The Subtle Serpent

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘I think,’ Fidelma said after a lengthy pause, ‘I think that you should tell me your story first.’

  Abbess Draigen sat down abruptly and averted her gaze from the body, fixing it on some point beyond the far window where the moonlight was shimmering on the waters of the inlet, silhouetting the dark outline of the Gaulish merchant ship that rode at anchor.

  ‘I have told you that Sister Síomha was taking the first cadar, that is the quarter day, watching the clepsydra. That is from midnight to the sounding of the morning Angelus.’

  Fidelma asked no question. Sister Brónach had already explained the workings of the water-clock.

  ‘I could not rest. I have been feeling much anxiety. What if your suggestion were true and that some evil has befallen our two sisters on their return from Ard Fhearta? I could not fall asleep. And because I could not sleep, I noticed that a lengthy time had passed since I heard the stroke of the gong, which should sound each passing time period.’

  The abbess paused briefly for apparent reflection before continuing.

  ‘I realised that the gong had not been sounded for some time. This was unlike Sister Síomha who is usually so punctilious in such matters. I rose from my bed and dressed and came to the tower to find out what was wrong.’

  ‘Were you carrying a candle?’ interposed Fidelma.

  The abbess frowned uncertainly at the question and then nodded hastily.

  ‘Yes, yes. I had lit a candle in my chambers and used it to light my way across the courtyard to the tower. I entered the tower, moving through the library and into the copyists’ room. I was crossing the room when something prompted me to call to Sister Síomha. It was so quiet. I felt something was wrong and so I called.’

  ‘Go on,’ Fidelma urged after she had hesitated.

  ‘It was a moment later that a dark shadow came charging down the stairs. It happened so suddenly that I was knocked aside, my candle went flying. The person pushed by me and out of the room.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I continued up the stairs to this room.’

  ‘Without a candle?’

  ‘I saw that the lamps were lit exactly as they are now. Then I saw Sister Síomha’s body.’

  ‘You saw the headless corpse on the floor?’

  Abbess Draigen’s face was suddenly angry.

  ‘The person who passed me on the stair was Sister Berrach. I have no doubt of it. You know, having seen Berrach, that it would be impossible to mistake anyone else for her.’

  Fidelma could concede the point but she wanted to make sure.

  ‘That is what worries me. You say that Berrach came “charging down the stairs” - your words - but we both know that Berrach has a deformity. Are you certain that it was Berrach? Remember your candle was flung from your hand and she passed you in the darkness.’

  ‘Perhaps I have used the wrong phrase in my agitation. The figure moved with alacrity but, even so, I know her misshapen form anywhere.’

  Fidelma silently agreed that Sister Berrach was not a person one could easily mistake for another.

  ‘And after she had run by you … ?’

  ‘I came immediately to you so that you might witness this madness.’

  Fidelma was grim. ‘Let us go in search of Sister Berrach.’

  The Abbess Draigen was now in control of her emotions since unburdening her story. She grunted cynically.

  ‘She will have fled the abbey by now.’

  ‘Even if she has, unless she has access to a horse and can ride, she would not have been able to go far. Nevertheless …’

  Fidelma fell silent at the sound of a soft footfall on the steps below.

  The abbess started forward as if to say something but Fidelma placed a finger over her lips and motioned her back. Someone was climbing the stairs towards the clepsydra room.

  Fidelma found her body tensing and she felt irritated that this was so. Surely, if anything, she had been trained not to respond to outside stimuli so that she was prepared at all times. She carefully relaxed her tightening muscles. And moved to stand with the abbess so that whoever entered the room would do so with their back towards them. Someone in the robes of the community came up the stair. Fidelma saw immediately it was not the figure of a young person, she had recognised who it was before they had turned to face into the room.

  ‘Sister Brónach! What are you doing here at this hour?’

  Brónach nearly fell in her startled surprise. She then relaxed as she recognised Fidelma and then the abbess.

  ‘Why, I have just come from the chamber of Sister Berrach. The girl is distraught. She told me that murder has been committed here.’

  ‘You have seen her?’ Draigen demanded. ‘She woke you?’

  ‘No. I was awake already. I was about to come to the tower myself,’ explained Brónach. ‘I had realised that some time had passed since I heard the sounding of the gong. In fact, several time periods must have elapsed since I heard it. So I had risen to come to see what ailed the time-keeper. As I was about to leave my cell, I heard the noise of someone passing hurriedly down the corridor. I realised it was Sister Berrach. I went to see her and found her sitting on her bed in a distressed state. She told me that Sister Síomha was dead and I came directly here to see if she was imagining …’

  She suddenly caught sight of the crumpled heap on the floor behind Fidelma and her mouth formed a round shape. Her hand came up to cover it. The eyes widened fearfully.

  ‘It is Sister Síomha,’ Abbess Draigen confirmed solemnly.

  Fidelma, watching the expression on Sister Brónach’s face, was sure that she saw a momentary look of relief in her expression. But it was gone before she could be sure. The light of the lanterns helped to distort facial expressions anyway.

  ‘Sister Brónach, I require you to see what you can do about resetting the clepsydra,’ Abbess Draigen said, completely in charge again. ‘For generations this community has prided itself on the accuracy of our water-clock. Do what you can to recover the accuracy of our calculations.’

  Sister Brónach looked bemused but bowed her head in acquiescence.

  ‘I will do my best, mother abbess, but …’ she cast a nervous glance to the body.

  ‘I will rouse some of the sisters to come and take our unfortunate sister to the subterraneus. You will not be alone long.’

  It was while she was turning towards the stairs that an idea suddenly occurred to Fidelma. She turned hurriedly back to Sister Brónach.

  ‘Didn’t you show me that after each time period elapsed, and the gong was sounded, the watcher had to enter the time on a tablet of clay?’

  Sister Brónach nodded affirmation.

  ‘That is the custom in case we loose track of the time periods.’

  ‘At what time did Sister Síomha make her last notation?’

  Fidelma realised that this would at least give her an accurate knowledge of the time Sister Síomha was killed.

  Sister Brónach was looking round for the clay writing tablet. She found it lying face-down by the stone-built fireplace and picked it up.

  ‘Well?’ prompted Fidelma, as she studied it.

  ‘The second hour of the day has been marked and the first pongc or time period after that.’

  ‘So? She was killed between two-fifteen and two-thirty this morning,’ mused Fidelma.

  ‘Is that important?’ demanded the Abbess Draigen impatiently. ‘We already know who did this terrible thing.’

  ‘What hour do you think it is now?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘I have,’ said Sister Brónach. She went to the window and stared up at the lightening night sky. There was a complacent expression on her face. ‘It is well after the fourth hour of the day. I believe it is closer to the fifth hour.’

  ‘Thank you, sister,’ Fidelma acknowledged absently. Her mind was working rapidly. She asked the abbess, ‘Can you calculate how long ago it was since you found the body?’

  Abbess Draigen shrug
ged.

  ‘I do not see that it matters …’

  ‘Indulge me,’ insisted Fidelma.

  ‘Less than an hour ago, I would say. I came to you almost immediately that I discovered it.’

  ‘Indeed. In fact it was much less than an hour ago,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘I would say that we have been here under half-an-hour.’

  ‘We should go in search of Sister Berrach rather than wasting time in this manner,’ Abbess Draigen insisted.

  ‘Can’t you question the poor girl in the morning?’ It was Sister Brónach who spoke, surprising Draigen. ‘Sister Berrach has suffered from the shock of finding the body.’

  Fidelma asked: ‘Did she tell you that she had found the body?’

  ‘Not specifically. She told me that Sister Síomha was dead in the tower. So the fact that she found the body is surely obvious.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I think we should see Sister Berrach now. One thing more, though, since you are here, Sister Brónach,’ she added, causing the Abbess Draigen to heave an impatient sigh. ‘Does the name Mórrigú mean anything to you?’

  Sister Brónach shuddered.

  ‘Surely the name of the evil one is well known, sister? In the ancient times, before the word of the Christ was brought to this land, she was regarded as the goddess of death and battles. She embodied all that was perverse and horrible among the supernatural powers.’

  ‘So, you have a knowledge of the old pagan ways, then?’ Fidelma observed.

  Sister Brónach pouted.

  ‘Who would not know about the old gods and goddesses and the old ways? I was raised in these very forests where there are many who still cling to the old beliefs.’

  Fidelma inclined her head and then, to Abbess Draigen’s apparent relief, turned, took up her candle again and preceded the abbess down the stairs. They had reached the ground floor of the tower when a hollow, knocking sound caused Fidelma to halt. It was the same sound that she had heard in the duirthech, the chapel. The far off banging of hollow wood resonated through the building.

  Fidelma turned towards a darkened corner of the room, from where the sound echoed loudest, and moved forward cautiously, holding the candle before her.

  ‘That is only the stairs that lead to the cave below,’ Draigen’s voice came from behind her.

  ‘Has no one ever traced the source of this sound?’ Fidelma asked as she reached the top of the stairs.

  ‘No, why should we?’ breathed Draigen nervously. ‘It certainly does not come from our subterraneus.’

  Fidelma peered down in the gloom.

  ‘Yet it appears to be coming from there. You said that you believed that it was caused by water filling a cave beneath the abbey?’

  ‘So I do,’ Draigen did not sound entirely convinced. ‘Where are you going?’ she demanded as Fidelma began to descend the stone stairs into the cave below.

  ‘I just want to check …’ Fidelma did not finish but descended the narrow stairway.

  The cave below was empty and now silent. Fidelma looked around in disappointment. There was no place one could hide. A few boxes in one corner but that was all. With a stifled sigh, she turned and began to make her way back up the steps, feeling her way against the cold wall with one hand to help her in the gloom.

  The substance was wet and sticky and she knew what it was before she examined her fingers by the candlelight. Then she examined the side of the wall. There was a smear of blood there. It had been made recently.

  ‘What is it, sister?’ demanded Draigen’s voice from the top of the stairway.

  Fidelma was about to explain when she changed her mind.

  ‘Nothing, mother abbess. It is nothing.’

  Outside, in the courtyard, they encountered the anxious figure of Sister Lerben.

  ‘Something is wrong, mother abbess,’ she greeted breathlessly. ‘The simpleton, Berrach, is sobbing in her cell. I saw lights in the tower but heard no gong from the keeper of the water-clock.’

  Abbess Draigen laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

  ‘Prepare yourself, child. Sister Síomha has been killed. Berrach is responsible …’

  ‘You do not know that for certain,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘Let us go and question the girl before we apportion the blame.’

  But Sister Lerben had already hurried away with the news, crying to rouse the sleeping community. They had hardly crossed the courtyard before the news was spreading like a wildfire. Everyone was awakening to become aware of what had happened. Abbess Draigen told a passing novice to go to the dormitories and quiet the tumult but before she could respond the courtyard began to crowd with anxious sisters. The babble of hysterical and angry voices filled the air. Candles and lamps were lit, and sisters hurriedly dressed or with draped cloaks around their shoulders, were gathering in tiny circles, speaking in fearful and angry tones.

  Sister Berrach had, it seemed, barricaded herself in her cell. Sister Lerben returned to say that she could still hear Berrach’s wailing cries, a curious mixture of prayers and ancient curses.

  ‘What shall we do, mother abbess?’

  ‘I shall go to speak with her,’ Fidelma intervened decisively.

  ‘That is not a wise idea,’ the abbess advised.

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘You know how strong Berrach is, in spite of her deformity. She could easily attack you.’

  Fidelma smiled thinly.

  ‘I do not think that I need to fear Berrach. Where is her cell?’

  The young Sister Lerben glanced at the abbess and then gestured with her arm in the direction of one of the dormitory buildings.

  ‘She has the last cell in that building, sister. But should you not go armed?’

  Fidelma shook her head with an expression of annoyance.

  ‘Wait here and do not come until I call you.’

  She raised a hand to shield her candle against the quickening morning breeze and walked across to the building which Sister Lerben had indicated. It was a long wooden building consisting of a corridor with some twelve cell-like chambers along one side. In fact, all the community dormitories seemed to be constructed in such a fashion.

  She entered and examined the darkened corridor.

  From the end room she could hear Sister Berrach’s sobbing.

  ‘Sister Berrach!’ Fidelma called, trying to keep her voice from conveying the anxiety that she really felt. ‘Sister Berrach! It is Fidelma.’

  There was a pause and the crying seem to halt. There were one or two sniffs.

  ‘Berrach, it is Sister Fidelma. Do you remember me?’

  There was another pause and then Berrach’s voice came defensively.

  ‘Of course. I am no idiot.’

  ‘I never thought you were,’ Fidelma replied in a conciliative tone. ‘May we talk?’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Quite alone, Berrach.’

  ‘Then come forward until I see you.’

  Slowly, holding her candle high, Fidelma moved down the corridor. She could hear the scraping of furniture and presumed Berrach was removing a barricade from her door. As she came towards the end of the corridor, the door opened a crack.

  ‘Stop!’ instructed Berrach’s voice.

  Fidelma obeyed immediately.

  The door opened further and Berrach’s head appeared to confirm that there was no one else there. Then the door opened wider.

  ‘Come in, sister.’

  Fidelma looked at the young girl. Her eyes were red and her cheeks tear-stained. She entered the cell and stood still while behind her Berrach pushed the door shut and heaved a table to secure it.

  ‘Why are you barricading yourself in?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Whom do you fear?’

  Berrach lurched towards her bed, sat down and took a grip on her thick blackthorn stick.

  ‘Don’t you know that Sister Síomha has been killed?’

  ‘Why should this cause you to blockade the door to your chamber?’

  ‘Because I will be accused of
the crime and I do not know what to do.’

  Fidelma glanced round; saw a small chair and seated herself, putting down the candle on the adjacent table.

  ‘Why would you be accused of the deed?’

  Sister Berrach looked at her scornfully.

  ‘Because Abbess Draigen saw me in the tower when the body was found. And because most people in this community dislike me on account that I am misshapen. They will surely accuse me of killing her.’

  Fidelma sat back and folded her hands in her lap, looking long and thoughtfully at Berrach.

  ‘You seem to have lost your stutter,’ she observed carefully.

  The girl’s face twisted in a cynical expression.

  ‘You are quick to notice things, Sister Fidelma. Unlike the others. They only see what they want to see and have no other perception.’

  ‘I suppose you stammered because it was expected of you?’

  Sister Berrach’s eyes widened a little.

  ‘That is clever of you, sister.’ She paused before continuing. ‘A misshapen mind must needs be in a misshapen body. That is the philosophy of ignorance. I stammer for them because they think I am a simpleton. If I showed intelligence then they might think some evil spirit possessed me.’

  ‘But you are honest with me, why can’t you be honest with others?’

  Sister Berrach’s mouth twisted again.

  ‘I will be honest with you because you see beyond the curtain of prejudice where others cannot see.’

  ‘You flatter me.’

  ‘Flattery is not in my nature.’

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Yes. The Abbess Draigen saw you coming down from the room where the water-clock is kept. Sister Síomha, as you know, was found beheaded in that room. You were in some hurry and pushed the abbess aside causing her to drop and extinguish her candle.’ Fidelma looked at Sister Berrach’s clothing. ‘I see a dark patch staining the front of your habit, sister. I presume that will be Sister Síomha’s blood?’

  The wary blue eyes stared solemnly at Fidelma.

  ‘I did not kill Sister Síomha.’

  ‘I believe you. Will you trust me enough to tell me exactly what happened?’

  Sister Berrach spread her hands, almost in a pathetic gesture.