Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

‘Gorman came here to warn Prince Donennach but, as he could not identify the noble, he kept that matter back to seek further advice. By coincidence, having heard that Abbot Segdae was staying here, Gorman, who knew him well, went to see him for that advice. Meanwhile, the prince sent for his warlord, Conri, to organise his troops against Glaed.

‘The plot was so complicated that I have had to consider whether I should begin with the act itself or with the conspirators – or even with the motivation of those conspirators.’ She decided: ‘I shall begin with the act.’

In the deathly silence that had settled in the hall, Eadulf could imagine one might hear a beetle scuttling over the floor.

‘Gorman went to see Abbot Segdae as a friend to ask what he should do about a conspiracy involving a noble of Prince Donennach’s house. It was nothing to do with Prince Donennach dismissing his warning about Glaed. Stories that the prince had done so and thus angered Gorman were completely untrue. It was a lie that was purposely told to Brother Mael Anfaid, who then told Ciarnat so that it would create a picture of a man in frustration and anger entering the abbot’s chamber. It was a weak attempt at a motive.

‘Gorman entered the chamber and almost immediately the plot swung into action. The door had been left unlocked. The killer entered immediately behind Gorman. It was said that if the killer had been behind Gorman, the abbot would have seen him and uttered a warning.’

There were mutterings of agreement from some of the witnesses.

‘Well, the abbot did see his killer and was not alarmed, for that person had every right to be there. We are told that the abbot said, “Oh yes, you want these?” and glanced down at his table. That was the last thing Gorman remembered before he received a blow on the head – back or side, it had the same effect. He was knocked out.

‘This tells me that Segdae knew the person who had entered the chamber and was standing behind Gorman. Not only did he know the person, but it was someone who the abbot thought had come to pick up some document or letters. He looked for them on his table – hence his words.

‘As Gorman fell unconscious, the assailant went forward and stabbed the abbot to death. Then the scene was arranged. The dagger was placed by Gorman’s hand and the abbot’s staff was prominently set so that it looked as if he had tried to defend himself, managing to stun Gorman before he succumbed to death. Eadulf and I examined that staff and realised it could not have been the weapon that knocked Gorman out for it was incapable of inflicting the injury in the manner he received it. Having arranged the scene, the assailant left.’

‘The main weakness in your account, Fidelma,’ interrupted Brehon Faolchair, ‘is that the door of the chamber had been locked from the inside. There was nowhere to hide when Segdae’s steward and the warrior Lachtna burst into the locked chamber. Lachtna found the key behind the door where it must have fallen when the door was forced open.’

‘The door was locked from the outside,’ Fidelma contradicted with confidence.

‘But the key was on the inside!’ Lachtna shouted from his seat. ‘I found it. Do you call me a liar?’

He was immediately rebuked for the interruption by Brehon Faolchair, who said to Fidelma, ‘The key was certainly found on the inside of the locked chamber. You will have to explain this miracle.’

‘It was no miracle,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘It was a clever idea but not clever enough. The door was old and had several knot-holes in it. I borrowed the key from you, Brehon Faolchair, to experiment with my idea. Sure enough, I was able to close the door, push the key through a knot-hole and find it fallen in exactly the same place where Lachtna found it – where he was meant to find it by the real killer.’

‘You said the abbot’s staff could not have knocked Gorman out,’ Brehon Faolchair said, when he could make himself heard above the noisy reaction of the gathering.

‘True. Another mistake by the killer. Had the silver top impacted on the flesh hard enough to render Gorman senseless, it would have lacerated the skin and caused much bloodshed. In fact, there was just a bump and a bruise, as witnesses swore – but no blood. Had the wooden end been used, then such a blow would have splintered it. This did not happen. The staff was made of a thin yew wood.’ Again she paused before announcing, ‘I can tell you that the actual implement that knocked Gorman unconscious was a blackthorn stick.’ She glanced at Prior Cuan. ‘I am afraid it was Prior Cuan’s blackthorn stick.’

Prior Cuan turned a shocked face to her.

‘Are you accusing …?’ he gasped, becoming speechless.

‘No, of course not,’ she said at once. ‘You have two sticks, so you told me. One is the knob-headed blackthorn and the other is of chestnut wood. Can you remember which one you were using, the evening Abbot Segdae was killed?’

Cuan glanced down at his stick with a puzzled frown. It was Brehon Faolchair who intervened.

‘I must bear witness here, for on that evening Prior Cuan was discussing some matters with me. I remember I had previously seen him with a blackthorn – but that evening he was using the stick he carries now, which is made of chestnut wood.’

‘That blackthorn was left in your chamber that evening,’ Fidelma nodded. ‘You had left it leaning in a corner. You have a habit of leaving whichever one of your sticks that does not come readily to hand propped up in a corner when you leave your chamber. It was so easy for the killer to pick it up, use it and replace it in your chamber afterwards.’

‘A plausible story – but without witnesses it is still conjecture,’ warned Brehon Faolchair.

‘We will get there,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Yet it is a long and complicated path that I have had to travel. Very well we have done with the “how” and we must turn our attention to the “why” before we come to the “who”. As I have said, these events were part of a conspiracy to draw the Ui Fidgente into war – either among themselves or with Cashel. In whichever case, this would ensure that Prince Donennach would be perceived as a weak ruler and one that needed to be replaced.’

‘So you are claiming that Abbot Nannid was behind this?’ intervened Prince Donennach. ‘He is of the bloodline and yet was the person stirring up the dissension?’

‘He certainly became the obvious suspect,’ Fidelma said. As the abbot started to rise from his seat, his face choleric, she smiled cynically and went on, ‘But he was too obvious. Abbot Nannid is not a subtle man. It is true that he is a descendant of the Ui Choirpi Aebda and therefore could claim to be a legitimate successor to Prince Donennach. But, as we know, Nannid is also a religious fanatic. He holds these new Penitential concepts dear. He has demonstrated that he does not accept the laws of this country – therefore why would he accept its laws of succession?’

‘I protest!’ shouted Nannid.

‘Your protest will be noted but, for the moment, it is the truth that we are after,’ replied Brehon Faolchair. He motioned Fidelma to continue.

‘We now know that Nannid was dismissed as Abbot of Mungairit six months ago after the first conspiracy was discovered at that abbey. At the same time, Brother Cuineain was also dismissed as steward. I had not judged them guilty of involvement in that conspiracy but only being ignorant of it. The council of the abbey later decided that this brought the abbey into disrepute and thus they were both dismissed from office and sent into exile. But note – the council only dismissed them because of bias and incompetence, not because of conspiracy.

‘The council at Mungairit also imposed a fine on you, Nannid. Let me guess. Was it not a fine which you then raised by demanding monies from the community of Nechta here? You arranged to take the sum to Brother Feradach of Mungairit at a rendezvous – the Hill of Truth.’