Everything was there; everything that had been stolen from them when they had camped at the Hill of Ulla. Had it really been only the day before yesterday? There were the golden torcs that signified Gormán and Fidelma to be members of the Nasc Niadh. There was Fidelma’s wand of office, Eadulf’s ornate crucifix and the various pieces of jewellery. What Eadulf was particularly relieved about was the sight of the silver seal that Brother Conchobhar had given him. And there was Gormán’s prize sword. All that had been taken from them now lay before them on the table.
Gormán recovered from his astonishment first and swung round to Conrí. ‘Were they your men?’ he demanded, his eyes narrowed in fury. ‘Were those brigands your warriors sent to rob us?’
Socht had now taken a step forward, hand on his sword, ready to check Gormán’s threatening stance.
‘Have a care, warrior of Cashel,’ he said softly. ‘Were you not travelling in the company of the lady Fidelma, you might have to answer for unjust accusations.’
Conrí raised a hand. ‘Peace. Peace. I did not mean to provoke anger by playing my game of mysteries. No, Gormán, those brigands were not my warriors in disguise.’
‘Then you’d best explain,’ Fidelma suggested.
‘Perhaps it would be easier to show you.’ Conrí gestured for them to follow him and took them to a door which led to the back of the fortress. Socht trailed in the rear keeping a careful watch on Gormán. They passed through the kitchen area and went across a back yard to the perimeter of the fortress where it seemed Conrí’s warriors had their sleeping quarters.
‘Prepare yourself, lady,’ he instructed, ‘for we of the Uí Fidgente are not as merciful as you of Cashel. We believe that in extreme cases, extreme penalties may be applied. Mercy was the old law of the Brehons and now we have been advised otherwise.’
‘I do not understand, Conrí,’ Fidelma said, puzzled by the elaborate prelude the war chieftain was going through.
He did not reply but moved on through a copse to a clearing. A few men were gathered there, but it was not these upon whom Fidelma and her companions fixed their immediate attention. There was a tall oak to one side of the clearing and from one of the branches a body was hanging. The twisted head in the rope had a shock of sandy hair and a beard. Fidelma did not even have to look for the livid white scar made by a sword from forehead across the eye, nose and cheek to recognise who it was.
‘We came across him and his gang of cut-throats in the forest,’ Conrí said sombrely. ‘When we counted their spoils, we recognised your wand of office and the emblems of the Nasc Niadh. Before he died, we persuaded this fellow to tell us what had happened to those he took these things from. He described you so that we knew it was you, lady. He swore that he had let you go unharmed.’
‘You are not the first travellers that this man and his companions have robbed,’ added Socht. ‘We have been seeking him for some time. His crimes are many.’
‘So that is how we came to be searching for you,’ Conrí ended.
‘And so this man was hanged,’ Eadulf stated the obvious. ‘What of his men? He had four companions when he robbed us.’
It was Socht who answered. ‘They were given the opportunity to surrender or to die fighting. They chose to die. Their bodies were buried where they fell. This one,’ he jerked his thumb towards the dead man, ‘seeing his men fall, pleaded for mercy, and threw down his sword. So we brought him here. For such a man, justice was swift. Perhaps it was too swift.’
‘He should have been heard before a Brehon,’ Fidelma said sternly.
‘He was,’ Conrí replied, to her surprise.
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed. ‘The spirit of our law is compensation for the victims and rehabilitation for the wrongdoer. He could have been made a bondservant and worked for the rest of his life to compensate for his crimes. What Brehon would sanction death as a punishment except in very exceptional circumstances?’
As if in answer, Conrí turned to the group of men and waved one of them forward, a man in religious robes with his head almost covered by a cowl. Beneath the shadow of his cowl, he was revealed as a youthful man but one who had obviously not shaved for days. He carried himself with an air of self-importance as he approached.
‘This is Brother Adamrae who served me temporarily as my Brehon,’ said Conrí before introducing Fidelma.
‘I am told that you sanctioned the hanging of this man.’ Fidelma’s tone was curt and she did not spend time on niceties.