A Prayer for the Damned sf-17

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Not yet,’ Fidelma said calmly.

  ‘Rumour has it that Brother Drón was caught with Muirchertach’s horse.’

  ‘Rumours spread quickly,’ muttered Fidelma. ‘But things must take their course, Augaire. You know that. However, speaking of Brother Drón, I did want to ask you a question. On the night of the murder of Abbot Ultán, did you see Brother Drón in the corridor when you left Dúnchad Muirisci’s chamber?’

  Abbot Augaire paused for a moment. ‘Was he there?’

  ‘I am asking you.’

  ‘So far as I am aware, I left Dúnchad Muirisci, walked to my chamber without seeing anyone and was there for the rest of the night. I shouldn’t think Brother Drón could have been lurking anywhere unless. .’ He paused.

  ‘Unless?’ pressed Fidelma.

  Abbot Augaire grimaced dismissively. ‘There is a sort of alcove there in the corridor. You must know it. There are several in the corridors here. I was going to say, unless he was lurking there. . but then I walked past it and there was no one to be seen. Of course, he could have been standing on the ledge that runs outside the alcove window.’ He chuckled. ‘But I don’t think Brother Drón is the sort to submit himself to such dangers. The ledge has several loose blocks along it.’

  Eadulf smiled grimly.

  ‘I think that we can discount Brother Drón’s playing such acrobatics,’ he said firmly.

  Fidelma and Eadulf found Sister Marga in the women’s hostel. The religieuse had just come from the bathing house, and there was the faint odour of some fragrance. Fidelma sniffed as she entered, for she could smell a combination of scents. She could identify fedlend, the soft smell of honeysuckle, but not the more powerful odour. Sister Sétach was fussing over her companion with some toiletry and looked up in annoyance as Fidelma came in.

  ‘Are we never to be left alone?’ she snapped.

  Sister Marga glanced at her companion in surprise but Fidelma ignored the petulant tone.

  ‘I am, as I have said, a dálaigh, Sister Sétach,’ she said mildly, ‘and must encroach on you as many times as is necessary for my investigation. However, it is Sister Marga that we have come to see, and I would appreciate it if you could leave us for a minute or two.’

  Sister Sétach stood for a few moments, her jaw working slightly, as if she were considering this. Then she looked down at Sister Marga.

  ‘Do you want me to go?’ she demanded brusquely.

  ‘I think it is better to do as Sister Fidelma asks,’ Marga replied in an almost apologetic tone.

  With a loud sniff of disapproval, Sister Sétach turned and left the room. Sister Marga looked after her with a frown before turning back to Fidelma and Eadulf.

  ‘She does not sleep well and that makes her irritable. I think she believes it is her duty to protect me,’ she said apologetically. ‘She was at Cill Ria when I joined and considers herself my senior.’

  ‘Yet it was you, so I understand, who asked her to come on this trip?’

  Sister Marga looked startled for a moment. ‘She told you that?’

  ‘It is not true, then?’

  ‘Oh, partially true, I suppose. I felt sorry for her, being so upset at not being chosen to accompany this embassy from the Comarb of Patrick. There was space for another one to help keep the records and she kept pressing me about it, so I asked Abbot Ultán if he would consider taking her as well. But Brother Drón, in fact, had already suggested that Seétach should be a member of the embassy and Abbot Ultán had agreed to it even before I asked.’

  ‘Well, we will return to Sister Sétach in a moment. Let me start with you. You are from Cill Ria, of course. Are you of the Uí Thuirtrí?’

  The girl shook her head. ‘I am of the Ciannachta. My clan lands are to the north-west of their country. I went into the religious at Ard Stratha and that is where I learned to write a good hand and to read Latin, Greek and Hebrew. I was good at keeping records and copying texts. I was told that Cill Ria was looking for good scholars and so, a few years ago, I went to the abbey there. At first, the work was good. I was given texts to copy and to compile into books. But we are all allowed to make one mistake in life. The decision to go to Cill Ria was mine,’ she ended ruefully.

  ‘A mistake?’ queried Fidelma. ‘Did you know how the abbey was run before you went there?’

  Sister Marga shook her head.

  ‘Had you heard about Abbot Ultán?’

  She gestured negatively again. ‘I came to hate Cill Ria and the Penitentials. Moreover, I hated Ultán.’

  ‘If you hated it all so much, why did you not leave?’

  Sister Marga simply laughed. There was bitterness in her laugh but she made no reply.

  ‘Your companion does not share your hate,’ pointed out Fidelma.

  ‘She is not my companion. She would like to be, if you know what I mean. I feel sorry for her. She is devoted to Cill Ria and appears to believe Abbot Ultán is. . was some kind of saint.’

  ‘You make it clear that you do not,’ Fidelma observed.

  ‘I not only believe but know he was not. There were two Ultáns. There was the false image of the pious abbot that he presented to the world. Oh, I know all about his miraculous conversion on the seas and what he was before that. However, I knew the second Ultán, the real Ultán.’

  ‘You must explain.’

  ‘Ultán had persuaded the Comarb of Patrick at Ard Macha that he was changed, as Paul had changed on the road to Damascus. . that parable was always being spoken of in Cill Ria. Brother Drón was fond of using it to stifle any questions about the sincerity of the abbot. Ultán enforced his Penitentials with such strictness simply to show how pious he was. That was the face he presented to the world. It was not the face I saw.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Which was still the thief, the robber, who seized goods when he could maintain they were offerings that must be freely given to the church. He had individuals flogged for what he claimed to be sacrilege. He enjoyed inflicting physical punishment on people. At least one person a day was sentenced to a whipping for what he claimed were impure thoughts. He was even responsible for the death of several.’

  ‘All this you saw in your time at Cill Ria?’

  Sister Marga nodded grimly. ‘And more.’

  ‘More?’

  ‘He used some of the girls from the women’s house to satiate his lust.’

  ‘Sister Sétach?’

  ‘Never her, but perhaps that is not strange.’

  ‘Did he use you?’ Fidelma asked sharply.

  Sister Marga coloured and then shrugged with a defiant gesture. ‘How can the weak defend themselves from the strong? But all the time I remembered what my father used to say — there is no tide so strong that it doesn’t ebb. I waited and prayed for any opportunity to escape.’

  Eadulf leaned forward with a frown. ‘Did you kill Abbot Ultán?’

  The girl regarded him with a serious expression. ‘I wish that I had possessed that courage. I did not.’

  ‘Why did you come on this trip with him, if you so detested him?’

  ‘Do you think that I had a choice? Besides, I thought there was a possibility that it might offer me an opportunity to escape. But Brother Drón was always keeping a watchful eye on me. And so was Sister Sétach.’

  ‘You are saying that both Drón and Sétach are watching you?’

  ‘I think Ultán became suspicious of my motives and ordered them to do so. They still do. This morning was the first time that I was able to escape from them. I think that they did not realise that I would dare seize the opportunity to leave with Ultán newly dead. I managed to persuade the stable lad to saddle up Ultán’s own horse so that I could ride out with the hunt. I had intended to ride east to Laigin.’

  Fidelma saw the defiance in the girl’s face. ‘So you intended to flee Cashel entirely, not merely to go on the hunt?’

  ‘My intention was to rid myself of Drón and Sétach for good, and certainly not return to the squalid halls of Cill Ri
a.’

  ‘You managed to elude them this morning. Why did you return?’

  The girl shrugged. ‘I lost the opportunity. I was in the forest when I saw Brother Drón riding hard to catch up with me. I panicked and let the horse have its head. Drón chased me through the forest for a while but, thankfully, I proved the better rider. When I finally halted, I listened for his pursuit but could not hear it. I was unsure what to do next. Then Fergus Fanat came along. . well, I found myself confessing all to him. He promised me that he would help me if I returned with him. That he would protect me. That is why I came back.’

  She paused and Fidelma prompted her to continue but she shook her head. ‘There is nothing more to be said.’

  ‘I think there is. What made Brother Drón chase after you? How did he find out that you had fled?’

  ‘I learned the story from Sétach. Brother Drón was looking for me. He found Sétach after I had left and said he had received a message that I was meeting a lover by the Well of Patrick. He had asked at the gate where this was and been told it was due south. Sétach is clever and she went first to the stable and discovered that I had taken Ultán’s horse. She made inquiries, and the stable lads told her that I had gone off with the other ladies on the hunt. She found Drón in the courtyard about to set off to the Well of Patrick. Sétach advised him to follow the hunt, for she believed it was some ruse of mine to draw him in the wrong direction.’

  ‘That is curious enough,’ muttered Fidelma. ‘Who gave this message to Drón?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is that it was certainly untrue.’

  ‘That you were meeting a lover or that you had a lover?’

  The girl flushed. ‘That I was meeting anyone at this well or elsewhere.’

  ‘Let us return to this meeting with Fergus Fanat,’ Fidelma said. ‘How long have you known him?’

  The question seemed to throw Marga off guard for a moment.

  ‘I presume that you met him in the land of the Uí Thuirtrí? Was that after you had entered Cill Ria?’

  ‘How did you know that I had met him before?’ she demanded.

  ‘You were at the game of immán waiting for him, I think. Was your meeting during the hunt by design?’

  ‘I have told you that it was not.’

  ‘When you told him about your plan to flee, how did he persuade you to come back here?’

  The girl looked unhappy.

  ‘He is your lover, isn’t he?’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘For the love of God, do not tell Brother Drón nor Sister Sétach. They suspect me enough.’

  ‘Then tell me how you met, and when.’

  ‘As you say, it was just after I went to Cill Ria. I went to collect some manuscripts from Ard Stratha and it was on that journey that I met Fergus Fanat. He was young, a warrior, a cousin of the king of Ulaidh, and. .’

  Fidelma waved her hand in a swift dismissive gesture. ‘I think you can spare us the description. Sufficient to say that you were attracted to him.’

  ‘And he to me. We met several times after that. But then the clouds gathered at Cill Ria. I was sent to the bed of Ultán under threat of punishments. I was too ashamed to contact Fergus Fanat any more. He tried to get in touch with me several times without being too obvious and I do not think that either Ultán or Drón knew of my relationship with him. I had not seen him since. Not until we came here and I saw him on the playing field. I was going to speak to him then, but you forestalled me.’

  ‘Why not contact him later?’

  ‘Because I was watched closely. I was in despair. And at Ultán’s funeral last night I saw him there with his cousin, the king of Ulaidh. I know he saw me. He saw Sister Sétach embracing me during the funeral. I think she did so on purpose because she saw him watching me and might have guessed there had been something between us. But he made no attempt to contact me. I was in despair. That was when I decided to flee and strike out for Laigin.’

  Fidelma sat back regarding her thoughtfully. ‘And you still maintain that meeting Fergus Fanat on the hunt was an accident?’

  ‘Aren’t our lives full of coincidences?’ the girl demanded. ‘If the coincidence works against us we say “if only. .” If only we had taken a certain path at a certain time we might have changed our lives. If only. When, however, we do take the path where there is a meeting, where our lives are changed, it is hailed as a suspicious act.’

  ‘I will not disagree with your philosophy. But what I want to know is what Fergus Fanat could say to you, in these circumstances, to prevent your flight to Laigin?’

  ‘It is what I told him. I told him everything. The truth about my life at Cill Ria, why I felt too ashamed to continue to see him, and my reason for accompanying Abbot Ultán on this embassy to Imleach and Cashel. And he accepted me as I am. We mean to marry. He told me to come here and stand up to Brother Drón and Sister Sétach and that he would support and protect me.’

  ‘And have you stood up to them?’ Fidelma asked.

  Sister Marga shook her head. ‘Not yet. We shall see them together. Then I shall travel back with Fergus Fanat to Ulaidh and be his wife.’

  There was no mistaking the happiness in the girl’s features as she said this. Then she glanced nervously round. ‘Do not say anything until Fergus and I have that meeting. We desire to stand up to them together.’

  Fidelma was reassuring. ‘Have no fear, I will not speak about this for the time being.’

  Eadulf nodded his assent as he saw the girl’s face turned imploringly towards him.

  ‘When is this confrontation with Drón and Sétach to be?’ he asked.

  ‘This evening, after the meal.’

  It was just before the evening meal when Fidelma and Eadulf received another summons to Colgú’s private chamber. The High King, Sechnassach, sat in the chair usually occupied by Colgú. He wore a worried expression.

  Colgú sat beside him, and also present in the chamber were the brehons Barrán, Baithen and Ninnid. As Fidelma and Eadulf entered the room, the High King himself bade Fidelma to be seated. Eadulf, as a foreigner of lower rank who was not entitled to sit in the presence of the High King, stood up in a position behind Fidelma’s chair. Finguine, Colgú’s tánaiste, and Caol, commander of Colgú’s guard, stood at the door.

  It was Brehon Barrán who spoke first.

  ‘Brehon Ninnid informs us that you have released Brother Drón, thus apparently admitting that Ninnid was correct when he told you that a churchman could not have taken part in a vengeance killing. Further, he says that he has found that the obvious suspect is Muirchertach’s heir apparent and that you know this but are delaying the charges to be heard against him.’

  Fidelma remained impassive, although Eadulf sensed stiffening in her body.

  ‘There is no evidence to bring charges,’ she replied tersely.

  ‘An abbot is murdered and now a king. In each case it seems that the evidence against one person is overwhelming and yet you seem to be delaying a hearing on both matters. We must bring things to a resolution and quickly,’ Brehon Barrán insisted.

  ‘We have already discussed this. I thought that it had been agreed that more time was needed,’ Fidelma said, speaking directly to Sechnassach. The High King looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Brehon Ninnid has asked for this meeting to make a plea that, after the unilateral release of Brother Drón and his discovery of the evidence against Dúnchad Muirisici, charges should be brought against Muirchertach’s tánaiste.’

  At this, Brehon Ninnid coughed nervously and rose from his seat.

  ‘With due respect, I think Sister Fidelma is making this matter complicated when it is simple in its resolution,’ he said. ‘Abbot Ultán was slain by Muirchertach Nár.’

  ‘For what reason?’ demanded the High King.

  ‘I think that the lady Fidelma will agree with me on the reason. I have learned that he blamed Ultán for the death of his wife’s younger sister and had once sought compensation from him. The compensation was refused.
Everything was done within the law, although Muirchertach Nár claimed that it was not so. That gave him a cause for anger and resentment.’

  Sechnassach glanced to where Fidelma was seated. Her face was impassive. ‘Do you agree with this?’

  ‘I agree that there was an enmity between Muirchertach Nár and Ultán over the death of this girl,’ Fidelma replied.

  Brehon Ninnid smiled triumphantly. ‘There is the motive. That makes sense of those distinguished witnesses’ — he inclined his head in swift succession to Brehon Baithen and Caol — ‘who saw Muirchertach Nár flee from the bedchamber at the time of Ultán’s murder.’

  ‘It makes sense, but it does not prove beyond dispute that Muirchertach Nár was the killer,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘And now Muirchertach Nár is slain himself and cannot make a proper defence.’

  ‘He was slain by his heir in order to seize the throne of Connacht,’ went on Brehon Ninnid. ‘We have the evidence of Brother Eadulf there, who, with the warrior Gormán, having been called to the scene of the king of Connacht’s death, followed the tracks of two horses from that very spot. One was the riderless mount of Muirchertach Nár found by Brother Drón. The other was the horse that had a split horsehoe and belonged to Dúnchad Muirisci. But now Sister Fidelma, having claimed that Muirchertach Nár was innocent and demanded time to investigate, has released Brother Drón from confinement. Yet she has not put forward charges against Dúnchad Muirisci. I say that she is delaying a hearing unnecessarily.’

  ‘As a point of correction, tracks of three horses were observed by Rónán the tracker. We have not identified the third set of tracks.’

  Sechnassach sighed. ‘Even so, it seems very logical. There is much speculation and unrest among our people, Fidelma. A quick hearing of these facts could stop it.’

  ‘Except,’ Fidelma’s voice cut in coldly as she rose from her seat, ‘except that it would not be justice. Not justice to Bishop Ultán nor justice to Muirchertach Nár nor even justice to Dúnchad Muirisci or Brother Drón.’