The Subtle Serpent (12 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: The Subtle Serpent
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‘You do not like her, do you?’ Fidelma observed sharply.
‘Like?’ The young girl seemed surprised by the question. ‘Didn’t Aesop write that there can be little liking where there is no likeness? There is no affinity between Sister Brónach and myself.’
‘One does not have to be a soul friend to find affection for another.’
‘Pity is no basis for affection,’ replied the girl. ‘That would be the only emotion I could summon towards Sister Brónach.’
Fidelma realised that Sister Síomha was not without intelligence for all her vanity. She had a verbal dexterity which would conceal her innermost thoughts. But, at least, Fidelma had stopped her wooden-voiced obstruction. Much could be discerned when the voice was more animated. She decided to try another tack.
‘I am under the impression that there are not many in this community with whom you have a friendship. Is that not so?’
She had picked this idea up from Sister Brónach but was surprised when Síomha did not deny it.
‘As steward it is not my job to please everyone. I have to make many decisions. Not all my decisions please the community. But I am
rechtaire
and I hold a responsible position.’
‘But your decisions are made with the approval of the Abbess Draigen, of course?’
‘The abbess trusts me implicitly.’ There was a boastful note in the girl’s voice.
‘I see. Well, let us continue with the discovery of the body. So, at the mother abbess’s request, you went in search of Sister Brónach?’
‘She was at the well but having difficulty in drawing the rope up. I thought that she was trying to hide her tardiness.’
‘Ah yes. Why was that?’
‘I had drawn water but an hour or two before and there had been no difficulty.’
Fidelma leant forward quickly. ‘Do you recall at precisely what hour you had drawn water from that well?’
Sister Síomha placed her head to one side, appearing to reflect on the question.
‘No more than two hours before.’
‘And there was, of course, no sign of anything amiss at that time?’
‘If there had been,’ Sister Síomha replied with heavy irony, ‘I would have said something.’
‘Of course you would. But let me be clear, there was nothing unusual around the well? No sign of any disturbance, no stains of blood in the snow?’
‘None.’
‘Was anyone else with you?’
‘Why should there be?’
‘No matter. I merely wanted to ensure that we could narrow the time when the body was placed in the well. It would appear that the body was placed in the well a short time before it was found. That would mean, whoever placed it in the well did so in full daylight with the prospect of being seen by anyone from the abbey. Do you not find that strange?’
‘I could not say.’
‘Very well. Continue.’
‘We hauled the rope up, it took some effort and time. Then we found the corpse tied to it. We cut it down and sent for the abbess.’
The details fitted with those given by Sister Brónach.
‘Did you recognise the corpse?’
‘No. Why should I?’ Her voice was sharp.
‘Has anyone gone missing from this community?’
The large amber eyes widened perceptibly. For a moment Fidelma was sure that a glint of fear flitted in their unfathomable depths.
‘Someone did disappear, who was it?’ Fidelma demanded quickly, hoping to take advantage of the almost imperceptible reaction.
Sister Síomha blinked and then was back in control again.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ she replied. ‘No one has
disappeared
,’ Fidelma just managed to catch the soft inflection, ‘from our community. If you are trying to imply that the body was one of our sisters, then you are mistaken.’
‘Think again and remember the penalties for not telling the truth to an officer of the court.’
Sister Síomha rose to her feet with an expression of anger.
‘I have no need to lie. Of what do you accuse me?’ she demanded.
‘I accuse you of nothing … so far,’ replied Fidelma, unperturbed by the display of defiance. ‘So, you state that no one had disappeared from the community? All your sisters are accounted for?’
‘Yes.’
Fidelma could not help but notice the slight hesitation before Sister Síomha’s reply. It was, however, no use pressing the steward. She continued:
‘When you sent for the abbess, did she give any indication that she recognised the corpse?’
The steward stared at her for a moment as if trying to fathom out the motives behind the question.
‘Why should the abbess recognise the corpse? Anyway, it was without a head.’
‘So the Abbess Draigen was surprised and horrified by the sight of the corpse?’
‘As, indeed, we all were.’
‘And you have no idea of who this corpse was?’
‘On my soul!’ snapped the girl. ‘I have said as much. I find your questions highly objectionable and I shall report this matter to Abbess Draigen.’
Fidelma smiled tightly.
‘Ah yes: Abbess Draigen. What is your relationship with Abbess Draigen?’
The glare of the steward faltered.
‘I am not sure what you mean.’ Her voice was cold and there was a threatening tone in it.
‘I thought my words were clear enough.’
‘I enjoy the abbess’s trust.’
‘How long have you been
rechtaire
here?’
‘A full year now.’
‘When did you join the community?’
‘Two years ago.’
‘Isn’t that a short time to be in a community and yet be trusted with its second most important office in the abbey - that of
rechtaire
?’
‘Abbess Draigen gave me her confidence.’
‘That is not what I asked.’
‘I am proficient at my work. Surely if someone has an aptitude for a task then it matters not how young they are?’
‘Yet, by any standards, it is a remarkably short period from the time that you entered the service of the Faith to the time you were appointed to this position.’
‘I know of no comparison to make a judgment.’
‘Were you in any other religious community before coming here?’
Sister Síomha shook her head.
‘So at what age did you enter here?’
‘The age of eighteen.’
‘Then you are no more than twenty?’
‘I stand a month from my twenty-first birthday,’ replied the girl defensively.
‘Then, truly, the Abbess Draigen must trust you implicitly. Aptitude for your tasks or not, you are young to hold the position of
rechtaire
,’ Fidelma said solemnly and before Sister Síomha could respond, she added: ‘And you, in turn, trust Abbess Draigen, of course?’
The girl frowned, unable to follow the trend of Fidelma’s questioning.
‘Of course, I do. She is my abbess and the superior of this community.’
‘And you like her?’
‘She is a wise and firm counsellor.’
‘You have nothing to say against her?’
‘What is there to say?’ Sister Síomha snapped. ‘Again I find that I do not like your questions.’
The girl regarded Fidelma with an expression of suspicion mixed with irritation.
‘Questions are not something you like or dislike. They are to be answered when a
dálaigh
of the Brehon Court asks them.’ Once again Fidelma decided to counter the girl’s challenge to her authority with a waspish reply.
Sister Síomha blinked rapidly. Fidelma judged that she was unused to anyone challenging her.
‘I … I have no idea why you are asking me these questions but you seem to be implying criticism of myself and now of the abbess.’
‘Why could you be criticised?’
‘Are you trying to be clever with me?’
‘Clever?’ Fidelma allowed surprise to register on her features. ‘I make no attempt to be clever. I am simply asking questions to gain a picture of what has happened in this place. Does that worry you so much?’
‘It worries me not at all. The sooner this mystery is
resolved, then the sooner we can return to our normal routine.’
Sister Fidelma gave an inward sigh. She had tried to bludgeon the arrogance out of Sister Síomha and had failed.
‘Very well. I believe that you are a discerning and intelligent person, Sister Síomha. You are telling me that the headless corpse was a stranger to this community. From where do you think it came?’
Sister Síomha simply shrugged.
‘Isn’t that your task to discover?’ she said sarcastically.
‘And I am doing my best to achieve that discovery. However, you have assured me that it was no member of your community. If so, could it be a member of any local community?’
‘It was headless. I have told you before that I did not recognise it.’
‘But it might have been a member of a local community. Perhaps the girl belonged to Adnár’s community across the bay here?’
‘No!’ the reply was so sharp and immediate that Fidelma was surprised. She raised her eyebrows in interrogation.
‘Why so? Do you know Adnár’s community so well?’
‘No … no; it’s just that I do not think …’
‘Ah,’ Fidelma smiled. ‘If you only
think
it is or is not, then you do not know. Isn’t that right? In which case you are guessing, Sister Síomha. If you are guessing in this instance, have you been guessing in your answers to my previous questions?’
Sister Síomha looked outraged.
‘How dare you suggest … !’
‘Indignation is no response,’ replied Fidelma complacently. ‘And arrogance is no answer to …’
There was a timid knocking. Sister Brónach entered through the trapdoor.
‘What is it?’ Sister Síomha snapped at her.
The middle-aged sister blinked at the curtness of the greeting.
‘It is the mother abbess, sister. She requires your presence immediately.’
Sister Síomha let her breath exhale slowly.
‘And how am I to leave the water-clock?’ she demanded, with a gesture to the bowl which stood behind her, her tone bitterly sarcastic.
‘I am to take charge of it,’ Sister Brónach replied calmly.
Sister Síomha rose to her feet and stared at Fidelma for a moment.
‘I presume that I have your permission to go now? I have told you all I know of this matter.’
Fidelma inclined her head without saying anything and the young steward of the community stomped in obvious temper from the room. For once Fidelma rebuked herself for having allowed the temperament of a person to set the tone of her questioning. She had hoped that her sharpness, her bludgeoning style of interrogation would have deflated Sister Síomha’s arrogance. But she had not succeeded.
Sister Brónach broke the silence.
‘She is annoyed,’ she observed softly as she moved to the fireplace and checked the basin of steaming water.
Even as she did so, the floating copper bowl sank abruptly, and Sister Brónach immediately turned to a large gong which stood by the open window. She took a stick and struck it firmly so that the sound seemed to resound across the grounds of the abbey. Then she quickly moved to remove the bowl from the water, deftly using a pair of long wooden tongs which were eighteen inches in overall length so that her hands did not have to contact the water. She removed the bowl and emptied it so that she could refloat it on top of the water.
Fidelma found herself intrigued by the operation, and dismissed Sister Síomha momentarily from her mind. She had seen one or two water-clocks at work before.
‘Tell me of your system here, Sister Brónach,’ she invited, genuinely interested.
Sister Brónach cast an uncertain glance at Fidelma, as if wondering whether there was some hidden purpose to her question. Deciding there was not, or if there was she could not appreciate it, she pointed to the mechanism.
‘Someone is obliged to constantly watch the clock, or the clepsydra, as we call it.’
‘That I can understand. Explain the mechanism to me.’
‘This basin,’ Sister Brónach pointed to a large bronze bowl which stood on the fire, ‘is filled with water. The water is kept constantly heated and then on it is placed the empty small copper dish, which has a very small hole in its base.’
‘I see it.’
‘The hot water percolates through the hole in the bottom of the copper dish and gradually fills it and so it eventually sinks to the bottom. When that happens, a period of time of fifteen minutes has passed. We call it
a pongc.
When the dish sinks to the bottom of the basin, the watcher must strike a gong. There are four
pongc
in the
uair
and six
uair
make a
cadar.
When the fourth
pongc
is sounded, the striker of the gong pauses and then strikes the number of the
uair;
when the sixth
uair
is sounded, the striker must pause and then strike the number of the
cadar,
of the quarter of the day. It is a very simple method really.’

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