“My mentor, the Brehon Morann of Tara used to say-it is easier to become a monk in one’s old age,” sighed Fidelma.
Abbess Ballgel hid a smile.
“Anyway,” Fidelma continued, “as Abbot you were expecting Sisters Cessair and Delia to arrive at Fosse at noon or so I am led to believe?”
“Not precisely. I was expecting two sisters of Abbess Ballgel’s community to arrive but I did not know who they would be. Had I known one was going to be Sister Cessair….”
“What would you have done?”
“I should have stopped her coming to mislead Brother Cano further into temptation’s way.”
“Cano was misled?” queried Fidelma. “I thought he was in love with Cessair?”
The Abbot stirred uncomfortably.
“Women are the temptresses by which the saintly fall from grace.”
He did not meet Fidelma’s flashing anger. But Fidelma, realizing it impossible to overcome the misogynist’s prejudice, decided to ignore the remark.
“Ballgel, why did you choose Cessair and Delia to bring the vial of blood for the service this morning?”
“Why?”
“Someone knew that Cessair was going to be walking along that forest track.”
The eyes of the Abbess widened.
“Why, it was Sister Delia who came to me last night and asked if she be allowed to take the vial for the blessing. She also asked me if she could choose a companion to accompany her.”
“You did not know that she would choose Cessair?”
“As a matter of fact,” smiled the Abbess, “I presumed that she would. They have been inseparable companions.”
“You knew that she would choose Cessair to accompany her through the forest of Seneffe even though the Abbot disapproved on Cessair? Isn’t that strange?”
“Not at all. I am like you, Fidelma. I refuse to be dictated to as to who I can send here or there.”
Abbot Heribert’s mouth set in a grim line. He was clearly displeased but did not say anything.
“So Sister Delia was the only other person who knew Cessair would go with her, apart from yourself, Ballgel?”
Abbess Ballgel looked carefully at her friend.
“You will remember, Fidelma,” she said softly, “that you arrived at Nivelles only a short time after Brother Sinsear had brought us the dreadful news.”
Fidelma smiled sympathetically.
“I do remember. And you need hardly remind me that you would have had no time to have done the deed. Besides, it would be very difficult for an abbess to absent herself from her abbey for the time needed to do carry out this murder. I also presume that you would have had no motive either?”
Before Ballgel could respond, Abbot Heribert interrupted.
“It would like be difficult for an abbot to absent himself from his abbey,” he said shortly.
“I had not forgotten, Heribert,” Fidelma said solemnly. “Tell us, as a matter of record, where you were about noon?”
Abbot Heribert shrugged. “I will play the game to the end,” he said heavily. “Today, being the anniversary of the death of the Blessed Gertrude, we have a midday Angelus followed by a service of remembrance not only for Gertrude but in memory of the Blessed Foillan whom she allowed to build our abbey. The vial of the holy blood is brought to the abbey just before the midday Angelus bell is sounded.
“At ten minutes before midday I was standing with several Brothers awaiting the appearance of the two Sisters, who usually carry the vial from Nivelles. I did not know who they would be. When midday came and the bell was tolled, I thought that the only thing to do was proceed with the service although without the vial.”
“Did you not send anyone to look for the Sisters?’
“I was informed that Brother Sinsear had already left to escort the Sisters through the forest. So I did not need to.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Well, we performed the service and when it was over there was no sign of the Sisters nor of Brother Sinsear.”
“Brother Sinsear had come straight to Nivelles to alert us,” pointed out Ballgel.
“It was some time before Brother Sinsear returned,” agreed Heribert, “and told us the appalling news and we immediately set out to the forest. We had barely reached there when you arrived.”
“I see. Will you send for Brother Sinsear?”
It was moments before they were joined by the young monk. The youth made an effort to overcome the nervous twisting of his hands by placing them behind his back.
“It is a terrible business,” he began, breaking the silence.
“I know that you are upset,” Fidelma smiled gently. “After all, it is your close friend who stands in some danger. The finger of suspicion points in his direction.”
“Brother Cano might be possessed of a temper but he would never… never…”
“He was quick-tempered?” Fidelma interrupted.
Brother Sinsear hung his head.
“I should not have said that. I meant…”
“It is true,” observed Abbot Heribert. “I have rebuked him a couple of times for his turbulent moods.”
“Well, all I want from you, Brother Sinsear, are the details about today. I understand that you left the abbey to go in search of the two Sisters bringing the vial of holy blood. At what time was this?”
“Some time before midday, I think. Yes, it was half an hour before the midday Angelus bell sounded because that was when the vial was due to be at the abbey.”
“Were you instructed to do so?”
Brother Sinsear shook his head.
“No. But knowing Cessair… well, I knew she would be in no hurry.”
There was a brief silence.
“You knew that one of the two Sisters would be Cessair?” pressed Fidelma. “How did you know?”
“Why, Brother Cano told me. We had few secrets. He left to go to the woodsman’s hut where he and Cessair usually met. I knew that this would delay them bringing the vial to the abbey. That was why I set off in good time to meet them and encourage them to hurry. Alas, I was too late.”
“You found Cessair dead?”
“I did. She was tied to the tree even as you saw her.”
“And Sister Delia?”
“There was no sign of her. So I hurried straight to Nivelles to alert Abbess Ballgel.”
“Why did you do that?” Fidelma asked.
“Why?”
“There were other options. Why not rush back to Fosse and alert the Abbot Heribert?”
Sinsear grimaced. “It is well known that Nivelles is closer to that point in the forest than is Fosse. I thought it more expedient to bring the news to Nivelles and then return to alert Fosse.”
“Have you been friends with Cano from the time he arrived in Fosse?”
“He was assigned to help me in the gardens and we became friends.”
“Yet you knew Cessair before Cano arrived?”
“I have met Cessair and Delia as well as many others of the Sisters of Nivelles. There is much intercourse between the abbeys. You see, I am employed in the gardens and my job is taking fruit and vegetables to Nivelles once a week.”
“Brother Sinsear is perfectly correct,” interrupted Heribert. “Members of our community often go to Nivelles to help them with the heavy building work and the upkeep of their fields and crops. In fact, Brother Sinsear took produce to Nivelles only yesterday afternoon. Ah, and didn’t Brother Cano accompany you?”
Brother Sinsear flushed and nodded reluctantly.
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“There is a further question that I must now ask Sister Delia. Please wait for me here.”
In the infirmary Sister Delia, although pale-faced and weak, was looking much improved.
“Sister Delia,” Fidelma began without preamble. “There is only one question I need ask you. Why did you especially ask to be allowed to take the vial of holy blood to Fosse today?”
“Sister Cessair asked
me to.”
“Cessair, eh? Then it was not your idea?”
“No. Neither was it her idea, to be truthful. She knew that there would be some argument with the Abbot who disliked her and was reluctant to go. However, Brother Cano had especially asked her to come….”
“How had he asked? Had he not seen her yesterday?”
“No. He sent a message for there is always someone coming or going between our two abbeys. He sent a note to Cessair asking her to come early to the hut so that he would spent a few moments with her to discuss their future.”
“Did you approve of her meetings with Cano?”
“I was Cessair’s friend. I knew that there is no stopping the stupidities that love brings with it. And I thought it was only one question that you wished to ask?”
“So it was. Is this the note?” She pulled out the piece of torn paper from her marsupium.
Sister Delia glanced at it and shrugged.
“I do not read Ogham,” she said. “But I think it is part of the note. Cano and Cessair used the ancient form of Irish writing to write cryptic notes to one another.”
Fidelma turned back to the refectory.
“I think I have the solution to this mystery,” she announced as Abbess Ballgel and Abbot Heribert gazed up as she reentered the refectory.
“Who then is guilty?” demanded Heribert.
“Ask Brother Cano to come here. You will remain, Brother Sin-sear.”
“Brother Cano,” Fidelma began when the young man arrived, “the future looks bleak for you.”
Cano grimaced in resignation.
“The future is empty for me,” he corrected. “Without Cessair, my life is indeed an abyss filled with pain.”
“Why did you ask Cessair to meet you today?”
“I have told you already. So that we could plan to go away together and find a mixed house where we could live and work together and, God willing, raise our children in his service.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“Mine.”
“I thought that someone else might have suggested it to you as a solution to your problems,” Fidelma said quietly.
Cano frowned. “It matters not who suggested it. That was the purpose of our rendezvous.”
“It does matter. Wasn’t it Brother Sinsear who suggested that you should plan to leave here?”
“Perhaps. Sinsear has been a good friend. He saw that there was no future for us here.”
“You went with Brother Sinsear to Nivelles last evening to take garden produce. Why didn’t you speak with Cessair then?”
“We arrived during the evening service and as there was no excuse to delay at Nivelles, I wrote Cessair a note in Ogham suggesting the meeting. I knew that Cessair could read the ancient Irish writing so I put the instructions in that note and left it with the gatekeeper.”
“Yes. It all fits now,” Fidelma sighed. She turned to the young Brother. “Sinsear, would you mind handing Abbess Ballgel the vial of holy blood from your marsupium? The Abbess has been fretful about it ever since she realized that it was missing.”
Brother Sinsear started, his face white. As if in a dream he opened his waist purse and handed it over.
“I found it on the ground…. I meant to give it to you before. …”
Fidelma shook her head sadly.
“One of the most terrible passions is love turned to hatred because of rejection. A lover who sees the object of their love in love with a rival can sometimes be transformed into a fiend incarnate.”
Brother Cano looked astounded.
“Cessair did not reject me,” he exclaimed. “I tell you again, I did not kill her. We planned to go away together.”
“It is Sinsear to whom I refer,” replied Fidelma. “It was Sinsear whose love had turned to a rage-who wanted to hurt and mutilate her.”
Sinsear was staring at her open-mouthed.
“Sinsear had been in love with Cessair for a long time. Being young and unable to articulate his love, he worshipped her from afar, dreaming of the day when he could summon up courage to declare himself. Then Cano arrived. At first the two were good friends. Then Sinsear introduced Cano to his love. Horror! Cano and Cessair fell truly in love. Day by day, Sinsear found himself watching their passion and his jealousy grew to such a peak at what he saw as Cessair’s rejection of him, that his mind broke with the anguish. He would revenge himself on Cessair with such a vengeance that hell did not possess.”
Sinsear stood with his face drained of all emotion.
“He suggested to Cano that he invite Cessair to a rendezvous in the hut and gave him the pretext of discussing a means of leaving the abbeys. Then he left Fosse in plenty of time to climb the old oak, hiding among the low-hanging branches, to await the arrival of Cessair and her companion. That was why Sister Delia did not hear anyone approach them from behind. He jumped down. I saw the indentation where he landed. He landed just behind Delia and felled her with a blow before she knew it. Am I right?”
Sinsear did not respond.
“Perhaps then he revealed his twisted love to Cessair. Perhaps he begged her to go with him. Did she react in horror, did she laugh? How did she treat this frenzied would-be-lover? We only know how it resulted. He struck her several blows on the head and then, in a gruesome ritual, which serves to demonstrate his immaturity, he decided to punish her beauty by which she beguiled him by mutilating her face with a knife. Whether he tied her first to the tree or not, we do not know unless he tells us. But I have no doubt that she was dead by then.
“Something made him pick up the vial of holy blood and his religious training took the better of him, for instead of leaving it in Cessair’s purse, he put it in his own for safekeeping. Knowing the missing vial was irrelevant, I could not account for its disappearance before.
“Perhaps then he heard Sister Delia coming to. He turned and raced on to Nivelles to raise the alarm. He believed that Sister Delia would probably go on to Fosse to raise the alarm which is why he chose Nivelles.”
Abbot Heribert was staring at Sinsear, seeing the truth of Fi-delma’s accusation confirmed in his cold features.
“How did you first suspect him?” he asked.
“Many reasons can be mentioned if you think back over the events. But, according to his story, Sinsear went along the path in search of Cessair and Delia. He found Cessair dead and tied to the tree. He claimed that he had reached the point after Delia had disappeared. But how could he have seen the body tied to the tree when it was on the far side of the tree to the path he was traveling?
“Even allowing he somehow might have spotted something that made him suspicious, that he was so distraught that he did not think to cut her down and see if he could revive her, why did he run on to Nivelles?”
“For help. He wished to raise the alarm and, as he pointed out when you asked, Nivelles was closer than Fosse to the place. It is logical.”
“There was an even closer place to seek help,” Fidelma pointed out. “Why not go there? He knew that Brother Cano was waiting in the woodsman’s hut just a few hundred meters away. Had he been innocent, he would have rushed to seek Cano and get immediate help.”
The scream made them freeze.
Sinsear had turned and drawn a knife and made a thrust at Brother Cano. He was babbling incoherently.
Cano reacted by striking out in self-defense, felling the young monk with a blow to the jaw.
“Now you can punish him by whatever laws apply here,” Fi-delma told Abbot Heribert. She turned to the Abbess. “And we, Ballgel, shall escort poor Sister Delia back to Nivelles. We have much to talk about….” She paused and glanced sadly at Brother Cano who was now sitting quietly, his head in his hands.
“Even the ancients were acutely aware of the role of emotions causing the symptoms of mental illness. Aegra amans-the lover’s disease-can make people lose all reason. Even the most mature people can go mad and to the young and immature love can destroy the soul as well as the mind.”
&nb
sp; A SCREAM FROM THE SEPULCHER
It was the evening of All Saints’ Day and Tressach, a warrior of the guard of the royal palace of Tara, home of Sechnasach, High King of Ireland, was unhappy. That evening he had drawn the most unpopular duty, which was to act as sentinel in that area of the palace complex where generations of High Kings were buried. Rows of carved granite memorials marked the mounds where many of the great monarchs were interred, often with their chariots, armor, and such grave goods as were needed to help them on their journey to the Otherworld.
Tressach felt uncomfortable that this duty fell to his lot on this night of all nights. The evening of All Saints, or All Hallows, as some now named it, was an ancient observance which many still called the Samhain Festival even though the five kingdoms had long accepted the new Faith of Christendom. Samhain, according to ancient tradition, was the one night of the year when the mystic realms of the Otherworld became visible to the living and when the souls of the dead could enter the living world to wreak vengeance on any who had wronged them in life. So strong was this belief among the people that even when the new faith entered the land it could not be suppressed. The Christians therefore incorporated the ancient festival by creating two separate celebrations. All Saints’ Day was set aside as a day when the saints, known and unknown, were glorified, and the following day, All Souls, was given to the commemoration of the souls of the faithful dead.
Tressach shivered slightly in the cold evening air as he approached the walled-off compound of graves, far away from the main palace buildings which made up the High King’s capital. Autumn was departing with rapidity and the first signs of winter, the white fingers of a creeping evening frost, were permeating across the sacred hills of Royal Meath.
Tressach paused as he contemplated the path that he had to take between the darkened mounds with their granite stone portals. They called this “the avenue of the great kings,” for here were entombed some of the most famous of ancient rulers. There was the imposing tomb of Ollamh Fodhla, the fortieth king, who gathered the laws of Ireland and established a féis, or convention, which sat at Tara every three years at the feast of Samhain. This was when judges, lawyers and administrators gathered to discuss the laws and revised them. Indeed, Tressach knew that hosts of judges and lawyers had already descended on Tara, for the convention fell this very year. They would start their deliberations in the morning.
Hemlock at Vespers sf-9 Page 34