‘She has come to inquire into the death of your husband.’
Was there a slight blush on Blinne’s cheek?
‘So I have heard. The news is all around the community.’
‘I am sorry for your troubles, Blinne,’ Fidelma greeted her softly. ‘When you have finished.’ She nodded imperceptibly to the chapel, ‘I would like to ask you a few questions.’
‘I understand.’
‘I shall be at Brother Abán’s dwelling.’
It was not long before Blinne came to Brother Abán’s threshold.
Fidelma bade her be seated and turned to the old monk. ‘I think you said you had something to attend to in the chapel?’ she suggested pointedly.
‘No, I...’ Brother Abán caught her gaze and then nodded swiftly. ‘Of course. I shall be there if you need me.’
After he had left, Fidelma took her seat opposite the attractive young woman. ‘This must be distasteful to you, but your husband has died in suspicious circumstances. The law dictates that I ask you certain questions.’
Blinne raised her chin defiantly. ‘People are saying that he was taken by a Banshee.’
Fidelma regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You sound as if you give that story no credence.’
‘I have heard no wailing messengers of death. Ernán was killed, but not by a ghostly visitation.’
‘Yet, as I understand it, the wailing on three separate nights thrice awakened your own sister, who dwells with you. This wailing was heard by one of your neighbours.’
‘As I said, I did not hear it, nor was I awakened. If wailing there was, it was that of a wolf. He was killed by a wolf, that is obvious.’
Fidelma regarded her thoughtfully, then she said: ‘If it was obvious, then there would be no need for this inquiry. Tell me about Ernán. He was a farmer, handsome, and I am told he was well liked. Is that true?’
‘True enough.’
‘He had no enemies?’
Blinne shook her head but responded too quickly, so Fidelma thought. ‘Are you sure about that?’ she pressed.
‘If you are trying to tell me that you suspect he was murdered, then I —’
‘I am not trying, Blinne,’ interrupted Fidelma firmly. ‘I tell you facts. A wolf did not create the wound that caused his death. Now, are you saying that he had no enemies that you know of? Think carefully, think hard, before you reply.’
Blinne’s face had become a tight mask. ‘He had no enemies,’ she said firmly.
Instinctively, Fidelma knew that she was lying. ‘Did you love your husband?’ she asked abruptly.
A red flush spread swiftly over the other woman’s response.
‘You had no problem between you? Nothing Ernán said that might have led you to think that he nurtured some problem and tried to hide it from you?’
Blinne was frowning suspiciously. ‘It is the truth I tell you when I say that there were no problems between us and that I loved him very much. Are you accusing me of...of murdering my own husband?’ Her voice rose sharply, vehemently.
Fidelma smiled disarmingly. ‘Calm yourself. I am required to ask certain questions and must do so. It is facts that I am after, not accusations.’
Blinne’s mouth formed a thin line and she still stared belligerently at Fidelma.
‘So,’ Fidelma continued after a moment or two of silence, ‘you are telling me that he had no problems, no enemies, that your relationship was good.’
‘I have said as much.’
‘Tell me what happened on the night he died.’
Blinne shrugged. ‘We went to bed as usual. When I woke it was dawn and I heard Bláth screaming outside the house. I think that was what actually awoke me. I rushed out and found Bláth crouching on the threshold with Ernán’s body. I cannot remember much after that. Bláth went for Brother Abán, who is also the apothecary in the community. I know he came but could do nothing. It is all a blur.’
‘Very well. Let me take you back to the time you went to bed. You say, “We went to bed”? Both of you at the same time?’
‘Of course.’
‘So, as far as you know, you both went to bed and fell asleep together?’
‘I have said so.’
‘You were not disturbed by Ernán getting up either in the night or at dawn?’
‘I must have been very tired, for I remember that I had been feeling sleepy after the evening meal and was almost asleep by the time I reached the bed. I think we have been working hard on the farm in recent days, as I have been feeling increasingly tired.’
‘You heard no disturbances during the night nor during the previous nights?’
‘None.’
Fidelma paused thoughtfully. ‘How was your sleep last night?’
Blinne was scornful. ‘How do you think? My husband had been killed yesterday. Do you think I slept at all last night?’
‘I can understand that,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Perhaps you should have had Brother Abán mix you a sleeping draught.’
Blinne sniffed. ‘If there was need for that, I would not have needed to bother him. My sister and I were raised knowing how to mix our herbal remedies.’
‘Of course. How do you feel now? - physically, I mean.’
‘As can be expected. I am not feeling well. I feel nauseous and have a headache.’
Fidelma smiled softly and rose. ‘Then I have taxed you too long.’
Blinne followed her example.
‘Where would I find your sister, Bláth?’
‘I think she went to see Glass the miller.’
‘Good, for I have need to see him as well.’
Blinne stood frowning at the door. ‘You have been told that Glass is claiming he heard this wailing in the night?’
‘I have been told.’
Blinne extended her front teeth over her lower lip for a moment, pressing down hard. ‘I did not hear any noises in the night. But...’
Fidelma waited. Then she prompted: ‘But...?’
‘Could it be true? Bláth said...people believe...I...I don’t know what to believe. Many people believe in the Banshee.’
Fidelma reached out a hand and laid it on the young woman’s arm. ‘If the wailing of the hills exists, it is said her task is to be the harbinger of death, lamenting the passing of a soul from his world to the Otherworld. The belief is that the Banshee merely warns; she is never the instrument of death. Whether you believe that is your own affair. Personally, I believe that the Banshee, indeed, all the ghostly visitations that I have encountered, are merely visible manifestations of our own fears, fears whose images we cannot contain within the boundaries of our dreams.’
‘And yet —’
‘I tell you this, Blinne,’ Fidelma interrupted in a cold voice. ‘Your husband was killed neither by a Banshee nor by animal agency... A human hand killed him. Before this day is out, the culprit will stand before me.’
* * * *
Brother Abán had directed her along the path towards Glass’s mill. The path ran alongside a small stream that twisted itself down to feed the broad river, the Siúr. As she followed the path through a copse of birch trees she heard a strong masculine voice. It was singing:
‘No pleasure
that deed I did, tormenting her,
tormenting her I treasure...’
Fidelma came upon a young man sitting on a rock by the stream. He heard the snap of a twig beneath her feet and swung his face round, flushing crimson as if he had been caught in a guilty deed.
‘Greetings, Tadhg,’ Fidelma said, recognising him.
He frowned; the crimson on his cheeks deepened. ‘You know me?’
Fidelma did not answer, for that much was obvious. ‘I am Sister —’
‘Fidelma,’ broke in the young man. ‘News of your arrival has spread. We are a small community.’
‘Of course. How well did you know Ernán?’ she went on without further preamble.
The young man hesitated. ‘I knew him,’ he said defensively.
‘That’s
not what I asked. I said, how well? I already presume that everyone in this community knows each other.’
Tadhg shrugged indifferently. ‘We grew up together until I went to the bardic school, which has now been displaced by the monastery founded by Finnan the Leper.’
‘The place called Finnan’s Height? I knew of the old school there. When did you return here?’
‘About a year ago.’
‘And presumably you renewed your friendship with Ernán then?’
‘I did not say that I was his friend, only that we grew up together, as most people here of my age did.’
‘Does that mean that you did not like him?’ Fidelma asked.
‘One does not have to like everyone one knows or grows up with.’
‘There is truth in that. Why didn’t you like him?’
The young man grimaced. ‘He was arrogant and thought himself superior to...to...’
‘A poet?’ supplied Fidelma.
Tadhg looked at her and then lowered his eyes as if in agreement.
‘He was a farmer and thought strength and looks were everything. He called me a weak parasite fit for nothing, not even to clean his pigsty. Most people knew how arrogant he was.’
‘Yet I am told that Ernán was well liked and had no enemies in the world.’
‘Then you were told wrong.’
‘I was told by Blinne.’
‘Blinne?’ The young man’s head jerked up and again came an uncontrollable rush of blood to his cheeks.
Fidelma made an intuitive leap forward.
‘You like Blinne very much don’t you?’
A slightly sullen expression now moulded the young poet’s features.
‘Did she tell you that? Well, we grew up together, too.’
‘Nothing more than an old friendship?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Saying? I am asking a question. If you disliked Ernán so much, you must surely not have approved of Blinne being married to him.’
‘You would soon find that out from anyone in the community,’ admitted Tadhg sullenly. ‘I do not deny it. Poor Blinne. She did not have the courage to leave him. He dominated her.’
‘Are you saying that she did not love him?’
‘How could she? He was a brute.’
‘If she disliked the marriage, there are nine reasons in law why she could have divorced him and more why she could have separated from him.’
‘I tell you that she did not have the courage. He was a powerful, controlling man and it is poetic justice that he was taken by the Banshee, whether you call it Banshee or wolf. That he was a beast and the stronger beast of the night attacked him and tore out his throat was poetic justice.’
The young man finished his speech with defiance.
‘Poetic?’ Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at him. ‘Where were you the night before last? Where were you when Ernán was killed?’
‘In my house. Asleep.’
‘Where is your house?’
‘Up on that hillside.’ He raised an arm to gesture in the direction.
‘Was anyone with you?’
The young man looked outraged. ‘Of course not!’
‘A pity,’ Fidelma said softly.
‘What do you mean?’ Tadhg blinked, disconcerted.
‘Just that I would like to eliminate you from the vicinity of Ernán’s farmstead. He was murdered, his throat cut, and you have just given me a very good reason why you might be suspected of it.’
Now Tadhg’s face was suddenly drained of blood. ‘I was told that he had his throat ripped out,’ he said quietly. ‘I presumed that it was by a wolf, although many superstitious people are talking about the Banshee.’
‘Who told you that this was how he died?’
‘It is common talk. You say he was murdered? How can you be so sure?’
Fidelma did not bother to answer.
‘Well, I did not do it. I was in my bed, asleep.’
‘If that is the truth, then you have presented me with another suspect,’ she said reflectively. ‘Blinne.’
Tadhg swallowed rapidly. ‘She would never...that is not possible. She had not enough courage to divorce Ernán. She was too gentle to strike him down.’
‘Human beings react in peculiar ways. If not Blinne, nor you, then who else had cause to hate Ernán, a man who was supposed to have no enemies?’
Tadhg raised his hands in a helpless, negative gesture.
‘I will want to see you again later, Tadhg.’
Fidelma turned and resumed her progress along the path, her brow furrowed in thought.
* * * *
Bláth had already left Glass’s mill when Fidelma reached there.
The miller was a genial, round-faced man of middle age with twinkling grey-blue eyes, which might well have been the reason for his name, which indicated such a colouring. He was a stocky man, clad in a leather apron and open shirt, his muscles bulging as he heaved a sack of flour into a cart.
‘A bad thing, Sister, a bad thing,’ he said when Fidelma introduced herself.
‘You were a close neighbour of Ernán, I believe.’
The miller turned and pointed. From where they stood the ground began to descend slightly towards the broad river across some fields to where an elm grove stood. ‘That is Ernán’s farmhouse, the building among those trees. We are scarcely ten minutes’ walk away from each other.’
‘And were you a friend of his?’
‘I saw young Ernán grow to manhood. I was a friend of his father and mother. They were killed when Crundmáel of Laighin came raiding along the Siúr in his battle boats in search of booty. Only Ernán survived out of his entire family and so he took over the farm and continued to make it prosperous. Blinne, his wife, is my niece.’ He grinned briefly. ‘So is Bláth, of course.’
‘And Ernán was well liked?’
‘Not an enemy in the world,’ Glass replied immediately.
‘He and Blinne were happy?’
‘Never happier.’
‘And Bláth lived with them?’
‘She could have come here to live, but Blinne and Bláth were always close. There is only a year between them and they are almost like twins. Blinne wanted her sister to be with her and Ernán did not mind, for she helped with the farm work. But why do you ask me these questions?’
Fidelma did not answer. ‘Tell me about the Banshee,’ she said.
Glass smiled briefly. ‘I heard the sound only too well.’
‘When did you first hear it?’
‘I would not want to hear that sound more than once.’
Fidelma frowned. ‘You heard it only once?’
‘Yesterday morning about dawn.’
‘Not before the morning Ernán was found dead?’
‘No. Only that one morning. That was enough. It wailed like a soul in torment.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Do? Nothing at all.’
‘You weren’t curious?’
‘Such curiosity about the Banshee can endanger your immortal soul,’ replied Glass solemnly.
‘When did you realise that Ernán was dead?’
‘When Brother Abán came to tell me and asked me if I had heard anything in the night.’
‘And you were able to tell him that you had?’
‘Of course.’
‘But only yesterday morning?’
Glass nodded.
‘As a matter of interest, if Ernán was the only survivor of his family, I presume that his farm passes to Blinne?’
‘Blinne is his heir in all things,’ agreed Glass. His eyes suddenly flickered beyond her shoulder in the direction of what had been Ernán’s farmstead. Fidelma turned and saw a figure that she initially thought was Blinne making her way up the hill. Then she realised it was a young woman who looked fairly similar.
‘Bláth?’
Glass nodded.
‘Then I shall go down to meet her, as I need to ask her some questions.’
Halfway
down the path were some large stones which made a natural seat. Fidelma reached them at the same time as Bláth and greeted her.
The Best British Mysteries 3 - [Anthology] Page 22
