Suffer Little Children sf-3

by Peter Tremayne

  Everyone was looking at the young boy Cétach.

  ‘But you have just stated that these two boys were still on Sceilig Mhichil at this time. They were at least two or three days sailing away from Ros Ailithir,’ Barrán pointed out.

  ‘I did not say it was either of these two boys,’ Fidelma said loudly above the hubbub.

  Again the effect of her words was like water on a fire. There was stunned silence.

  ‘But, you said …’ began the Chief Brehon wearily.

  ‘I said that the eldest of Illan’s sons killed Dacan.’

  ‘Then …?’

  ‘Illan had three sons. Isn’t that right, Midach? Dacán, in his letter to his brother, wrote that Illan’s eldest son had just reached the age of choice. That rules out these two lads, who are a long way from the age of seventeen. That also means that Illan had a third son.’

  ‘You seem to know everything, Fidelma,’ Midach said grimly. ‘Yes. My cousin Illan had three sons. They were all placed in my charge to foster when Illan was killed. The two youngest had already been sent to Sceilig Mhichil to our cousin, Mel. Indeed, everything happened just as you have explained.’

  ‘So where did you send the eldest son?’ demanded Barran.

  Midach set his jaw firmly.

  ‘I cannot betray the trust of my family.’

  ‘The eldest son was brought to Ros Ailithir under a false identity,’ Fidelma intervened.

  She turned and scanned the rows of the religious who hadcrowded into the abbey church and found the white mask that was the face of Sister Necht.

  ‘Come forward, Sister Necht, or should that be Nechtan?’ Fidelma added, making the feminine name into its masculine form.

  The ungainly ‘sister’ rose, the eyes darted from side to side as if seeking a method of escape, and then the shoulders slumped in resignation.

  A tall member of the High King’s guard moved across and tapped the ‘sister’ on the shoulder, motioning ‘her’ to go to the well of the court before the judges. Slowly, reluctantly, ‘Sister Necht’ obeyed.

  Not a sound could be heard as all eyes watched the figure walk slowly to where Fidelma was waiting. There seemed no attempt now to disguise the masculine posture of the ‘novice’.

  ‘Allow me to present Nechtan, son of Illan of the Osraige. Nechtan is the eldest brother of Cétach and Cosrach.’

  ‘Sister Necht’ squared ‘her’ shoulders and thrust out ‘her’ chin in defiance as ‘she’ stood before Fidelma.

  ‘Would you mind moving your head-dress?’ asked Barrán.

  ‘Sister Necht’ threw back the head-dress.

  ‘The hair is coppery, almost red,’ Forbassach admitted in querulous tones. ‘But this … this person … still looks like a girl.’

  ‘Do we have to go further with this charade, Nechtan?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Speak the truth.’

  ‘It is all over, my boy,’ cried Midach in doleful resignation. ‘Let us admit to the truth.’

  The copper-haired youth stared at Fidelma almost with hatred in his eyes.

  ‘Yes: I am Nechtan, son of Illan,’ he said with an air of pride.

  ‘It was all my idea,’ Midach explained hastily. ‘I did not know what else to do. I knew that Scandlán and his family were looking for Illan’s heir. I had already seen Illan’s will and knew the boys were left in my care and that the younger weresupposed to go to Sceilig Mhichil. I thought that they would be safe on Sceilig Mhichil. But I did not know where else to hide Nechtan, but then the idea came into my mind that he could hide himself at the abbey as a novice and so I could keep a close eye on him. Those searching for the heirs of Illan were searching for his sons, not for a girl.’

  ‘Although just seventeen, Nechtan, with his husky voice and slight figure, became a young woman,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘With the sprigs and berries of the elder to use as dye and create a redness to the lips and cheeks, Nechtan became Sister Necht.’

  ‘I initially thought that Dacán was an agent for Scandlán,’ went on Midach. ‘When I discovered that he had deciphered Illan’s will, I left the abbey immediately to bring them away before they were discovered. I brought the two boys back and arranged for Sister Eisten to take them at Rae na Scríne. It was only after I returned to the abbey that I discovered that Dacán had been killed.’

  ‘And when did Nechtan confess that he had killed him?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘The next …’ Midach bit his lip and hung his head. Nechtan stared in front of him without speaking, showing no emotion.

  The Chief Brehon leant forward.

  ‘Why did the boy kill Dacán?’ demanded Barrán. ‘Let us finally get this point cleared.’

  Fidelma grimaced sorrowfully.

  ‘Sister Necht, or rather Nechtan, killed Dacán out of fear. Midach, before leaving for Sceilig Mhichil, had told him that he believed Dacán was working for his enemies. Necht already hated Dacan as an autocratic, uncaring personality. It needed but a spark. A few hours after Midach left to rescue his brothers, Nechtan slew Dacan. I do not think that the act was cold-blooded. It was only after the deed was done that Nechtan sought to portray it as something premeditated.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Barrán.

  ‘Nechtan killed Dacan and later attempted to lay a pathhich would lead to another person in an effort to have that person blamed.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘After Midach had left the abbey, Nechtan was summoned to Dacán’s chamber to fetch water. Perhaps words were exchanged. Nechtan took out a knife and, in hot temper, rained a series of blows at the old man.’

  ‘He suspected who I was, I know it!’ Nechtan protested, speaking for the first time. The previously husky voice was now slightly sharpened and more masculine. There was no emotion in it. ‘It was my life or his. He would have killed me if he had known who I was.’

  Forbassach was sitting shaking his head in bewilderment. Fidelma gestured towards him.

  ‘You may believe the honourable advocate for Laigin when he argues that Dacán and Laigin meant no harm to the children of Illan,’ Fidelma said. ‘So you, Nechtan, killed Dacán from an unjustified fear. Dacán was seeking you in order to get Laigin to support your claim to the Osraige kingship. It can be argued that you had an understandable fear. But what made this more heinous, Nechtan, was that you then went to great pains to lay a path to Sister Grella.’

  ‘I knew that Sister Grella was working with Dacán. I also knew that Grella was Salbach’s lover,’ Nechtan replied defensively. ‘When Midach went to save my brothers, I decided to save us all. If Grella was accused of Dacán’s murder then it would be a just retribution.’

  ‘You tried to destroy all the material that Dacan collected which would have identified you and your brothers. You did not realise that Grella had taken a draft of the letter Dacán was sending to his brother so that she could inform Salbach. Also you neglected to retrieve an Ogham wand which had rolled under the bed in Dacán’s chamber. You showed great dismay when I found it. You had to follow me when I took it to Grella in the library to check it was not incriminating. Grella recognisedit and pretended that it was something else to lead me from the scent. I left it at the library and, later that night, you returned to the library and burnt it with the other Ogham sticks in order to cover your tracks.’

  ‘But Dacán was bound before he was killed,’ pointed out the Chief Brehon. ‘How did this boy accomplish that?’

  ‘He was bound after he was killed to further implicate Grella. It was obvious that he was not bound before because the strips of cloth from Grella’s dress were so fragile that even an ailing child could have burst those bonds asunder. I noticed this at an early point in my investigation and knew then that I was looking for some carefully worked out plot.’

  Fidelma spoke directly to Nechtan.

  ‘You must have lain awake for the rest of the night thinking about your deed. You decided that you must not only lay a path of suspicion away from yourself but, as you have admitted, you had a brilliant id
ea to visit some poetic justice on the person whom you believed to be one of your enemies.’

  Nechtan stood silently.

  ‘You waited until the bell sounded for matins and you watched as Sister Grella made her way to that service. Hoping that no one had yet discovered Dacán’s body, you entered Grella’s chamber and found an old dress from which you tore strips of linen. It was the only distinctive piece of clothing you could find. You probably hoped that it was something she wore often so that the strips could immediately be identified. You did not realise that no religieuse would wear such a dress and that it was simply an old dress which she never wore any more.

  ‘You took the strips to Dacán’s chamber. You went in to find it in darkness. The oil in the lamp had run out. So you refilled it and lit it. It was obvious that no one had been there. You then tied Dacán’s ankles and his hands. In order to tie the hands behind him you had to turn his body over chest down on the bed, leaving the bloodstains on the blanket. I found thesecurious because he was laying on his back on the bed with chest wounds and the blood was on the blanket under the body. The body had to have been moved for a purpose. Then you left, forgetting to extinguish the lamp. Half-an-hour later Brother Conghus arrived. Your false clue meant nothing at the time. There was no one trained to deduce its significance. It meant nothing until I arrived over a week later to pick up the trail.

  ‘When I came back from Sceilig Mhichil and discovered that certain items had been removed from the bag which I had left with Abbot Brocc, I began to suspect what had happened. The items which had been stolen were the ones which gave information and clues to the identification of the sons of Illan. Those which were left behind were part of the evidence which implicated Sister Grella in the murder.’

  Fidelma paused, waiting for the boy to respond. After a while Barran addressed him.

  ‘You say nothing. Do you admit to this?’

  The boy shrugged.

  ‘I have nothing to say. I acted in self defence.’

  ‘That seems as good as a confession,’ warned the Chief Brehon.

  ‘If you say so,’ replied the boy without emotion.

  Midach moved forward, his face troubled as he embraced the boy.

  ‘My son, I am your anamchara and your foster-father. I have guarded you in all things. I will procure the best advocate to defend you.’

  Midach’s face dissolved in anguish as he gazed towards Fidelma.

  ‘It is my fault. It is my grievous fault! I put the fear of Dacán in him.’ He swung round to face the Chief Brehon. ‘Can you accept my guilt in place of this boy?’

  Barrán shook his head.

  ‘The boy is now beyond the age of consent. He has an adult’s responsibility. As for putting the fear of Dacan in him, youmerely gave it some tangible form, for apparently the boy already hated Dacán and, through hate, feared him.’

  ‘Yes, he acted out of fear. Even Fidelma of Kildare admits that much.’

  ‘That may be so. But to deliberately implicate an innocent person brings a worse crime.’

  ‘A further word, Barrán,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘This court will have done its duty in absolving the abbot of Ros Ailithir and the king of Muman from any culpability in the death of Dacán of Fearna. This assembly must confine itself to considering the claim by Laigin for compensation. It is now up to the court to rule on that matter. It has no further function.

  ‘Nechtan will have to come before a further court to answer for his actions as, indeed, will Salbach, whose crimes greatly outweigh all others. Let that further court decide the degree of guilt that is on Nechtan’s shoulders. And I will, if Nechtan so wishes, stand with him as his advocate, for I believe no boy, whether he has just reached the age of choice or not, should live in such fear of his life as the three sons of Illan have had to live this last year. I think that fear goes in some way to ameliorating his guilt if not absolving it.’

  Midach was staring at Fidelma in astonishment, as were many others in the court.

  Barrán cleared his throat impatiently.

  ‘I thank you, Fidelma of Kildare,’ he said dryly, ‘for reminding me of the issues at stake here. Yet I do not think I or the assembly would have forgotten them.’

  Fidelma hung her head at the Chief Brehon’s gentle irony.

  Barrán turned from Fidelma to Forbassach.

  ‘Advocates of Cashel and Fearna, have you completed your pleas and counter-pleas?’

  Fidelma hesitated before adding: ‘I would just remind the court of what I said in my opening. Dacán, as has now been admitted by his own brother, Noé of Fearna, came to this kingdom in stealth to discover the whereabouts of the sons ofIllan to use them for the political purposes of the kingdom of Laigin. I contend this subterfuge caused Dacán to forfeit any claim he or his relations have under the laws of hospitality. Responsibility does not lay with the abbot of Ros Ailithir nor ultimately with Cashel.

  ‘Secondly, I have revealed the real culprit to be Nechtan, son of Illan of Osraige, who killed Dacan because he believed that his life, and the lives of his younger brothers, were in danger. It is not the jurisdiction of the court to rule on his culpability but I would add that there are extenuating circumstances to Nechtan’s act.’

  Fidelma returned to her seat and sat down for the first time since she had risen to plead.

  Barrán motioned to Forbassach to sum up his case and to rebut that which he did not agree with.

  The advocate of the king of Laigin had been bent in discussion with his unhappy-looking young king and the stony-faced abbot of Fearna. He turned round and rose, speaking hesitantly,

  ‘Laigin now accepts that Cashel is not responsible for Dacán’s death. But a death has taken place and the law must find responsibility.’

  Barran turned and held a whispered conversation with the High King and then Ultan of Armagh. After a moment he turned back to address the assembly.

  ‘The case before this court was simple. Sister Fidelma has reminded us of it. It was to adjudicate whether the responsibility for the death of Dacán lay at the door of Cashel. If so, the demand of Laigin was specific. Laigin demanded the kingdom of Osraige as the sum of the honour price of Dacán. The evidence that we have heard results in the adjudication that responsibility does not rest with Cashel. Therefore it follows that the demand for the honour price is dismissed. Osraige continues, as it has these last six centuries, to owe its allegiance to Cashel, its kings paying tribute to Cashel and not to Fearna.’

  There was a ripple almost of verbal applause as the judgment was given.

  Barrán held up his hand for silence.

  ‘Nevertheless, with the agreement of the High King, there are other matters which I feel this court should consider in passing this judgment. We have heard why such a tragic path of death and destruction has been followed here. It has its roots in the fact that the people of Osraige do not find the kingship imposed by the family of Ciarán of Saighir, a kingship from the family of the chieftains of the Corco Loígde, to be a just kingship. The Blessed Ciarán had, misguidedly we feel, established the Corco Loígde in Osraige. It is now time for the descendants of the native kings of Osraige to return to their rightful role. We would admonish the king of Cashel to take steps to ensure that the people of his petty kingdom of Osraige choose freely whomsoever they wish to govern in accordance with the laws of rightful succession.’

  Colgú rose, his face solemn.

  ‘Nothing grieves me more than to hear what has transpired in my kingdom. This bloodshed of the innocent shall not go unpunished. No longer can the family of the chieftains of the Corco Loígde have any moral right to rule Osraige. The people of Osraige shall choose. It shall be so. My oath of honour, it shall. I pledge it before this court.’

  The Chief Brehon acknowledged Colgú with a smile.

  ‘Your words have gladdened your High King. Then there is one more admonishment that we feel it is in our judgment to make. It will be left to a court of Cashel to fix the degree of guilt and the amount of
fine and compensation which must lay at the door of the unfortunate Nechtan. However, we have heard enough at this court to say that Dacán’s honour price is tarnished by his deceptive undertaking on behalf of Laigin. The fine for the death of a scholar of Dacán’s standing is fixed in law at seven cumals, that is the value of twenty-one milch cows. The true honour price for a man of his ecclesiastic standing is twentyséd, the value of twenty milch-cows. A total of forty-one séd would be the sum payable by whoever is found guilty of his death. However …’

  Barrán looked towards the king of Laigin.

  ‘It will be seen that there are other culprits in this matter. This court will direct that those who asked Dacán to proceed with his task disrupted the peace of these kingdoms and threatened a bloody war. They must share responsibility. The honour price for a king of a province is sixteen cumals and because that king has besmirched his honour, sixteen cumals has to be made payable from the king of Laigin to the High King.’

  Fianamail was pale and sullen but silent.

  ‘A further seven cumals shall be payable by Fianamail to the king of Cashel for the casting of a shadow on his honour. That is the judgment of the court. Does Fianamail of Laigin have anything to say?’

  The young king rose hesitantly, seemed about to speak and then shook his head and sat down. He whispered to his dálaigh.

  Forbassach, as advocate, rose.

  ‘Laigin accepts the admonition of the court,’ he said quietly. ‘Cedant arma togae … let arms yield to the gown of the law.’

  ‘That is as it must be,’ agreed the Chief Brehon, solemnly. ‘The business of this assembly is now ended.’

  Epilogue

  Fidelma was sitting with her brother on the bastion of the walkway of the abbey’s high walls overlooking the inlet. The small bay was quiet and deserted now, apart from a few local coastal barca and fishermen’s boats. The great assembly of ships bearing the High King and his entourage, the Archbishop of Armagh and Fianamail of Laigin and his retinue, had all departed. Even the threatening warship of Mugrón, which had seemed an immovable part of the scenery of the inlet, had weighed anchor and followed the Laigin fleet away from the coasts of Muman. What was left was a quiet, tranquil scene.