âIs something the matter?'
âI am asking you where the two black-haired boys are â Cétach and Cosrach.'
Brother Rumann began to slowly gather the scattered pieces and replace them on the
brandubh
board.
âSister AÃbnat was told to take all the children to Brother Midach and, if he said that they were healthy enough, then she was to set out for the house of Molua along the coast.'
âBrother Midach says that he saw only the two little girls, Ciar and Cera, and the boy of about eight years whose name was Tressach. What has happened to the other two boys?'
Brother Rumann climbed to his feet with an expression of annoyance, his hands clutching the
brandubh
pieces.
âAre you sure that they did not go with Sister AÃbnat?' he asked incredulously.
âBrother Midach knows nothing about them,' replied Fidelma with an air of exaggerated patience.
âThen where can they have hidden themselves? Stupid, wilful little children. They should have gone with Sister AÃbnat. Now it means that a second journey will have to be made to take them to Molua's orphanage.'
âWhen did you last see them?'
âI can't remember. Perhaps when Salbach arrived here. I recall that young Sister Necht was talking to them in their
room. The order for the children to be sent to the orphanage came from Brocc shortly afterwards.'
âIs there anywhere obvious that they would have hidden themselves?' Fidelma asked, remembering how afraid Cétach had been of Salbach. Could he and his brother have hidden somewhere, waiting for Salbach to leave the abbey? Could they be remaining in hiding not realising that he had already left?
âThere are many hiding places,' Rumann assured her. âBut don't worry, sister. It will soon be vespers and the bell and hunger will draw them out of their hiding place.'
Fidelma was unconvinced.
âIt was thought the bell for the midday meal would lure them out for food. If you see Sister Eisten, tell her that I would like to see her.'
Brother Rumann nodded absently, turning his attention back to the
brandubh
game. He slowly began to reassemble the pieces on the board.
Back in her chamber Fidelma stretched exhausted on her cot. She wished she had told Brocc that she wanted the children from Rae na ScrÃne to remain at the abbey until she had resolved the mystery. It had not occurred to her that he would have them removed so soon. For every mystery solved there were new ones to be confronted.
Why had the young boy Cétach pleaded with her not to mention him or his brother, Cosrach, to Salbach? Why had the boys then vanished? Why was Salbach so reluctant to believe her charge against Intat? And had any of these matters a connection with the death of Dacan, which mystery was her main task to solve?
She gave a snort of frustration as she lay on her back with hands clasps behind her head.
So far, there was little that made sense in this investigation. Oh, there were a couple of theories that she could develop but the old Brehon Morann had warned against creating theories before all the evidence was in. What was his favourite
saying? âDo not make the cheese until you have first milked the cows.' Yet she was acutely aware of the rapid passing of her greatest enemy â time.
She wondered how her brother, Colgú, must be feeling now that he was king of Muman. She felt anxiety for her elder brother.
There would be little time to mourn the dead king, Cathal mac Cathail, their cousin. The main thing now was to prevent the impending war. And that great responsibility rested entirely with her.
She found herself wishing once again that Eadulf of Seaxmund's Ham was here with her so that she could discuss her ideas and suspicions with him. Then she felt somehow guilty for the thought and did not know why.
The sound of a door banging abruptly caused her to sit up. She could hear heavy footsteps running across the stone-flagged floor below and then ascending the steps to the second floor of the hostel. Such footsteps did not augur well. By the time the steps reached her door and halted she had swung off her cot and stood facing the door.
It was Cass who came pushing through the door, after a cursory knocking. He was breathing hard from his exertions.
He pulled up sharply in the middle of her chamber and stood with heaving shoulders facing her.
âSister Fidelma!' He had to pause to recover his breath.
She stared at him, wondering what had made the young warrior so agitated. She quickly worked out that he would have to run a distance over a difficult path to arrive in such a condition. A warrior, such as he, did not loose breath so easily.
âWell, Cass?' she asked quietly. âWhat is it?'
âSister Eisten. She has been found.'
Fidelma read what was in his eyes.
âHas she been found dead?' she asked softly.
âShe has!' confirmed Cass grimly.
The body lay by the water's edge on the sandy beach below the abbey walls. It was already dusk but a group of fishermen and several members of the religious community had gathered around with morbid curiosity. Several of them were holding brand torches which illuminated the scene. Fidelma followed Cass towards the group. She observed that Brother Midach was already there, bending to examine the body. There was a middle-aged brother with a nervous, consumptive cough, holding a lantern for Midach to work by. Fidelma assumed that this was the apothecary, Brother Martan. The physician had obviously been summoned by those who had found the young anchoress. Fidelma thought he looked visibly shaken in the flickering light.
âClear some of these people back,' Fidelma instructed Cass quietly, âexcepting those who actually found the body.'
She bent down by Brother Midach and stared over his shoulder.
Sister Eisten's clothes were waterlogged. Her hair was plastered to her head by sea-water and across her pale, plump white face. Her features looked twisted in the anguish of a violent death. Her magnificent ornate cross was still fastened firmly around her bruised, fleshy neck.
âNot a pleasant sight,' Midach grunted, noticing Fidelma at his side for the first time. âKeep the lantern high, Martan,' he added quickly, in an aside to the apothecary.
âViolent death never is,' murmured Fidelma. âDid she commit suicide?'
Midach stared thoughtfully at Fidelma for a moment and shook his head negatively.
âWhat makes you ask that question?'
âShe had a shock when Rae na ScrÃne was destroyed. I think she might have blamed herself. She went into a malaise when the young baby she had saved died soon afterwards. I saw her this morning and she did not seem truly recovered. Also, it was clearly no attack made in robbery for she still wears a valuable crucifix.'
âA good logic, but no; no, I do not think that she committed suicide.'
Fidelma examined the physician's assured features quickly and asked: âWhat makes you say so?'
Brother Midach bent forward and turned the dead girl's head slightly, instructing Brother Martan to bring the lantern closer so that the area could be clearly seen.
Fidelma could see a gaping wound on the back of the skull. Even an immersion in the sea had not washed the blood from it.
âShe was attacked from behind?'
âSomeone hit her on the back of the head,' confirmed Midach. âOnly after that blow was her body dumped into the sea.'
âMurder then?'
Brother Midach sighed deeply.
âI can come to no other conclusion. There is not only the evidence of the blow on the back of the head. If you have a strong stomach, sister, look at her hands and arms.'
Fidelma did so. The wounds and burn marks spoke for themselves.
They were not self-inflicted.
âNo. She was bound and tortured before she was killed. Look at those marks around her wrists. They are the marks of
a rope. After she was killed, the killer must have untied the bonds and thrown her into the sea.'
Stunned, Fidelma stared at the body of the tragic young woman.
âWith your permission, brother â¦' She bent forward and took the cold hands of the dead woman and examined them, looking carefully at the fingers and nails. Brother Midach regarded her with curiosity. Fidelma grimaced with disenchantment.
âI was hoping that she might have been able to fight her attacker and grasp something which might have given us some clue,' she explained.
âNo. The final blow came probably without her even suspecting it,' Midach said. âShe would have been placed with her back to her attacker in order for him to deliver that blow.'
âHim?' queried Fidelma sharply.
Midach shrugged diffidently.
âOr her, if you like. Though I would not think it likely that a woman could do such a thing.'
Fidelma's lips thinned a moment but she made no comment.
Brother Midach stood up, dusting the sand from his robe. He motioned Martan and another brother forward from the shadows and instructed them to carry the body to the abbey.
âI'll have the body taken to the mortuarium and report this matter to the abbot.'
âTell the abbot that I shall speak with him shortly,' Fidelma said, also rising and looking towards the small group of people who had been pushed a little further away by Cass.
âDo you think this has some connection with the death of the Venerable Dacan?' Midach paused and glanced back to her across his shoulder.
âThat I hope to discover,' replied Fidelma.
Midach grimaced and, with Brother Martan hurrying behind him with the lantern, strode back towards the abbey gates.
Fidelma moved across to a group, some of whom now seemed reluctant to be involved for several of them began to sidle away. Cass had obtained a lantern to illuminate the proceedings.
âWho found the body?' Fidelma demanded, looking from one face to another.
She saw two elderly fishermen exchange glances of alarm by the light of their brand torches.
âThere is no need to be fearful, my friends,' Fidelma reassured them. âAll I want to know is where and how you found the body.'
One of the fishermen, a ruddy-faced, middle-aged man, shuffled forward.
âMy brother and I found it, sister.' He spoke in an uncertain, hesitant tone.
âTell me how?' Fidelma invited in as gentle voice as she could.
âWe were out in the bay, near the Laigin warship, and decided to give our nets one more cast before the dusk was upon us. As we trawled our nets we thought we had made a great catch but when we dragged the nets into the boat we saw â¦' he genuflected fearfully â ⦠we saw the body of the sister there.'
âHow close were you to the Laigin ship?' Fidelma asked.
âThe Laigin ship sits at the entrance of the inlet but it's deep water there and one of the winter feeding grounds of haddock in these parts. Plenty of sea worms and shellfish there for them.' The fisherman suddenly spat in disgust. âThen that warship comes along and sits right over the fishing ground.'
Fidelma looked sympathetic.
âI understand. So you and your brother moved as close as you could to the warship in order to fish?'
âWe did that. We were a few yards off when we netted the poor sister. We brought the body straight back to the shore and raised the alarm.'
Cass, who was standing by her shoulder holding his lantern high, bent forward.
âCould it be that she was thrown from the Laigin ship?' he whispered.
Fidelma ignored him for the moment and turned back to the fishermen, who continued to watch her uneasily.
âWhat are the currents like in the bay?' she asked.
One of them rubbed his chin reflectively.
âAt the moment we have an inshore tide. The currents are strong around the rocks though. They sweep all around that headland among the rocks.'
âWhat you are telling me is that the body could have been cast into the sea at any point along that headland.'
âOr even on the other side of the headland, sister, and swept around into this inlet.'
âAnd at this time a body would tend to get washed inshore here rather than seaward?' pressed Fidelma.
âThat it would,' agreed the fisherman readily.
âVery well, you may go now,' Fidelma said. Then she raised her voice. âYou may all disperse to your homes now.'
The small group of morbid onlookers began to break up, almost unwillingly now, in obedience to her command.
Cass was standing peering suspiciously into the darkness across the bay. Fidelma followed his gaze. There were lights flickering on the warship.
âCan you row a boat, Cass?' Fidelma demanded abruptly. The warrior swung round. She could not quite see his expression in the shadows.
âOf course,' he replied. âBut â¦'
âI think it is high time that we paid the Laigin warship a visit.'
âIs it wise? If Sister Eisten was murdered and thrown from the ship ⦠?'
âWe have no proof nor any reasonable suspicion to that effect,' Fidelma replied calmly âCome, let us find a boat.'
The tolling of the bell for vespers caused her to pause.
Cass, shifted the lantern so that the light fell momentarily on his face. He looked woebegone.
âWe shall miss the evening meal,' he protested.
Fidelma chuckled grimly.
âI am sure that we will find something later to keep the great starvation at bay. Now let's find that boat.'
Â
Fidelma sat in the stern of the small boat holding the lantern aloft as Cass leant into the oars, propelling the small craft across the dark, hissing waters of the inlet towards the great shadow and twinkling lights of the Laigin warship. As they drew nearer, she could see that there were several lanterns illuminating the deck of the sleek-looking vessel. There were signs of men moving here and there.
They were within a few yards when a voice challenged their approach.
âRespond,' muttered Fidelma, as Cass hesitated at the oars.
âLaigin ship, ahoy!' called the warrior. âA
dálaigh
of the court of the Brehons demands to come aboard.'
There were several seconds of silence before the same voice that had hailed them responded.
âCome aboard and welcome.'
Cass brought the small craft alongside, under a rope ladder which led up to the side rail. A rope was thrown down for Cass to make the boat secure while Fidelma swung agilely up the ladder and over the rail.
She found half a dozen tough-looking men waiting on the deck and staring at her in surprise.
She heard Cass climbing up behind her. A man with indistinguishable features came forward with the rolling gait of a seaman and stared from Fidelma to Cass. Then he fixed his eyes on Cass.
âWhat do you want,
dálaigh?'
he demanded roughly.
Fidelma hissed in irritation.
âIt is me whom you should address,' she snapped. âI am Sister Fidelma of Kildare,
dálaigh
of the court of the Brehons.'
The man turned in astonishment which he hastily checked.
âFrom Kildare, eh? Do you represent Laigin?'
Fidelma was annoyed by the complication that her foundation of Kildare was actually situated in the kingdom of Laigin.
âNo. I am of the community of Kildare but I represent the kingdom of Muman in this business.'
The sailor shuffled his feet a little.
âSister, I do not wish to appear inhospitable, but this is a warship of the king of Laigin, acting under his orders. I do not see that you have any business here.'
âThen let me remind you of the Laws of the Sea,' Fidelma replied slowly, with careful emphasis. She wished she had a greater knowledge but was banking on the sailor having a lesser knowledge than her own. âFirstly, I am a
dálaigh
investigating the crime of murder. Secondly, your ship, even though it is a ship of Laigin, lies at anchor in a bay of Muman. It has not sought the permission or hospitality of Muman.'
âYou are wrong sister,' came the voice of the sailor; his triumphant tones were undisguised. âWe lie at anchor here with the full permission of Salbach, chieftain of the Corco LoÃgde.'
Fidelma was glad that the light of the lanterns did not fall directly on her face. She swallowed in her total astonishment. Was it true that Salbach had given permission to the Laigin ship to intimidate the abbey of Ros Ailithir? What could this mean? She would certainly not discover if she were forced to leave like a whipped cur with its tail between its legs. A bluff was worth trying. What was it the Brehon Morann had once said? âWithout a degree of deception, no great enterprise can ever be concluded.'
âThe chieftain of the Corco LoÃgde may well have given you permission but that permission is not legal without the approval of the king at Cashel.'
âCashel is many miles away, sister,' sneered the sailor. âWhat the king of Cashel does not know, he cannot rule upon.'
âBut I am here. I am the sister of Colgú, king of Cashel. And I can speak in my brother's name.'
There was a silence as the sailor digested this. She heard him exhale his breath slowly.
âVery well, lady,' replied the man, with a little more respect in his voice. âWhat do you seek here?'