Death of an Icon

brow but before he could admonish Fidelma, she cut in with a bored voice, 'I would remind you that not only am I sister to the King of Cashel but, in holding the degree of Anruth as an advocate of the court, I have the privilege of even sitting in the presence of the High King. Do not, therefore, lecture me on protocol.'

Father Mailin swallowed at the harshness of her tone.

He had, indeed, been about to point out that a member of the brethren was not allowed to sit in the presence of a Father Superior without being invited.

'You are a clever man, Father Mailin,' Fidelma suddenly said, although the Father Superior missed the patronizing tone in her voice.

He stared at her not knowing how to interpret her words.

'I need your advice.'

Father Mailin shifted his weight slightly in his chair. He was bewildered by her abrupt changes of attitude.

'I am at your service, Sister Fidelma.'

'It is just that you have been able to reason out an explanation for a matter which is beyond my understanding and I would like you to explain it to me.'

'I will do my best.'

'Excellent. Tell me how these thieves were able to overpower and hang an old man in his chamber and leave the room, having secured the window on the inside and locking the door behind them, leaving the key in the room?'

Father Mailin stared at her for some moments, his eyes fixed on her in puzzlement. Then he began to chuckle.

'You are misinformed. The key was never found. The thieves took it with them.'

'I am told that there was only one key to that room which the Venerable Gelasius kept in his possession. Is that true?'

Father Mailin nodded slowly.

'There was no other key. Our smithy had to pick the lock for us to gain entrance to the room.'

Fidelma reached into her marsupium and laid the key before him.

'Don't worry, I tried it in Gelasius's lock. It works. I found the key on the floor behind his desk.'

'I don't ... I can't ...'

His voice stumbled over the words.

Fidelma smiled sharply.

'Somehow I didn't think you would be able to offer an explanation.'

Father Mailin ran a hand, distractedly, through his hair, He said nothing.

'Where are the writings that the Venerable Gelasius was working on?' went on Fidelma.

'Destroyed,' Father Mailin replied limply.

'Was it you who destroyed them?'

'I take that responsibility.'

'Veritas odium pant,' repeated Fidelma softly.

'You know your Terence, eh? But I did not hate old Gelasius. He was just misguided. The more misguided he became, the more stubborn he became. Ask anyone. Even Brother Ledban, who worked closely with him, refused to cast a mould for a bookplate which carried some Ogham script because he thought Gelasius had misinterpreted it.'

'You felt that Gelasius was so misguided that you had to destroy his work?'

'You do not understand, Sister.'

'I think I do.'

'I doubt it. You could not. Gelasius was like a father to me. I was protecting him. Protecting his reputation.'

Fidelma raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

'It is the truth that I tell you,' insisted the Father Superior. 'Those papers on which he was working, I had hoped that he would never release to the world. He was the great

philosopher of the Faith and yet he grew senile and began to doubt his faith.'

'In what way did he grow senile?'

'What other condition could account for his doubt? When I reproved him for his doubt he told me that one must question even the existence of God for if God did exist then he would approve of the homage of reason rather than fear born out of ignorance.'

Fidelma inclined her head.

'He was, indeed, a wise man,' she sighed. 'But for those doubts . . . you killed him!'

Father Mailin sprang to his feet, his face white.

'What? Do you accuse me of his murder? It was the itinerants, I tell you.'

'I do not believe your itinerant theory, Father Mailin,' she said firmly. 'No one who considers the facts could believe it.'

The Father Superior slumped back in his seat with hunched shoulders. There was guilt written on his features. He groaned softly.

'I only sought to protect Gelasius's reputation. I did not kill him,' he protested.

'You, yourself, have given yourself a suitable motive for his murder.'

'I didn't! I did not . . .'

'I will leave you for a moment to consider your story. When I return, I shall want the truth.'

She turned out of his chamber and made her way slowly to the chapel. She was about to pass the Venerable Gelasius's door when some instinct drew her inside again. She did not know what made her enter until she saw the shelf of books.

She made her way across the room and began to peer along the line of books.

'Gaius Plinius Secundus,' she muttered to herself, as her eyes rested on the book which she was unconsciously looking for - Naturalis Historia.

She began to flip through pages seeking the half forgotten reference.

Finally, she found the passage and read it through. The passage contained what she expected it would.

She glanced quickly round the room and then went to the bed. She climbed on it and stood at the edge, reaching her hands up towards the beam above. It was, for her, within easy arm's length. She stepped down again to the floor. Then she made her way to the chapel and stood inside the door as she had done a short time before.

Her gaze swept around the chapel and then, making up her mind on some intuition, she walked to the altar and went down on her hands and knees but it was not to pray. She bent forward and lifted an edge of the drape across the altar.

Beneath the altar stood a silver crucifix and two golden chalices. In one of them, was a rosary of green stone beads. Fidelma reached forward and took them out. She regarded them for a moment or two and then heaved a deep sigh.

Gathering them in her arms she retraced her steps to Father Mailin's chamber. He was still seated at his desk. He began to rise when she entered, and then his eyes fell to the trophies she carried. He turned pale and slumped back in his seat.

'Where did you ...' he began, trying to summon up some residue of sharpness by which he hoped to control the situation.

'Listen to me,' she interrupted harshly. 'I have told you that it is impossible to accept your story that thieves broke in, killed Gelasius and left him in a room secured from the inside. I then find that you disapproved of the work which Gelasius was doing and after his death destroyed it. Tell me how these matters add up to a reasonable explanation?' Father Mailin was shaking his head. 'It was wrong to blame the itinerants. I realize that. It seemed that it was the only excuse I could make. As soon as I realized the situation, I distracted the brethren and quickly went into the chapel and removed the first things that came to hand. The crucifix and the cups. These I placed