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elderly. He was muscular beneath his leather jerkin and his clear nut-brown skin demonstrated that he pursued an outdoor life. He displayed no awe at being confronted by the most prominent men of the kingdom.
    ‘We just want to record the circumstances in which you found the body of Sárait,’ Colgú said.
    The man folded his arms across a broad chest and gazed thoughtfully at them.
    ‘I have told the story several times.’
    Brehon Dathal’s brows gathered in an angry frown and he opened his mouth to speak but Bishop Ségdae, turning a broad smile on the man, spoke first.
    ‘Indulge us by telling it one more time and we will try to make this the last.’
    Conchoille shrugged indifferently. ‘There is little to tell. I had been cutting wood by the place known as the rath of quarrels, south of here—’
    ‘We know the place, Conchoille,’ snapped Brehon Dathal testily. ‘It is not much more than a mile south from here.’
    ‘I had finished my day’s work,’ went on the woodsman, unperturbed. ‘By the time I finished clearing up it was dark and so I set off for the township.’
    Brehon Dathal leant forward quickly. ‘It is dark in the late afternoon at this time of year. We have heard that it was shortly before midnight that you knocked on the door of Capa and Gobnat’s cabin with news of your discovery. Now, estimating the time you finished work and set off for the township, and the time you spent presumably at the place where you found the body, even a slow walker would have been knocking at Capa’s cabin many hours before you did so. Explain this anomaly?’
    Conchoille looked in bemusement at the elderly judge. ‘I do not understand such big words. Should I not be allowed to tell the tale in my own way?’
    Brehon Dathal looked scandalised at the retort. Once more Colgú decided to intervene.
    ‘We are interested in the truth but I can understand Brehon Dathal’s question,’ he said. ‘Why did you take so long to get from your place of work, find the body and arrive at Capa’s house?’
    ‘Along the path before you enter the dark patch of woods is the inn of Ferloga. I no longer have a wife. It is my custom, therefore, at the end of my day’s work to have my evening meal and a drink in Ferloga’s inn if I am in that vicinity. So there I ate, and after I had exchanged a story or two with Ferloga I continued my journey to the village. I have told this story before.’ He glanced with meaning at the elderly Brehon Dathal.
    ‘Continue,’ prompted Colgú.
    ‘The path beyond the lantern that lights the sign of Ferloga’s inn is dark, especially where it winds into the woods.’
    ‘Did you not have a lantern?’ queried Brehon Dathal pedantically.
    The woodsman looked pained. ‘Only a fool would not carry a lantern through the woods at that time. Remember that we have plenty of wolves roaming those woodlands.’
    ‘I just want it made clear in the record,’ snapped Brehon Dathal defensively.
    ‘I had a lantern and it was lit,’ returned Conchoille solemnly. ‘I was coming to the outskirts of the township when I tripped over something on the path. I raised my lantern and saw that it was a shawl. A shawl of good quality, so I bent to pick it up. The first thing I realised was that it was bloodstained. Then the edge of the circle of light from the lantern caught something white on the ground. It was an arm. Then, as I moved nearer, I saw the body … it was Sárait. She was dead.’
    ‘And you knew it was Sárait?’ queried Bishop Ségdae.
    Conchoille sighed deeply. ‘Everyone in the village knew Sárait. She was a fine, comely woman and a widow. Many men would start counting how much they could afford by way of a coibche when their eyes fell on her.’
    A coibche was the principal dowry paid by the prospective husband to the bride’s family. After a year, the bride’s father had to give one third to the girl who retained this as her personal property.
    ‘Were you able to see how she had