‘Remind me.’
‘Sitae told us what Lachtine had witnessed in the forest. He saw Gláed, or Adamrae if you like, receiving the broken Cathach from a man in religious robes and then passing it to the merchant Ordan. Ordan had contacts with the smiths of Magh Méine, renowned for their brilliant metalwork. Ordan was the go-between to get the damaged Cathach repaired. Gláed – Adamrae – must have spotted Lachtine and realised that he had witnessed that exchange some weeks before. Gláed had arranged to meet Ordan at the Ford of Oaks. He was some days early, and while in Sitae’s inn he encountered Lachtine. It was obvious that they both recognised one another. That was when Gláed decided to kill him. He did so, but he still had to wait for Ordan. Hence the complicated method of disguising himself, so that he could wait at the Ford of the Oaks for Ordan to show up. But the one thing he did not allow for was the arrival of my companions and I.’
‘So once uncovered, he had to flee?’ asked Conrí.
‘Exactly so. And instead of waiting for Ordan to bring the repaired Cathach to the Ford of the Oaks, he had to make other arrangements. Ordan was bringing the Cathach by a circuitous route when he was waylaid by Fidaig, whose guests we were at the time. When we went to question Ordan, one of Gláed’s men, Loeg, killed him to stop him telling us what he knew. Loeg escaped to warn Gláed but Gláed had already been captured by Conrí.’
‘It’s complicated but it begins to fit,’ Conrí said thoughtfully. ‘The Cathach is a powerful symbol that would cause the Uí Fidgente to rise up to support the person who held it. And you say the man who handed the broken Cathach to Gláed to be repaired was a religieux?’
‘So you are accusing my abbey?’ cried Abbot Nannid, scandalised. ‘The abbey is plotting some uprising against Prince Donennach? Nonsense!’
‘Is it such nonsense?’ Fidelma said coolly. ‘The attempt to assassinate my brother, the confusion that would be created, the fact that Prince Donennach was away visiting the High King in Tara and being advised to take most of his loyal advisers with him, with the exception of Conrí, his warlord … presented the ideal opportunity.’
Some suspicious looks were cast towards Conrí by those surrounding him. Brother Cuineáin was quick to seize on the idea.
‘So why was Conrí left behind, to ensure all was peaceful during the Prince’s absence?’ he demanded. ‘It was a perfect position to be in if he was one of the conspirators. He is a Prince of the Uí Fidgente.’
Conrí flushed angrily. ‘Are you accusing … ?’
Fidelma held up her hand to still the inevitable outburst. ‘Things were coming together for the person who had probably begun plotting this when he left the bloody field of Cnoc Áine.’
‘I did not fight at Cnoc Áine, as you know,’ snapped Conrí.
Brother Cuineáin glowered at Fidelma. ‘This sounds like fairytales spun for the entertainment of children. You will have to do better than simply speculate that someone in this abbey is orchestrating this so-called conspiracy.
‘Only someone of the ruling family of the Uí Fidgente could make such a claim to re-animate our people to rise up once more,’ Brother Cuineáin said nastily.
‘Suanach has already told us who that person is.’ Fidelma spoke casually but the effect was gratifying. Astonished faces were turned towards her. She paused a moment and then resumed. ‘Let me show you the way forward. Remember that Suanach was the sole survivor of the attack on Menma’s rath.’
‘But you say that this survivor saw only what she was meant to see and spread the word that this unknown Cashel warrior led the attack,’ pointed out Marban. ‘She did not even identify him correctly, for she described the shield whose emblem was that of your brother.’
‘All true,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘Except that you have forgotten the most important part. She added something else.’
They waited patiently while Fidelma relished the dramatic pause she had often practised in pleading cases for a Brehon. However, Eadulf spoiled it.
‘She was able to describe how Liamuin was killed,’ he intervened excitedly. ‘Liamuin apparently picked up an axe to defend herself as the warrior rode towards her. As he lunged at her, she swung the axe and knocked the sword from his hand. She wounded him so that the blood flowed from his wrist. Liamuin was then shot by the warrior’s companions – killed by two arrows.’
Fidelma glanced in approval at Eadulf. ‘Such a wound would have left a scar on the man’s sword wrist,’ she added. ‘Even weakened it.’