‘Sister Buan knew of our relationship. Cináed and I told her. We told her what we wanted. She refused us and was angry. She hated me and she must have hated Cinaed. She killed Cinaed in her jealousy.’
‘Jealousy? Surely the most likely victim of her jealousy would be you, if Cinaed were rejecting her for you?’
‘The woman is spiteful; spiteful enough to vent her feelings on Cináed.’
‘She must have been a powerful woman to deliver such a stroke as crushed his skull, as the physician has reported.’
Sister Sinnchéne laughed shortly.
‘She is strong, that one. And Cinaed was elderly and frail.’
Fidelma shook her head sadly.
‘Accusations without evidence are not valid. What you are telling me is that you suspect Sister Buan’s involvement but have no proof. In which case, Sister, I should remind you to watch how you express that suspicion. The Din Techtugad warns that spreading false stories, satirising a person unjustly and giving false testimony is an offence that results in the loss of one’s honour-price.’
Sister Sinnchéne scowled.
‘Law!’ She made it sound like a dirty word.
‘The law is there for the protection of everyone,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I simply warn you to be careful with the words you choose.’
She turned and seemed to notice Eadulf and Conrí at the half-open door for the first time.
‘Conrí, could you or one of your men find Brother Cú Mara and ask him to come here?’
The warlord nodded without speaking and left.
Fidelma smiled at Eadulf.
‘We will catch up on matters shortly,’ she said, but before she could elaborate further Conrí re-entered with the rechtaire.
‘He was just passing outside,’ the warlord explained, ‘so I did not have to search far.’
‘You wanted to see me, lady?’ asked Brother Cú Mara, glancing with a frown from Sister Fidelma to Sister Sinnchéne and back again.
Fidelma nodded and gestured for the steward to seat himself on a stool, which she placed beside Sister Sinnchéne’s. She reseated herself facing them. There was strategy in Fidelma’s indicating where he should sit. Seated alongside one another, the two would find eye contact difficult and so it would be impossible to pick up any warning expression from the other.
‘I need to ask you for your comments on a conversation that has been reported to me,’ she began, looking at the rechtaire. ‘A conversation between you and Sister Sinnchéne.’
The steward frowned.
‘And this conversation?’
‘It took place before the death of the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘And?’
‘Sister Sinnchéne wondered whether a certain secret had been revealed by Cinaed to Abbess Faife. You responded that it could not be a coincidence that the body of the abbess was found at a certain spot. What was the meaning behind those words … do not look at Sister Sinnchéne,’ she suddenly said sharply as he began to turn.
Brother Cú Mara’s face reddened as he turned back to her.
‘I was trying to recall …’
‘You don’t recall that conversation?’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Sister Sinnchéne does.’
‘I do recall it,’ he finally admitted. ‘But it was some time ago.’
‘It was after Abbess Faife was found and before Cinaed was killed. Not that long ago.’
Brother Cú Mara’s features relaxed in a smile.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I remember now. You may have learnt that the Venerable Cinaed and Abbess Faife sometimes worked together?’
Fidelma waited silently.
‘I think that Sister Sinnchéne had discovered that Cinaed was working on a denouncement of the claims of Eoganan who led the Uí Fidgente against—’
Fidelma interrupted him with a motion of her hand.
‘This work was completed and placed in the tech-screptra some time ago. What of it?’
‘Did you know that Eoganan had two sons?’
‘We did.’
‘One of the sons, Torcán, was killed at the time that Eoganan led the Uí Fidgente in battle against Cashel. But he had another son—’
Eadulf broke in impatiently.
‘Uaman the Leper who called himself Lord of the Passes around Sliabh Mis.’
Brother Cú Mara glanced at him in surprise.
‘Go on,’ snapped Fidelma with an irritated glance at Eadulf. ‘What of Uaman?’
‘Cináed heard word that a month or so ago Uaman was reported killed, his fortress burnt and his followers dispersed.’
Fidelma shot Eadulf a warning glance in case he interrupted again.
‘What has this to do with my question?’ she demanded.
‘Cináed had heard rumours that Uaman’s followers were still active, trying to raise support for a new movement against Cashel. As Sister Sinnchéne would have told you, Cinaed confided this to Sister Sinnchéne and said he was keeping this a secret until he could discover more.’
‘And so what was the meaning of the conversation?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘Simple,’ answered the rechtaire. ‘When we had news of the Abbess Faife’s death and where her body had been found, Sister Sinnchéne wondered if the Venerable Cinaed had told her that Uaman’s followers might have continued their activities before she left for the land of the Corco Duibhne. Had he asked her to make inquiries? That is what was meant.’
‘And your reply?’
‘I thought he must have told her for I did not think it coincidence that her body had been found almost opposite the island where the ruins of Uaman’s fortress stood.’
Fidelma turned to Sister Sinnchéne.
‘And you agree with this account?’
The young girl nodded quickly.
Fidelma thrust out her lower lip slightly in thought.
‘There are a couple of things that worry me, though …’ she said slowly.
‘A question for you, Brother Cú Mara: why did you think that the Venerable Cinaed would confide such secret information in Sister Sinnchéne?’
The rechtaire stirred uncomfortably.
‘Why, because of her … her …’
‘Her relationship with the Venerable Cinaed?’ supplied Fidelma.
Brother Cú Mara nodded quickly.
‘A relationship that you neglected to inform me of when I spoke to you earlier,’ observed Fidelma heavily.
The young man’s face reddened.
‘I did not think it my place to tell you …’
‘Whose place did you think it was?’ snapped Fidelma. ‘When a dálaigh conducts an inquiry no relevant information should be withheld from her.’ She turned quickly to the young girl. ‘And then I am worried by the fact that you say Cináed told you this secret. As soon as you heard of the abbess’s death, why did you not ask him, in view of your special relationship, whether he had confided also in the Abbess Faife and whether he thought the death relevant?’
The girl seemed at a loss for words and floundered helplessly in an attempt to articulate some form of reply.
‘It … it did not occur to me until I was speaking to Brother Cú Mara.’
‘And why did it come up then?’ went on Fidelma relentlessly. ‘It seems strange that you did not discuss this with your lover, of whom it was an intimate concern, but you could discuss this with the rechtaire of the abbey? Indeed, Cinaed told you this as a secret and yet you confided in Brother Cú Mara. Why?’
Sister Sinnchéne loosed a quiet sob and her hand reached out to find that of an embarrassed Brother Cú Mara.
Fidelma noticed the movement and suddenly relaxed with a grim smile.
‘I understand,’ she said quietly.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and then, to Eadulf’s surprise and Conrí’s bewilderment, she said to the rechtaire and the young girl: ‘That will be all for now. You may go.’
As bewildered as Conrí they rose hesitantly. As they did so the light from the candles that had now been lit
flickered on the sleeve and front of the robe that Brother Cú Mara was wearing. Little pinpricks of light danced on it. Fidelma frowned and reached out to touch the robe. She felt the hard granular objects between her fingertips.
She glanced inquisitively.
‘I deduce that you have been leaning on Sister Uallann’s workbench recently.’
Brother Cú Mara frowned.
‘I have not been in her apothecary since I took you there,’ he replied firmly.
Fidelma’s eyes widened a fraction before she motioned them to leave. Brother Cú Mara and Sister Sinnchéne made their way out of the tech-nigid without another word.
Eadulf turned to Fidelma as the door closed but even as he began to open his mouth she shook her head, knowing what was in his mind.
‘The art of a good interrogation is to know when to stop pushing,’ she told him. ‘When to know the moment to allow a space of uncertainty to occur. Often people continue to ask questions when it merely strengthens the suspect. Uncertainty can often work more upon the fears of the suspect than bludgeoning them into forming replies that strengthen their position. But tell me what you make of this?’
She sprinkled half a dozen minuscule grains into the palm of his hand. He went to hold it by the light of the candle.
‘Just ground stone,’ he said after a while. ‘You might pick this up on a beach where the seas grind the stones down into such fine specks. I think it is called corundum.’
Fidelma brushed the rest of the grains from her hands. ‘It is probably of no importance.’
Eadulf walked to the stool that the rechtaire had vacated and slumped down.
‘I think that you had best bring us up to date on your interrogation of Sister Sinnchéne,’ he suggested quietly.
Briefly, but without leaving out any of the relevant points, Fidelma gave them an account of her exchange with Sister Sinnchéne.
‘If they were lovers, I think we can rule out Sinnchéne as a killer,’ Eadulf finally commented.
Fidelma immediately shook her head.
‘There is much power in that word “if”, Eadulf. Certainly one of the two is not being entirely truthful.’
‘But which one? Sister Buan or Sister Sinnchéne?’
‘There are inconsistencies in both their accounts,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But I am more suspicious of Sinnchéne at the moment. Did you see the way she reached out for Brother Cú Mara in a moment of stress?’
Eadulf shook his head.
‘I was too busy watching Cú Mara’s face to see if he was lying. I do not think he was being honest.’
‘Those two have something to hide. I think that the good Sister Sinnchéne has found another lover with status in this abbey.’
Conrí looked shocked.
‘You mean that while she was supposed to be having some affair with the Venerable Cinaed, she was also having an affair with the rechtaire?’
Fidelma smiled cynically.
‘Such liaisons are not entirely unknown. However, this relationship with Brother Cú Mara may have started after Cináed’s death. Remember the girl is young, emotional and probably needs someone for support.’
‘But—’
‘We have to move on. If the weather is fair tomorrow we sail for the land of the Corco Duibhne. I would like some resolution to this matter before that time. However, I suspect that we will not get it. I have a strange feeling that it is all connected. To disentangle such a mystery, you have to find a path to follow. It is like unravelling a ball of string. You take a piece and pull and hopefully you are able to follow it to the end so that the ball falls apart. I don’t think that we have found the right piece of string to unwind yet. Perhaps we should visit this fortress of Uaman the Leper?’
Conrí was shaking his head. ‘We have only the girl’s word for these rumours Cinaed is said to have heard about Uaman the Leper and his followers.’
Eadulf was in agreement. ‘As I recall, Uaman had only a few men with him and they were slain by Gormán. We let one of Uaman’s warriors go free for he surrendered and could do no harm to us. I saw the local people rise up and torch Uaman’s fortress. So Abbess Faife died within sight of that ruined pile. What does that prove? Certainly Uaman had followers but not many. None of them could be intent on leading a new plot to destroy Cashel.’
‘I think Brother Eadulf and I speak as one here, lady,’ Conrí. agreed. ‘There can be no more Uí Fidgente plots. We will argue our case against Cashel under law but not by force of arms. You have our chieftain’s word on that.’
‘Because you and 1 agree, Conrí,’ she replied, ‘because your leader Donennach and Colgú my brother have agreed a treaty, it does not mean to say that others agree. Peace is kept by vigilance. Do you know the aphorism of Vegetius — si vis pacem para bellum?’
‘If you want peace, prepare for war,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘It sometimes can be misinterpreted to justify a kingdom’s making itself powerful and then asserting its own terms of peace over its neighbours. The Pax Romana, for example, was nothing but the peace dictated by the strength of the Roman army.’
Fidelma was impatient. ‘Anyway, it is scarcely the time for philosophy and semantics. I merely say that one should not blind oneself to possibilities just because one wants to believe in the good of others. We must be watchful.’
‘Very well, but does that help us now? Remember it is my aunt of whom we speak. Abbess Faife was of the nobility of the Uí Fidgente opposed to the continuation of the conflict with Cashel.’
‘I am not forgetting that fact, Conrí.’
Conrí blinked at her sharp tone.
‘I have other business to conduct with the abbot so I will meet you at the evening meal,’ he said shortly and left.
After the door had closed on him, Eadulf glanced at Fidelma.
‘I think he is irritated,’ he ventured.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ replied Fidelma gravely but a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
Eadulf was puzzled for a moment.
‘You wanted him to leave?’ he said accusingly.
She leant forward. ‘Eadulf, I need to speak to certain people and I do not want Conrí. in attendance, especially if it turns out that there is some Uí Fidgente plot brewing again.’
‘But you have often pointed out that Conrí. is on our side,’ protested Eadulf.
‘And if that is true, don’t you think that he would be putting himself in danger if what I suspect is correct? Better that he keep out of the affair until I get more information.’
She rose and went to the door.
‘Where now?’ asked Eadulf wearily, as he joined her.
‘We shall have another word with the physician, Sister Uallann.’
They were passing the tech-screptra when a young religieux came running from it, his hair dishevelled, his breath coming in sobs. He nearly ran into them but Eadulf grasped him by the arm.
‘You are in a terrible hurry, Brother …’ he began.
The young man, who had his head down as he was hurrying, looked up. It was the young library assistant, Brother Faolchair. He was clearly upset.
‘Sorry. I … I …’ he began to stammer, not able to form words.
Fidelma gave the boy a look of encouragement.
‘What is it that makes you upset?’
He focused wide eyes on her with an expression of distress.
‘My work, Sister. My work — ruined.’
‘Your work?’
‘I have just returned to the library and found all my copying work ruined, the book I was copying from …’
Fidelma was suddenly very still.
‘You were copying a book by the Venerable Cinaed, weren’t you?’ she said sharply.
The boy nodded.
‘I was. The book has vanished. I went to the shelves to see if someone had replaced it. All the books of the Venerable Cinaed had been swept off the shelves. Sister, they have been burnt.’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and turned back to the boy.
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br /> ‘All the books? Burnt? How do you know that?’
‘I saw that the fire was black and smoking and something drew me to it. I saw that books had been piled on the fire and had been destroyed but for a few pages.’
‘All the books of the Venerable Cináed?’ repeated Eadulf. ‘No other books?’
‘All those of the Venerable Cinaed only, the ones that we had in our library,’ confirmed the boy. ‘I am just going in search of Brother Eolas to tell him.’
‘Then there was no one else in the library?’
‘The library was closed for an afternoon service in the oratory. Brother Eolas and I had to attend. I did not return to the library until a short time ago.’
‘You are certain that no other works were destroyed apart from those of the Venerable Cinaed?’
The boy looked woeful.
‘None, Sister. Now there is no work of the Venerable Cinaed surviving in our library. It is disaster. Nothing left. We will have to seek copies from other libraries and then we cannot replace them all, for some were unique to this place.’ He hesitated.
‘Except?’ prompted Fidelma instinctively.
‘Nothing important. Just some notes he made which he inadvertently inserted in a copy of the Uraicecht Bec and left in it when he returned the text to the library. I only discovered them the other morning.’
Fidelma was thoughtful. The Uraicecht Bec was a law text said to have been written by the famous female judge Brig Briugaid on the rights of women. It reminded her of her promise to look up Sister Buan’s rights as a widow.
‘I would like to look at these notes later,’ she said, then seeing the boy was still distressed gave him a quick smile of encouragement. ‘Very well. You may find Brother Eolas later but let us examine the library first. Don’t worry. You shall not get into trouble.’
Led by the boy, Fidelma, followed by Eadulf, entered the still deserted library. There was certainly a smoky odour in the air and in the fireplace that heated the hall they found the evidence which Brother Faolchair had seen. Fidelma glanced at the shelves where the proud Brother Eolas had displayed the books of the Venerable Cinaed.
Eadulf rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the empty shelves.
‘Does this have something to do with his murder?’ he asked.
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