impatiently while he recovered.
‘Now take us to where this Sister Uallann works,’ she snapped.
It was Conr who answered.
‘There will probably be as good a reason for Sister Uallann’s robes to be bloodstained as there was for the robes of Brother Feolaigid,’ he said quietly.
‘Indeed?’ said Fidelma defensively. ‘Do you know this Sister Uallann?’ The warlord of the Ui Fidgente nodded.
‘She is the physician of the abbey, lady. It was she who examined and prepared the corpse of my aunt, the Abbess Faife, when we brought it here for burial.’
Fidelma let out a long, low exasperated sigh.
‘And doubtless did the same for the Venerable Cinaed?’
Brother Cu Mara had regained his composure.
‘Indeed, she did, lady. I am afraid the bloodstained clothing that Brother Eadulf has found will lead you nowhere.’
Eadulf was trying to hide his embarrassment.
‘Does this abbey have a woman physician?’
‘Do you not have women physicians among your own people?’ demanded Conr in amusement at the other’s discomfiture. ‘In ancient times, there was a cult of women who followed the teachings of Airmed, daughter of the old god of healing. She was said to be the first to identify all the healing herbs. We have always had female physicians.’
Eadulf, who had studied the apothecary’s art for a time at Tuam Brecain, knew the fact well enough. His cheeks were crimson with mortification and he was merely doing his best to avoid Fidelma’s censure. He should
‘You better return the clothing to Sister Sinnchene,’ she told him. ‘But I want to see this physician anyway, so we will speak to her now.’
Eadulf’s mouth became a thin slit of anger as he departed back along the path to the tech-nigid.
Sober-faced now, Brother Cu Mara led the way along the path towards the main abbey buildings.
‘Those are the quarters for the bachelors.’ The rechtaire indicated one building with a gesture of his head. ‘The married rooms are behind there and beyond are the quarters for the unmarried sisters.’
‘Are there many people in this abbey?’ inquired Fidelma.
‘Scarcely more than five hundred souls,’ Brother Cu Mara replied.
‘It is surely enough,’ Fidelma observed with surprise.
‘We have heard that the great abbey at Ard Macha boasts the attendance of seven thousand students and then there are members of the Faith who instruct them.’
Fidelma had passed through Ard Macha, which lay in the northern kingdom of the Ui Neill. She had been sent there to get instructions from Bishop Ultan on her way to the great council in Northumbria, and had found Ard Macha too crowded, too city-like and ostentatious for her. And, she had to confess, she was not impressed with Ultan, who seemed the product of his environment for he, too, was ostentatious and full of his own importance. As his abbey had been founded by the Blessed Patrick, who was now being claimed as the first preacher of the word of Christ in the five kingdoms, Ultan was seeking recognition as the Primate, the head of all the churches in the kingdoms. Violent arguments were springing up, especially from Imleach which the bishop and abbot pointed out had been founded by Ailbe, who had preached Christianity in the five kingdoms before Patrick, as had many others.
‘Ard Macha should not be judged by the numbers of people who live there but by what it achieves in the manner of the lives of those it influences,’ Fidelma said now.
Brother Cu Mara had paused before a stone building set slightly apart from the main structures of the abbey and indicated a door.
‘This is the apothecary of Sister Uallann, lady.’
He tapped gently at the door.
A voice curtly bade them enter.
Inside the large room, the pungent scents of a hundred hanging herbs and plants was overwhelming, mixed as they were with an odour rising from a cauldron in which a strange-looking liquid was bubbling over a fire. Benches filled with amphorae, jugs and pots stretched round the room. Above one bench was a shelf containing several ageing manuscript books. At one end was a table made of a thick block of wood that was almost large enough for two people to lie down upon. Its stained and grooved surface showed to what use an apothecary could put it.
Nearby, at a smaller table, sat a woman with mortar and pestle, pounding something in the bowl.
She was almost masculine in facial appearance, with wispy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and ruddy skin. She had a large nose and a hint of moustache-like dark downy hair over her upper lip. It was hard to guess her age.
‘Well?’ she cried, her voice shrill, as she glanced up at them. ‘I am busy. State your illness. I have little time.’
The young steward glanced apologetically at Fidelma.
‘This is Sister Uallann, lady.’ He turned to the physician. ‘Sister Uallann, this is Fidelma of Cashel. She is the dalaigh come to investigate the deaths of the Abbess Faife and of the Venerable Cinaed.’
Sister Uallann remained seated.
‘Of Cashel? Of Cashel? Does she not know that the Ui Fidgente have no business with Cashel? We owe allegiance to Eoganan. We have no need for a Cashel dalaigh.’
Conr coughed with embarrassment and moved forward.
‘Sister Uallann, do you remember me? I am Conr
– ’
The woman sighed pointedly and laid aside her mortar and pestle with a resounding thump on the table.
‘Of course I know you, lord Conr. Do you consider that I am senile?’ Conr was embarrassed.
‘Eoganan was killed at Cnoc Aine two years ago. The Ui Fidgente have pledged allegiance to Cashel now. Sister Fidelma is blood sister to Colgu, legitimate king of all Muman. She is the dalaigh we have asked to come to investigate the violent deaths of the Abbess Faife and the Venerable Cinaed.’
Sister Uallann frowned and sat for a moment as if considering this.
‘My husband is also dead. Dead by the design of Cashel. The Ui Fidgente are now at peace. Yet still there are violent deaths in the land.’
Fidelma moved forward and as she did so her feet crunched on something on the floor. She looked down to see several granular crystals on the floor.
‘You seem to have spilt something, Sister Uallann.’
The physician glanced down and appeared embarrassed for a moment.
‘It is nothing. I spilt a preparation.’
Fidelma noticed the crystals clung to the woollen arm of Sister Uallan’s robe and reached out to pluck off a few. She kept them in her hand, wondering what they were.
‘I hope that whoever uses the preparation does not have to ingest it. These are as hard as little rocks.’
‘What exactly is it that you want?’ snapped Sister Uallann impatiently.
Fidelma sat down directly opposite the physician, dropping the granules on the floor.
‘There are a few questions that I must ask you, Sister Uallann.’
The physician blinked and focused her pale eyes on Fidelma.
‘I understand that you examined the body of Abbess Faife when it was returned here to Ard Fhearta.’
‘That is so, that is so.’
‘And then you prepared her body for burial?’
‘Of course, of course.’
‘Can you tell me anything about the manner of her death?’
The physician sniffed irritably.
‘A wound made by a blade. Simple. Sharp. I would say such a wound would cause death instantaneously.
