Atonement of Blood (45 page)

Fidelma had waited patiently while her brother explained. ‘Can you recall what territories your commanders were given?’

Colgú frowned for a moment and then said: ‘I don’t think so.’

‘South of their territory, along the border with the Luachra … who was sent in charge there?’

‘I can’t recall. Capa was the commander at that time and made those dispositions. Then came the peace treaty and so there was no reason for our warriors to be in Uí Fidgente territory at all. They were all withdrawn. Why do you want to know?’

Fidelma smiled in satisfaction and shook her head. ‘It does not matter. It is of no significance now.’

‘And are you going to tell me everything?’ Colgú demanded.

‘As I said, brother, all in good time. Call the council to meet this evening.’

‘It shall be before the evening meal. I shall be impatient to hear what you have to say,’ sighed Colgú as she and Eadulf rose and left.

Outside, Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘There is one more thing I need to do. Will you go back to little Alchú and I’ll be along shortly?’

Eadulf wondered what she had in mind. He knew there was something she was not sharing with him. However, he was sure she would reveal it in her own good time.

After he had left her, she turned to Dego, another of the King’s bodyguard, who had replaced Caol on guard duty, and asked where she might find the commander.

‘He has retired to his chamber, lady,’ Dego replied. ‘It was my turn to guard the King’s chambers.’

Caol was alone in his chamber when Fidelma entered. He rose to his feet and stood nervously while she closed the door behind her. For a moment they stood facing one another without speaking.

‘Well, Caol?’ she said.

Caol shifted his weight.

‘Well, lady?’ he repeated.

She motioned for him to be seated and lowered herself into a chair opposite.

‘You probably know why I have come to see you and to speak with you alone?’

‘I have some idea, lady.’

‘You fought alongside my brother at Cnoc Áine?’

‘True enough.’

‘When my brother dispersed warriors throughout the country of the Uí Fidgente, with companies to support them, I think you were sent to the southern borders, along the hills that separate it from the territory of Luachra.’

‘I was.’

‘You went to stay at the rath of Menma.’

He made no reply but did not deny it.

‘So you were the warrior of the Golden Collar that the locals came to believe led the attack on the rath.’

‘They would have believed anything of a warrior of the Nasc Niadh. I did not lead any such attack.’

‘I know. But you were the warrior who fell in love with Liamuin.’

‘And she with me,’ Caol replied defensively.

‘You knew about her background?’

‘She told me that she had been married and had a husband who had mistreated her. She also had a daughter.’

‘When I brought Aibell into the palace, I think you recognised her. I saw the astonishment on your face.’

‘I thought … I thought I was dreaming. She seemed so like her mother. While you were away, I have spoken with the girl. I did not tell her about my relationship with her mother. I allowed her to tell me her story.’ Caol shook his head sadly. ‘If only her mother had known. Menma’s rath was only a short distance from Sliabh Luachra. Perhaps I could have taken some men there and …’

‘And perhaps not,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Even a relative of Liamuin, the one who sent her to Menma’s rath for safety, felt he could do nothing to rescue the girl. Why didn’t you tell her that you were the lover of her mother?’

Caol sighed. ‘I do not have that sort of courage, lady.’

‘You may well have to find it. But there are questions first. How and when did you come to know of the death of Menma and his family; the death of Liamuin?’

‘There was trouble in the east and I had to take my men to the settlement at Finnan’s church. Some Uí Fidgente rebels had fortified the hill fort that is nearby. We were kept at that place for three months. I was told the news of what had happened at Menma’s rath by a wandering monk. I learned that Liamuin had been slain, along with the others – and during these last four years I have tried to forget.’

‘What was the story that you heard?’

‘That the attack was led by a warrior wearing a golden collar.’ He raised his hand to touch the emblem at his neck. ‘I heard also that he carried a shield with the stag rampant encased in jewels – the personal emblem of Colgú.’

‘Local people did not know that.’

‘Any member of the Eóghanacht could decipher its meaning. The wandering monk told me.’

‘Would he not have passed that on?’

‘He did not have the opportunity. Moments after he told me, the Uí Fidgente rebels made an attack and the man was killed.’

‘So only you knew about the shield. Did you think Colgú was responsible?’

‘I was with him on Cnoc Áine when he was wounded and lost his shield. Anyone could have picked it up. Indeed, several warriors of the Golden Collar were killed that day and much looting went on. It would have been easy for someone to go off with a golden collar and the shield.’

‘There is something that I don’t understand, Caol. I could guess, but perhaps you will tell me.’

‘What is that, lady?’

‘When the man calling himself Brother Lennán came into the feasting hall and thrust his sword at Colgú, he shouted, “Remember Liamuin!” You must have recognised him.’

‘No, lady, I did not. He did seem familiar – I tried to think where I had seen him before, but I could not recall him. Four years is a long time.’

‘But he recognised you.’

Caol gestured helplessly. ‘It was not reciprocal.’

‘Let us think back to the moment. He wounded my brother and then poor Brehon Áedo intervened and he was killed. The killer tried to withdraw his weapon for another blow. Then you moved to prevent that second blow. As you did so, he looked up and hesitated a moment. In that hesitation, he recognised you. Obviously he knew that you were the warrior of the Golden Collar who had been Liamuin’s lover and not my brother. Did you kill him because of that?’

Caol’s expression was serious. ‘I did not, lady. All I knew was that he had attacked Colgú shouting, “Remember Liamuin!” I recognised her name but I did not recognise the assassin.’

‘In fact, he was named Maolán. He was the son of Cadan and his wife Flannait.’

The warrior breathed in sharply. ‘So that was who he was! Maolán. I remember him now. He was the son of a neighbouring farmer and his wife. Where had he been these last years, nursing this hatred?’

‘He had gone to Mungairit to work as a copyist. He was found by the conspirators, who took advantage of his brooding resentment and anger. He was told that the leader of the attack carried the King’s shield and was therefore the King himself.’

‘So that is why he struck at the King! He really believed it was Colgú who attacked Menma’s rath?’

‘He did. That brings me back to my next question. If you did not recognise him, why did you kill him when you could have easily disarmed him?’

Caol bit his lip and was silent.

‘You knew that it was not Colgú who carried out that attack so you were surely not trying to conceal it,’ said Fidelma.

‘But that is
precisely
why I killed him, lady,’ asserted Caol.

Fidelma regarded him in astonishment. ‘I do not understand.’

‘I killed him because I knew the King had not done this deed. But, had the assassin been captured alive, he would have had the opportunity to justify his act to the Brehons. Even a false accusation against Colgú would have created untold alarm and unease in the kingdom.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ she repeated.

‘You know that Prince Donennach of the Uí Fidgente has been to Tara and is even now on his way here to Cashel to conclude new agreements with Colgú about the relationship of his territory within the kingdom.’

Fidelma suddenly saw the connection. ‘Of course, that was the missing piece of the puzzle! Maolán was their cat’s paw of Lorcán’s conspiracy. Even if the assassination had not been successful, Maolán’s accusations against Colgú would have caused such rumours that it would have spelled disaster for the negotiations. Either Prince Donennach would have had to break off the peace, or his own nobles, led by the conspirators, would have ousted him, preparing the way for a new Prince who would have had no compunction in renewing the war against Cashel.’

There was a long silence while Fidelma thought through the situation.

‘You have left me a difficult choice, Caol. What you did was wrong. It was against the law. You killed a man when you could have taken him alive. And yet the reason you did so was a laudable one.’

Caol raised his hands in a gesture of resignation.

‘I know that in law I did wrong in killing the assassin when I could have taken him alive. I am willing to pay the
éraic
payment to his parents. Yet I would argue that it was an act done in defence …’

‘Self-defence?’ Fidelma sounded sceptical.

Caol shook his head. ‘No, lady. In defence of your brother’s reputation so that Prince Donennach would arrive here, conclude his treaty and remain in peace with us. Therefore, it was an act in defence of the King – of the peace and prosperity of the kingdom.’

Fidelma actually smiled. ‘You have argued your case well, Caol. I have to say that was the conclusion I was coming to. Maolán did not need to die, but had he not done so, countless others might have died. Perhaps only you and I should know the reality of this matter.’

She stood up and went to the door, where she paused. ‘I believe that you are still in love with Liamuin, Caol.’

Caol smiled tightly, trying to conceal his emotion but there was some redness around his eyes. ‘I still dream of her, lady. She comes to me in my dreams at night, and that goes some way to compensate me for the hopeless longing of the day. That is why I have not taken a wife.’

‘I can’t advise you on that, Caol. You must follow your own path. However, I don’t think Liamuin would want you to be in mourning for the rest of your life.’

‘Perhaps not. Thank you, lady, for your wisdom and understanding. But tell me – why did Maolán agree to the role of assassin? Just because he believed that Colgú had led the raid on Menma’s rath? As I said, his parents had an adjacent farmstead and they were friends with Menma.’

‘He did not shout “Remember Menma!” He shouted “Remember Liamuin!”,’ Fidelma reminded him.

Caol frowned … then his face lightened as the realisation struck him. ‘Ah! So he was in love with Liamuin?’

‘Yes, but in his case, it was unrequited love. This kind of love often stirs deeper passions than love exchanged,’ confirmed Fidelma.

Caol’s features were sad. ‘Liamuin was easy to fall in love with. In a way, it was not Maolán’s fault but those who manipulated his emotions.’

‘And used them,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘When I explain these events to the council, I will simply say that your action was motivated by defence of the King’s life. As for the rest, that will remain between you and me.’

‘I feel responsible about Maolán; more so now that I know who he was and why he did what he did. Even though you have absolved me in law, I still feel guilty. If there is some way I could make atonement, I would do so. Maolán was misled by his emotions and now his parents have to pay for that with a lonely old age for, as I recall, he was their only son.’

‘Then it must be your decision of how to make that atonement, Caol,’ Fidelma replied firmly. She went to the door, opened it and paused for a moment ‘We are all prisoners of the consequences of our actions,’ she said softly. ‘I am sure you will make the right decision.’