Peter Tremayne - Hemlock at Vespers

Ornait was smiling through her tears.

“I knew Ailill could not have done this deed. The real perpetrator did this deed for the purpose of making Ailill seem the guilty one. Your reputation as a solver of puzzles is well justified, Sister Fidelma.”

Sister Fidelma responded with a slightly wan smile.

“It needed no act of genius to deduce that the evidence could only point to the fact the Ailill Flann Esa could not have stolen the sword in the manner claimed.”

Ailill was frowning at Sister Fidelma.

“Then who is the guilty person?”

“Certain things seemed obvious. Who benefited from the deed?” Sister Fidelma continued, ignoring his question. “Abbot Colmán is a fierce adherent of Rome. He might benefit in this cause if Sech-nasach was removed. And Abbot Colmán was in the right place at the right time. He had the opportunity to do this deed.”

“This is outrageous!” snarled the Abbot. “I am accused unjustly. I am your superior, Fidelma of Kildare. I am the Abbot of Tara and…”

Sister Fidelma grimaced. “I need not be reminded of your position in the Church, Abbot Colmán,” she replied softly. “I also remind you that I speak here as an advocate of the Brehon Court and was invited here to act in this position by yourself.”

Colmán, flushed and angry, hesitated and then said slowly:

“I make no secret of my adherence to the Rome order but to suggest that I would be party to such a plot-”

Sister Fidelma held up a hand and motioned him to silence.

“This is true enough. After all, Ailill would be Colmán’s natural ally. If Colmán stole the sword, why would he attempt to put the blame onto Ailill and perhaps discredit those who advocated the cause of Rome? Surely, he would do his best to support Ailill so that when civil strife arose over the non-production of the sacred sword, Ailill, as Tanist, the heir presumptive, would be in a position to immediately claim the throne of Sechnasach?”

“What are you saying?” asked Sechnasach, trying to keep track of Sister Fidelma’s reasoning.

Sister Fidelma turned to him, her blue eyes level, her tone unhurried.

“There is another factor in this tale of political intrigue. Cernach Mac Diarmuid. His name was mentioned to me several times as a fierce adherent of Rome.”

The young man who had so far stood aloof and frowning, now started, his cheeks reddening. A hand dropped to his side as if seeking a weapon. But no one, save the High King’s bodyguard, was allowed to carry a weapon in Tara’s halls.

“What do you mean by this?”

“Cernach desired the throne of Tara. As son of one of the joint High Kings, he felt that it was his due. But moreover, he would benefit most if both Sechnasach and Ailill were discredited.”

“Why…” Cernach started forward, anger on his face. One of the warriors gripped the young man’s arm so tightly that he winced. He turned and tried to shake off the grip but made no further aggressive move.

Sister Fidelma spoke to one of the guards.

“Is the warrior, Erc, outside?”

The guard moved to the door and called.

The burly warrior entered holding something wrapped in cloth. He glanced at Sister Fidelma and nodded briefly.

Sister Fidelma turned back to the High King.

“Sechnasach, I ordered this man, Erc, to search the chamber of Cernach.”

Cernach’s face was suddenly bloodless. His eyes were bright, staring at the object in Erc’s hand.

“What did you find there, Erc?” asked Sister Fidelma quietly.

The warrior moved forward to the High King’s seat, unwrapping the cloth as he did so. He held out the uncovered object. In his hands there was revealed a sword of rich gold and silver mountings, encrusted with a colorful display of jewels.

“The Caladchalog!” gasped the High King. “The sword of state!”

“It’s a lie! A lie!” cried Cernach, his lips trembling. “It was planted there. She must have planted it there!”

He threw out an accusing finger toward Sister Fidelma. Sister Fidelma simply ignored him.

“Where did you find this, Erc?”

The burly warrior licked his lips. It was clear he felt awkward in the presence of the High King.

“It was lying wrapped in cloth under the bed of Cernach, the son of Diarmuid,” he replied, brusquely.

Everyone’s eyes had fallen on the trembling young man.

“Was it easy to find, Erc?” asked Sister Fidelma.

The burly warrior managed a smile. “Almost too easy.”

“Almost too easy,” repeated Sister Fidelma with a soft emphasis.

“Why did you do this deed, Cernach Mac Diarmuid?” thundered Sechnasach. “How could you behave so treacherously?”

“But Cernach did not do it.”

Fidelma’s quiet voice caused everyone to turn back to stare at her in astonishment.

“Who then, if not Cernach?” demanded the High King in bewilderment.

“The art of deduction is a science as intricate as any of the mysteries of the ancients,” Sister Fidelma commented with a sigh. “In this matter I found myself dealing with a mind as complicated in thinking and as ruthless in its goal as any I have encountered. But then the stake was the High Kingship of Ireland.”

She paused and gazed around at the people in the chamber, letting her eyes finally rest on Sechnasach.

“There has been one thing which has been troubling me from the start. Why I was called to Tara to investigate this matter? My poor reputation in law is scarcely known out of the boundaries of Holy Brigid’s house at Kildare. In Tara, at the seat of the High Kings, there are many better qualified in law, many more able dálaigh of the Brehon Courts, many more renowned Brehons. The Abbot Colmán admitted that someone had told him about me for he did not know me. I have had a growing feeling that I was being somehow used. But why? For what purpose? By whom? It seemed so obvious that Ailill was demonstrably innocent of the crime. Why was it obvious?”

Ailill started, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her. Sister Fi-delma continued oblivious of the tension in the chamber.

“Abbot Colmán summoned me hither. He had much to gain from this affair, as we have discussed. He also had the opportunity to carry out the crime.”

“That’s not true!” cried the Abbot.

Sister Fidelma turned and smiled at the ruddy-faced cleric.

“You are right, Colmán. And I have already conceded that fact. You did not do it.”

“But the sword was found in Cernach’s chamber,” Sechnasach pointed out. “He must surely be guilty.”

“Several times I was pointed toward Cernach as a vehement advocate of Roman reforms. A youthful hothead, was one description. Several times I was encouraged to think that the motive lay in replacing Sechnasach, a traditionalist, with someone who would encourage those reforms. And, obligingly, the sword was placed in Cernach’s chamber by the real culprit, for us to find. To Cernach my footsteps were carefully pointed… But why Cer-nach? He was not even of the age of choice, so what could he gain?”

There was a silence as they waited tensely for her to continue.

“Abbot Colmán told me that Cernach was a supporter of Rome. So did Ailill and so did Ornait. But Ornait was the only one who told me that Cernach desired the throne, even though unable to do so by his age. Ornait also told me that he would be of age within a month.”

Sister Fidelma suddenly wheeled round on the girl.

“Ornait was also the only person who knew of my reputation as a solver of mysteries. Ornait told the Abbot and encouraged him to send for me. Is this not so?”

She glanced back to Abbot Colmán who nodded in confusion.

Ornait had gone white, staring at Sister Fidelma.

“Are you saying that I stole the sword?” she whispered with ice in her voice.