Whispers of the Dead sf-15

by Peter Tremayne

“Did you examine the jugs before you poured the measure?” asked Fidelma.

  Cobha looked puzzled.

  “Were they clean?” Fidelma was more specific.

  “Clean? I would always provide clean drinking vessels to my customers,” Cobha said, with an ingratiating air. “I have been coming to the Fair of Carman for two decades and no one has ever criticized my ale. . nor died of it.”

  “Until today,” Abbot Laisran could not help but add, showing he, too, disapproved of the ale-man’s character.

  “My ale was not to blame.”

  “Do you have any idea what or who might be to blame?”

  Cobha shook his head.

  “Ruisín was not liked by everyone.”

  Fidelma leant forward quickly.

  “Is that so? Who did not like him?”

  “Lennán, for example. He hated Ruisín.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of his sister.”

  “Explain.”

  “He once told me that his sister was having an affair with Ruisín. He disliked that.”

  “Who is his sister and who is Lennán?” asked Fidelma.

  “He has been mentioned before as being Crónán’s witness.”

  “Lennán is a farmer. His farm straddles the borders of Osraige and the lands of the Fidh Gabhla. His sister is Uainiunn. Lennán hated Ruisín but, to be honest, I think Lennán was trying to find an excuse for his hate. I have seen Uainiunn and Muirgel together and they were close friends.”

  Fidelma sat back thoughtfully.

  “And Lennán was Crónán’s witness today?”

  Cobha nodded.

  “Let us go back to the jugs. How did you decide which jug to give to whom?”

  “Easy enough. One jug had a yellow band on it, the color for Osraige. The other jug had a red band for the Fidh Gabhla.”

  “Who put the color bands on them?”

  “I did.”

  “Before the contest?”

  “About half an hour before.”

  “And where did the jugs stand while the contestants readied themselves and you finally took up the jugs to fill?”

  “On the table by the cask.”

  “I want you to think clearly. Did you examine the jugs before you began to fill them?”

  This time Cobha thought more carefully.

  “I looked into them to make sure that they were still clean and no creature had crept in, a fly or some such creature.”

  “And they were clean?”

  Cobha nodded emphatically.

  “I would not serve ale, even in such circumstances as this contest, in dirty vessels. I have my license to consider. My alehouse has always been dligtech for it has passed the three tests according to law.”

  Fidelma was looking puzzled.

  “The contestants were standing with the table between them. Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “How near were the onlookers?”

  Cobha rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

  “Gathered around,” he said with a shrug.

  “Such as? Who was, say, near Crónán? I presume this witness, Lennán?”

  “Lennán was next to him.” Cobha agreed and added. “Lennán would not miss an opportunity to see Ruisín worsted.”

  “That he certainly saw,” commented Fidelma dryly.

  Cobha suddenly looked nervous.

  “I did not mean to imply that. . I only meant to say. . You asked me where Lennán was.”

  “And you told me,” agreed Fidelma. “Who else was there?” Cobha compressed his lips for a moment then shrugged.

  “Uainiunn was with her brother.”

  “I thought Rumann said that there were no women present?” frowned Fidelma. Cobha shrugged indifferently.

  “She was the only woman present apart from Muirgel. Perhaps that is what Rumann meant?”

  Fidelma’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Muirgel as well? Where was she standing? You say that Uainiunn stood by her brother, Lennán? So they were close to Crónán?”

  “That is so. Rumann and Muirgel were standing at the opposite end of the table, on either side of Ruisín.”

  “And you were the only person to pour the ale and place the jugs on the table?”

  “True enough.”

  She gestured for him to withdraw and turned with a fretful expression to Abbot Laisran.

  “So, as far as I can see, there are only two possibilities. One possibility is that the poison was introduced into the jug destined for Ruisín between the time of it being poured and the time of his drinking it.”

  “That surely means that Cobha is chief suspect, for if anyone else had introduced the poison then they would surely be seen.” replied Laisran.

  “But I fail to see the second possibility.”

  “That would involve introducing the poison to Ruisín before the contest so that it would affect him later.”

  Laisran immediately shook his head.

  “I know of no such poison that could have such a long-term effect as has been described. By all accounts Ruisín was well until the second jug was placed before him.”

  “Importantly, we are told that he did not drink from it. So the poison must have been in the first jug.”

  There was a moment of silence between them.

  “It seems an impossible crime, for it was carried out in front of so many witnesses,” Laisran sighed.

  “We don’t even know how the crime was committed let alone who committed it. Although a young dálaigh I knew would say, solve the one and find the other.”

  Fidelma shook her head with a wry smile.

  “That young dálaigh was being a little glib,” she confessed.

  “You were correct then. The principle is also correct now.”

  “Let us see what Lennán has to say,” she sighed. “At least he is the only person who seems to have had some dislike for Ruisín.”

  She called to Lígach to bring in the man.

  Lennán was another of those people that she felt should be distrusted on sight. Shifty weak eyes, light and flickering here and there but never focusing on the person he was addressing. His was not thin but wiry; the mouth seemed malleable and he had a weak jaw. Nothing seemed firm about him. A vivid white line curved across his forehead, the scar of some terrible wound. The aura he gave out was intangible; that was the word Fidelma came up with. There seemed nothing substantial about the man that would even give a reason for her feeling of distrust.

  “Well, Lennán,” she began sharply. “We understand that you did not like Ruisín.”

  The man actually cringed before her. It was not a pleasant sight.

  “With good reason, Sister. With good reason,” he whined.

  “And what good reason?”

  “He was having an affair with my sister, and he being married to Muirgel. It is a matter of her honor.”

  “How did you know Ruisín was having an affair with your sister?”

  “How do I know the midday sun is bright?” retorted the man.

  “Sometimes the midday sun is obscured by gray cloud,” Fidelma pointed out dryly. “I ask again, how did you know this?”

  “She was always going to Ruisín’s house.”

  “But isn’t that naturally explained? Ruisín’s wife was her friend.”

  Lennán sniffed in annoyance, the closest gesture he came in defiance of her.

  “Ruisín’s wife was an excuse. It was not Muirgel that she was going to see.”

  “I still cannot see how you can be so sure. I presume you asked her?”

  “She denied it.”

  “Did you ask Ruisín?”

  “He also denied it.”

  “So did you kill Ruisín?”

  The question was put in the same tone and without pause so that Lennán was about to answer before he realized what he was being asked. He frowned in annoyance.

  “I would have done so if I had had the chance,” he replied in surly tone.

  “That seems ho
nest enough,” admitted Fidelma.

  “You take your sister’s honor seriously. I think you take it more seriously than she does. I wonder why?”

  The man said nothing.

  “You can offer no facts about this affair between your sister and Ruisín?”

  “I don’t need facts. I base my knowledge on logic.”

  “Ah, logic. My mentor, Brehon Morann, once said that anything could be demonstrated by logic. By logic we can prove whatever we wish to. Very well. During this contest, I am told you were standing at the table next to Crónán?”

  “I was. My sister was beside me, mooning across the table at that oaf, Ruisín.”

  “And you saw no one interfere with the drinking vessels?”

  “I would not stoop to poison, Sister. If I reached the point where I wished to kill Ruisín, my weapon would be a sword or axe.”

  Abbot Laisran was smiling in satisfaction when Lennán left the tent.

  “That is our man, Fidelma. A whole screpall on it. That’s worth a good barrel of Gaulish wine.”

  “I think you are a little free with your money, Laisran,” she smiled. “Before taking the wager, let us have a word with his sister, Uainiunn.”

  Uainiunn looked nothing like her brother. She was fleshy; almost voluptuous, with an animal magnetism and a provocative way of looking at one, from under half-closed eyelids. She was dark of hair and eyes and had full red lips.

  “I understand that you attended this drinking contest.”

  “With my brother. He insisted.”

  “He insisted?”

  “He wanted to see Ruisín beaten by Crónán.”

  “And you?”

  The girl shrugged.

  “It was a matter of indifference to me.”

  Fidelma examined her closely.

  “Why would that be so?” she asked.

  Uainiunn sniffed.

  “What entertainment is there is watching men drink themselves senseless?”

  “True enough, but didn’t you want to see Ruisín win the contest?”

  “Not particularly. I am sad for Muirgel, though. The loss of Ruisín is going to be a heavy blow for her. However, I do not doubt that she will find another man to take care of her. Rumann for example. It might stop Rumann chasing me. He does not interest me.”

  “Ruisín’s death does not affect you in any way?” demanded Abbot Laisran, slightly outraged at the seeming callousness of the girl.

  Uainiunn frowned.

  “Only inasmuch as it affects my friend, Muirgel.”

  “It sounds as though you did not care much for Ruisín,” Fidelma reflected.

  “He was my friend’s husband, that is all.”

  “I understand that is not what your brother thought.”

  The girl’s eyes blazed for a moment. It was like a door opening suddenly and for a moment Fidelma glimpsed something equivalent to the hot fires of hell beyond. Then they snapped shut.

  “I am not responsible for what Lennán thinks,” she snapped.

  “So you would deny his claim that you were having an affair with Ruisín?”

  The girl threw back her head and laughed. Yet it was not a pleasant sound. There was no need to press her further on her opinion.

  “Very well,” Fidelma said quietly. “You may leave us.”

  Abbot Laisran turned eagerly after she left.

  “You think that she did it? She is callous enough.”

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you about to place another wager, another screpall on it?” she asked.

  Laisran flushed.

  “Perhaps either one of them did it,” he countered.

  Fidelma did not reply directly. She turned to Lígach.

  “Let Muirgel come in.”

  Laisran looked slightly crushed and sat back. He whispered stubbornly.

  “No, she didn’t do it. A screpall on Lennán. He’s your man, I am now certain. After all, he confessed that he wanted to murder Ruisín.”

  “But says that he did not. If he were guilty of the fact, he would surely have attempted to hide his intention?” replied Fidelma.

  “A subtle way of deflecting you from the truth. He has motive and. .”

  “And opportunity? How so? He was with Crónán on the far side of the table.”

  Laisran shook his head.

  “This is worse than the mystery you had to solve in my abbey, when Wulfstan was founded stabbed to death in his cell which had been locked from the inside. Do you remember?”

  “I remember it well,” agreed Fidelma.

  “No one could have entered nor left-so who had killed Wulfstan? Here we have a similar problem.”

  “Similar?”

  “There is Ruisín. He is in full view of a large number of people and he is poisoned. No one can have administered the poison without being seen.”

  Fidelma smiled softly.

  “Yet someone did.”

  Muirgel came in; her face was still mask-like, displaying no emotion. Fidelma pointed to a chair and invited her to sit down.

  “We will not keep you long.”

  The woman raised a bland face to them as she sat.

  “The gossip is that my husband did not die from excess of drink but was poisoned.”

  “It is a conclusion that we have reached.”

  “But why? There was no reason to kill him.”

  “There obviously was and we require your help in discovering that reason. What enemies did he have?”

  “None except. .” she suddenly looked nervous and paused.

  “Lennán?”

  “You know about him?”

  “I know only that he hated your husband.”

  Muirgel sat silently.

  “Was your husband having an affair with Uainiunn?” demanded Fidelma brutally.

  At once Muirgel shook her head vehemently.

  “What makes you so positive?” pressed Fidelma.

  “Uainiunn is my friend. I have known her longer than Ruisín. But I also know Ruisín. You cannot live in close proximity with a man day in and day out without knowing whether he is seeing another woman, especially if the woman is your best friend.”

  Fidelma grimaced. She had known women who had been fooled, as well as men come to that. But she did not comment further. Then another thought occurred to her.

  “Rumann was your husband’s friend?”

  “He was.”

  “And your friend also?”

  The woman frowned.

  “Of course.”

  “Rumann is not married?”

  “He is not.”

  Fidelma was watching the woman’s expression intently when she posed the questions with their subtle implication. But there was no guile there. Nothing was hidden.

  “I suppose that you and Ruisín, Rumann and Uainiunn were often together?”

  Again, Muirgel looked puzzled.

  “Uainiunn was my friend. Rumann was Ruisín’s friend. It was inevitable that we would be together from time to time.”

  “What of Uainiunn’s brother-Lennán? Was he in your company?”

  Muirgel looked annoyed.

  “I thought we had cleared up that matter. He was never in our company.”

  Fidelma nodded with a sigh.

  “You see, I would like to understand why Lennán has developed this idea about his sister and your husband.”

  “If you can peer through a person’s skull, through into the secrets of their mind, then you will find the answer. All I know is that Lennán was not so extreme until after he returned from the cattle raid against the Uí Néill.”

  “You will have to explain that.”

  “Over a year ago Lennán decided to join a raiding party to retrieve some cattle stolen by the one of Uí Néill clans. When he came back he was a changed man. You saw the scar across his forehead?”

  “He was wounded?”

  “The rest of the raiding party did not return,” went on Muirgel. “Only he returned out of the scor
e of men who went off.”

  “Did he explain what had happened to them?”

  “An ambush. A fight. He was, indeed, wounded, and left for dead. A hill shepherd cared for him until he was well enough and then he returned. That was when he became suspicious of everyone and when he began to make those silly accusations against Ruisín.”

  Fidelma leaned forward a little with interest.

  “So this started only after his return. And you say there was no reason that you knew of?”

  “Perhaps he had become deranged.”

  “Did you speak about this to Uainiunn?”

  Muirgel grimaced.

  “Of course. Lennán was her brother.”

  “And what comment did she make?”

  “That we should ignore him. She said that most people knew that he had become a changed man since his return from the cattle raid. No one would take him seriously.” Muirgel suddenly paused and her eyes widened as she gazed at Fidelma. “Lennán? Do you suspect Lennán of killing Ruisín? How? He was standing on the far side of the table when the contest started. How could he have killed my husband?”

  “You’ve no idea who killed your husband?” Fidelma asked, ignoring her question.

  “None.”

  “That is all then.”

  Muirgel rose and went to the flap of the tent.

  “Oh, just one question more,” called Fidelma softly.

  The woman turned expectantly.

  “You were not having an affair with Rumann, were you?”

  Muirgel’s eyes widened for a moment in shock and then a cynical smile slowly crossed her face. She made a sound, a sort of suppressed chuckle and shook her head.

  “I am not. Rumann is too interested in Uainiunn to bother with me, and I would have discouraged him. I loved Ruisín.”

  Fidelma nodded and gestured her to leave.

  Abbot Laisran was staring at Fidelma in surprise.

  “That was surely an insensitive question to ask of a newly widowed woman?” He spoke in a tone of stern rebuke.

  “Sometimes, Laisran, in order to get to firm ground one has to tread through bogland, through mire,” she replied.

  “Do you really suspect that Muirgel poisoned her husband because she was having an affair with his friend, Rumann?”

  “Every question I ask is for a purpose. You should know my methods by now, Laisran.”

  “I am still at a loss. I thought it was clear that Lennán must be the culprit. But your question to Muirgel. .?”

  Fidelma had turned to Lígach, who had entered the tent again. The chieftain bent down and whispered in her ear. She nodded firmly.