Peter Tremayne - The Leper's bell

‘It was. And that was why I assumed that her dead child was his. I had not realised what time had passed … Ah! Well, too late to dwell on past mistakes. Things become clearer.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You may have to come to the palace, Delia, and give your evidence before the Brehon. Will you do that?’

‘If it helps to identify who killed Sárait and who was behind your baby’s going missing all this time.’

Fidelma rose and smiled. ‘If my suspicions are correct, we will soon identify that person. The question will be whether we can convict them.’

She suddenly frowned, holding her head to one side. There was a snuffling outside, and the whimpering of a dog. Both she and Delia went to the door. A brown wire-haired hound was digging away in a corner. Fidelma had seen it before.

Delia opened her mouth to shout to scare it away but Fidelma stayed her. The hound was throwing up earth in a feverish attempt to dig something up. Then with a yelp of triumph its muzzle went down and it drew something from the hole. It described a crazy circle and then, as if in a gesture of victory, it threw the object up in the air and caught it again.

Fidelma went into a crouching position and called in coaxing fashion to the dog, stretching out her hands. The animal bounded over and dropped the item at her feet, then backed away, head down, paws splayed, obviously expecting her to throw it for it to retrieve again. Instead, she rose to her feet and turned the earth-soiled object over in her hands.

It was a baby’s shoe, the companion of the one that had been brought to her by Gormán. It was Alchú’s missing shoe.

Fidelma had seen something else in the hole and she walked over to it, accompanied by the yapping dog, and stared down. Then she bent and began to pull some material out of the earth. It was green and red silk and was obviously a cloak with hood attached. She glanced back to where Delia stood.

Delia was staring at it, her facing seeming to drain of blood.

Fidelma stared at her long and hard.

‘I think that you had better walk back with me to the palace, Delia. We have much to talk over.’

The great hall of the palace of Cashel was thronged with people. The Brehon Baithen had arrived from Lios Mhór and Colgú, in agreement with Fidelma, had announced that a special court would be held which would clarify the abduction of Alchú and the murder of Sárait. It seemed that the whole of Cashel and the surrounding countryside had come to hear the new Chief Brehon of Muman give judgement in the matter.

The witnesses had been gathered and seated. Forindain the dwarf, Corb and Corbnait, Nessán and Muirgen, Conchoille the woodsman; everyone who had been connected with the events was packed into the great hall. Delia was there, sitting grim-faced, and next to her, looking equally grim, was Gormán. Gobnat, Sárait’s sister, was also there, glowering at Delia. Her husband Capa, as guard commander, was in charge of the warriors, with Caol at his side. Even the old apothecary, Conchobar, who never attended such hearings unless absolutely necessary, had come to see the proceedings.

The guards had also led in Fiachrae of Cnoc Loinge, now a prisoner, who would later have to answer charges of betraying the Eóghanacht and working with the Uí Fidgente to overthrow Colgú. Enough witnesses had now come forward to make the case against him certain.

By special invitation of the king, Conrí was there with his Uí Fidgente warriors, towards whom many dirty looks were cast and muttering threats made. Even the old Brehon Dathal had entered the hall and made for the seat of the Chief Brehon before an embarrassed rechtaire or steward had guided him to a side chair.

Fidelma and Eadulf had already taken their seats just to the left of the chairs of office that the king, the tanist and the Chief Brehon would occupy. Cerball the bard, and Bishop Ségdae, had taken their seats. Then the rechtaire banged his staff of office and everyone rose as Colgú, Finguine and Brehon Baithen entered and seated themselves.

A ripple of expectation ran through the hall before Colgú raised his hand for silence. He waited until the hush descended.

‘There is no need for me to explain why we are gathered nor what has happened these last two weeks. It is my duty to welcome the Brehon Baithen to my court and proclaim his office as the new Chief Brehon of the kingdom. Brehon Dathal, who has held that office since my father’s day, has decided that it is now time to give way to a new and younger judge, having served us long and well in that position. We wish him prosperity in his new life and assure him that we will call upon him when appropriate to share with us his wisdom and advise us in our future affairs.’

Rumours about Brehon Dathal’s retirement had already spread and the announcement was not new to those present.

The king then deferred to his new Chief Brehon.

While Baithen was of middle age, he had an almost ageless face. His skin was fresh and unblemished and his hair was of a golden corn colour. He was a fleshy, jocular-looking man, whose bright eyes twinkled as if he found the proceedings humorous.

This hearing is a legal one and I will tolerate no demonstrations. Nor will I tolerate disrespect for the law, its officers or the solemnity of the occasion.’ His features seemed to belie that very solemnity. ‘So let us to the business of the day. Fidelma of Cashel will be our guide.’

Fidelma rose quickly and with a quick bow of her head towards the Brehon and her brother, in acknowledgement of their office, she turned to the gathering in the great hall.

‘You all know that my nurse Sárait was murdered and that my baby son Alchú vanished for nearly two weeks. It was thought that he had been abducted and Sárait had been killed during the course of his abduction. Rumours circulated that it was a plot of the Uí Fidgente. This was not so. You all know Brother Eadulf, my dear companion and father of my child. He will now tell you the first part of the story, to demonstrate that our child was not abducted, but taken by accident. He will, I know, be modest, but he put his own life at risk in following our child to the Tower of Uaman and bringing him safely back to Cashel. Should proof of his adventures be demanded, witnesses sit in this very hall to confirm the facts.’

She turned to Eadulf who rose with some embarrassment and swiftly explained how he had discovered Alchú and brought the child back to Cashel. Fidelma smiled faintly in satisfaction as murmurs of approval echoed round the hall. When he reseated himself, she rose again.

‘Should any point of the story be challenged, we have gathered witnesses to confirm it,’ she said to Brehon Baithen. ‘Gormán sits there, as does Brother Basil Nestorios, who needs must give his statements in Latin; also the itinerant herbalist Corb and his wife, and the shepherd Nessán and his wife. All will confirm Eadulf’s tale.’

Brehon Baithen asked if anyone would challenge the story but no one did, and so the judge urged Fidelma to continue.

‘Now, those among you who have followed the proceedings may realise that this leaves a mystery. If Alchú was not abducted, if his intended abduction was not the cause of Sárait’s being enticed out of the palace, then she was the victim. It was her death that was the object of the plot. Why and who plotted it, those are the questions we must answer today.’

She paused, sweeping her gaze across the expectant faces before her.

‘It will be simplest if I take everyone through a sad story from the beginning. There were two sisters. I shall name them — Gobnat and Sárait. Sárait was the younger of the two. Both had married warriors of the élite bodyguard of the kings of Cashel. As you will know, one married Capa, our current commander of the guard who stands there. One married Callada who was killed at Cnoc Áine. Someone looked upon Sárait’s marriage to Callada with jealousy for they were filled with lust for her. She rejected his advances, for she was happy with Callada.’