Hemlock at Vespers

“Tell them what happened this morning,” snapped Bressal.

Sílán stood stiffly before Fidelma, his eyes focused in the middle distance and his voice wooden in its recital.

“I came to the Curragh at-”

“Have you been personal guard to the Bishop for a long time?” interrupted Fidelma. She disliked rehearsed speeches and when she sensed one she liked to interrupt and put the reciter out of stride.

“I have,” replied the surprised guard. “For one year, Sister.”

“Go on.”

“I came to the Curragh not long after dawn to help set up the bishop’s tent.”

“Did you see Illan at this time?”

“Surely. There were many people here already. The Bishop, also Angaire, Murchad, Illan, even Fáelán and his queen and the Tan-ist…”

Fidelma was not looking at his face. Her eyes had fastened thoughtfully on the quiver at the guard’s side. One arrow seemed shorter than the others. Its feathered flight seemed to be sinking into the quiver among the other arrows.

“Turn out your quiver!” she suddenly ordered.

“What?”

ílán was gazing at her, clearly amazed at her behavior. Even Bressal was staring as if she had gone mad.

“Turn out the arrows in your quiver and place them on the table here before me,” instructed Fidelma.

Frowning, the warrior did so with no further hesitation.

Fidelma seized upon a shaft of an arrow. It was snapped off and only some six inches with its tail-feathered flight remained. There was no need for Fidelma to look for the other half among the rest of the arrows.

They watched in silent fascination as Fidelma took from her marsupium the section of the arrow which had been found by Sister Eblenn in the body of Illan. She carefully brought the two pieces together before their fixed gaze. They fitted almost perfectly.

“You seem to be in a great deal of trouble, Sílán,” Fidelma said slowly. “The head of your arrow was buried in the wound that killed Illan.”

“I did not do it!” gasped the warrior in horror.

“Is this one of your arrows?” Fidelma asked, holding out the two halves.

“What do you mean?” interrupted Bressal.

Laisran came forward with interest on his features.

“The design on the flights are the same.”

Sílán was nodding.

“Yes, it is obviously one of my arrows. Anyone will tell you that it bears the emblem of the bishop’s household.”

Fidelma turned to Laisran.

“Place the cena that we found in Illan’s tent on the table, Lais-ran.”

The Abbot did as she bid him.

Fidelma pointed to the insignia.

“And this emblem, being the same as on the arrow flight, is also the emblem of Bishop Bressal?”

Bressal shrugged.

“What of it? All the members of my household carry my insignia. Such bags as these are saddle bags, freely available among those who serve my stables.”

“Would it surprise you that this contains the mixture of poisonous herbs used to poison Aonbharr?”

Sílán and Bressal were silent.

“It could be argued that Sílán killed Illan and poisoned Aonbharr on the orders of his master, Bishop Bressal,” suggested Fidelma as if musing with an idea.

“I did not!”

“And I gave him no such order,” cried Bressal, his face turning white in horror.

“If you confessed that you were acting on the orders of Bressal,” Fidelma went on, speaking softly to Sílán, “little blame would attach to you.”

Sílán shook his head stubbornly.

“I had no such orders and did not do this thing.”

Fidelma turned to Bressal.

“The evidence was circumstantial in the first place, bishop. Yet, circumstantial as it is, it is against you. The evidence of this arrow and the cena, containing the poisons, now seem hard to refute.”

Bressal was clearly perturbed. He turned to Sílán.

“Did you slay Illan of your own volition?” he demanded.

The warrior shook his head violently and turned pleading eyes upon Fidelma. She could see the innocence in his face. The guard was clearly shocked at the evidence against him and his bishop.

“I am at a loss to explain this,” he said inadequately.

“Tell me, Sílán, have your carried your quiver of arrows all morning?”

Sílán paused to give thought to the question.

“Not all morning. I left my quiver and bow in the Bishop’s tent most of the morning while I had errands to run.”

“What kind of errands?”

“To find Murchad, for example. I found him talking with Angaire near Illan’s tent at the time we saw the lady Dagháin come out, white-faced, and go running to her tent. I remember that Angaire passed some unseemly and lewd remark. I left Angaire and returned here with Murchad.”

“So the quiver of arrows was in this tent while you went to find the Bishop’s jockey at the Bishop’s request?” Fidelma summed up. “The bishop was alone in the tent, then?”

Once more a look of indignation caused Bressal’s face to flush.

“If you are saying that I took an arrow and went to kill Illan…” he began.

“Yet you were alone in this tent at that time?”

“Some of the time,” admitted Bressal. “Sílán left his weapons most of the morning and we were constantly in and out of the tent. Also, there were visitors coming and going. Why, even Fáelán and his wife, Muadnat, were here for a moment.”

Fidelma was surprised. “Why would he come here? You had become bitter rivals.”

“Fáelán merely wanted to boast about Aonbharr.”

“Was that before or after you had your argument with Illan?”

“Before.”

“And Muadnat was with him?”

“Yes. Then Énna came by.”

“What for?”

“To beg me to withdraw Ochain from the race, saying my argument with Fáelán was an embarassment to the kingdom. This is pointless. Angaire and Murchad were here as well…”

“Was Énna’s wife, the lady Dagháin, one of your visitors?” queried Fidelma.

The bishop shook his head. “However, if you are looking for an opportunity to take an arrow and kill Illan, why, several people had that opportunity.”

“And what about the cena full of poison herbs?”

“All I can say is that it bears my insignia but I have no knowledge of it.”

Fidelma smiled thinly and turned to Laisran. “Walk with me a moment.”

Bressal stared at her in outrage as she made to leave his tent.

“What do you propose to do?” he demanded.

Fidelma glanced across her shoulder toward him.

“I propose to finish my investigation, Bressal,” she said shortly before stepping through the flap, followed by the bewildered Laisran.