Hemlock at Vespers: Fifteen Sister Fidelma Mysteries

by Peter Tremayne

  “It was a strange coincidence.”

  “Coincidences happen more often than we give them credit. I attended the service with them yesterday.”

  “And was your plaint successful?”

  Enodoc hesitated.

  “No, Docco was as firmly against my marriage to Egeria as ever he had been.”

  “Yet you joined them again today?”

  “I was leaving for Ostia today. I wanted one more chance to plead my case with Docco. I love Egeria.”

  “And does she love you?”

  Enodoc thrust out his chin.

  “You will have to ask her that yourself.”

  “I intend to do so. Where did you meet them this morning? Did you come to the ecclesia together, or separately?”

  “I had some business first and then went to their lodgings. They had already left for the church and so I followed.”

  “At what time did you get here?”

  “A moment or so before the service started.”

  “And you came straight in and joined them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. Ask Egeria to come and sit with me.”

  Clearly despondent, Enodoc rose to his feet and went back to the girl. He spoke to her but seemed to get no response. Fidelma noticed that he put his hand under her arm, drew her to her feet and guided her to where Fidelma was sitting. She came unprotestingly but was apparently still in a stupefied state.

  “Thank you,” Fidelma said, and reached forward to take the girl’s hand. “This is a great shock for you, I know. But I need to ask some questions. Be seated now.” She turned and gazed up at Enodoc. “You may leave us.”

  Reluctantly the Gaulish seaman departed.

  The girl had slumped on the stool before Fidelma, head bowed.

  “Your name is Egeria, I believe?”

  The girl simply nodded.

  “I am Fidelma. I need to ask some questions,” she repeated again. “We need to discover who is responsible for this terrible deed.”

  The girl raised her tear-stained eyes to Fidelma. A moment or two passed before she seemed to focus clearly.

  “It cannot bring back Docco. But I will answer, if I can.”

  “You were very fond of your brother, I take it?”

  “He was all I had. We were orphans together.”

  “He was protective of you?”

  “I am ... was younger than he and he raised me when our parents were killed during a Frankish raid. He became the head of my family.”

  “What made you come to Rome?”

  “It was a pilgrimage that we had long talked about.”

  “Did you expect Enodoc to be here?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “Do you love Enodoc?”

  Egeria look at her without answering for a moment or two and then shook her head slowly.

  “Enodoc came from our village. He used to be our friend when we were children. I liked him as a friend but no more than that. Then he went to sea. He is captain of a merchant ship. I hardly see him. But whenever we meet, he seems to think he has a claim on me.”

  “Indeed; he thinks that he is in love with you.”

  “Yes. He has said so on several occasions.”

  “But you are not in love with him?”

  “No.”

  “Have you told him so? Have you told him clearly?”

  “Several times. He is a stubborn man and convinced himself that it was Docco who stood against him. That Docco had the ability to make up my mind for me.”

  “I see. Are you telling me that he thought that it was only Docco that was an obstacle to marriage with you?”

  The girl nodded and then her eyes widened a fraction.

  “Are you saying ... ?”

  “I am merely asking questions, Egeria. When did you meet Enodoc today?”

  “When he arrived for the service.”

  “You and your brother were already in the ecclesia, I take it?”

  She nodded.

  “You had taken up your position at the front?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your brother normally take that position?”

  Egeria sniffed a little and wiped a tear from her eye.

  “Docco always liked to be the first to take the ritual of the Eucharist and so he liked to place himself near the priest. It was a habit of his, even at home.”

  “I see. At what stage did Enodoc join you?”

  “A few moments before the service began. I thought that he had finally accepted the situation but then he appeared, breathless and flustered as if he were in a hurry. I thought that the priest, Father Cornelius, was going to admonish him because he had halted the opening of the service while Enodoc took his place.”

  Fidelma frowned.

  “Why so? I came very late into the service yet Father Cornelius did not halt the service for me.”

  “It was because Enodoc entered at the back of the altar and crossed in front of the priest to take his position with us.”

  Fidelma could not speak with surprise for a moment.

  “Are you saying that Enodoc entered the ecclesia through the sacristy?”

  Egeria shrugged.

  “I do not know. He entered through that door.” She turned and pointed to the door of the sacristy.

  Fidelma was silent for a while.

  “Return to your place, Egeria. I will not be long now. Please ask Enodoc to come back to me.”

  Enodoc was as pleasant as before.

  “You have been selective with your truths, Enodoc,” Fidelma opened.

  The young man frowned.

  “How so?”

  “Docco was not the only person to stand in your way to marriage with Egeria.”

  “Who else did so?” demanded the Gaul.

  “Egeria herself.”

  “She told you that?” The young man flushed.

  “Yes.”

  “She does not really mean it. She may say so but it was merely Docco speaking. Things will be different now.”

  “You think so?”

  “She is distraught. When her mind clears, she will know the truth.” He was confident.

  “Perhaps. You did not mention that you entered this ecclesia through the sacristy.”

  “You did not ask me. Is it important?”

  “Why did you choose that unorthodox way of entering?”

  “No mystery to that. I told you that I had to see a merchant this morning. I finished my business and came hurrying to the church. I found myself on the far side of the building and heard the bell toll for the opening of the service. It would have taken me some time to walk around the building, for there is a wall which is a barrier along the road. To come from the back of the church to the main doors takes a while, and I saw the door to the sacristy so I entered it.”

  “Yet you had only been in this ecclesia once before. You must have a good memory.”

  “It does not take much memory to recall something from the previous day, which was when I was here?”

  “Who was in the sacristy when you entered?”

  “No one.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I came straight through into the ecclesia.”

  “Did you see the chalice there?”

  Enodoc shook his head. Then his eyes widened as he saw the meaning to her questions. For a moment, he was silent, his mouth set in a tight line. His tanned features reddened but he overcame his obvious indignation.

  “I am sure that the chalice was already on the altar because as I entered the priest was starting the service.”

  Fidelma met his gaze and held it for a moment.

  “You may return to your place.”

  Fidelma sat thinking for some moments and then she rose and walked toward the doors where the young custos stood. The young man watched her with narrow-eyed suspicion.

  “What is your name?” she asked as she came to face him.

  “Terentius.”

  “Do you usually attend
the services in this ecclesia?”

  “My house is but a short walk away and my position as a member of the custodes is to ensure that law and order prevail in this area.”

  “How long have you performed that duty?”

  “Two years now.”

  “So you have known Father Cornelius since you have been here?”

  “Of course.”

  “What is your opinion of Father Cornelius?”

  The guard shrugged.

  “As a priest, he has his faults. Why do you ask?”

  “And your opinion of Tullius? Do you know him?”

  She saw the young man flush.

  “I know him well. He was born here in this district. He is conscientious in his duties. He is about to be ordained.”

  She detected a slight tone of pride.

  “I am told Tullius is from a poor family. To be honest, I am given to believe that his is a family known to the custodes.”

  “Tullius has long sought to dissociate himself from them. Abbot Miseno knows that.”

  “Had the service started when you arrived here?”

  “It had just begun. I was the last to arrive ... apart from yourself.”

  “The Gaulish seaman ... had he already entered the church?” Fidelma asked.

  The guard frowned.

  “No. As a matter of fact, he came in just after I did but through the sacristy.”

  “You came in through the main doors, then?”

  “Of course.”

  “How soon after everyone else did you enter the church?”

  “Not very long. As I was approaching along the street, I saw Abbot Miseno outside the building. I saw him arguing with Father Cornelius. They were standing near the sacristy door as I passed. The Abbot turned in, then, after he had stood a moment or two, Father Cornelius followed.”

  “Do you know what they were arguing about?”

  The young soldier shook his head.

  “Then you came into the ecclesia? What of the Gaul?”

  “A moment or so later. Father Cornelius was about to start the service, when he came in. We were halfway through the service when you yourself entered.”

  “That will be all for the moment.”

  Fidelma turned in deep thought and made her way to Abbot Miseno.

  The Abbot watched her approach with impatience.

  “We cannot afford to take long on this matter, Sister Fidelma. I had heard that you advocates of the Brehon Courts were quick at getting to the truth of the matter. If you cannot demonstrate who killed this foreign religieux, then it will reflect badly on that reputation.”

  Fidelma smiled thinly.

  “Perhaps it was in hope of that event that you so quickly suggested my involvement in this matter?”

  Abbot Miseno flushed in annoyance.

  “Do you suggest ... ?”

  Fidelma made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

  “Let us not waste time in rhetoric. Why were you arguing with Father Cornelius outside the sacristy?”

  Miseno’s jaw clamped tightly.

  “I had demanded his resignation from this office.”

  “He refused to resign?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you came into the church through the sacristy? Did Father Cornelius follow you?”

  “Yes. He had changed his vestments and suddenly came out of the sacristy, straightto me and tried to renew the argument. Luckily, Tullius rang the bell for the service to start. I had just told him that I would do everything in my power to see him relieved of his position.”

  “Everything?”

  Miseno’s eyes narrowed. “What do you imply?”

  “How far would you go to have him removed?”

  “I will not deign to answer that.”

  “Silence often speaks as loudly as words. Why do you dislike Father Cornelius so much?”

  “A priest who betrays the guiding principles of—”

  “Cornelius says that you disapprove of him because he holds to the teachings of Pelagius. Many of us do. But you claim that it is not that but more personal matters that make him fit not to be priest here.”

  “Why are you concentrating on Father Cornelius?” demanded Miseno. “Your task was to find out who poisoned the Gaulish religieux. Surely you should be looking at the motives for his killing?”

  “Answer my question, Abbot Miseno. There must have been a point when you approved Cornelius in this office.”

  Miseno shrugged. “Yes. Three years ago I thought he was appropriate to the task and a conscientious priest. I do not mind admitting that. It has been during the last six months that I have had disturbing reports.”

  Fidelma tugged thoughtfully at her lower lip.

  “And where do these reports emanate from?”

  Abbot Miseno frowned.

  “I cannot tell you that. That would be a breach of confidence.”

  “Did they come from a single source?”

  Miseno’s expression was enough to confirm the thought.

  Fidelma smiled without humor.

  “I suspect the reports came from the deacon, Tullius.”

  Abbot Miseno stirred uncomfortably. But he said nothing.

  “Very well. I take the fact that you do not deny that as an affirmative.”

  “All very well. So it was Tullius. As deacon it was his duty to inform me if anything was amiss.”

  “And your task to verify that Tullius was giving you accurate information,” observed Fidelma. “Did you do so?”

  Abbot Miseno raised an eyebrow. “Verify the reports?”

  “I presume that you did not simply take Tullius at his word?”

  “Why would I doubt him? Tullius is in the process of taking holy orders, under my supervision. I can trust the word of Tullius.”

  “The word of someone currently seeking ordination, you mean? Such a person would not lie?”

  “That’s right. Absolutely not. Of course they would not lie.”

  “But a priest, already ordained, would lie? Therefore, you could not take Cornelius’s word? Surely there is a contradictory philosophy in this?”

  “Of course I don’t mean that!” snapped Abbot Miseno.

  “But that is what appears to be happening. You took Tullius’s word over that of Cornelius.”

  “The accusation was that Cornelius had dishonored the priesthood by taking a mistress.”

  “Talos suggests that Tullius takes male lovers. You indicate that you know of this. The conclusion therefore is that not only did you take the word of a deacon against a priest, but you preferred to condemn a man on the grounds that he had a female lover or mistress while supporting a young man who is said to have a male lover. Why is one to be condemned and the other to be accepted in your eyes?”

  Abbot Miseno set his jaw firmly.

  “I am not Tullius’s lover, if that is what you are implying. Tullius is under my patronage. He is my protégé.”

  “Are you retracting your claim that Tullius had a male lover?”

  “You have spoken to the young custos.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “Do you admit you are prejudiced in your judgment?”

  “Are you saying that Tullius lied to me? If so, what proof do you have?”

  “As much proof as you have to say that he told the truth.”

  “Why should he lie to me?”

  “You are about to ordain him. I suspect that you now intend him to replace Cornelius here?”

  Abbot Miseno’s face showed that her guess was right.

  “But what has this to do with the death of the Gaul?”

  “Everything,” Fidelma assured him. “I think I am now ready to explain what happened.”

  She turned and called everyone to come forward to the place before the altar.

  “I can tell you why Docco, a visitor to this country and this city, died and by whose hand.” Her voice was cold and precise.

  They appeared to surge forward, edging near to her with expecta
nt expressions.

  “Sister Fidelma!” It was Egeria who spoke. “We know there was only one person who wanted my brother dead. Everyone else here was a stranger to him.”

  Enodoc’s face was white.

  “This is not true. I would never harm anyone...”

  “I don’t believe you!” cried Egeria. “Only you had reason to kill him.”

  “What if Docco was killed simply because he was the first to take the sacrament?” interrupted Fidelma.

  There was a tense silence.

  “Go on,” urged Abbot Miseno in an icy tone.

  “Docco was not singled out as a victim. Any of us might have been the victim. The intention was to discredit Father Cornelius.”

  There was an angry glint in Abbot Miseno’s eyes and they narrowed on Fidelma.

  “You will have to answer for these accusations ...”

  “I am prepared to do so. It was something that the Abbot said that gave me an idea of the true motive of this terrible deed. He said that if Father Cornelius had been a true priest, then once the wine was blessed and the transubstantiation occurred, the poison would have been rendered harmless when the wine became the Blood of Christ. The motive of this crime was to demonstrate that Father Cornelius was unworthy to hold office.”

  Father Cornelius stood gazing at her in awe.

  Fidelma went on.

  “For some time the deacon, Tullius, had been feeding stories to Abbot Miseno about the misconduct of Cornelius, stories which Cornelius categorically denies. But Abbot Miseno was convinced. Tullius was his protégé and could do no wrong in the Abbot’s eyes. Furthermore, Miseno was about to ordain Tullius and, as a priest, he would need his own ecclesia. What better than to give him this church ... once Cornelius had been removed. But Cornelius was not going without a fight. Any accusations of misconduct would have to be argued before the local bishop.”

  “Who are you accusing?” demanded Cornelius, intervening. “Miseno or Tullius?”

  “Neither.”

  Her answer was met with blank looks.

  “Then whom?”

  “Terentius of the custodes!”

  The young man took a step backward and drew his short ceremonial sword.

  “This has gone far enough, barbarian!” he cried in anger. “I am a Roman. No one will believe you.”

  But Tullius was moving forward.

  “What have you done, Terentius?” he cried in a high-pitched voice. “I loved you more than life, and you have ruined everything.”