the rechtaire.
‘He was just passing outside,’ the warlord explained, ‘so I did not have to search far.’
‘You wanted to see me, lady?’ asked Brother Cu Mara, glancing with a frown from Sister Fidelma to Sister Sinnchene and back again.
Fidelma nodded and gestured for the steward to seat himself on a stool, which she placed beside Sister Sinnchene’s. She reseated herself facing them. There was strategy in Fidelma’s indicating where he should sit. Seated alongside one another, the two would find eye contact difficult and so it would be impossible to pick up any warning expression from the other.
‘I need to ask you for your comments on a conversation that has been reported to me,’ she began, looking at the rechtaire. ‘A conversation between you and Sister Sinnchene.’
The steward frowned.
‘And this conversation?’
‘It took place before the death of the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘And?’
‘Sister Sinnchene wondered whether a certain secret had been revealed by Cinaed to Abbess Faife. You responded that it could not be a coincidence that the body of the abbess was found at a certain spot. What was
Brother Cu Mara’s face reddened as he turned back to her.
‘I was trying to recall…’
‘You don’t recall that conversation?’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Sister Sinnchene does.’
‘I do recall it,’ he finally admitted. ‘But it was some time ago.’
‘It was after Abbess Faife was found and before Cinaed was killed. Not that long ago.’
Brother Cu Mara’s features relaxed in a smile.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I remember now. You may have learnt that the Venerable Cinaed and Abbess Faife sometimes worked together?’
Fidelma waited silently.
‘I think that Sister Sinnchene had discovered that Cinaed was working on a denouncement of the claims of Eoganan who led the Ui Fidgente against-’
Fidelma interrupted him with a motion of her hand.
‘This work was completed and placed in the tech-screptra some time ago. What of it?’
‘Did you know that Eoganan had two sons?’
‘We did.’
‘One of the sons, Torcan, was killed at the time that Eoganan led the Ui Fidgente in battle against Cashel. But he had another son-’
Eadulf broke in impatiently.
‘Uaman the Leper who called himself Lord of the Passes around Sliabh Mis.’
Brother Cu Mara glanced at him in surprise.
‘Go on,’ snapped Fidelma with an irritated glance at Eadulf. ‘What of Uaman?’
‘Cinaed heard word that a month or so ago Uaman was reported killed, his fortress burnt and his followers dispersed.’
Fidelma shot Eadulf a warning glance in case he interrupted again.
‘What has this to do with my question?’ she demanded.
‘Cinaed had heard rumours that Uaman’s followers were still active, trying to raise support for a new movement against Cashel. As Sister Sinnchene would have told you, Cinaed confided this to Sister Sinnchene and said he was keeping this a secret until he could discover more.’
‘And so what was the meaning of the conversation?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘Simple,’ answered the rechtaire. ‘When we had news of the Abbess Faife’s death and where her body had been found, Sister Sinnchene wondered if the Venerable Cinaed had told her that Uaman’s followers might have continued their activities before she left for the land of the Corco Duibhne. Had he asked her to make inquiries? That is what was meant.’
‘And your reply?’
‘I thought he must have told her for I did not think it coincidence that her body had been found almost opposite the island where the ruins of Uaman’s fortress stood.’
Fidelma turned to Sister Sinnchene.
‘And you agree with this account?’
The young girl nodded quickly.
Fidelma thrust out her lower lip slightly in thought.
‘There are a couple of things that worry me, though…’ she said slowly.
‘A question for you, Brother Cu Mara: why did you think that the Venerable Cinaed would confide such secret information in Sister Sinnchene?’
The rechtaire stirred uncomfortably.
‘Why, because of her… her…’
‘Her relationship with the Venerable Cinaed?’ supplied Fidelma.
Brother Cu Mara nodded quickly.
‘A relationship that you neglected to inform me of when I spoke to you earlier,’ observed Fidelma heavily.
The young man’s face reddened.
‘I did not think it my place to tell you…’
‘Whose place did you think it was?’ snapped Fidelma. ‘When a dalaigh conducts an inquiry no relevant information should be withheld from her.’ She turned quickly to the young girl. ‘And then I am worried by the fact that you say Cinaed told you this secret. As soon as you heard of the abbess’s death, why did you not ask him, in view of your special relationship, whether he had confided also in the Abbess Faife and whether he thought the death relevant?’
The girl seemed at a loss for words and floundered helplessly in an attempt to articulate some form of reply.
‘It… it did not occur to me until I was speaking to Brother Cu Mara.’
‘And why did it come up then?’ went on Fidelma relentlessly. ‘It seems strange that you did not discuss this with your lover, of whom it was an intimate concern, but you could discuss this with the rechtaire of the
Sister Sinnchene loosed a quiet sob and her hand reached out to find that of an embarrassed Brother Cu Mara.
Fidelma noticed the movement and suddenly relaxed with a grim smile.
‘I understand,’ she said quietly.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and then, to Eadulf’s surprise and Conri’s bewilderment, she said to the rechtaire and the young girl: ‘That will be all for now. You may go.’
As bewildered as Conri they rose hesitantly. As they did so the light from the candles that had now been lit flickered on the sleeve and front of the robe that Brother Cu Mara was wearing. Little pinpricks of light danced on it. Fidelma frowned and reached out to touch the robe. She felt the hard granular objects between her fingertips.
She glanced inquisitively.
‘I deduce that you have been leaning on Sister Uallann’s workbench recently.’
Brother Cu Mara frowned.
‘I have not been in her apothecary since I took you there,’ he replied firmly.
Fidelma’s eyes widened a fraction before she motioned them to leave. Brother Cu Mara and Sister Sinnchene made their way out of the tech-nigid without another word.
Eadulf turned to Fidelma as the door closed but even as he began to open his mouth she shook her head, knowing what was in his mind.
‘The art of a good interrogation is to know when to stop pushing,’ she told him. ‘When to know the moment to allow a space of uncertainty to occur. Often people continue to ask questions when it merely strengthens the suspect. Uncertainty can often work more upon the fears of the suspect than bludgeoning them into forming
