The Leper's Bell (43 page)

It was clear that Brehon Baithen was irritated by this intervention, but before he could remonstrate Fidelma replied: ‘Then let me continue and I will answer them.’

‘Indeed,’ Brehon Baithen said quickly. ‘We will hear what the learned
dálaigh
has to say, as is custom in
my
court, Dathal.’

‘Like all plans,’ Fidelma went on, ‘Gobnat’s plan went awry. First, Sárait came to her sister’s dwelling with Alchú. She thought that while she carried the child with her, Capa would not attack her again. She knew that even in his perverted lust he would never endanger an Eóghanacht baby. He was, strangely, a loyal servant of my family. Gobnat had no such loyalty - only hatred.

‘Although Gobnat planned to kill her sister in cold blood, the murder was done in a fit of rage. The number of knife wounds demonstrates that. How she must have hated Sárait. She struck her again and again in her fury. The head wound occurred when Sárait fell, striking her head against a small cauldron by the fireplace that I noticed had been dented. At least that is my guess. The murder, I believe, was done in Gobnat’s house. Where else would Sárait go in response to an urgent message from her sister but to her sister’s house? Gobnat’s aim was to hide the body at Delia’s house so that it would be found with the cloak. But before she could do so, Capa, her husband, came home. Capa was no angel and he knew what would happen to him if Gobnat was caught and told her reasons. He now had to get rid of Sárait’s body and little Alchú.

‘Something prevented him from taking the body to Delia’s house, and hence the first flaw in the plot. The other thing was that by some strange morality he could not bring himself to kill the baby. Sárait had been right. He could not do it directly, but he left the child in the woods to die.’

Capa was standing up to protest. His face was pale and the muscles were twitching around his mouth.

‘This is a fantasy! Where is your proof?’

‘When we first start on the path of deceit we have to weave through many side paths. We keep having to cover the original lie by more lies. And more actions. You took the body of Sárait into the woods where Conchoille, the woodsman, later found her. When you simply left the baby elsewhere for the beasts to devour, you did not realise that Corb and Corbnait were nearby. They took the child away with them, believing it to be simply abandoned.

‘You had probably not long returned to your home when Conchoille, who knew Sárait, came running to say he had found her body. You then went through the motions of being an outraged brother-in-law. Gobnat, meanwhile, had to bury the cloak in her own yard for the time being because the discovery of the murder and Alchú’s being missing made it difficult to do anything else.

‘This is where Capa began to act on his own to cover up this terrible affair. He feared the dwarf Forindain could identify Gobnat, and while we were searching for the dwarf in Cnoc Loinge he came across the person he thought was Forindain and killed him. That was a mistake.

‘Gobnat also made a mistake. She had succumbed to Capa’s insistence
that they lay another false trail. He had her write a ransom note that would point to Uí Fidgente involvement. The three Uí Fidgente chiefs were to be released in return for Alchú. It was a good idea to do it while Capa was away at Imleach and Cnoc Loinge. But Capa had not realised that we would demand evidence that the person who wrote the note held Alchú. After the meeting when we decided to ask for evidence, he was sent to get a herald’s standard from a room near our chamber and took the opportunity to snatch a pair of baby shoes from our chest. When the shoe was presented as evidence I did not realise that Eadulf had seen it in the chest of clothes well after the abduction. Alchú had not been wearing them. They had been taken long afterwards.

‘I was confused at first by the fact that we found Gormán outside our chamber door at that time. So when Eadulf pointed out that Gormán could not have had the opportunity to take the baby shoes, I asked him how could he be sure.’ She glanced at Eadulf, who took up the story.

‘A servant was inside our chamber preparing it for the evening. If Gormán had just emerged from the chamber she would have seen him. But there had been time for Capa to slip inside and grab the shoes before she entered the room. He did so hurriedly, leaving a piece of clothing trailing out under the lid. Which we wrongly blamed the servant for doing. That was another mistake.’

‘It is still all surmise,’ Brehon Baithen pointed out.

‘Yet this surmise fell into place when Gobnat made a major slip,’ replied Fidelma. She turned towards Capa’s wife with a soft smile of triumph.

Gobnat was concentrating with a frown, trying to remember what she had said.

‘I was in your house the other night looking for Conchoille. You and Capa seemed worried by your dog’s digging in the yard.’

‘Why shouldn’t we be annoyed at the dog?’

‘No one had mentioned or described the cloak worn by the woman who sent the message to the palace that night. Only Forindain, whom you thought dead, had seen it and described it. Only Delia and myself knew the description of the cloak, and only we two knew that it was missing from her trunk … and, of course, one other person - the person who stole it and was wearing it when she gave the false message to Forindain.

‘Thinking that Forindain had been killed, you turned to me and said:
“Perhaps some other person will be able to identify the woman who pretended to be me. It should be easy to find someone who wears such a distinctive cloak.” Those were your exact words.’

Gobnat shrugged. ‘So what? Forindain, as you say, was not killed. He described to you the cloak that the woman who sent him to the palace had been wearing and it was a cloak belonging to that whore…’ She was indicating Delia when she stopped. She blinked as she realised what she had said.

Fidelma continued calmly. ‘No one, at that time, had mentioned anything about a woman in a distinctive cloak. How could Gobnat know, unless…?’ She left the question hanging in the air.

There was a moment’s silence and then Capa rose. His voice came out in a scream of rage.

‘It was her … her…’ he yelled, pointing to his wife. ‘She did it and what could I do but protect her? I am not responsible for the deed. I am innocent of it. My role was to protect her…’

Gobnat collapsed as the realisation of her situation dawned on her.

When some order had been restored, Brehon Baithen turned to Fidelma.

‘You said, however, that a dog had solved the puzzle. How was this?’

‘It was Capa’s hound that brought it all together,’ Fidelma agreed solemnly.

Brehon Baithen raised his eyebrows in query. ‘I do not see…’

‘First, when Forindain was called by the woman standing in the shadows, a hound had leapt, probably in play, at him. But the woman called it away. That of itself was nothing. Then, what woke Corb and Corbnait in the wood and led them to find Alchú abandoned there? It was the howling of a hound and the sound of someone calling it away. When I saw Capa’s hound digging in the yard, I was surprised that it seemed to upset both Capa and Gobnat. I suspect that it was where Gobnat initially hid the cloak and the remaining baby shoe. That night, Gobnat dug them up and did what she had initially intended - she waited until dark and reburied them in Delia’s yard. She could not have planned it better, for I was there when the hound came along and dug them up again. But why would a hound dig up these particular clothes? The answer was that Gobnat had worn them and her scent, which the hound recognised, was on them. That is what attracted the dog to them.’

‘A most complicated business, Fidelma,’ mused Brehon Baithen. ‘You,
and of course Brother Eadulf, are to be congratulated on bringing this matter to a successful conclusion.’

Fidelma suddenly grinned; it was her mischievous grin. It had been a long time since she had been able to grin.

‘I think the hound deserves the congratulations. Sometimes dogs are more intelligent than humans.’

Two days later, Fidelma and Eadulf sat stretched before the hearth in their chamber. A fire crackled, keeping out the winter chills. They both sipped mulled wine from goblets replenished from a pottery jug, which stood warming by the fire. Little Alchú was peacefully asleep in a corner of the room. Suddenly, Fidelma uttered a deep sigh.

‘
Si finis bonus est, totum bonum erit.
’ she said quietly. ‘I remember saying that to Gormán before we started out to Imleach.’

‘If the end is good, everything will be good. What is happening with Gormán and Delia?’

‘Gormán will overcome his sorrow, for that is the way of things. He has no reason to be ashamed of Delia for she is a good mother and a good friend.’

‘
Haec olim meminisse iuvabit
,’ muttered Eadulf. Time, indeed, was a great healer and most wounds could be healed by its passage. ‘But there is still something that I do not understand. Do you remember when we discussed matters with the council I said that the first mystery was why Sárait took our baby with her that night when she could have left him with one of several women in the palace? And you agreed with me. Yet you said at the hearing that she thought Alchú would protect her from harm. How did you know that?’

‘Like most things, the answer was simple,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Delia confirmed that after Sárait had been raped - by Capa, as we now know - she feared further harm. She believed that no harm would come to her while she was looking after the king’s nephew. Mistakenly she thought the rank of the child would protect her. Hatred is a great leveller. Gobnat hated her too much to let that stand in the way.’

‘And Conrí and his men have departed for their home?’ Eadulf said, after a moment or so of reflection.

Fidelma confirmed it with a nod of her head.

‘Let us hope that some period of peace may now begin between our peoples. And your friend Brehon Dathal has now officially retired to his
little rath by the River Suir,’ she added mischievously. Eadulf pulled a face that set her laughing. ‘Anyway, Brehon Baithen is a good man. He will serve my brother well. And so will Caol as new commander of his guard. And tomorrow we are invited to the fair on the green below to see Forindain and his company of
crossan
play the story of the Faylinn. If there is someone who deserves our sympathy it is the little dwarf who lost his brother. Capa has much to answer for.’

‘Yet slaughter is a warrior’s philosophy and art,’ pointed out Eadulf. ‘We train warriors to kill on our behalf in order to protect our society and us. But in creating the killing instinct in the warrior, surely we create something that is not easily controlled. A warrior can as easily kill on his own behalf, when he feels there is cause, as he can kill for his chief’s cause. Telling a man raised in the philosophy of slaughter not to kill is like telling a bird not to fly. It becomes his first choice as a reaction and not his last. That was Capa’s way of trying to protect himself and Gobnat.’

Fidelma was not convinced.

‘Not all warriors are like that. I have known many who are honourable.’

‘Perhaps. But are they exceptions or the rule? Many are not so honourable and we should not be surprised when they show their nature.’

‘In that case perhaps my brother should not have handed over Cuirgí and Cuán to Conrí. They are certainly trained killers. Of all of them, I felt only Crond had some saving grace, but in the end even he would have killed me.’

‘Which proves my point. Anyway, Conrí is going to have them tried by the Brehon of the Uí Fidgente so that they can be stripped of their chieftainships. He feels that it is a way to heal the wounds between his people and yours.’

‘Let us hope so.’

‘And what of Muirgen and Nessán?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘When do they head back to Sliabh Mis?’

‘If you agree, they will not. I was going to bring this up later. Muirgen will make a very good nurse to young Alchú and my brother has herds on the slopes of Maoldomhnach’s Hill that need a good pastor.’

Eadulf’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘Have they agreed to this?’

Fidelma gave a gesture of affirmation.

‘We now await your approval of the idea. If so, Nessán can head back to Sliabh Mis to make the necessary arrangements for closing their
homestead and dispersing their flock before rejoining his wife. Muirgen seems to have taken to life in Cashel with some enthusiasm. And perhaps we can find an orphan for them to foster as their own as well. Perhaps someone for Alchú to go into fosterage with.’

‘Fosterage?’ Eadulf frowned.

‘You know our laws now, Eadulf. When Alchú reaches the age of seven we must send him to fosterage until he is seventeen. Under the law, we must send him to some chieftain or learned person who will tend to his welfare and education. This is our custom, intended to make our people strong by creating bonds between families.’

‘Have I nothing to say in the matter?’ Eadulf felt a pang of his old frustration.

‘Not under our law,’ she replied gently. ‘Alchú is the son of a
eu glas
, a foreign father, and therefore it is up to me as mother to make the arrangements for fosterage. It is our custom and our law.’

‘Which raises a point…’ began Eadulf.

‘It does,’ said Fidelma, looking suddenly serious. ‘In a few days’ time, our trial marriage comes to an end. The year and a day is up and I shall no longer be a
ben charrthach
and you will cease to be my
fer comtha
”

Eadulf knew the terms well. He waited silently. He had known for some time that this day would come.

‘Well, Eadulf, we must make a decision. Do you want me to become a
cétmuintir
?’

Eadulf looked at her. He realised that she was smiling. A
cétmuintir
was the first contracted wife. The partner of a permanent relationship. Eadulf put down his goblet of wine and reached out both his hands to her with a growing look of amazement.

‘Let’s talk about it,’ he said softly.

Historical Afterword