A Spark is Struck in Cruachan

by Bill Stackhouse

  “Yes. But, again, it’s no concern of yours.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’ve crossed into Callainn Shire. If there’s a murder to be investigated here, then, as Reeve of Callainn Shire, it’s my business to do the investigating. I also understand that you intend to question the blacksmith Colm. Well, that won’t be necessary. Turn over any evidence you have and I’ll take it from here. My deputies will escort you and your party back to the shire line.”

  “Where was this Tadhg killed, Reeve? Liam spoke up.

  “And what business would that be of yours, lad?” Parnell snapped.

  Pádraig could see the eyes of one of the Parnell’s deputies widen as the man suddenly recognized who had asked the question. “Your Highness!” he said, with a bow.

  His fellow deputy also made the connection and did likewise.

  “What?!” Parnell asked, turning to the two men, his dark eyes darting back and forth from one to the other.

  “This is Prince Liam,” Lorcan said with a slight smile. “Son of the High King. And I believe he asked you a question.”

  “Let me repeat it for you,” Liam said, spurring Máedóc right up to Parnell and getting directly in the little man’s stoat-like face. “Where was Tadhg murdered?”

  Despite the cool weather, beads of perspiration had begun to form on Parnell’s forehead. “I…I believe it was just outside the Central Federal Region, Your Highness.”

  “In which shire?” Liam persisted.

  “In…in…in Gabhrán Shire, Your Highness.”

  “In Gabhrán Shire,” Liam repeated, sarcastically. “And you’re the reeve of which shire, Parnell?”

  “Call…Callainn Shire, Your Highness.”

  “Hmm. Callainn Shire.”

  Liam turned his horse and circled around, rubbing his chin as if thinking. With his back to Parnell, he winked at Pádraig and said, “A murder is committed in Gabhrán Shire, one of the Northern Shires. The murdered man resided in Gabhrán Shire. The main suspect resides in Callainn Shire, another one of the Northern Shires. I don’t know all the shire chieftains personally, but because of their proximity to the Central Federal Region, I do happen to know the ones from Callainn and Gabhrán Shires. Paddy, what do you think the chieftains would say if we asked them which shire reeve should handle the investigation?”

  “My guess is that each chieftain would back his own shire reeve, Your Highness.”

  “As well they should. But I wonder what Cabhan, King of the Northern Shires, would say, or, for that matter, the High King?”

  Liam now faced Lorcan. “Here’s a thought. Since both kings are together at Dúnfort Cruachan, we could all ride over there and ask them. What do you think, Reeve?”

  Lorcan’s smile expanded.

  The prince circled Máedóc back to Parnell, who was now sweating profusely. “But if you ask me, my guess would be that both King Cabhan and the High King would say that it was up to the reeve of the shire where the crime was committed to investigate it.” He threw up his arms, melodramatically. “But what do I know. I’m just a mere lad, and it’s probably none of my business, anyway. What say you, Parnell? Should we ride over and bother the kings or shall we let Lorcan, here, continue with his investigation, unhindered?”

  “You…you’ll keep me informed?” Parnell squeaked out to Lorcan. If he had been a stoat, he would have tucked his tail between his legs and slinked off into the underbrush.

  The Reeve of Gabhrán Shire tossed him a bone and said, “Of course Parnell. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  “Th…thank you.” He bowed to Liam and said, “Your Highness!” and turned his horse off the road, signaling his deputies to do likewise.

  As Lorcan’s party passed, Pádraig, bringing up the rear, reined in Suibhne and asked the Reeve of Callainn Shire, “How did you find out about Tadhg’s murder?”

  “It’s all over the harbor,” the other man answered, condescendingly. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Pádraig directed another question to Parnell, “How did you know that Lorcan would be coming to talk to Colm?”

  Displeased at being questioned by a mere boy, the shire reeve simply locked eyes with Pádraig, but remained sullenly silent.

  From behind the young farrier, Liam cleared his throat.

  Parnell quickly glanced over at the prince, then returned his attention to Pádraig and reluctantly responded, “It’s what I’d do if our positions were reversed. Colm’s been quite vocal in his anger at not getting the farrier’s contract for the Northern Shires.”

  Favoring the other man with a slight smile and a wink, Pádraig said, “Since you know Colm so well, why don’t you come along with us while Lorcan questions him and we search his forge for the murder weapon?”

  “That won’t be nec—” Lorcan started.

  But Prince Liam cut him off with a whisper. “We’ve already made our point. Let’s not alienate him completely. We may need his services at a later date.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Lorcan replied, also in a whisper. “You’re correct, of course. Thank you.” To Parnell he called out, gesturing to the front of the party, “Lead on, Parnell, if you would be so kind. I’m sure you know the best way to get there.”

  As a pleased Reeve of Callainn Shire took over the lead, with Lorcan a half horse-length behind, followed by the four deputies, Liam waited for Pádraig.

  The young farrier, whose gift of an acute sense of hearing had allowed him to listen in on Liam’s whispered conversation with Lorcan, made a big production out of sniffing the air.

  “Is that the scent of politics, Your Highness?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

  The prince shrugged his shoulders. “It’s like I told you yesterday, Paddy. Sometimes you do things you don’t necessarily want to do for the sake of the greater good. It’s what holds the Confederation together.”

  “You practice the art very nimbly, Your Highness.”

  “Give me a break, will you?”

  While the two teenagers brought up the rear, Pádraig used the opportunity to outline his father’s plan. Although the addition of Parnell and his deputies complicated things somewhat, it also provided a logical reason for following Finbar’s strategy.

  “The two reeves apparently have some issues,” Pádraig said, trying to make his statement as non-judgmental as he could.

  “Issues,” Liam replied with a laugh. “They’re like a pair of fighting-cocks.”

  Pádraig couldn’t have asked for a better opening. “Apt description,” he said. “But it could cause problems once we get to Colm’s forge.”

  “How so?”

  “Lorcan has no other suspects and is certain that Colm is guilty. Parnell, on the other hand, is going to want to protect a resident of his own shire and is predisposed to believe that Colm is innocent. However, Liam,”—since they rode about two rods behind the others, Pádraig had dropped the formalities—you, as son of the High King have, as they say, no dog in this fight and are interested purely in justice, for both Tadhg and Colm.”

  The prince puffed himself up at the compliment and asked, “What do you suggest?”

  Pádraig ‘suggested’ the course of action as Finbar had outlined it, making one change. In addition to himself, Liam, and Lorcan, he added Parnell to the search party as another observer.

  “That’s pretty much what I was thinking, myself,” Liam lied. “Once we get to the forge, I’ll pull rank.”

  Birchday - Wolf 34th

  Callainn Shire

  As Lorcan and his party rode up to Colm’s forge, down near the tip of Callainn Shire by the harbor, Colm looked up from his anvil where he had been hammering a white-hot piece of metal that Pádraig could see would soon become half of a set of log-tongs for someone’s fireplace.

  The blacksmith rested the head of his cross-pein hammer on the anvil and smiled broadly.

  Pádraig thought it strange that, not only was Colm found working at his forge as if nothing had happened, bu
t that he didn’t seem to fear having two shire reeves and four deputies show up on his doorstep.

  As Da said, he thought, maybe Colm is innocent. Or perhaps he just doesn’t think that anyone can tie him to Tadhg’s murder.

  “Well, Parnell, I’m pretty sure I know what this is all about,” the blacksmith bellowed, good-naturedly. “Heard about poor Tadhg. A real shame. But now you’re in a bind, aren’t you, and so you sort through your reject pile because the king’s horses need tending to, heh?” He chuckled, then spread his arms wide and said, “As a loyal subject, I’m at your service.”

  “So glad to hear it,” Lorcan said to Colm. “I’m Lorcan, Reeve of Gabhrán Shire and I’m investigating Tadhg’s murder. I understand that you and Tadhg had an altercation last night at The Rope and Anchor.”

  “Parnell, what’s this all about?” Colm asked.

  The Reeve of Callainn Shire gave a brief glance at Liam, then said to the blacksmith, “Just answer his questions.”

  Looking around at the horsemen in his front yard, Colm’s eyes zeroed in on Pádraig and a scowl quickly took the smile’s place.

  “I see you’ve got Finbar’s whelp with you,” he growled, “so there’s no point in denying it. Yeah, Tadhg and me, we had an altercation, as you put it, but that’s all it was. I certainly didn’t kill him.” He reached for the handle of the cross-pein hammer, but it toppled to the ground just before he could grasp it.

  “Show off!” Liam whispered to Pádraig.

  “Where did you go after you left the tavern?” Lorcan asked.

  “Home,” Colm answered.

  “Anyone see you?”

  “The wife, when I got here.”

  “I mean before that. While you were in the Central Federal Region or as you crossed Gabhrán Shire.”

  “Didn’t cross Gabhrán Shire. Came home by way of the harbor.”

  “Anyone see you there?”

  “Dozens. At least.”

  Finally Parnell spoke up. “He’s answered your questions, Lorcan, but the pertinent one is, do you have anyone who says they saw him murder Tadhg? My guess is that the answer to that is ‘no.’”

  “Got that right,” Colm agreed, bending down and retrieving his hammer. “So leave my property and go do your investigating somewheres else.” Gesturing with the hammer, he yelled, “Get out! All of you! Now!”

  The deputies from Gabhrán Shire drew their short-swords and nudged their horses up next to Lorcan’s mount. In response, Parnell’s two deputies drew their swords as well and flanked their boss, facing Lorcan and his deputies.

  “About pulling rank,” Pádraig whispered to Liam. “Now would probably be a good time.”

  Prince Liam spurred Máedóc forward and reined him in between the two factions who were squaring off. “Enough!” he ordered. “All of you, sheath your weapons! Now!”

  Everyone did as they were told, although the two sides still glared at each other.

  “Well?!” Liam said.

  A chorus of, “Sorry, Your Highness,” came by way of reply.

  “What’s with you two?” the prince asked Lorcan and Parnell. “Shall I have Colm, here, fetch me a measuring stick, so the two of you can lay your risteards out on the anvil and we’ll see whose is longer?”

  Knowing a rhetorical question when they heard one, neither man spoke.

  After a few moments, the prince continued, starting with Colm. “Is your family in the living quarters?”

  Colm, who had already figured out who the boy in the fancy clothes was from the number of times the phrase ‘Your Highness’ had been used, shook his head. “No family. Just a wife, Your Highness. She went to market.”

  “Drop the hammer and step out here in the yard.”

  Colm quickly complied.

  “The deputies from Gabhrán Shire are going to place you in custody on suspicion of murder—”

  “But, Your Highness!” Colm whined in protest.

  “Suspicion, Colm. Suspicion. You’ll accompany us back to Lorcan’s lock-up at Ráth Gabhrán, pending the outcome of his investigation.” He motioned toward the two deputies, who had quickly dismounted and had crossed to the blacksmith.

  “Suspicion, deputies,” the prince reminded them, with an admonishing shake of his finger. “Suspicion! This man has not been found guilty of anything, so treat him accordingly.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” both men replied, as the one with a rope quickly stuck it back into his pocket.

  “Colm,” Liam said, once again addressing the blacksmith. “We’re going to search your wagon, your forge, and the living quarters for the possible—” He looked around at the assembly and repeated the word for their benefit. “For the possible murder weapon. Lorcan’s deputies will remain here in the yard with Colm. You two”—he pointed at Parnell’s deputies—“will station yourselves one in front and one in back to make sure no one enters this property.”

  With more replies of, “Yes, Your Highness,” they rode off to take up their positions.

  “Now,” the prince said to Lorcan and Parnell, “here’s how this search is going to work.” He then proceeded to outline Finbar’s plan, as Pádraig had described it to him.

  * * *

  All four men stood in the forge, looking down at the black leather satchel atop the anvil. It contained five farrier’s driving hammers, the results of their search—three found in the wagon and two in the forge itself.

  “Does anyone have any problems with the way this search was conducted?” Liam asked, looking from one reeve to the other. “If so, let’s hear it now.”

  Both men shook their heads and said, “No, Your Highness.”

  “Is there anywhere else either of you would like to search or re-search?” the prince asked.

  Again he received replies of, “No, Your Highness.”

  “So you both agree that there is nowhere else Colm could have hidden a hammer on these premises.”

  Dual agreements of, “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Okay. We thank you for your help, Parnell. We’ll take the prisoner and the evidence back with us. Lorcan’ll keep you informed as to how the case progresses.”

  “If it turns out that none of these hammers is the murder weapon, how long will you be keeping Colm in custody?” Parnell asked.

  “Until we determine his innocence,” Lorcan replied, testily.

  “Actually,” Liam, said, “He’ll remain in custody while Lorcan attempts to gather additional evidence to determine his guilt. I imagine that if nothing else is uncovered within a couple of weeks, he’ll be set free.” Putting a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder, he continued, “Isn’t that what you meant, Reeve?”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Lorcan responded.

  “Does that sound reasonable, Parnell?” Liam asked.

  Again, the burly, little man answered with, “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Okay.” Looking at one of Lorcan’s deputies, the prince continued with, “Go with him to get his horse and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Shouldn’t we secure the prisoner?” the other deputy asked.

  “Do you think he can outrun the five of us?”

  “No, Your Highness.”

  “You have your answer, then. Let’s go.”

  Birchday - Wolf 34th

  Gabhrán Shire

  Ráth Gabhrán

  “And, remember, Reeve,” Liam said, later that evening back at Fort Gabhrán, as Lorcan led Colm toward the door to the lock-up at the rear of his office, “he’s not yet been judged a murderer and here only on suspicion of murder. Treat him appropriately. I’ll be up to check on him and your progress from time to time.”

  “You’re always welcome here, Your Highness.”

  Before they had cleared the doorway, Pádraig spoke up, crossing to the shire reeve and the prisoner. “May I see where he’s to be kept, Lorcan?”

  “Most certainly, Paddy. But, I assure you, it’s a jail cell, not a dungeon. However, come along and see for yourself; although, before we go ba
ck, you’ll have to leave any weapons out here.”

  “Of course,” Pádraig replied. “I don’t really have a weapon. Just this.” He removed the hoof-pick in the shape of a hawk from his belt.

  “What is it?” Lorcan asked.

  “A hoof-pick. A farrier’s tool. It’s for removing debris from a horse’s hoof.” While he demonstrated the use of the tool, Pádraig lost his balance, falling against Colm and scratching the prisoner’s arm with the hawk’s beak.

  “Hey!” Colm shouted, grabbing his arm. “What the—”

  “I’m so sorry, Colm,” Pádraig said, taking a cloth from his pocket and pressing it against the wound. “The floor, here, is uneven and I—”

  “You are so clumsy, Paddy,” Liam told him, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him away. “Stand over there before you do any more damage.” He pointed at the entrance to the building.

  One of the deputies had gotten a clean cloth and properly wrapped it around Colm’s arm. “It’s just a scratch,” he told the prisoner. “Should be all right by tomorrow.”

  “Sorry,” Pádraig said, again, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Keep that stupid jackass away from me,” Colm told Lorcan, walking through the door to the lock-up area.

  Once Lorcan and the deputy had followed, and Pádraig and Liam had left the building, Pádraig said, “Here, take this cloth and keep it with the evidence.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve smacked my own thumb with a driving hammer. If it turns out that the Arch-Wizard does find traces of blood on one or more of those hammers we confiscated, now he’ll be able to tell whether or not it’s Colm’s own blood.”

  “Colm was right. You are stupid, Paddy. But not like a jackass—like a fox.”

  “If you say so, Your Highness.”

  “Yeah. I say so, Your Slyness.”

  * * *

  On the ride back to the citadel, Pádraig patted the dun stallion, and asked, “What about Suibhne, here? How do we get him back to Lorcan?”

  “When the defense forces go out on patrol, they can take him along with them,” Liam replied. “Or, if Lorcan wants the horse sooner, he can send someone for it.”