after a while. ‘She has persuaded them that the kingdom should adopt the Penitentials.’
‘She has become a very powerful person,’ agreed Deog. ‘I do wish, however …’
‘Yes?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘This harshness, it can be too excessive. Many people — and I have tried to warn her about this — many people are becoming afraid of the abbey of Fearna. That a Brother of the Faith has been executed there, and the punishments that we have heard of …’
‘Punishments?’
‘There was a Brother who was flogged there a few weeks ago.’
‘It is claimed that he lied and so Fainder had him stripped to the waist and flogged with birch rods. I, too, find it hard to believe.’
‘Do you know the name of the Brother who was flogged?’
Deog replied with a shake of her head.
‘You say that people are becoming afraid of the abbey. What are they saying?’
‘They say the abbey has become evil. Have you noticed the statuette, the one of the angel, outside the main abbey door? It is the one that the Blessed Máedóc is said to have made with his own hands.’
Fidelma replied that she had.
‘That used to be called our Lady of Light, and people would make offerings before it. Now it is called by another name.’
‘Which is?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Our Lady of Darkness.’
‘Have you spoken to your sister about the things people are saying?’
‘Oh yes.’ Deog was bitter. ‘She told me to tend to my garden and that I should not speak about religious matters which I did not understand.’
‘Does she not realise that she is causing alarm among the people? Does she not realise the harm she is doing to the Faith?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘I do not think so. She is so used to the ways she learnt abroad, particularly the pitiless forms of punishment and unremitting harshness of life there, that she thinks that it is we, here, who are at fault; who are lax and living without morals. She is determined to impose the rule of the Penitentials over us all.’
‘And the innocent must suffer with the guilty?’
‘Do you believe Brother Ibar was innocent?’
‘Didn’t your husband, Daig, think so?’
‘Daig had his reservations. He felt that there were questions which needed to be asked.’
‘And Daig died before he could ask them at the trial.’
For a moment Deog turned two large shocked eyes on Fidelma.
‘What are you saying?’ she whispered. ‘That Daig … that Bishop Forbassach, the Brehon …?’ She raised a hand to cover her mouth.
Fidelma said swiftly, ‘I am not drawing any conclusions, I am only making an observation on the facts. It seems that Gabrán has some questions to answer. Why didn’t Forbassach ask them?’
‘Bishop Forbassach will do what Fainder tells him to,’ the woman said softly.
Fidelma examined her cautiously.
‘Is there a particular reason why Bishop Forbassach meets with Fainder in your cabin?’
Deog laughed bitterly. ‘Do you really think my haughty and powerful sister comes here most days simply to visit humble little me?’
Fidelma was quiet. She had begun to suspect something of the sort but she wanted Deog to spell it out.
‘My cabin is no more than a convenient place for their assignations.’
‘Did your husband know while he was alive?’
Deog shook her head. ‘I was sworn to secrecy on pain of my immortal soul, by Fainder. Now I see the path that she is intent on, I realise that it is not
‘There should be no need for secrets. It is not an offence for religiousto live together and marry, at least not yet, although there is a faction in Rome who argue for celibacy. Was it such people Fainder was scared of?’
‘It was Bishop Forbassach, not Fainder, who demanded secrecy. He is already married,’ Deog admitted. It suddenly occurred to her just how far the conversation had gone. ‘I thought that you had come here to free the Saxon? Fainder told me that you were attempting to prove him innocent but he showed his guilt by escaping last night. Why are you asking me all these questions about Daig, Fainder and Bishop Forbassach?’
‘I would not say that escaping from the abbey showed guilt,’ Fidelma replied sourly. ‘Especially after all that you have told me. It merely showed that he had no desire to be executed like Ibar.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Your husband, Daig, was also involved in the apprehension of Brother Eadulf in the abbey.’
‘He was. But then it was Mel who was captain of the watch that night and Daig was only following his orders. That was when the young girl was raped and killed.’
‘A young girl killed, a boatman killed and then Daig drowned …’ mused Fidelma. ‘In every case it seems that Forbassach has been persuaded not to ask the right questions and thus ignore the evidence. Is that a matter for concern, I wonder?’
Deog did not understand what she was driving at.
It was Enda who, having sat quietly through all the exchanges, suddenly spoke up, his eyes excited.
‘Didn’t you tell me that Gabrán’s boat was tied up on the abbey quay the night the girl was killed? Isn’t there a link there?’
Fidelma turned to him in annoyance but saw the young warrior was so eager that she felt she could not reprove him for pointing out a fact that she had completely overlooked.
‘We will speak of that later, Enda,’ she said. It was then Fidelma realised that the room had grown dark, apart from the warm light cast by glowing embers of the fire.
Deog stood up and lit a tallow candle and then threw some more wood onto the fire. There was a crackle and soon flames licked at the dry wood, causing a brighter light to chase the gloom.
‘We’d better head back to Fearna,’ Fidelma announced, rising regretfully. She turned to Deog. ‘I am most grateful for everything thatyou have told us, Deog. I am sorry to awaken any chords of anguish in your heart. Sometimes it is best to discuss things so that grief can be exposed rather than bottled up.’
Deog grimaced. ‘I do not mind speaking of my husband. He was a good man and sought to do his best for the community. My great sadness was that he did not get on with my sister. Nor did she like him. Alas, her years in religion have seen her grow bitter with life and harsh in her judgments of people. Yet she does not see her own faults. This relationship with Bishop Forbassach will end unhappily.’
Fidelma raised a hand and touched the woman comfortingly upon the shoulder.
‘They are truly good who are faultless, Deog. Alas, who among us is without faults?’
Deog looked pleadingly at Fidelma. ‘You will not tell anyone about Fainder?’
Fidelma looked impassive. ‘I cannot promise that, Deog. You know that for I, too, have sworn an oath to pursue truth.’
‘Fainder will never forgive me.’
The woman was clearly distressed at the idea of what her sister might do if the truth became known. Fidelma squeezed her shoulder again.
‘Fainder must live with the consequences of her own actions and prejudices. You need not mention the substance of our discussion to her. I promise you this, I will not reveal Fainder’s relationship with Forbassach nor with yourself unless it becomes necessary.’
‘Becomes necessary? I don’t understand.’
‘If this fact needs to be brought to light in the course of my enquiries, then I shall bring it to light. If it is simply irrelevant, then it shall remain a secret between the two of us. Isn’t that fair?’
Deog, sniffing, nodded her head in agreement. ‘I suppose it will suffice.’
‘Good. Now, it is dark and we must return to Fearna.’
They left the woman in her cabin and went to where they had tethered their horses.
