The Subtle Serpent (17 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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Adnár looked uncomfortable.
‘He would probably not wish to, Draigen would not make him welcome.’
‘My will over-rules Draigen in this matter,’ Fidelma replied coldly. ‘He will meet me at the guest’s hostel after the breaking of the fast. I shall expect him.’
‘I will convey that to him,’ sighed Adnár.
Adnár suddenly raised his head in a listening attitude. A moment later Fidelma heard the crunch of shoes on the frosty ground and turned. Coming along the woodland path was the figure of a religieuse, head bowed and cowled, a
sacculus
slung across her shoulder. She did not see Adnár and
Fidelma until she was ten yards away when Fidelma hailed her.
‘Good day, sister.’
The girl halted and glanced up startled. Fidelma recognised her immediately. It was the young Sister Lerben.
‘Good day,’ she mumbled.
Adnár rose smiling.
‘It seems a custom of the abbey religieuses to tread this path this day,’ he observed ironically. ‘Surely it is dangerous to be alone here, sister? It will be dark before long.’
Lerben’s eyes flashed in annoyance and then she dropped them.
‘I am on my way to see,’ she hesitated and glanced at Fidelma, ‘to see Torcán of the Ui Fidgenti.’ Her hand went automatically to the
sacculus
.
Adnár continued to smile and shook his head.
‘Alas, as I was just explaining to Sister Fidelma, Torcán has just left my fortress and will not return until this evening. Can I give him some message?’
Sister Lerben hesitated again and then nodded swiftly. She removed a small oblong object wrapped in a piece of cloth from her
sacculus
.
‘Would you ensure that he is given this? He requested its loan from our library and I was asked to deliver it.’
‘I will pass this on with pleasure, sister.’
Fidelma reached forward and effortlessly intercepted the package before Adnár could take it. She unwrapped the cloth and gazed at the vellum book.
‘Why, this is a copy of the annals being kept at Clonmacnoise, the great abbey founded by the Blessed Ciarán.’
She raised her eyes to see an anxious look on Sister Lerben’s face. But Adnár was smiling.
‘I had not realised young Torcán was so interested in history,’ he said. ‘I will have to speak with him about this.’
He reached forth a hand but Fidelma was glancing through its vellum pages. She had spotted some stains on one page, a
red muddy stain. She had time only to see that the page contained an entry about the High King Cormac Mac Art before Adnár had gently but firmly removed it from her hold and rewrapped it in the cloth.
‘This is not the place to study books,’ he observed jocularly. ‘It is far too cold. Do not worry, sister,’ he told Lerben. ‘I will make sure the book is safely delivered to Torcán.’
Fidelma rose to her feet and began to brush the leaves, twigs and dusty, rotting wood from her dress.
‘Do you know Torcán well? It is a long way from the land of the Ui Fidgenti.’
Adnár tucked the book under his arm.
‘I hardly know him at all. He was a guest of Gulban at his fortress and has come down here as a guest of Olcán, to hunt and see some of the ancient sites for which our territory is renowned.’
‘I did not think that the Ui Fidgenti were welcomed by the people of the Loígde.’
Adnár chuckled dryly.
‘There have been battles fought between us, there is no denying that. It is time, however, that old quarrels and prejudices were overcome.’
‘I agree,’ Fidelma said. ‘But I point out the obvious. Eoganán, the prince of the Ui Fidgenti, has conspired in many wars against the Loígde.’
‘Territorial wars,’ agreed Adnár. ‘Were everyone to keep to their own territory and not try to interfere in the concerns of other clans then there would be no need for warfare.’ He grinned crookedly. ‘But, thanks be to God that there was need for warriors when I was a young man otherwise I would not have risen to my present station.’
Fidelma gazed at him a moment, head to one side.
‘So you, who won your wealth in wars against the Ui Fidgenti, are now entertaining the son of the prince of that tribe?’
Adnár nodded.
‘It is the way of the world. Yesterday’s enemies are today’s bosom friends, although, as I pointed out, to be precise, the young man is Olcán’s guest and not mine.’
‘And yesterday’s brother and sister are today’s bitterest enemies,’ added Fidelma softly.
Adnár shrugged.
‘Would it were otherwise, sister. But it is not otherwise but thus.’
‘Very well, Adnár. I thank you for your frankness with me. I shall expect Brother Febal tomorrow.’
She turned to where Sister Lerben had been standing nervously, as if unable to make up her mind whether to depart or join in this conversation. Fidelma looked at the young girl with a warm smile. Lerben was surely no more than sixteen or seventeen years old.
‘Come, sister. Let us return to the abbey and we will talk on the way.’
She turned down the path and began to retrace her steps through the wood. After a moment, Lerben fell in step with her, leaving Adnár standing by his horse, absently stroking the horse’s muzzle as he watched them disappear among the trees. He took the book from under his arm and, unwrapping the cloth covering, stared moodily at it, seemed locked into his thoughts for a long time before rewrapping it, thrusting it in his saddle bag, untying the reins of his steed and clambering up. Then he nudged his horse’s belly with his heels and sent it trotting along the forest track in the direction of his fortress.
Sister Fidelma was awake even before the tense voice cut through the darkness. Her sleep had been disturbed by the turning of the handle on her small chamber door and her mind, alert to possible dangers, caused her to become wide awake in an instant. A shadow stood framed in the doorway. It was still night and only the ethereal light of the moon illuminated the space beyond. The cold was intense and her breath made clouds as she struggled upwards in the pale blue light which bathed everything.
‘Sister Fidelma!’ The voice was almost a nervous cry from the tall figure of the religieuse.
Fidelma recognised it in spite of the unnatural tone of the voice. It was the Abbess Draigen.
Immediately Fidelma was sitting up in bed, reaching for the flint and tinder to light the tallow candle.
‘Mother abbess? What is the matter?’
‘You must come with me straight away.’ Draigen’s voice was cracking with ill-concealed emotion.
Fidelma managed to light the candle and turn to the figure.
The abbess was fully dressed and her face, even in the yellow glow of the candle light, seemed pale and her features were etched in horror.
‘Has something happened?’ Fidelma realised that her question was superfluous almost at once. Without waiting for a reply, she rose swiftly from her bed. She was now oblivious to the cold as she realised something terrible had taken place. ‘What is it?’
The figure of the abbess stood trembling but more from some fearful emotion than from the cold night air. She appeared unable to answer coherently. She seemed to be suffering from some kind of shock.
Fidelma threw on her cloak and slipped into her shoes.
‘Lead the way, Draigen,’ she instructed calmly. ‘I am with you.’
The abbess paused only a moment and then turned, moving towards the courtyard. It was almost as bright as day outside for there had been another snow flurry which now reflected against the light of the moon.
Fidelma glanced at the sky, noting automatically the moon’s position, and judged that it was some hours beyond midnight. It was still, however, well before dawn. The stillness of the night seemed absolute. Only the sound of their leather shoes, crunching on the icy snow of the courtyard, sounded in the silence of the night.
Fidelma noticed that they were heading for the tower.
She followed behind the abbess, saying nothing, one hand holding the candle and the other shielding its flame from any wayward breath of wind. But the cold, wintry night was so still that there was hardly a flicker from the flame.
The abbess did not pause at the doorway to the tower but entered immediately. Inside, the library was dark but Draigen hurried to the foot of the steps which led up to the second floor almost without waiting for Fidelma to light the way. They moved rapidly to the third floor where the copyists worked. At the foot of the next set of steps which led on to the floor where the water-clock was situated Fidelma noticed an extinguished candle and its holder lying separately on the floor as if it had been carelessly flung aside. Draigen abruptly halted here, so that Fidelma was forced to stumble a little for fear of colliding with her. In the light of Fidelma’s flickering candle, Abbess Draigen’s face was ghastly. However, she appeared to be slowly composing herself.
‘You should prepare yourself, sister. The sight which you
will see is not a pleasant one.’ They were the first words Draigen had uttered since rousing Fidelma from her sleep.
Without another word, she turned and mounted the steps.
Fidelma did not say anything. She felt that there was nothing to say until she knew the meaning of this night’s excursion.
She followed the abbess into the room of the clepsydra. There was a soft red glow from the fire, the water was still steaming in the great bronze bowl. There were also two lanterns whose light made her candle superfluous.
She was but a second in the room when she saw the body stretched on the floor. That it was female and wore the dress of a sister of the community required no great inspection. That much was obvious.
Abbess Draigen said nothing, merely standing to one side.
Fidelma placed her candle carefully on a bench and moved closer. Even though she had witnessed many violent deaths in the violent world in which she lived, Fidelma could not suppress the shudder of revulsion that went through her.
The head of the corpse had been severed. It was nowhere in sight.
The body would have been lying face down, had there been a face. It was lying with arms outstretched. She noticed immediately that there was a small crucifix in the right hand and around the left arm was tied a small aspen wand with some Ogham characters. There was a mess of blood, still red and sticky, around the severed neck. She saw that there was another pool of blood under the body at chest level.
Fidelma took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.
‘Who is it?’ she asked of the abbess.
‘Sister Síomha.’
Fidelma blinked rapidly.
‘How can you be so sure?’
The abbess uttered a strangled noise which had been intended for a short bark of cynical laughter.
‘You lectured us on recognising a corpse by means other than a face only a short while ago, sister. Those are her robes. You will find a scar on the left leg where she once fell and cut herself. Also, she was on duty as keeper of the water-clock for the first
cadar
of the day. By these things I know it is Síomha.’
Fidelma pressed her lips together and bent down. She raised the hem of the skirt and saw, on the white flesh of the left leg, healed scar tissue that had once been a deep gash. Fidelma then pushed the corpse towards its left side and looked at the front of it. From the amount of blood and the slashed clothing, she presumed that Síomha had been stabbed in the heart before her head had been severed. Gently, she allowed the body to resume its original position. She peered at the hands of the corpse and was not surprised when she saw the brown red mud under the fingernails and on the fingers themselves. Then she reached forward and untied the aspen wand and read the Ogham inscription.
‘The Mórrigú is awake!’
She frowned and, holding the stick in her hand, she rose to her feet and faced Draigen.
The abbess was not entirely recovered from her shock. Her eyes were red, the face pale, her lips twitching. Fidelma felt almost sorry for her.
‘We must talk,’ she said gently. ‘Will it be here or would you prefer to go elsewhere?’
‘We must rouse the abbey,’ Draigen countered.
‘But first the questions.’
‘Then it would be better if you asked your questions here.’
‘Very well.’
‘Let me tell you this immediately,’ Draigen went on before Fidelma could frame her first question. ‘I have already caught the evil sorceress who did this deed.’
Fidelma controlled her utter surprise.
‘You have?’
‘It was Sister Berrach. I caught her red-handed.’
Fidelma was unable to restrain her astonishment. Abbess Draigen’s announcement deprived her of speech for a space of several moments.
‘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.

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