Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

‘I was confused. Was it either a badly executed attempt at disguising the murder, or it was done in an intentionally clumsy fashion so that it was easy to draw the conclusion that it was murder? The person who had killed Brother Mael Anfaid and then killed poor Ciarnat was the same person who had killed Abbot Segdae. But I think they were told exactly how to arrange Ciarnat’s death because the chief conspirator wanted me to think that it was a badly executed disguise of a murder and would thus implicate the second conspirator.’

‘You have now mentioned two conspirators,’ Brehon Faolchair observed. ‘Are you drawing close to naming those responsible?’

‘I am,’ stated Fidelma, as a wave of murmuring swept the hall.

‘So let us get down to identities. Who is the killer of Abbot Segdae, Brother Mael Anfaid and the girl, Ciarnat? Who would then be expendable in the eyes of the leading conspirator?

‘I said at the start that if Gorman had not killed Abbot Segdae, there was only one other logical culprit.’

She now looked across at the pale face of the steward of the Abbey of Imleach. The tall, muscular man rose from his seat with a cry of rage but found Socht at his side with a drawn sword.

‘More often than not, the truth is in the obvious,’ Fidelma said. ‘Brother Tuaman took Gorman into the abbot’s chamber. He pretended to leave but went outside, grabbed Prior Cuan’s blackthorn from his chamber and returned. The abbot thought he had come back for some papers, so he looked down at his desk and uttered those words: “Oh yes, you want these.” It was then that Brother Tuaman hit Gorman before stabbing the abbot and arranging the murder scene. He locked the door, posted the key through the knot-hole and then called Lachtna, the guard outside, saying he had heard the sound of arguing and a noise like a body falling. What followed was a logic based on these lies.’

‘Can I ask a question?’ It was Gorman who sought permission of Brehon Faolchair before he turned to Fidelma.

‘I understand from what you say that Abbot Segdae was lured here to be killed in order to start a conflict. But I came here purely by chance. I had just arrived at the fortress and no one expected me. How, then, was I drawn into this?’

‘A good point,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘As you say, it was pure chance. The conspirators would doubtless have arranged for someone else to be blamed. I suspect that it would have been Prior Cuan whom they chose. But what better than the commander of the King of Cashel’s bodyguard to be seen as the murderer? It was a great opportunity for them that you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

Brehon Faolchair was regarding the steward of the Abbey of Imleach thoughtfully. ‘So it would also be Brother Tuaman who told Brother Mael Anfaid that you, Fidelma, were abandoning the case? His word would have been trusted implicitly by the young scribe. Certainly, Brother Tuaman is a tall man and one of some strength, which would have been needed in arranging Ciarnat’s hanging.’

‘It was felt that I was already dangerously near working out the reality of the situation,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘A distraction was needed which would confirm the guilt of Gorman. What better than if he escaped, even for a short period? It would serve as a definitive confirmation of guilt.’

‘So Brother Mael Anfaid would have no cause to believe his superior was lying and he duly passed the story on to Ciarnait,’ Brehon Faolchair summed up, clarifying the argument. ‘When that plan worked, both Mael Anfaid and Ciarnait needed to be silenced for they were the essential links to the source of the false story.’

Prior Cuan rose unsteadily from his seat, leaning forward on his stick. He seemed bewildered. ‘But Brother Tuaman is steward at Imleach and surely owed service to Abbot Segdae. Why would he become involved in this Ui Fidgente conspiracy?’

‘Because he was either fully or part Ui Fidgente. He told me that he had come from the Loch Lein area to the south of Sliabh Luachra. That is borderland between the Ui Fidgente and the territory of Congal of the Eoghanacht of Loch Lein. He studied at Inis Faithlian. Many Ui Fidgente studied there. It is one of the three great teaching abbeys in the area.’

‘You mention Inis Faithlian as if it had importance?’ the prior said.

‘I believe that is where Brother Tuaman met his fellow conspirator when they were students. Perhaps they formed a relationship there. Was that relationship used to inveigle him into this conspiracy once he arrived with Abbot Segdae? Perhaps it had even been arranged before he went to Imleach. Perhaps his task was to persuade Segdae to come here. Tuaman’s rise at Imleach was remarkably quick.’

‘We have heard that Brother Tuaman was one of the conspirators but he is in no way connected with the bloodline of the Ui Fidgente,’ Prince Donennach said. ‘Surely the very basis of the conspiracy that you are arguing rests on a person having the claim of succession if I were displaced?’

‘Now we have come to the heart of the matter.’ Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘You may have often heard me quote the wise Roman judge, Cicero. In dealing with all such mysteries as these I start with the question – cui bono? Who benefits?’

‘Who would benefit if Prince Donennach was overthrown in some coup?’ Brehon Faolchair said. ‘Nannid is the only possible claimant I know of, and he is now discredited from any office. He would not be acceptable. So there is no one.’

‘No one?’ queried Fidelma innocently. ‘Is there not one who has often been overlooked because the Ui Fidgente boasts a line of warrior princes? Is there not an heir apparent, a tanaise ?’

‘This is outrageous!’ Airmid, Donennach’s sister, had risen white-faced from her chair. ‘The woman lies – she is an Eoghanacht spy sent to sow dissension among us. Ceit, have your men arrest her!’

‘Airmid?’ Prince Donennach was clearly shocked to the core. ‘But that is ridiculous! She is my sister and cares nothing for matters of statecraft.’

‘She is also your heir apparent, the single eligible successor.’

‘It’s all up! She knows all!’ the burly figure of Brother Tuaman suddenly burst out. ‘Help me, Airmid. You have the power to save us both.’

‘Shut up, you fool. Can’t you see all this is just words – words and no substance. The woman is just an Eoghanacht bitch sent to … she can’t prove anything.’

‘Remember, Tuaman, she was prepared to sacrifice you,’ Fidelma said. ‘You would have been blamed for the murder of Ciarnat, and no doubt her idea was to blame you for all the deaths if anything went wrong.’

The steward collapsed back in his chair, muttering. Then he peered round helplessly. ‘I obeyed her – it was out of love. She promised to raise me by her side …’

‘I think confession counts as evidence,’ Brehon Faolchair said to Prince Donennach, his heart heavy for the young prince.

Suddenly, a knife appeared in Airmid’s hand – one of her sharp surgeon’s scalpels – and she had whirled round on her still-seated brother, who sat frozen in shock. She was in the act of throwing herself on him, her brother, screaming with hatred, when Ceit struck. Later, it emerged that he had merely meant to disarm her knife hand, at the very worst sever it. But Airmid was moving so swiftly, her right hand raised, that the sharp point of his sword went in, under the arm, through the ribcage and into her heart. Almost without a sound, the sister of Donennach collapsed to the floor at her brother’s feet, blood gushing from her hate-twisted mouth.

Prince Donennach sat paralysed with horror, looking down at his dead sister.