A Prayer for the Damned

by Peter Tremayne

  Brother Berrihert rose quickly from his place. ‘I protest. My father is dead and cannot defend himself. So I must answer in his place. I admit that he did try to kill the creature called Dron. But I know from his own lips that he did not kill Ultán. If he had, he would have been proud of the act and willingly acknowledged it. Such people as Ultán do not have the right to shelter under the name of the Faith. My father, indeed, my brothers and I, rejoice in Ultán’s death. But we did not kill him.’

  Brother Berrihert sat down abruptly. Fidelma continued as if ignoring the interruption.

  ‘Ultán and Drón had gone to Inis Bó Finne to the community of Colmán the former abbot of Lindisfarne who, after Witebia, had brought his like-minded brethren to that place. Ultán demanded that Colmán, so much respected for his adherence to the church of Colmcille, make obeisance to Ard Macha. Colmaán sent him away. But as he was leaving the island, he saw the wife of Ordwulf, the mother of those three brothers – Berrihert, Pecanum and Naovan -making some token veneration to the old gods to whom both she and Ordwulf had clung despite the conversion of their sons. Ultán had this defenceless old woman scourged and whipped to death. The sons of Ordwulf tried to forgive him as the New Faith teaches and came south. But when Ordwulf heard that Ultán and Dron were here, the old creed of blood vengeance stirred that old warrior.’

  ‘He did not do it!’ cried Brother Berrihert again.

  Fidelma turned calmly to him.

  ‘I did not say that he did. He wanted to, as you admit, but he had no opportunity, for he could not enter the fortress that night and when he entered the next morning he found the deed already done. He admitted as much to Eadulf. However, he conspired to kill Drón. He lured him to a spot not far from here in order to slay him, to complete that vengeance. But his frail body failed him before that act of vengeance and, as you see,’ she pointed to where Brother Drón was seated between the warriors Dega and Enda, ‘Drón still lives, whereas old Ordwulf now feasts with his gods.’

  ‘So Ordwulf is in no way suspect of killing Abbot Ultán?’ demanded Brehon Barrán, bending forward from his chair in order to clarify matters.

  ‘Even had he been able to gain entrance to the fortress that night, I would have to have eliminated him because the murders of Muirchertach Nár and Ultán are inseparably linked. Ordwulf had no opportunity to kill either. When the king of Connacht was murdered, Ordwulf was waiting in vain for Drón at the Well of Patrick almost in the opposite direction. That was the first time he had tried to lure Drón there, but Drón was pursuing Sister Marga, who was at the hunt.’

  Brehon Barrán stirred a little impatiently.

  ‘So we have eliminated Ordwulf. Do you point the accusation at his sons? They would have equal cause for blood vengeance.’

  ‘On Ultán and Drón but not on Muirchertach Nár. There was no motive to kill the king of Connacht.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Let us come back to Brother Drón, for it is Brother Drón’s actions on the night of Abbot Ultán’s death that are the most important.’

  ‘Brother Drón?’ Blathmac had stood up suddenly. ‘It would be logical if he had killed Ultin. He would succeed as abbot, then. He is ambitious. It would follow.’

  Brother Drón struggled to his feet but was held back by Dego and Enda.

  ‘I see it! This has already been decided to salve your consciences. I refuse to be judged by you, for I am ordained in the Faith and answer to no man but only to my God. I will not recognise this court.’

  ‘Sit down, Drón!’ instructed the Chief Brehon. ‘You will observe the law and respect it.’

  Brother Drón took no notice of him. His voice rose in strident tones. ‘Beware you who call yourselves kings or place yourself under their authority! There are two powers by which this world is ruled the sacred authority of the priesthood and the authority of kings. But of these, the authority of the priest carries the most weight and is superior to that of the king. It is the priest who renders the accounts of kings before the tribunal of God. It is the priest who stands superior to the king for the priest intercedes with God on behalf of the king. So beware in judging me lest I judge you.’

  Brother Drón turned to Fidelma with his anger and fanaticism still distorting his features. ‘You beware, woman. Your days of lording it over men are numbered. I echo the words of Timothy and Titus. I permit no woman to teach or have authority over men. She is to keep silent. That is what is written in Scripture. So it is written, so let it be done!’

  Fidelma sighed. ‘I would advise you to return to the original text and amend your translation, Brother Drón. The word epitrepsecin, which means “not to permit”, is used for a specific permission in a specific context. When translated correctly in Timothy and Titus, it means that Timothy is not presently allowing women to teach until they have studied and learned in silence.’

  Brother Drón stared at her for a moment, trying to follow her argument. ‘Then do you deny that our beloved Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians that women are not permitted to speak but should be subordinate, as the law says, to men. If there is anything they should desire to know, he says let them ask their husbands at home because it is shameful for a woman to speak in a church.’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘I cannot believe that they have such poor Greek scholars in Rome as to misinterpret the nuances of these texts. Perhaps those that render these texts into the language by which others may teach are scared of women? Perhaps it is men who find misinterpretations an easy way of denying women their just role in life? What was once a normal practice has now become abnormal – women can no longer be allowed to be ordained and officiate over the divine offices. What sort of loving religion is it that teaches the subjugation of one sex by another? Is it the fault of the religion? Or is it the fault of the prejudiced men who have risen to high office in the services of that religion, seeking to protect their petty authority?’

  There was silence. Even Eadulf was surprised, for Fidelma had never been so forthcoming on her thoughts about the role of women in the religious.

  ‘Only man through his natural resemblance to Christ can express the sacramental role of Christ in the Eucharist,’ cried Brother Drón.

  ‘A weak argument and an insult to those women who have spread the Faith and have now been rendered as servants and foot-washers to men,’ Fidelma observed dryly. ‘Thank God that here, in the five kingdoms, we still have some degree of our ancient freedoms left.’

  ‘Fidelma, much as we would like to hear more,’ intervened Brehon Barrán firmly, ‘this is not the place for a discussion on theology unless it is relevant to these murders. Do you charge Brother Drón?’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘I do not charge Drón with either Ultán or Muirchertach’s deaths. But an understanding of theology – that practised by Drón – was necessary before I could understand one of the mysteries that obscured the truth of their deaths for a long time. The mystery of why, when he was positive that it was Sister Marga who killed Abbot Ultán, he sought to cover it up and forcibly take her back to Cill Ria.’

  ‘He believed Sister Marga killed Ultán?’ echoed Brehon Barrán.

  ‘Drón saw Sister Marga emerging from Ultán’s chamber and a short time afterwards went there and found Ultán dead. This was before Muirchertach Nár was seen leaving that chamber and proof that the king of Connacht did not kill Ultán. But Drón kept that fact to himself, thus withholding evidence that would have proved Muirchertach’s innocence.’

  ‘So are you identifying Marga as the murderer?’ Brehon Barrán queried.

  Fergus Fanat, sitting close by Blathmac, groaned loudly and held his still bandaged head in his hands. Fidelma did not look to where Sister Marga was sitting, pale-faced but with composed features.

  ‘Fergus Fanat also saw Sister Marga emerge from Ultán’s chamber and leapt to the same conclusion as Drón. Sister Marga did have good reason to hate Abbot Ultán. Marga had gone to Cill Ria because of her abilities as a scribe and it was while she was on a visit to Ard Strath
a that she met and fell in love with Fergus Fanat. Abbot Ultán intervened when she made a request to leave the community. In this case, he himself developed a sexual passion for Marga, a young attractive girl, and he forced her to satiate his needs under what manner of coercion I can leave to your imagination. Sister Marga ended the relationship with Fergus because she felt unclean.

  ‘She came here hoping for an opportunity to escape Ultán’s clutches. On the night of his death he had summoned her to his chamber and she had no option but to obey. When Fergus Fanat and Drón saw her leaving his chamber, Abbot Ultán was still alive. She did not learn of his death until the next morning. Later that day, she saw her old love, Fergus Fanat, but he made no effort to respond when she tried to speak to him and she thought the relationship was over. Later she went on the boar hunt. It was an attempt to escape to Laigin, away from Drón and his acolyte Sister Sétach to whom I shall return in a moment.

  ‘As she was doing so, she fell in with Fergus Fanat, who professed that he still loved her. She told him what had happened but Fergus Fanat chose to believe that she was guilty, and not only guilty of Ultán’s murder but later that of Muirchertach.’

  ‘For what reason would she kill Muirchertach?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.

  ‘Fergus Fanat thought Muirchertach must have seen her leaving Ultán’s chamber. That he tried to coerce her into helping him against Cill Ria and she had eventually killed him to silence him.’

  ‘I tried to protect her in spite of her guilt,’ cried Fergus Fanat.

  ‘This was nonsense,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘Marga was innocent of both crimes. But Fergus Fanat’s love was not sufficient for him to have faith in her. He wanted her, that is true. He announced that he was going to see Blathmac to tell him that she was the killer and ask Blathmac to protect her for his sake. This Fergus Fanat had the makings of a martyr! Can you imagine Marga’s mortification, her feelings, at this pronouncement? A man claiming to love her but not believing in her innocence? What could she do?’

  Fergus Fanat had risen angrily. ‘What did she do?’ he cried shrilly. ‘You know well what she did. I went to see Blathmac and I was just outside his chamber door when she came up behind me and hit me over the head, trying to silence me. Then she fled from this fortress.’

  ‘That is not so,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘You went down the corridor, passing one of the alcoves in which, you told me, you saw no one. It was after you passed by this alcove that you said you were struck over the head. Your assailant could only have been hiding on the ledge outside. You agree that you did not see the assailant?’

  ‘I told you I heard the rustle of her clothes and I identified her by the perfume that I smelled as she came up behind me.’

  ‘You told me that you detected the odour of lavender.’ She took a vial from her cíorbholg and handed it to Caol. ‘Let Fergus Fanat smell that.’

  Reluctantly, Fergus did so.

  ‘Was that the odour that you perceived?’

  ‘It is not.’

  ‘But that is the perfume that Marga always wears – and it is honey-suckle. I am afraid you must learn to distinguish your scents, Fergus Fanat.’

  ‘I know the odour . . .’

  ‘It is Sister Sétach who uses lavender and she does so for medicinal reasons. It was pointed out that she had difficulty sleeping and therefore used lavender as a means of relaxing into sleep. Brother Conchobhar will tell you of the medical properties in this connection. It was Sister Sétach who tried to stop you. She and Drón desperately wanted to take Marga back to Cill Ria.’

  ‘Why?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.

  ‘When I put that question to Brother Dr6n, he put forward the feeble excuse that it was to have her punished under the Penitentials, as practised in Cill Ria, which would bring down harsher penalties than our law. If Fergus Fanat told Blathmac that he thought she was guilty of these murders then their plan would be upset.

  ‘Marga had been so distressed that she told Sétach what Fergus Fanat was about to do. She then fled the fortress. Sétach told Brother Drón, who went after her. But this time he was misled by Ordwulf’s attempt to entice him into an ambush. It was left to Sétach to prevent Fergus Fanat from telling Blathmac. But Fergus was mistaken in identifying Marga as his attacker just as he was wrong in accusing Marga of the murders. And just as Drón and Sétach were also wrong in believing that Marga had killed Ultán and Muirchertach.’

  ‘This is a tangled skein, Fidelma,’ Brehon Barrán said. ‘You say that Brother Drón’s reason for seeking to hide the fact that he thought Marga guilty of these murders and take her back to Cill Ria was simply to bring her into harsher punishment? I find that a very weak reason.’

  ‘I also said that I found it feeble. It was the mystery that almost prevented me from looking for the real murderer.’

  ‘How is it explained?’

  Fidelma turned to where Sister Sétach was now quietly sobbing. ‘Eadulf found the answer, perhaps unwittingly. Drón asked Sister Sétach to go to Ultán’s room after his murder and retrieve something. When Eadulf and I found her there she claimed she was trying to retrieve his belongings as holy relics to return to Cill Ria. In fact, she wanted to remove the documents in his trunk. Records of Ultán’s embassy to get the religious leaders of the five kingdoms to recognise Ard Macha as the primatial seat.’

  Brother Drón had sunk in his chair with a despairing moan.

  ‘Among the documents was a copy of a work in Latin – the Liber Angeli – which tells of the miraculous appearance to the Blessed Patrick of an angel announcing that Ard Macha should hold supreme authority over the churches and monasteries of the five kingdoms. That book was used to good effect in persuading some of the abbots and bishops to recognise the claims of Ard Macha.’

  Fidelma glanced to Abbot Ségdae of Imleach. ‘Tell Brehon Barrán what you told me before we entered the hall.’

  Abbot Ségdae rose. ‘Simple enough. Ultán and Drón, when they made their demands at Imleach, tried to use the Liber Angeli, the Book of the Angel, to persuade me to give Ard Macha recognition. But I had been in Ard Macha on a pilgrimage many years ago and this book was not then known. My steward, Brother Madagan, and I refused to let it sway our consideration.’

  ‘And with just cause,’ added Fidelma. ‘The proof that this book was a forgery was in the papers in Abbot Ultán’s box which Drón wanted so badly to get his hands on. This Liber Angeli was written but a short time ago. It did not exist when Abbot Ségdae was visiting Ard Macha, nor were stories handed down before that time of any visitation from the celestial world. The book is a collection of claims by various northern churchmen combining to argue that Ard Macha should be recognised as the central authority of the Faith in these kingdoms. The scribe who, under Abbot Ultán’s authority, was forced to compile these stories was Sister Marga.’

  Brehon Barrán turned to the girl.

  ‘Is this true?’ he asked sternly.

  ‘I wrote merely what I was told,’ Sister Marga confessed. ‘Abbot Ultán knew I wrote a fair hand. I told Sister Fidelma as much. I did not realise the story was entirely untruth. I thought they were some old traditions that I was putting down.’

  ‘So now we see why, if Ard Macha’s campaign for recognition was to succeed, those documents and, indeed, Sister Marga had to be taken back to Cill Ria. I suggest that Blathmac take into care both Drón and Sétach and return them to Ard Macha, and through his brehon find out whether this was done with the abbot of Ard Macha’s knowledge.’

  When Brother Drón and Sister Sétach had been removed, Brehon Barrán turned with a bewildered expression to Fidelma.

  ‘But this doesn’t resolve the murders of Ultán and Muirchertach unless . . .’ He turned a suspicious gaze to Dúnchad Muirisci. ‘Well, Fidelma, you have led us down a complicated path and seem to have eliminated all the suspects except one. It appears that there is no logical choice of culprit left other than the man who stands to gain most by Muirchertach Nár’s death.’

  D�
�nchad Muirisci began to rise indignantly.

  ‘If you refer to the tánaiste of Connacht, then the business of his horse and the split shoe was compelling,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘I considered it. But his story was weak, so weak that it had to be the truth. If he were lying then he would have worked out a stronger alibi. His mount did bolt when the wild boar charged and Dúnchad was thrown. Doubtless Muirchertach and his killer found the horse. After the killer had killed Muirchertach, he heard Dúnchad calling in the woods. He mounted Dúnchad’s horse and led his own and Muirchertach’s away. As soon as he had gone a short distance, he left Dúnchad’s horse with its reins over a bush so that it would not wander. Then he left Muirchertach’s horse loose, and went off to rejoin the hunt on his own mount. Dúnchad finally caught up with his horse, the one with the split shoe, and rode back to Cashel. As had the real murderer.’

  Brehon Barrán looked utterly bewildered. ‘We already know that Drón had found Muirchertach’s horse and was leading it back to Cashel. Drón is not guilty of killing Muirchertach. Now you say that Dúnchad is equally innocent. I confess, I am totally lost.’

  Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘I believed from the start that there were not two separate murderers and, moreover, that both murders had been committed for the same motive. It was vengeance, as I said at the beginning of this hearing. That was the link. But what person would have cause to want vengeance on both Ultán and Muirchertach Nár? What had they done in common to one person here that would warrant their death?’ She swung round. ‘Perhaps you will answer that question, Abbot Augaire?’

  Abbot Augaire was startled for a moment. Her accusing eyes had glazed into an icy coldness, the green fire turning to a chilling blue-grey. Augaire read cold determination in her features. He accepted that the accusation was no mere guesswork. He sat back in sesignation.

  ‘How did you work it out?’ His tone was almost genial as he asked the question.

  ‘Let us come to the means first and then the motive, for the motive has been staring me in the face ever since our first meeting. The means only fell into place when we discussed how Brother Drón might have hidden himself in the alcove. You said that you had not seen him in the alcove. When it was mentioned that he might have stood out on the ledge that ran under the window along to Ultán’s chamber, you replied: “But I don’t think Brother Dr6n is the sort to submit himself to such dangers. The ledge has several loose blocks along it.” How did you know that fact unless you had been along that same ledge yourself?’