Whispers of the Dead

fabrics into a metal cauldron hanging over a fire. The pungent smell of dyes told Fidelma what process was taking place.

Some paused in their work and called a greeting to the abbot, seeking a blessing, as they rode by. They ascended the track through another field toward a large building. It was an isolated structure which was built upon what must once have been a hillfort. A young man came cantering toward them from its direction, sitting easily astride a sleek black mare.

“This is young Conri, Lord of Conra,” muttered Laisran as they halted and waited for the man to approach.

Fidelma saw that the young man was handsome and dark-featured. It was clear from his dress and his bearing that he was a man of rank and action. A scar across his forehead indicated he had followed a military profession. It seemed to add to his personality rather than detract from it.

“Good morning, Abbot.” He greeted Laisran pleasantly before turning to Fidelma. “Good morning, Sister. What brings you to Ballyconra?”

Fidelma interrupted as Laisran was opening his mouth to explain.

“I am a dálaigh. You would appear to be expecting visitors, Lord of Conra. I observed you watching our approach from the hill beyond the fortress before you rode swiftly down to meet us.”

The young man’s eyes widened a little and then he smiled sadly.

“You have a sharp eye, dálaigh. As a matter of fact, I have been expecting the arrival of my wife during these last few days. I saw only the shape of a woman on horseback and thought for a moment. .”

“Your wife?” asked Fidelma quickly, glancing at Laisran.

“She is Segnat, daughter of the lord of Tir Bui,” he said without disguising his pride.

“You say you have been expecting her?”

“Any day now. I thought you might have been her. We were married only three months ago in Tir Bui, but I had to return here immediately on matters pertaining to my people. Segnat was to come on after me but she has been delayed in starting out on her journey. I only had word a week ago that she was about to join me.”

Fidelma looked at him thoughtfully.

“What has delayed her for so long?”

“Her father fell ill when we married and has only died recently. She was his only close kin and she stayed to nurse him.”

“Can you describe her?”

The young man nodded, frowning.

“Why do you ask?”

“Indulge me for a moment, Lord of Conra.”

“Of twenty years, golden hair and blue eyes. What is the meaning of these questions?”

Fidelma did not reply directly.

“The road from Tir Bui would bring a traveler from the north through Ballacolla and around the abbey, wouldn’t it?”

Conri looked surprised.

“It would,” he agreed irritably. “I say again, why these questions?”

“I am a dálaigh,” repeated Fidelma gravely. “It is my nature to ask questions. But the body of a young woman has been found in the woods near the abbey and we are trying to identify her.”

Conri blinked rapidly.

“Are you saying that this might be Segnat?”

Fidelma’s expression was sympathetic.

“We are merely making inquiries of the surrounding habitations to see if anything is known of a missing young woman.”

Conri raised his jaw defiantly.

“Well, Segnat is not missing. I expect her arrival any time.”

“But perhaps you would come to the abbey this afternoon and look at the body? This is merely a precaution to eliminate the possibility of it being Segnat.”

The young man compressed his lips stubbornly.

“It could not possibly be Segnat.”

“Regretfully, all things are possible. It is merely that some are more unlikely than others. We would appreciate your help. A negative identification is equally as helpful as a positive one.”

Abbot Laisran finally broke in.

“The abbey would be grateful for your cooperation, Lord of Conra.”

The young man hesitated and then shrugged.

“This afternoon, you say? I shall be there.”

He turned his horse sharply and cantered off.

Laisran exchanged a glance with Fidelma.

“Was this useful?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied.

“We can now turn our attention to the inn which you tell me is north of the abbey Ballacolla.”

Laisran’s face lightened.

“Ah, I see what you are about.”

Fidelma smiled at him.

“You do?”

“It is as you said, a negative is equally as important as a positive. You have produced a negative with young Conri, so now we will seek the identity of the murdered one in the only possible place.”

Fidelma continued to smile as they turned northward back toward the abbey and beyond to Ballacolla.

The inn stood at a crossroads, a sprawling dark building. They were turning into the yard when a muscular woman of middle age driving a small mule cart halted, almost blocking the entrance. The woman remained seated on her cart, glowering in displeasure at them.

“Religious!” She almost spat the word.

Fidelma regarded her with raised eyebrows.

“You sound as if you are not pleased to see us,” she observed in amusement.

“It is the free hospitality provided by religious houses that takes away the business from poor people such as myself,” grunted the woman.

“Well, we might be here to purchase some refreshment,” placated Fidelma.

“If you can pay for it, you will find my husband inside. Let him know your wants.”

Fidelma made no effort to move out of her way.

“I presume that you are the innkeeper?”

“And if I am?”

“I would like to ask you a few questions. Did a young woman pass this way two nights ago? A young woman who would have arrived along the northern road from Tir Bui.”

The big woman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What is that to you?”

“I am a dálaigh and my questions must be answered,” replied Fidelma firmly.

“What is your name, innkeeper?”

The woman blinked. She seemed ready to argue, but then she compressed her lips for a moment. To refuse to answer a dálaigh’s questions laid one open to fines for obstructing justice. A keeper of a public hostel had specific obligations before the law.

“My name is Corbnait,” she conceded reluctantly.

“And the answer to my first question?”

Corbnait lifted her heavy shoulders and let them fall expressively.