information,’ Fidelma replied. ‘And if Aibell is lying, then she is quite proficient in her lies. Her story of her arrival is supported by two independent witnesses. Yes, I think there is more to be discovered – and the means of doing so is not, sadly, in Cashel.’
Finguine suddenly turned to Eadulf, who had been sitting silently at Fidelma’s side.
‘You do not speak, friend Eadulf. What have you to say in this matter?’
Eadulf stirred himself. ‘I do not speak out of respect to this assembly for it is not my right, being a stranger in this kingdom.’
‘Nonsense!’ Finguine almost snapped the word. ‘You are no longer a
cú glass
, an exile from over the sea. When you married our cousin you were accepted as a
deorad Dé
, an exile of God, with an honour price in your own right. Colgú the King has always respected your advice. So do I, and now I ask for your opinion on this matter.’
Caol muttered something in support and even Beccan nodded assent.
‘Very well.’ Eadulf learned forward slightly in his seat. ‘I think you will all agree that since my partnership with Fidelma, we have spent longer away from Cashel than in its vicinity. You may also know that it has been my preference to stay in one place long enough to see our son, Alchú, grow to the age for what you call
áilemain
, the act of education. Personally, I would prefer to be the boy’s teacher myself, but this I know is not your way.’
Brehon Aillín seemed to suppress a snort. ‘I fail to see how this is answering the question of the
tánaiste
, the heir apparent.’
‘I preface my remarks in order that you will know that I am not responding lightly,’ replied Eadulf, looking him straight in the eye.
‘Continue,’ Finguine ordered, casting a frown at the Brehon.
‘I have said what I have said so that you will know that my preference would be for Fidelma and me to stay here to look after the wants of our son. However, in this case, the only logical path to discovering who is behind the attempted murder of Colgú and the death of the Chief Brehon, is to follow what little information has been given to us. That is the path Fidelma has outlined to you. If there is any other way we can proceed, then let me hear it now.’
There was a silence among the gathering. It was finally broken by Brehon Aillín. ‘This opinion contains a rather arrogant presumption.’
Fidelma’s head came up quickly. There was a dangerous look in her eyes.
‘I was responding to a question,’ Eadulf said quietly. ‘I fail to see the arrogance in my response.’
‘Perhaps “arrogance” is too strong a term,’ Brehon Aillín replied with a thin smile. ‘And yet the opinion you express is that only you and the lady Fidelma would be fit to take on the task of investigating this matter among the Uí Fidgente.’
Eadulf witnessed the stormclouds gather on Fidelma’s features and put his hand on her arm.
Finguine also noticed, for he said immediately: ‘You are quite right, Brehon Aillín. You do well to remind us that you are senior in this matter.’
Fidelma noticed there was a twinkle in her cousin’s blue eyes as he brushed his Eóghanacht red hair away from his forehead.
‘As the senior Brehon, Aillín himself might want to take on this task of riding into the country of the Uí Fidgente to discover what more can be found out,’ explained Finguine.
The heir apparent’s voice sounded innocent enough, but Fidelma was sure he was inwardly laughing at the crusty old judge, whose features had whitened considerably at the suggestion.
‘It would be an honour to undertake this task,’ Brehon Aillín stuttered a little. ‘Of course, I could do so … But – but I am now acting Chief Brehon following the death of poor Brehon Áedo.’ His voice grew stronger. ‘It is therefore my duty to remain in Cashel as your adviser, Finguine, until the King returns to health. Perhaps a more junior
dálaigh
would be capable of gathering what additional
Finguine suddenly turned to Eadulf, who had been sitting silently at Fidelma’s side.
‘You do not speak, friend Eadulf. What have you to say in this matter?’
Eadulf stirred himself. ‘I do not speak out of respect to this assembly for it is not my right, being a stranger in this kingdom.’
‘Nonsense!’ Finguine almost snapped the word. ‘You are no longer a
cú glass
, an exile from over the sea. When you married our cousin you were accepted as a
deorad Dé
, an exile of God, with an honour price in your own right. Colgú the King has always respected your advice. So do I, and now I ask for your opinion on this matter.’
Caol muttered something in support and even Beccan nodded assent.
‘Very well.’ Eadulf learned forward slightly in his seat. ‘I think you will all agree that since my partnership with Fidelma, we have spent longer away from Cashel than in its vicinity. You may also know that it has been my preference to stay in one place long enough to see our son, Alchú, grow to the age for what you call
áilemain
, the act of education. Personally, I would prefer to be the boy’s teacher myself, but this I know is not your way.’
Brehon Aillín seemed to suppress a snort. ‘I fail to see how this is answering the question of the
tánaiste
, the heir apparent.’
‘I preface my remarks in order that you will know that I am not responding lightly,’ replied Eadulf, looking him straight in the eye.
‘Continue,’ Finguine ordered, casting a frown at the Brehon.
‘I have said what I have said so that you will know that my preference would be for Fidelma and me to stay here to look after the wants of our son. However, in this case, the only logical path to discovering who is behind the attempted murder of Colgú and the death of the Chief Brehon, is to follow what little information has been given to us. That is the path Fidelma has outlined to you. If there is any other way we can proceed, then let me hear it now.’
There was a silence among the gathering. It was finally broken by Brehon Aillín. ‘This opinion contains a rather arrogant presumption.’
Fidelma’s head came up quickly. There was a dangerous look in her eyes.
‘I was responding to a question,’ Eadulf said quietly. ‘I fail to see the arrogance in my response.’
‘Perhaps “arrogance” is too strong a term,’ Brehon Aillín replied with a thin smile. ‘And yet the opinion you express is that only you and the lady Fidelma would be fit to take on the task of investigating this matter among the Uí Fidgente.’
Eadulf witnessed the stormclouds gather on Fidelma’s features and put his hand on her arm.
Finguine also noticed, for he said immediately: ‘You are quite right, Brehon Aillín. You do well to remind us that you are senior in this matter.’
Fidelma noticed there was a twinkle in her cousin’s blue eyes as he brushed his Eóghanacht red hair away from his forehead.
‘As the senior Brehon, Aillín himself might want to take on this task of riding into the country of the Uí Fidgente to discover what more can be found out,’ explained Finguine.
The heir apparent’s voice sounded innocent enough, but Fidelma was sure he was inwardly laughing at the crusty old judge, whose features had whitened considerably at the suggestion.
‘It would be an honour to undertake this task,’ Brehon Aillín stuttered a little. ‘Of course, I could do so … But – but I am now acting Chief Brehon following the death of poor Brehon Áedo.’ His voice grew stronger. ‘It is therefore my duty to remain in Cashel as your adviser, Finguine, until the King returns to health. Perhaps a more junior
dálaigh
would be capable of gathering what additional
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