office because the Council had made him deputy out of respect for his age and service. They did it as an honour for his age, not expecting him to accede to the office. Now it is time they convened and a new Chief Brehon was appointed.’

Abbot Ségdae smiled meditatively at Fidelma. ‘You stood against Áedo for the position last time.’

Fidelma replied, without amusement, ‘That is true. But it taught me that being Chief Brehon was not the position I thought it would be. I need to be involved in administering the law. A Chief Brehon spends most of their time administering the work of judges and lawyers throughout the kingdom and dealing with complaints and appeals. They become removed from the people — and it is with the people that my strength lies. I am content to remain an advocate.’

Eadulf disguised the relief that he felt at her words. For a while he had wondered if Fidelma would seize the opportunity to apply again for election before the Council of the senior Brehons of the kingdom. If truth were told, he had been delighted when she was rejected in favour of Áedo.

‘Well, we must ask the Brehons to convene their Council soon,’ Colgú decided. ‘I will send a messenger to let the leading Brehons know of my request.’

‘What of Brehon Aillín? How is he to be told?’ Fidelma asked, still concerned.

‘I will have a private talk with him,’ Colgú assured her. ‘He is a widower but his daughter and her husband have a farmstead south of Rath na Drinne. He will be well looked after.’

‘He might not accept this without protest,’ Fidelma said anxiously.

‘But accept it he must,’ Colgú replied, his voice firm. ‘Now we all have much work to do. Keep me informed of the events of your investigation.’

He rose, indicating their meeting was over.

Outside the King’s chamber, Fidelma seemed dispirited. ‘I wish there was some more pleasant way to end Aillín’s career. After all, he was not always an aging curmudgeon. Many young lawyers learned from him.’

‘It is out of our hands now,’ Eadulf responded philosophically.

Fidelma did not reply for a moment. Then she said: ‘Let us go in search of Gormán and see if has come up with anything. With luck, someone saw something around the storehouse.’