which had been caught on a protruding nail from a leg of a table which was one of the items of cabin furniture. Someone had swept by and the garment had caught against the nail. The strands were of brown dyed woollen homespun of the sort worn by most religious. Thoughtfully, she unhooked the fibres and placed them in her marsupium.
Fidelma then rose and considered the situation. These were several pieces in a puzzle. Each fitted to form a picture of Gabrán’s last moments. If Abbess Fainder’s denial of the killing was to be believed, especially the claim that she was outside the door when she heard Gabrán’s body fall, it would mean the killer had still been in the cabin. That was patently impossible, otherwise Fainder would have seen the killer and been attacked in turn. Fidelma peered carefully around to see if there was anything else which would account for the sound of something as heavy as a body falling to the deck of the ship. There was nothing else apart from the body of Gabrán.
That meant either Fainder was lying for obvious reasons or that the killer had escaped from the cabin in the moments before the abbess had opened the door. Once more she gave the cabin a careful scrutiny.
The small hatch in the deck was not obvious; it was small and when she raised it and peered down into the darkness below, Fidelma realised that it was too small for her to squeeze through, nor could she see anything below in the darkness.
She took a lamp from a side table and returned to the main deck of the boat.
‘Lift that hatch there, Enda,’ she called as she approached. A quick glance at the abbess revealed that she was not wearing brown homespun but a richly woven black wool robe. Abbess Fainder rose from the hatch cover and moved to one side while the warrior lifted it with ease.
‘What is it, lady?’ Enda asked. ‘Have you found something?’
‘I am just having a look round,’ she explained.
As she climbed down the steps leading from the hatch to the deck below she realised that there was already a lantern glowing there. The steps led into a large cabin which she found was separated from the main cargo hold by a bulkhead and hatchway. She glanced through this and saw that the hold was open to the sky and was devoid of any goods.
Fidelma turned to examine the cabin into which she had descended. It was obvious at first sight that this was where Gabrán’s crew slept when they were on board.
There was another small bulkhead further back where the boat narrowed; this marked the position of Gabrán’s cabin above. The area beyond was undoubtedly the recess into which the small aperture from Gabrán’s cabin gave access. She lit her lamp from the small hanging lantern in the crew’s quarters and opened the small door, noting at the same time that it had a lock on it but the key was on the inside. She noted with curiosity that three other keys of different shapes lay scattered on the floor inside, just by the threshold.
The next thing she noticed was the smell, which was even more vile than that in the crew’s quarters. It contained the acrid stench of urine and the sweat of people living in close confinement. But the area was tiny, no larger than two metres by two-and-a-half metres. The space was devoid of any fixtures except for a couple of straw palliasses and an old leather slop bucket. Fidelma was too large to enter the narrow confines in comfort for the space was considerably less than two metres high. It was made even smaller by the intrusion of a small ladder leading to the hatch above.
She wondered what this space was used for. A punishment cabin? If so, for whom? For the crew who did not perform their duties? Fidelma knew that such punishments happened on seagoing ships but not on river boats where members of the crew could step ashore any time they chose. She raised her lamp high and her eyes fell on some splintered woodwork. Something had been gouged out of one of the thick woodenribs of the boat to which it had been attached, and attached quite firmly. Peering down, Fidelma saw a length of chain on the deck and a sharp piece of metal. There was no doubt that the chain and its attachment had been dug from its wooden fixing by someone using the sharp metal. But why? And by whom? She was backing out of the door when she noticed the bloodstains on the inside of the hatchway. Smeared bloody footprints led across the cabin, growing fainter and vanishing before they reached the other side.
Fidelma did not say anything as she climbed back onto the deck and snuffed out her lamp. Enda and the abbess were waiting impatiently for her. She signalled to Enda to replace the hatch cover while she went to the side of the boat and gazed down at the swiftly flowing waters in perplexity. There was no sign of any smeared or bloody footprints on the deck.
Was it conceivable that Abbess Fainder was telling the truth? It did not make sense. Could someone have killed Gabrán and, being alarmed by the arrival of Fainder, retreated down into that gruesome little cabin below decks and then made their way through the larger cabin, up the ladder onto the deck and over the side? No; there was one thing wrong with that. The hatch cover had been closed and it needed someone of strength to pull it aside. It would also have made a noise which the abbess would have heard and commented upon. She turned, still thoughtful, and went to the main cargo hold and peered down. Of course, there was a ladder there. She conceded that someone could have come up on deck through that route.
For the theory to be convincing, the person who killed Gabrán and made their escape in such a manner would have to have been a dwarf, a tiny, slim person, in order to slip through the hatch from Gabrán’s cabin down into the cell-like room below. Fidelma gave a shake of her head and turned back to where the Abbess Fainder had reseated herself on the hatch.
‘Enda,’ she addressed the warrior, ‘will you check on the horses?’
He looked bewildered. ‘They are safe enough, lady, and-’ Then he saw the steely look in her eyes and realised that she wanted to be alone with the abbess. ‘Very well,’ he said, and moved off with a self-conscious air.
Fidelma stood before the abbess.
‘I think that we should talk seriously, Mother Abbess, and leaveaside any notions of arrogant pretensions of rank and duty. It will make my task easier.’
The abbess blinked up at her in surprise at her direct approach.
‘I thought that we
‘Not seriously enough, it seems. Of course, you will wish to be represented by a
A look of concern crossed the abbess’s features once again.
‘I tell you that I am
‘Why not? Other people have been,’ Fidelma replied with equanimity. ‘However, I do not wish to know how you mean to instruct the
‘If I refuse?’
‘I am a witness, along with my men, to discovering you bending over the body of Gabrán with a knife,’ Fidelma pointed out brutally.
‘I have told you everything that you need to know,’ the abbess fretted.
‘Everything? I have talked with Deog, your sister.’
The effect on the abbess was startling. She paled and her lips parted in alarm.
‘She has nothing to do with-’ she began to protest, but Fidelma cut her short.
‘Let me be the judge of the information necessary to my enquiries. Let us stop prevarications and let me, at last, have some answers!’
A sigh shook Abbess Fainder’s shoulders and she bowed her head as if in submission.
‘I know you came from a poor family at Raheen: your sister told me. And I believe that you were a novitiate at the abbey of Taghmon.’
‘You have been busy,’ the abbess replied bitterly.
‘Then you decided to go to Bobbio?’
‘I was sent on a mission there to Columbanus’s foundation. I took some books as a gift to the library of Bobbio.’
‘What persuaded you to support the Roman Rule?’
Abbess Fainder’s voice momentarily took on the tone of a fanatic.
