Death of an Icon

'It is not for me to question Father Mailin. He came to his conclusion after making strenuous inquiries.'

'Of whom, other than yourself, could he make such inquiries?'

'It was Brother Firgil who told the Father Superior about the itinerants.'

'Then bring Brother Firgil to me.'

Brother Gormgilla scurried off.

Sister Fidelma wandered around the chamber and examined the manuscripts and books that lined the walls. Gelasius had, as hearsay had it, been an extraordinary scholar. There were books on philosophy in Hebrew, Latin, Greek and even works in the old tongue of the Irish, written on wooden wands in Ogham, the earliest Irish alphabet.

Everything was neatly placed along the shelves.

Gelasius had clearly been a methodical and tidy man. She glanced at some of the works. They intrigued her for they concerned the ancient stories of her people: stories of the pagan gods, the children of the Mother Goddess Danu

whose 'divine waters' fertilized the Earth at the beginning of time itself. It was a strange library for a great philosopher and teacher of the Faith to have.

At a little desk were vellum and quills where the Venerable Gelasius obviously sat composing his own works which were widely distributed among the teaching abbeys of Ireland. Now his voice would be heard no more. His death at the hands of mere thieves had robbed the Faith of one of its greatest protagonists. No wonder the Abbot had not been satisfied with Father Mailin's simple report and had asked Fidelma, as a trained dalaigh of the courts, to make an inquiry which could be presented to the King himself.

Fidelma glanced down at the vellum. It was pristine. Whatever Gelasius had been working on, he must have finished before his death, for his writing materials were clean and set out neatly; everything placed carefully, ready and waiting . . .

She frowned suddenly. Her wandering eye had caught something tucked inside a small calf-bound book on a nearby shelf. Why should she be attracted by a slip of parchment sticking out of a book? She was not sure until she realized everything else was so neat and tidy that the very fact that the paper was left so untidily was the reason which drew her attention to it.

She reached forward and drew it out. The slip of parchment fluttered awkwardly in her hands and made a slow glide to the floor. She bent down to pick it up. As she did so she noticed something protruding behind one of the stout legs of Gelasius's desk. Retrieving the parchment she reached forward and eased out the object from its hiding place.

It was an iron key, cold and greasy to the touch. For a moment, she stood gazing at it. Then she went to the door and inserted it. The key fitted into the lock and she turned it slowly. Then she turned it back and took it out, slipping it into her marsupium.

Finally, she reverted her attention to the piece of parchment. It was a note in Ogham. A line, a half constructed sentence no more. It read: 'By despising, denigrating and destroying all that has preceded us, we will simply teach this and future generations to despise our beliefs. Veritas vos liberabit '

'Sister?'

Fidelma glanced round. At the door stood a thin, pale-faced religieux with a hook nose and thin lips.

'I am Brother Firgil. You were asking for me?'

Fidelma placed the piece of parchment in her marsupium along with the key and turned to him.

'Brother Fergal?' she asked using the Irish name.

The man shook his head.

'Firgil,' he corrected. 'My father named me from the Latin Vergilius.'

'I understand. I am told that you informed Father Mailin about the itinerants who were camping in the woods on the night of the Venerable Gelasius's death?'

'I did so,' Brother Firgil agreed readily. 'I noticed them on the day before that tragic event. I took them to be a band of mercenaries, about a score in number with womenfolk and children. They were camped out in the woods about half a mile from here.'

'What made you think that they were responsible for the theft and killing of the Venerable Gelasius?'

Brother Firgil shrugged.

'Who else would dare such sacrilege than godless mercenaries?'

'Are you sure that they were godless?' Fidelma asked waspishly.

The man looked bewildered for a moment and then shrugged.

'No one who is at one with God would dare rob His house or harm His servants, particularly one who was as elderly as the Venerable Gelasius. It is well known that most of those mercenaries are not converted to the Faith.'

'Is there proof that they robbed the chapel?'

'The proof is that a crucifix from the chapel and two gold chalices from the altar are gone. The proof is that the Venerable Gelasius had a rosary made of marble beads from a green stone from the lands of Conamara, which was said to have been blessed by the saintly Ailbe himself. That, too, is gone. Finally, the Venerable Gelasius was found dead Hanged.'

'But nothing you have said is proof that these itinerants were the culprits,' Fidelma pointed out. 'Is there any proof absolute?'

'The itinerants were camping in the wood on the dav before the Venerable Gelasius's death. On the morning that Gelasius was discovered and the items were found missing, I told Father Mailin of my suspicions and was sent to observe the itinerants so that we could appeal to the local chieftain for warriors to take them. But they were gone. That is proof that guilt bade them hurry away from the scene of their crime.'

'It is circumstantial proof only and that is not absolutely proof in law. Was the local chieftain informed?'

'He sent warriors immediately to follow them but their tracks vanished in some rocky passes through the hills and could not be picked up again.'

'Did anyone observe anything strange during the night when these events happened?'

Brother Firgil shook his head.

'The only person who must have been roused by the thieves was poor Gelasius.'

'How many brethren live in this community?'

'Twenty-one.'

'It seems strange that an elderly man would be the only one disturbed during the night.'

'You see that this chamber lies next to the chapel. Gelasius often kept late hours while working on his texts. I see no strangeness in this.'

'In relationship to the chapel, where are the quarters of the other brethren?'

'The Father Superior has the chamber next to this one. I, as steward of the community, have the next chamber. The rest of the brethren share the dormitorium.'

'Is the Father Superior a sound sleeper?'

Brother Firgil frowned.

'I do not understand.'

'No matter. When was it discovered that the artifacts had been stolen?'

'Brother Gormgilla discovered the body of Gelasius and raised the alarm. A search was made and the crucifix, cups and rosary were found missing.'

'And no physical damage was done in the chapel nor to this room before Brother Gormgilla had to break in?'

'None, so far as I am aware. Had there been, it might have aroused the community and we might have saved Gelasius.'

'Was Gelasius an exceptionally tidy person?'

Brother Firgil blinked at the abrupt change of question.

'He was not especially so.'

Fidelma gestured to the chamber.

'Was this how the room was when he was found?'