have created it.’
Fidelma had to admit that she could accept that Sister Sinnchene was probably right.
‘We have to accept the guidelines given by Paul in his letter to the Corinthians when he called on Christians to deal decisively with sexual immorality in the communities.’
Sister Sinnchene sniffed deprecatingly.
‘You sound like the Venerable Mac Faosma,’ she muttered.
‘In what way?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘He preached such a sermon to me as you do. Yet I feel that your heart is not in it as was his.’
Fidelma’s brows came together in a defensive look, angered that this girl could see the doubts in her own mind.
‘Are you saying that the Venerable Mac Faosma knew about your relationship with Cinaed?’ she asked.
‘He did. Some weeks ago, he came unexpectedly into the tech-nigid and… well.’ She shrugged. ‘He saw us.’
‘What happened? What did he say?’ Fidelma asked curiously.
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ repeated Fidelma.
‘He simply turned and walked out. Then a few days later he met me outside the oratory and started to give me this homily about the new sexual morality. He was more scholarly than you are, Sister,’ she added with a grin. ‘He quoted so many sources, gospels and epistles that I thought I would go mad.’
‘Did he raise the matter with the Venerable Cinaed?’
‘He never did.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I told Cinaed and asked him if the old… if the Venerable Mac Faosma had approached him. He told me that he had not mentioned it.’
‘I see.’
Fidelma was silent for a while and then shook her head.
‘Let us return to that evening — the evening before Cinaed’s death. You say that you were in the washing room? You have… you had intercourse and then talked about the herb garden and then the problem with Cinaed’s wife, Buan. Is that correct?’
‘Not necessarily in that order,’ interposed Sister Sinnchene.
‘In whatever order,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Then what? Did he simply leave?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Then what exactly?’
‘The time was passing and it was dark and Cinaed began to worry that Buan would get suspicious that he was with me…’
‘Suspicious? I thought she knew what was going on from your own lips… from both Cinaed and yourself?’
‘That is true but we did not want her making a fuss, raising a search among the brethren and having a public confrontation. Abbot Erc is of the same mentality as the Venerable Mac Faosma. I think he would entertain the idea of throwing out the old laws and putting in their place the laws of the New Faith, as I have heard some have.’
‘Do you mean the Penitentials?’
The girl nodded.
‘And so what happened then?’
‘It grew late and Cinaed rose and said he would see me at the Feast of the Blessed Ite, which fell on the next day. It is held every year in the little oratory.’
‘And he seemed all right?’
‘I am not sure what you mean? He was in good health, yes.’
‘And in good spirits?’
‘He was in excellent spirits and was talking about some new work that he had written in Latin which he said would annoy Mac Faosma. They were enemies, you know. Enemies fighting with their pens. He would argue and Mac Faosma would respond and so back and forth. I never understood much of it. But that was only one part of his life. But this was something that especially seemed to put him in a good humour and he went away chuckling and… and…’
Suddenly, the girl gave a sob. For some time her shoulders heaved and Fidelma felt a little awkward until the girl seemed to catch herself and wiped her eyes quickly.
‘Forgive me. I thought I had overcome that. Now and then it creeps up on me unaware. I miss Cinaed deeply.’
‘You were crying when we arrived yesterday. For his memory?’
She nodded nervously.
‘That is all I can tell you,’ she said. ‘He went off in a good humour. I watched him from the door of the washing room as he vanished into the darkness.’
Fidelma examined her sternly. ‘And are you sure that you did not see him again… before his death?’
The girl shook her head.
‘You did not meet him later in the oratory?’
Sister Sinnchene flushed and started to protest. Fidelma once more took out the burnt paper and laid it before her.
‘You did not write this?’
The girl grimaced.
‘I cannot write,’ she answered simply. ‘You can ask anyone. I was never taught. So whoever wrote this note was not I.’
Fidelma asked: ‘Was there anyone in the abbey who did not know you could not write?’
The girl thought for a moment.
‘Perhaps,’ she said vaguely. ‘Mac Faosma knew I couldn’t write and so did Brother Cu Mara. Anyway, I did not see Cinaed after he left the washing room…’
She paused for a moment and then her eyes widened a little. Fidelma noticed the reaction immediately.
‘You have remembered something else?’
‘He was nearly out of sight in the darkness when he was joined by another figure. He paused for a moment and then they vanished together. It’s just… just that I thought I heard a raised voice. A voice raised in anger.’
‘Did you recognise who it was who had joined him?’
She shook her head.
‘And the next day… how did you learn of his death?’
‘I awoke late, when it was getting light. There was no one in the hospitium to make me rise early. No cleaning to be done, or preparations to be made. But I became aware of activity outside and raised voices. I put on my robe, neglecting to wash, and went immediately to see what the excitement was. At first I thought it was the return of Conri who had gone to Cashel about the matter of Abbess Faife. We had been expecting his return.’
She paused a moment
‘But you found out that it was not the arrival of Conri. What then?’
The young woman pulled a face.
‘People had gathered round the chapel. I saw the Abbot Erc there with Brother Cu Mara and some others. Sister Buan was also there, with tears flooding down her cheeks… I went towards them and as I approached Sister Buan swung round, saw me, and raised a finger towards me. She cried out something like, “There she is! There is the bitch that did it!” Or words to that effect. The word “bitch” was frequently used as she cried out in some incoherent ramble. Sister Uallann managed to restrain her and she and another sister calmed her and led her away.
‘I asked Abbot Erc what had happened. He looked at me and asked whether I really did not know. Whereupon I was indignant. Why would I ask, if I knew? He told me that that morning he had found Cinaed with his head smashed in, lying behind the altar in the oratory. I was stunned. I could not move. I think I went rigid,
