‘The king of Laigin places the law above all things, lady,’ he said with gentle emphasis.
‘It is the law that I shall speak to you about, now that I know your purpose here,’ Fidelma replied spiritedly.
‘What would a simple sailor, such as I, know about the law?’ countered Mugrón. ‘I do as I am told.’
‘You have admitted that you are here as an instrument of the law, instructed by the Brehon of your king,’ Fidelma responded quickly. ‘You know enough law for that.’
Mugrón’s eyes widened at the way she refused to be intimidated and then he grinned.
‘Very well. Of what would you speak?’
‘A sister of the Faith was pulled out of the water near your ship a short while ago. She was dead.’
‘One of my men reported the incident to me,’ agreed Mugrón. ‘It happened just before nightfall. Two fisherman had snared the body in their nets. They rowed it to the shore.’
‘You appear to keep a careful watch on this ship. Did none of your crew see anything suspicious? No sign of the body being put into the sea from the rocks on that headland?’
‘Nothing was seen by us. We have little to do with the shoreexcept, with the approval of Salbach, we trade for fresh meat and vegetables with some of the local people.’
‘And the sister was never on board this ship?’
Mugrón’s face coloured with annoyance.
‘Sister Eisten was not on board this ship,’ he snapped. ‘Who claims that she was is a liar!’
Fidelma felt a sudden excitement at his response.
‘And how did you know her name was Eisten? I did not mention it.’ There was granite in her voice.
Mugrón blinked.
‘You …’
She interrupted him with a gesture.
‘Do not play games with me, Mugrón. How did you know her name? It is the truth that I want.’
Mugrón raised his arms in a helpless gesture.
‘Very well, the entire truth it shall be. But I have no wish to place my life and ship in danger. Let us keep this matter between us for the time being.’
‘There will be no danger so long as the truth is told,’ affirmed Fidelma.
Mugrón rose from his seat, went to the cabin door and called out the name, ‘Midnat’. He returned to his seat and an elderly, bearded man entered a moment later and raised his knuckles to his forehead. He was grizzled and tanned of face and his hair was a dirty, greying colour.
‘Tell the sister here your name and the position that you hold on this vessel. Then tell her what happened to you when you went ashore today.’
The elderly man turned to Fidelma and bobbed his head, drawing back his lips from toothless gums.
‘I am Midnat, lady. I am the cook for this vessel. I went ashore today to buy fresh vegetables and oats for the crew.’
‘At what time was this?’
‘Just as the bell for the midday meal was being struck at the abbey.’
‘Tell Sister Fidelma what happened,’ interrupted Mugrón. ‘Exactly as you told me.’
The old man glanced at him in surprise.
‘About the …?
‘Get on with it, man,’ snapped Mugrón. ‘Tell her everything.’
The old man raised a hand and wiped it over his mouth and chin.
‘Well, I am returning to my boat. I’ve bought the vegetables, you see. So, I am going back … well, this sister hails me and asks me whether my captain will be prepared to take two passengers on a voyage.’
‘She said two passengers?’ queried Fidelma. ‘What exactly did she say?’
‘Like that: “Hey, sailor, do you come from that ocean-going ship?” she says. I nods. “How much will your captain charge for the passage for two to Britain or Gaul?” Then I realise that she has mistaken me for someone off the Frankish ship yonder. The big merchant ship. She offers, she says, two screpall for the passage.’
Fidelma stared at him in astonishment.
‘The sister offered such valuable silver coins?’
Midnat nodded emphatically.
‘I says: “Would that I could take it, sister, but I am just the cook from the Laigin warship there. For passage out of this land you need to contact a sailor from the Frankish merchantman at anchor on the other side of the inlet.” No sooner have I said that, then she steps back with a hand to her mouth and eyes wide as if I am the devil incarnate. And she turns and runs away.’
The man paused and waited, watching Fidelma’s face.
‘Is that all?’ Fidelma was disappointed.
‘It was enough,’ confirmed Midnat.
‘She disappeared and you did not see her again?’
‘She runs off along the seashore. I returns to my ship. Thena short while ago, just as dusk is about to descend there’s a commotion. I goes on deck to see what it’s about. Not far off there’s a couple of local fishermen hauling a body out of the water. It’s this same sister that offers me the money for a passage.’
Fidelma glanced up sharply.
‘It was dusk, nearly dark. How could you be sure it was the same sister?’
‘There’s enough light,’ said the old cook, ‘and the body of the sister is wearing a curious cross around its neck. Distinctive enough for me to know that I have not seen another except worn by the sister who asks about the passage to Britain or Gaul.’
It was right enough, thought Fidelma. Eisten’s Roman cross was fairly distinctive in these parts. But she decided to make certain.
‘Curious? In what way?’
‘It’s a cross without a circle.’
‘Ah, you mean a Roman cross?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘I don’t know. If you say it is,’ replied the other diffidently. ‘But it’s large and ornate and with some jewels worth a king’s ransom encrusted on it.’
It was not surprising that the old sailor might mistake the semi-precious stones for jewels of great wealth. The identification, though tenuous, was enough to convince her of the accuracy of what the man had said.
‘That will be all, Midnat.’ Mugrón dismissed the sailor.
The old cook raised his knuckles to his forehead once more in a farewell salute and left the cabin.
‘Well?’ asked Mugrón, ‘does this testimony satisfy you?’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Fidelma replied calmly. ‘For you still have not explained how you knew the actual name of this unfortunate woman.’
Mugrón shrugged dismissively.
‘Well, there is no great secret in that. I told you that we hadthe permission of Salbach to anchor here and pursue our distraint against Brocc of Ros Ailithir.’
Fidelma nodded.
‘When we came here just over a week ago, on instruction of our king’s Brehon we went straight to Salbach’s fortress at Cuan Dóir to ask his permission.’
‘And so?’ prompted Fidelma, not understanding where Mugrón was leading her.
‘At Cuan Dóir I was introduced to this Sister Eisten. When Midnat came to me and described this sister, with her strange crucifix, saying that it was the same sister who was seeking passage, I remembered the crucifix and her name.’
‘So you are sure that Sister Eisten was at Salbach’s fortress a week ago?’ Fidelma felt confused by the apparent ceaseless twists the path of this investigation kept taking.
‘Indeed. Cuan Dóir lies in the next bay, so not far from here. Why do you seem surprised that she would be there?’
Fidelma did not attempt an explanation.
‘There is one thing I would like you to do, Mugrón,’ she said to the captain of the Laigin warship. ‘That is, I want you to accompany me to the abbey and make sure that the body of Sister Eisten is the same person as the sister you saw at Salbach’s fortress. I want to be absolutely sure.’
Mugrón was hesitant.
‘Well, I suppose a trip ashore will be better than sitting on this tub buffeted by the seas. Yet I cannot understand what relevance the death of this tragic young woman has to do with the killin
g of Dacán? Surely that is the more important matter with which you should be concerned?’
He saw the look in Fidelma’s eye and raised a hand in placation.
‘Yes, yes, Sister Fidelma. I’ll come with you but you, as dálaigh, must ensure that no indignity will be done to me by any followers of the Abbot Brocc.’
‘That I can assure you,’ Fidelma confirmed.
‘Then it is agreed.’
‘There is another thing,’ Fidelma said, reaching forward to stay him as Mugrón prepared to rise to his feet.
‘Which is?’
‘You said that you were introduced to Sister Eisten. Why was that?’
‘It was while we were awaiting the arrival of Salbach in the feasting hall that I saw this young religieuse. I was interested in the cross she wore because it was not like the crucifixes worn by our native religious. I could get a good trade for such a cross in Laigin.’
‘It is true,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘The crucifix was obtained in Bethlehem, for Sister Eisten went on a three-year pilgrimage to the Holy Birthplace of the Christ’
‘Exactly as she told me at the time, sister,’ agreed the captain. ‘I was told that everyone asks about it. I had asked Sister Eisten’s companion to introduce me to assure her that I could be trusted. Alas, the sister valued her cross too much to trade it.’
‘Who introduced you?’ frowned Fidelma. ‘You have implied that you knew this companion of Sister Eisten.’
Mugrón was without any guile.
‘Oh yes. Of course I knew her. I had met her when I visited Fearna in the service of the old king. And she recognised me right enough. I was astonished that a lady of Laigin was to be found at the fortress of the chieftain of the Corco Loígde especially when the lady was none other than the former wife of Dacán.’
Of all the surprises Fidelma had heard during her investigations at Ros Ailithir this statement came as the biggest shock of all.
‘The former wife of the Venerable Dacán?’ she repeated slowly, scarcely believing what he said. ‘Are you absolutely sure of this?’
‘Of course I am sure. I had known that Dacán had beenmarried. It was fourteen years ago but I remembered her. An attractive young girl. They were not long together before she divorced him in order to pursue her religious career. I thought she had gone to Cealla.’
‘And who was this former wife of Dacán?’ Fidelma asked quietly. ‘Does she have a name?’
‘Why, of course. Her name is Grella.’
Chapter Eleven
After Mugrón had duly identified the body of Sister Eisten as being that of the same religieuse whom he had seen at Salbach’s fortress, he had returned to his ship. Fidelma and Cass then made their way to the abbey kitchens in search of a meal for, having missed the evening meal, they were both ravenous. It took some insistence on Fidelma’s part, and an emphasis of her position and relationship with the abbot, to persuade the surly sister in charge to provide them with a pitcher of ale, some barley bread and cold cuts from a larac or leg of beef. A bowl of apples was also provided and they ate voraciously and in silence at a small table in the corner of the now deserted refectory.
Fidelma had not really expected that Mugrón would fail to recognise the body of Sister Eisten but she wanted to be sure beyond any doubt that Eisten had been at Salbach’s fortress. She was now faced with one more frustrating mystery, yet one which seemed to hold a slender link to the murder of Dacan. What caused her excitement was Mugrón’s identification of Dacán’s former wife. Why had Grella failed to mentioned that essential fact to Fidelma? The apparent answer was that Grella had been attempting to hide some guilt. Had her relationship provided grounds for Dacán’s murder?
But there was something else that worried Fidelma. What had Grella and Eisten been doing at Salbach’s fortress together? And why had Eisten attempted to book two passages on aship leaving for Gaul? With whom had she been planning to travel? Was it Grella? And who had tortured and killed Eisten?
Fidelma ruminated on the questions while acknowledging that it was little use asking questions when there was no hope of providing answers.
She glanced across the table to Cass and felt a sense of frustration that she could not even begin to discuss her anxieties with him. She found herself still longing for the presence of Brother Eadulf, wishing that she could thrust and parry with the quick sword of his alert mind; dissecting, analysing and, perhaps, gradually arriving at a truth. Then she immediately began to feel guilty again.
She suddenly realised that Cass was regarding her with a quizzical smile.
‘What next, sister?’ he asked, putting down his empty mug of ale and sitting back, obviously satisfied with his meal.
‘Next?’
‘Your mind has been working like the water-clock in the bell tower. I could almost hear the mechanism of your mind as it worked.’
Fidelma grimaced awkwardly.
‘There is one obvious person to see next — Sister Grella. We have to find out why she lied, or, rather, why she did not tell me the whole truth.’
She rose to her feet, followed by Cass.
‘I shall come with you,’ he said. ‘From what you told me there is more than a possibility that she could be the murderess. If so, you should not take chances.’
This time Fidelma made no objection.
They made their way through the gloomy abbey buildings to the dark, deserted library. There was no sign of anyone working in its cold, murky hall. The seats were forsaken, the books were neatly packed in their satchel bags and there were no candles burning.
Fidelma led the way into the small chamber where Sister Grella had taken her to talk, the room where Dacán had studied. She was surprised to see a fire smouldering in the corner fireplace. While Cass bent to light a candle, Fidelma walked quickly across to the fireplace. Something had caught her eye. She leant down to pick it up.
‘What do you make of this?’ she asked.
Cass shrugged as he gazed at the short length of burnt twig which she held out to him.
‘A stick. What else do you light fires with?’
She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
‘Not usually with such sticks. Examine it more closely.’
Cass did so and saw that it was a piece of aspen with some notches of Ogham inscribed on it.
‘What does it say?’ he asked.
‘Nothing that now makes sense. The extract here reads “the resolve of the honourable one determines the fosterage of my children”. That’s all.’
Fidelma placed the salvaged piece of Ogham wand in her marsupium and stared with interest at the remains of the fire.
‘It means that someone has decided to burn an entire book.’ She glanced at the holders that Grella had examined earlier in the day. It was as she suspected. ‘This was the Ogham book that Dacan had been studying. One wand of it, which I discovered, remained in his chamber after his death. I brought it here to show Sister Grella, who identified it as a poem.’
‘Didn’t you think it was part of a will?’
Fidelma pursed her lips in a noncommittal gesture.
‘Now why did someone think that it was so important that they needed to destroy it?’ she asked as if she did not expect Cass to reply.
With a sigh, Fidelma led the way back through the library and into the corridor outside.
A passing cenobite glanced curiously at them.
‘Do you seek Sister Grella?’ he inquired politely.
Fidelma affirmed that they did.
‘If she is not in the Tech Screptra, Sister Grella will be in her own chambers.’
‘Where will we find her chambers?’ Cass inquired a little impatiently.
The cenobite gave them detailed directions which were easy enough to follow.
The chamber of the librarian of Ros Ailithir, however, was deserted. Fidelma had knocked carefully on the door twice. She made sure the corridor was empty before turning the handle. As she fully expected, the door was not locked.
&nb
sp; ‘Inside, quickly, Cass,’ she instructed.
He followed her somewhat reluctantly and when he had passed into Sister Grella’s chamber she closed the door and fumbled for a candle.
‘This is surely wrong, sister,’ muttered Cass. ‘We should not be in this room uninvited.’
Lighting the candle and standing back, Fidelma regarded Cass scornfully.
‘As a dálaigh of the court I can demand the right to search a person or premises where I have a reasonable suspicion of misconduct.’
‘Then you do believe that Sister Grella killed her former husband and Sister Eisten?’
Fidelma motioned him to silence and began searching the room. For someone who had spent eight years in the abbey, Sister Grella’s chamber was exceedingly sparse in personal objects. A book of devotions was placed by the bed and a few toilet articles, combs and such matter. She examined a large pitcher which was full of liquid. Fidelma sniffed suspiciously at it and her lips narrowed into a cynical smile. It was cuirm, the strong mead fermented from malted barley. It seemed Sister Grella liked to drink in the solitude of her chamber.
She turned to some clothes hanging from a line of pegs but was not really interested in them. There was little here of interest. It was only half-heartedly that she turned to a satchel she had spotted hanging on a peg under some of the clothes and rummaged through merely to complete her search. At first, she thought that it contained only a few undergarments. She drew them out and examined them by the light of the candle. Then among them she noticed a linen skirt which caused her to gasp in sudden satisfaction.
‘Cass, examine this,’ she whispered.
The warrior bent forward.
‘A parti-coloured linen skirt,’ he began, dismissively. ‘What …?’
He paused and suddenly realised what it was.
‘Blue and red. The colour of the strips which bound Dacán.’
Fidelma turned to the hem of the skirt. A long strip of material had, indeed, been torn away. She expelled the air from her lungs with a long, low whistling sound.
‘Then Grella is the murderess!’ announced Cass in excitement. ‘Here is the proof.’
Fidelma was equally excited but her legal mind urged caution.
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