Act of Mercy (22 page)
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery, #Medieval Ireland
The boy was looking at her in amazement.
‘You are saying that Sister Muirgel arranged for us to think that she had fallen overboard?’ Sister Ainder was still having problems coming to terms with what she had been told. ‘Why?’
‘She wanted to mislead her killer.’
Brother Tola made a sardonic barking laugh, expressing his disbelief.
‘Where, in God’s name, could she have hidden on this ship? There is nowhere.’
‘You’ll forgive me if I disagree with you.’ Fidelma felt tempted to tell him that Muirgel had spent the first night within a yard or so of him while he slept. ‘The more important matter is that Sister Muirgel’s murderer is a member of your company. Where were each of you during this last hour?’
They looked at each other suspiciously.
Brother Tola acted as their spokesman.
‘We sat down to breakfast all at the same time. That was about an hour ago.’
It turned out that everyone claimed to be in their cabins before that, with the exception of Sister Ainder, who accounted for her absence by stating she was in the
defectora
, and Cian, who said he was exercising on deck.
defectora
, and Cian, who said he was exercising on deck.
‘Were you in your cabin, Brother Bairne?’ enquired Fidelma.
‘I was.’
‘It is next to Muirgel’s cabin. Did you hear anything?’
‘Are you accusing me?’ stormed the young man, his face reddening. ‘You might have to prove such an accusation.’
‘If I made such an accusation I would do so when I am sure of proving it,’ replied Fidelma confidently. ‘I shall want to speak with each of you individually again.’
‘By what right?’ snapped Sister Ainder indignantly. ‘This matter is ridiculous. People being washed overboard when they are not. Accidents that turn to murders. Corpses that are not corpses!’
‘You already know my right and authority for this investigation,’ Fidelma interrupted her tirade.
Brother Tola glanced at Murchad.
‘I presume that Fidelma still acts with your approval, Captain?’
‘I have appointed Fidelma of Cashel in full charge of the matter,’ Murchad said heavily. ‘That is final.’
They had sighted the western coast of Armorica – that land which was now being called ‘Little Britain’.
Murchad announced, ‘Within a few hours we shall be sighting the island of Ushant, which is at its western extremity.’
Fidelma had never been to Armorica but knew that within the last two centuries, tens of thousands of Britons had been driven out of their lands by the expansion of the Angles and Saxons, and most had found a new home among the Armoricans. Many others had found refuge in the north-west of Iberia which had come to be named Galicia, the land to which they were sailing; others still had settled in the Five Kingdoms of Éireann, although not in such large numbers as elsewhere. But it was in Armorica, among people who shared a similar language and culture, that the refugees from Britain had begun to change the political map of the country so that the land was renamed ‘Little Britain’.
‘We’ll take on water at Ushant and some fresh food,’ continued Murchad. ‘We are under the halfway mark on our journey but, after this, there will be no other opportunity for you to stretch your legs on firm ground and to have a hot meal and a bath.’
Fidelma had acknowledged the information absently. She was watching her fellow pilgrims taking their ease on the main deck. She felt confused. One of them was a murderer and she had no idea which one she should even start suspecting! She had not revealed Brother Guss’s secret, that Sister Canair was also dead. She hoped, by withholding the information, that someone would eventually reveal knowledge which might indicate that they also knew – and that knowledge would identify them as the murderer. The accusation against Sister Crella certainly could not be substantiated as yet.
Brother Tola had taken up his usual position on deck, seated with his back against the water butt near the main mast reading his Missal. Brothers Dathal and Adamrae were arm in arm, strolling along the deck incongruously, or so it seemed to Fidelma, laughing together at a shared joke. The tall figure of Sister Ainder was seated on the starboard side lecturing Brother Bairne. Sister Crella was pacing the
deck, arms folded around her, still agitated and muttering to herself. Fidelma looked round for Brother Guss but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Sister Gormán.
deck, arms folded around her, still agitated and muttering to herself. Fidelma looked round for Brother Guss but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Sister Gormán.
‘Well, Fidelma?’ Cian appeared at her side, interrupting her thoughts. His voice was mocking. ‘From the reputation you have gathered to yourself these last few years, I would have thought that the mystery of Sister Muirgel would have been solved by now.’
She found it hard to believe that she had once been so immature as to be in love with this man. Resisting the impulse to utter a sharp rebuke, she recalled that she still needed information from him – and here was an opportunity to obtain it. Instead of reacting, she asked coolly, ‘How long did your affair with Sister Muirgel last?’
Cian blinked rapidly. His supercilious smile broadened.
‘Are you checking up on my affairs now? Why do you want to know about Muirgel?’
‘I am simply pursuing my enquiries into her death.’
Cian studied her phlegmatic expression, then shrugged slightly.
‘If you must know, not very long. Are you sure that you have no personal interest in asking?’
Fidelma chuckled.
‘You flatter yourself, Cian – but then, you always did. Sister Muirgel was murdered by someone she knew. I told you at breakfast.’
‘Are you trying to implicate me?’ demanded Cian. ‘Has your hurt pride, after all these years, turned your mind so that you accuse me? That is utterly ridiculous!’
‘Why should it be ridiculous? Don’t lovers kill each other?’ she asked innocently.
‘My affair with Muirgel was over long before we set out on this journey.’
‘Long is an abstract term.’
‘Well, a week or so prior to the journey.’
‘Did you walk out on her without a word, or this time did you have sufficient courage to tell her face to face?’ she added brutally.
Cian coloured hotly.
‘As a matter of fact, it was she who walked out on
me
– and, yes, she did tell me. Incredible as it may seem, she told me that she was in love with someone else – that young idiot, Brother Guss.’
me
– and, yes, she did tell me. Incredible as it may seem, she told me that she was in love with someone else – that young idiot, Brother Guss.’
Here was confirmation that some of Guss’s story was truthful, in spite of Crella’s denial that her friend was having an affair with him.
‘Knowing you, it was not something you would meekly accept, Cian. You have too much vanity. You would have protested.’
Cian’s hearty chuckle took Fidelma by surprise.
‘If you must know, I was very relieved by her confession, because I was about to end the relationship myself.’
She did not believe him. ‘I find it hard to credit that you would let a young boy like Guss take over from you without your pride being wounded.’
‘If you want the gory details, Canair and I had been lovers for a short while. I was trying to ditch Muirgel. Thankfully, she made it easy for me.’ It was plain by his boastful attitude that Cian was not lying.
‘When did you become Canair’s lover?’
‘Oh, so you want details of that as well! Really, Fidelma, when did you become a voyeur?’
She had to restrain herself from slapping his sneering face.
‘Let me remind you,’ she said icily, ‘that I am a
dálaigh
investigating a murder.’
dálaigh
investigating a murder.’
‘A
dálaigh
miles from our homeland, on board a pilgrim ship,’ Cian said mockingly. ‘You have no rights to pry into my life,
dálaigh
.’
dálaigh
miles from our homeland, on board a pilgrim ship,’ Cian said mockingly. ‘You have no rights to pry into my life,
dálaigh
.’
‘I have every right. So you had affairs with Muirgel
and
Canair? I suppose, knowing your character, you dallied with most of the young women at Moville.’
and
Canair? I suppose, knowing your character, you dallied with most of the young women at Moville.’
‘Jealous, are we?’ Cian sneered. ‘You were always possessive and jealous, Fidelma of Cashel. Don’t disguise your prying as being part of your duty. I had enough of your sulky ways when you were younger.’
‘I am not interested in your foolish pride, Cian. I am only interested in knowledge. I need to find Muirgel’s killer.’
She had become aware that their voices were raised and they had been shouting at each other. Luckily the sound of the wind and sea seemed to have disguised their words, although Murchad, standing nearby at the steering oar, looked studiously out to sea as if embarrassed. He must have heard their exchange.
Fidelma suddenly noticed that the young, naive Sister Gormán had come unnoticed on deck and was standing nearby, watching them with an expression of intense curiosity. She was picking at a shawl that she had draped over her shoulders to protect her from the chilly winds. When Fidelma caught her eye, she giggled and began to chant.
‘My beloved is fair and ruddy
A paragon among ten thousand.
His head is gold, finest gold,
His locks are like palm fronds.
His eyes are like doves beside brooks of water,
Splashed by the milky water
As they sit where it is drawn …’
A paragon among ten thousand.
His head is gold, finest gold,
His locks are like palm fronds.
His eyes are like doves beside brooks of water,
Splashed by the milky water
As they sit where it is drawn …’
Cian uttered a suppressed exclamation of disgust and turned down the companionway, brushing by the girl as he left Fidelma. Sister Gormán uttered a shrill laugh.
Gormán was a strange little thing, Fidelma thought. She seemed able to quote entire sections of Holy Scripture effortlessly. What was it that she had been quoting just then, something from the Song of Solomon? Sister Gormán glanced up and her eyes met Fidelma’s once more. She smiled again – a curious smile that had no humour to it, only a movement of the facial muscles. Then she turned and moved away.
‘Sister Gormán!’ Fidelma had promised herself to spend some time with the young girl for she was clearly highly-strung and no one seemed to be concerned for her. The girl watched suspiciously as Fidelma came up. ‘I hope you are not still blaming yourself for what has happened to Sister Muirgel?’
The girl’s apprehensive expression deepened.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you did tell me, when we thought she had fallen overboard, that you felt guilty because you cursed her.’
‘That!’ Gormán pouted in a gesture of dismissal. ‘I was just being silly. Of course my curse did not kill her. That’s been proved by her death now. If my curse
had
killed her, she would not have been alive these past two days.’
had
killed her, she would not have been alive these past two days.’
Fidelma raised her eyes a little at the apparent callousness of the girl’s tone. But then Gormán displayed curious swings of temperament.
‘As you know,’ Fidelma passed on hurriedly, ‘I was asking where everyone was immediately before sitting down to breakfast. I think you said you were in your cabin?’
‘I was.’ The reply came curtly.
‘And you were there with Sister Ainder who shares that cabin?’
‘She went out for a while.’
‘Ah yes; so she said.’
‘Muirgel is dead. You are wasting your time asking these questions,’ snapped Gormán.
Fidelma blinked at her rude tone.
‘It is my duty to do so,’ she ventured, and then tried to change the conversation to put the young girl at her ease. ‘I notice you like chanting songs from the Scriptures.’
‘Everything is contained in the holy words,’ replied Gormán,
almost arrogantly. ‘Everything.’ She suddenly stared unblinkingly into Fidelma’s eyes and her features formed once more into that eerie smile.
almost arrogantly. ‘Everything.’ She suddenly stared unblinkingly into Fidelma’s eyes and her features formed once more into that eerie smile.
‘There can be no remedy for your sore,
The new skin cannot grow.
All your lovers have forgotten you;
They look for you no longer.
I have struck you down.’
The new skin cannot grow.
All your lovers have forgotten you;
They look for you no longer.
I have struck you down.’
Fidelma shivered in spite of herself.
‘I don’t understand …’
Gormán actually stamped a foot.
‘Jeremiah. Surely you know the Scriptures? It is a suitable epitaph for Muirgel.’
At that, she turned away and hurried past the tall figure of Sister Ainder. The latter moved towards her as if to speak with her, but the girl pushed by her, causing the sharp-faced woman to give an exclamation of annoyance as the girl almost made her lose her balance.
‘Is there anything wrong with Sister Gormán?’ she called to Fidelma.
‘I think she is in need of a friend to counsel her,’ replied Fidelma.
Sister Ainder actually smiled.
‘You do not have to tell me that. She has always kept to herself, even talking to herself at times as though she needs no other companion. But then, they say that true saints see and speak to angels. I would not condemn her for she might have more of the Faith then the rest of us put together.’
Fidelma was sceptical.
‘I think she is just a troubled soul.’
‘Yet madness can be a gift from God, so perhaps she is to be blessed.’
‘Do you think that she is mad?’
‘If not mad, then a little eccentric, eh? Look, there she is again, muttering her imprecations and curses.’
Sister Ainder pursed her lips and apparently did not wish to pursue the topic of conversation, for she changed the subject, remarking: ‘It seems that for a pilgrimage of religieux on our way to a Holy Shrine there is one thing missing on this voyage.’
‘Which is?’ asked Fidelma cautiously.
‘Religion itself. I fear that apart from a few exceptions, God is not with those on this voyage.’
‘How do you judge that?’
Sister Ainder’s bright eyes bore into Fidelma.
‘There was certainly no religion in the hand that killed Sister Muirgel and she, in turn, was certainly no religieuse. That young woman would have been better off in a bawdy house.’
‘So you disliked Muirgel?’
‘As I have told you before, I really did not know her enough to dislike her. I only disapproved of her loose ways with men. But, as I say, she does not appear to be outrageous company among our band of so-called pilgrims.’
‘I presume you don’t include yourself in the “outrageous company”? Are there any other exceptions?’
‘Brother Tola, of course.’
‘But not me?’ Fidelma smiled.
Sister Ainder looked at her pityingly.
‘You are not a religieuse. Your concern is the law and you are simply a Sister of the Faith by accident.’
Fidelma fought to keep her face impassive. She had not thought it was so obvious. First Brother Tola, and now Sister Ainder felt able to take her to task on her religiosity. Fidelma decided to move the conversation onwards.
‘What of the others of your party then? You don’t consider they should be in religious Orders?’
‘Certainly not. Cian, for instance, is a womaniser, a man without morals or thought for others. There is no caring in him. With his vanity, it would not occur to him that he was hurting anyone. As a warrior he was probably in the right occupation. Fate caused him to seek security in a religious house. It was the wrong decision.’
Then Sister Ainder gestured across the deck of the ship to Dathal and Adamrae.
‘Those young men should be … well!’ Her face was twisted in disapproval.
‘You would condemn them?’ asked Fidelma.
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