The Subtle Serpent

‘Come in, sister.’

Fidelma looked at the young girl. Her eyes were red and her cheeks tear-stained. She entered the cell and stood still while behind her Berrach pushed the door shut and heaved a table to secure it.

‘Why are you barricading yourself in?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Whom do you fear?’

Berrach lurched towards her bed, sat down and took a grip on her thick blackthorn stick.

‘Don’t you know that Sister Síomha has been killed?’

‘Why should this cause you to blockade the door to your chamber?’

‘Because I will be accused of the crime and I do not know what to do.’

Fidelma glanced round; saw a small chair and seated herself, putting down the candle on the adjacent table.

‘Why would you be accused of the deed?’

Sister Berrach looked at her scornfully.

‘Because Abbess Draigen saw me in the tower when the body was found. And because most people in this community dislike me on account that I am misshapen. They will surely accuse me of killing her.’

Fidelma sat back and folded her hands in her lap, looking long and thoughtfully at Berrach.

‘You seem to have lost your stutter,’ she observed carefully.

The girl’s face twisted in a cynical expression.

‘You are quick to notice things, Sister Fidelma. Unlike the others. They only see what they want to see and have no other perception.’

‘I suppose you stammered because it was expected of you?’

Sister Berrach’s eyes widened a little.

‘That is clever of you, sister.’ She paused before continuing. ‘A misshapen mind must needs be in a misshapen body. That is the philosophy of ignorance. I stammer for them because they think I am a simpleton. If I showed intelligence then they might think some evil spirit possessed me.’

‘But you are honest with me, why can’t you be honest with others?’

Sister Berrach’s mouth twisted again.

‘I will be honest with you because you see beyond the curtain of prejudice where others cannot see.’

‘You flatter me.’

‘Flattery is not in my nature.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yes. The Abbess Draigen saw you coming down from the room where the water-clock is kept. Sister Síomha, as youknow, was found beheaded in that room. You were in some hurry and pushed the abbess aside causing her to drop and extinguish her candle.’ Fidelma looked at Sister Berrach’s clothing. ‘I see a dark patch staining the front of your habit, sister. I presume that will be Sister Síomha’s blood?’

The wary blue eyes stared solemnly at Fidelma.

‘I did not kill Sister Síomha.’

‘I believe you. Will you trust me enough to tell me exactly what happened?’

Sister Berrach spread her hands, almost in a pathetic gesture.

‘They think that I am a simpleton in this place solely because I am deformed. I was born like this. Some problems with my spine, or so the physicians told my mother. Yet my body and arms are strong. Only my legs have not grown properly.’

Sister Berrach paused but Fidelma made no retort, waiting for the girl to continue.

‘At first the physician said I could not live and then he said I should not live. My mother could not nurse me in her community. My father did not want to have anything to do with me. After my birth he even left my mother. So I was raised by my grandmother but she was killed when I was young. I survived and was brought to this abbey when I was three years old and here Brónach raised me. I survived and I have lived. This community has always been my home so long as I can remember.’

There was a quiet sob in the girl’s voice. Fidelma now understood why Sister Brónach always seemed protective towards the girl.

‘Now tell me what happened at the tower,’ she pressed gently.

‘Each night, before dawn, while most of the community are still sleeping, I rise and go to the library,’ Berrach confided. ‘That is when I devote myself to reading. I have read almost all of the great books in our library.’

Fidelma was surprised.

‘Why wait until near dawn to go to the library to read?’

Berrach laughed. There was no mirth in it.

‘They think I am a simpleton who can’t even think let alone read. I have taught myself to read my own tongue and I can also read Latin, Greek and even some Hebrew.’

Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at her but the girl did not seem to be boasting, simply stating fact. An extraneous thought abruptly crossed Fidelma’s mind.

‘Did you know that this abbey has a copy of the annals of Clonmacnoise?’

Sister Berrach nodded immediately.

‘It is a copy made by our librarian,’ she volunteered.

‘Have you read it?’

‘No. But I have read many other books there.’

‘Go on,’ Fidelma sighed in disappointment. ‘You were saying that you rise and go to the library before dawn. Are you not frightened to be alone in such a place?’

‘There was always a sister on watch in the tower above. Recently,’ she shivered, ‘it has been Sister Síomha who took most of the night watches. Before these events there was no physical danger to fear in this place.’

Fidelma grimaced.

‘I was not concerned with physical danger. What of the knocking sound under the duirthech which frightened the sisters the other day? I am told that it has been heard before.’

Sister Berrach thought for a moment.

‘The sounds have been heard before but infrequently. Abbess Draigen says it is some underground cave which fills with water but sometimes the sisters are scared by it. It does not scare me nor should it scare anyone who cleaves to the Faith.’

‘That is laudable, sister. Do you accept the abbess’s explanation that it is caused by an underground cave filling with water from the inlet?’

‘It is a possibility. More of a possibility than those who talkof the restless spirits of victims of pagan sacrifices which they believe were once enacted here.’

‘But you are not sure? Not sure that it is only water in an underground cave?’

‘Sometimes, like the other day in the duirthech, the abbess makes her explanation sound plausible. At other times, especially when I am in the library at night, the sound is fainter, but more like the tapping of someone hacking at rock or digging. But whatever it is, it is a sound produced by earthly agents, so why should I be afraid of it?’

‘Just so. And you went, as usual, to the library this morning?’

‘Yes, in the hours before dawn. I tried to be as quiet as possible for I did not wish to alarm the sister on duty at the water-clock. Especially when it was Sister Síomha who dislikes me more than most.’

‘When did you enter the library this morning? Can you be fairly exact?’

‘As near as I recall, I had heard the second hour strike, and perhaps the first quarter of the hour after that. I am not sure. It was not later than the third hour, of that I know, for I do not recall it being struck.’

‘Go on.’

‘I went into the library and found the book I wanted …’

‘Which was?’

‘Do you want the name of the book?’ frowned Sister Berrach.

‘Yes.’