‘What does that mean, Sister?’ asked the woman, looking bewildered.
‘I am sorry.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘I should say that the Bretha Crólige, one of our central law texts, says that you can go before a Brehon and be assessed by that judge in proportion to your míad, that is a legal term meaning your “dignity” or worth, rather like an honour-price. In other words, you can claim compensation. In fact, as a religieuse you are better off than a lay person. Your rank as a lay person, from what you say, would be a lesser rank than that of the Venerable Cinaed. But here, in the abbey, as a religieuse you are recognised as being part of a marriage of equals. Therefore the division of inheritable assets, the díbad, means that you inherit two-thirds of the assets of Cinaed while one-third has to go to the abbey.’
Sister Buan smiled broadly.
‘It is so kind of you to have taken this trouble for me, Sister. I have been really worried. The law can be very frightening.’
‘Dura lex sed lex,’ intoned Eadulf solemnly.
‘Exactly so,’ agreed Sister Buan with a smile of relief. ‘It is good to know that I have a legal right to retain something.’
Fidelma rose and Eadulf with her.
‘I am only too glad to be of some help.’
‘Are you any the closer to finding out who killed Cinaed?’ asked Sister Buan as they were crossing the threshold. ‘It is frightening to think that someone in this abbey is his killer and not yet discovered.’
‘You need have no fear,’ Fidelma replied with assurance. ‘I am progressing very well in the investigation and soon we shall be able to put your mind at rest.’
They left Sister Buan and made their way back to the hospitium as the abbey bell began tolling the hour of the final prayers of the evening.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After they had eaten the next morning, Fidelma asked Sister Easdan to show her and Eadulf to the workroom where she and her companions plied their art. Sister Sinnchéne, who seemed in a slightly more agreeable mood, came to tidy the hospitium and asked if there was anything else that was required of her that morning as she had to distribute the robes that she had washed the previous day to members of the community. Fidelma had not forgotten that one of Sister Sinnchéne’s chores at present was running the tech-nigid or washing room of the abbey.
‘I think not,’ Fidelma replied. ‘If anyone wants us we shall be at the workshop where Sister Easdan and her companions worked.’
It was an isolated two-storey building with a flat roof, situated on the southern side of the abbey complex, sticking out at right angles to the main dormitory building but separated from it by a narrow passageway. It had been built on the south side, Sister Easdan explained, so that it caught the maximum amount of sun. Light was precious to the task of cutting and polishing the stones. The workroom contained a long central table or workbench, access to water and, along one side, a series of cupboards and other benches with all manner of implements and tools.
Fidelma stood still on the threshold, casting her eye about the place. ‘What is it that you wish to see, lady?’ asked Sister Easdan. ‘The place looks exactly as we left it.’
‘You and your companions were all known as experts in this art, that of stone polishing?’
‘Known only within the abbey,’ the girl corrected pedantically. ‘We were, indeed.’
‘But surely your names and reputation were known outside the abbey?’
‘The abbey was well known for our work but Abbot Erc insisted that we should not be known by name outside the abbey.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Because he wanted the reputation for the abbey, I suppose, and not for individuals. He wanted to avoid personal vanity.’
‘You and your companions have all done this work for some time?’
‘I started my training as soon as I came to the abbey, which was just after I reached the age of choice. Most of the others have worked about ten years or so at the art.’
Eadulf pointed to some implements on a bench.
‘Are those bows?’ he asked curiously. ‘In what manner would you use those?’
Sister Easdan smiled easily.
‘They are what we call bow lathes, Brother. We work the stone with them and drill holes in the stones with them so that we may string necklaces. It takes a long time to prepare a single necklace, including the cutting and polishing of the stones. Sometimes we have to use special liquids to lubricate the crystals for the grinding and polishing.’
Fidelma was silent for a while, looking at the range of work tools.
‘If the expertise of you and your companions was not known outside the abbey, how do you think it came to the ears of those who abducted you?’ asked Fidelma.
Sister Easdan considered the matter silently for a while and then she said: ‘I suppose the only answer is that the information came from inside the abbey. Or, of course, the merchant Mugrón would have known.’
‘But the information would have had to be specific,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘Your abductors would have had to know that you were all travelling with Abbess Faife on your way to Bréanainn’s mount, and to know exactly by what road and the day on which you would be passing the spot where you were attacked.’
‘Only a few people would have known that.’
‘Did Sister Sinnchéne know it?’
‘There is no reason why she should.’
‘Did you know that she asked Abbess Faife if she could join you?’
As the girl was shaking her head, something caught Fidelma’s eye, flickering in the rays of the sun, something that sparkled and flashed in a thousand little points of light on the workbench.
She moved to it and ran a finger over it and then, with a pinching movement, held up a few of the hard grains she had encountered and turned to Sister Easdan.
‘What exactly is this?’ she asked.
Sister Easdan peered at the granular crystals and then grimaced.
‘It is only powdered stone.’
‘Corundum?’ Eadulf intervened.
‘Exactly so,’ Sister Easdan replied. ‘We use it in the grinding process of the precious stones. We choose a particular crystallised rock, crystal we know is especially hard. The crystals are almost opaque and we have to smash them until they fragment into little pieces, just as you see there. We sort them until we find splinters that we can use with the bow lathe to drill holes into those stones we wish to string together. Other particles, the finer ones, we use to grind against the stones to produce the shapes which are required. The process is called lec-géraigid.’
Fidelma’s eyes suddenly widened. A look of triumph began to spread across her features but she swiftly controlled it.
‘You said once that the Venerable Cinaed visited here?’
Sister Easdan made an affirmative gesture.
‘When was this?’
‘Some time ago.’
‘Months?’
‘About two months, only a short time before we left. Why?’
‘He came to this workshop and talked to you and your companions, you said. Remind me, about what?’
Sister Easdan shrugged.
‘Just generally about our work, the techniques. Although, now I think of it, he was especially interested in where the stones were found, their type and value … I think he was especially interested in their value.’
Fidelma smiled at Eadulf.
‘I think I am beginning to see the connection,’ she said with some relief in her tone. ‘I think I finally see where the Venerable Cinaed may be involved in all this.’
‘I don’t understand,’ replied Eadulf in bewilderment.
‘We were concerned with a book that the Venerable Cinaed had written. We were concentrating on his political work. Don’t you remember? We should have been thinking about his new work - De ars sordida gemmae, a critical tract on the local trade in these gemstones.’
‘Do you mean that he was murdered because of a book he wrote on our work?’ gasped Sister Easd
an.
‘We must find out some more,’ Fidelma replied. ‘It is a pity that book was destroyed but I believe we can guess the reason now.’ She gave a last glance around the workshop and sighed. ‘I have seen all that I need to see.’
They moved through the door and paused while Sister Easdan turned to lock it.
It was a slight sound, a movement of air, which caused Eadulf to turn with a cry of alarm and throw himself at Fidelma, knocking her sideways from the step.
As they both fell sprawling, a heavy stone block smashed into the spot where Fidelma had been standing a moment before.
Sister Easdan turned with a scream, staring at the shattered stone. Eadulf was already on his feet, hauling Fidelma up but scanning the upper storey of the stone building. He saw at once the gap in the parapet from which the stone had fallen.
‘How do you get to the upper floor?’ he shouted to the still shocked Sister Easdan. ‘Quickly now!’
Unable to speak, she simply pointed to a side door.
It was unlocked. Eadulf was through it and racing up a narrow enclosed stone stairway that led along the side of the building, passing the second floor and up to the flat roof. There was no one there. He looked around. He made his way to the parapet where the stone block was missing. He bent to examine the markings where the block had stood.
There was a noise behind him.
He swung round in a defensive position and found Fidelma had arrived. ‘A loose block?’ she asked.
He pulled a face.
‘A loose block that was helped,’ he replied sharply, pointing to the scratch marks. ‘Someone has deliberately prised it loose. They meant to kill you, I think.’
Fidelma took the news in her stride.
‘That means that we are fairly close to a resolution,’ she said calmly. ‘But how did they get off this roof so quickly?’ she added, looking about.
The answer was obvious. The end of the building was close to the main dormitory block of the abbey. A leap of a metre would take one on to a flat narrow walkway designed for the maintenance of that building’s roof, and the walkway led to a small door.
‘Shall I follow?’ Eadulf asked.
Fidelma made a negative gesture.
‘They are long gone, I think. You will never be able to identify the culprit.’
There came the sound of footsteps below from the narrow passage that led between the two buildings at ground level. Sister Sinnchéne was walking along with a basket of clothing in her arms, obviously carrying out the task of delivering the washing. Fidelma turned back to the stairway.
‘We should see that Sister Easdan is all right,’ she said. ‘She had a shock.’
As they rejoined Sister Easdan in the workshop, Brother Cú Mara entered.
‘There is some debris on the ground outside, a stone seems to have fallen,’ he announced worriedly.
‘We know,’ Fidelma smile thinly. ‘A loose stone has fallen by accident but no harm has been done.’
The steward hesitated a moment and cleared his throat.
‘I came to offer my apologies for my rudeness yesterday,’ he said stiffly.
‘As steward of this abbey, I should not give way to personal emotion. I am sorry.’
Eadulf examined the steward with narrowed eyes. ‘How did you know we were here?’ he asked abruptly.
Brother Cú Mara frowned. ‘Sister Sinnchéné passed as I was speaking to Sister Uallann and Sister Buan and I asked her if she knew where you were.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Fidelma said solemnly. ‘Your apology is accepted, Brother Cú Mara, these are stressful days for us all. It might have helped if I had been told earlier that the missing members of the community were all stone cutters and polishers, though.’
‘I don’t see how?’ At once the young steward was defensive again.
Sister Fidelma answered with a smile.
‘That is my job,’ she pointed out softly. ‘But I can only make deductions from information when it is provided. At least I have that information now.’
She left the workshop with Eadulf and the young Sister Easdan trailing in their wake, leaving the steward of the abbey looking thoughtfully after them.
Late in the afternoon they heard a commotion at the main gates of the abbey. It was Socht who came to report to them, quiet and unemotional as ever. A member of the community had arrived in a breathless condition from the port of An Bhearbha with news that two warships were entering the harbour. They belonged to Tadcán, lord of Baile Tadc, and Conrí had been spotted on board. News swiftly spread that he was coming to Ard Fhearta with prisoners and the other missing members of the community. There was an excited movement to the main gates to await the arrival of the Uí Fidgente warlord. Fidelma and Eadulf, accompanied by Socht, joined the others and saw that most of the major figures of the abbey were already assembled there.
Fidelma noticed that only the Venerable Mac Faosma and Abbot Erc were absent. Sister Uallann, the physician, stood with folded arms next to Sister Buan. Nearby was Brother Cillín. Even Brother Eolas had been enticed from his library with the nervous young Brother Faolchair.
When Conri. and half a dozen warriors arrived they were escorting only one prisoner but behind them came the five missing young women of the community. Sister Easdan raced forward to greet them, laughing. They all threw their arms about each other, laughing, crying and making a considerable noise, much to the disapproval of some of the senior members of the abbey,
The prisoner was a dark, brooding man whose coarse features maintained an impassive expression. His hands were bound before him with rope.
Conrí. grinned as he saw Fidelma and Eadulf, raising his hand in salute.
‘It was easy,’ he reported immediately. ‘Our two warships came upon Seanach’s Island at first light and when they saw our overwhelming force they laid down their arms immediately … all except this man.’ He prodded the man with his sword tip. ‘Allow me to present our friend Olcán. He wanted his band to fight to the death but was finally persuaded not to do so himself.’
Fidelma regarded him with a keen scrutiny. Olcán tried to meet her gaze arrogantly. She turned to Conrí.
‘Where are the other prisoners?’
‘Have no fear, lady. I have left them in the capable hands of Tadcán at the harbour. They are still shackled on one of his warships and await your word as to what should be done with them. A curious bunch. Most of them are northerners, men from the Uí Maine and some of the Uí Briúin Aí. They claim to follow Olcán purely for payment. The hermits refused to leave Seanach’s Island and are now trying to rebuild their community. I have returned the missing members of the community to the abbey, as you can see. The boxes of’ - he lowered his voice - ‘of stones we found are under guard on the ships.’
‘You have done well, Conrí,’ Fidelma said approvingly. ‘Very well.’ She looked for Sister Sinnchéne and waved her forward. ‘The young religieuse can bathe and be fed before I examine them.’ She glanced at Eadulf and confessed quietly, ‘I do not think they will add anything to what our friend Sister Easdan has already told us.’
Sister Sinnchéne came forward. Suddenly she stopped dead, staring at Conrí, and then she stumbled and collapsed on the ground.
Eadulf was at her side immediately. A moment later she was stirring.
‘She seems to have passed out,’ Eadulf said. Two of the community came forward and volunteered to help the girl back to her quarters while someone else was found to take the young women under her charge.
Abbot Erc had now arrived, glaring at the gathering.
‘What happened?’ he demanded, looking at the disappearing women.
‘Sister Sinnchéne seems to have fainted, that’s all,’ Fidelma replied.
‘Since you are here you may tell me whether you have a secure chamber in the abbey where we can hold this man?’ She gestured towards Olcán.
‘There is such a chamber below the tech-screptra,’ replied the abbot stiffly. ‘There is a good lock upon th
e door.’ He glanced at Olcán. ‘Who is he?’
Fidelma’s features were grim.
‘This is the man who slew Abbess Faife and imprisoned her companions. Let us make sure he is locked up safely and treated well, so that he may have no complaints when he comes before the Brehon.’
Abbot Erc motioned Brother Cú Mara forward. The steward had been hanging back but now the abbot repeated Fidelma’s instructions.
The man, Olcán, did not speak or even glance at his captors. He remained gazing woodenly before him, head unbowed.
Brother Cú Mara led the way through the buildings to the stone edifice of the library. They passed through groups of curious bystanders. The physician, Sister Uallann, whose apothecary stood near the library building, was staring at Olcán with narrowed eyes. The songmaster, Brother Cillin, had retreated to the library door with Brother Eolas the librarian and his young assistant, Brother Faolchair. They appeared interested in the proceedings. Fidelma noticed that Sister Buan had disappeared among the crowd. Nearby was an intent-looking Brother Benen, the Venerable Mac Faosma’s student. Brother Cú Mara took them into the building and down a stone stairway to a series of chambers that were so dark they had to be lit with torches and lanterns. There was a musty smell in the gloomy passageways.
The steward unlocked one of the thick wooden doors with an iron key and pushed the still bound Olcán into a cell.
Fidelma glanced in by the light of a lantern. There was a wooden cot, a table and a chair but, being below ground, no window, and no entrance or exit except by the single door.
‘I think he can have the freedom of his hands and arms,’ she decided, speaking to Conrí. ‘He can have food and drink later and I shall question him then.’
Conrí was indifferent.
‘I doubt if you will get anything out of him, lady. I tried to question him and he has remained as silent as if he were mute.’
Nevertheless, the warlord severed the dark man’s bonds in accordance with her instructions. They left him alone in the cell and Brother Cú Mara locked the door and hung the key on a nearby hook.
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