‘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.’