A Prayer for the Damned

‘At least they have not repressed your humour,’ she commented. She paused and then went on: ‘You know that Sister Marga has left the fortress? And Drón, in spite of our best efforts, has escaped and we think he is in pursuit of her.’

Fergus Fanat sighed deeply but said nothing.

‘You do not appear surprised?’

He glanced up at her and then shrugged. ‘I am not exactly surprised,’ he said cautiously.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Sister Marga when I first questioned you after the game of immán?’

‘You did not ask me,’ he countered.

‘That is true,’ she agreed. ‘But you did not volunteer the information even though she was standing on the field waiting to speak to you.’

‘At that time, our last parting had not been in the best spirit. I wasn’t sure whether I was going to speak to her anyway.’

‘When did you first meet Sister Marga?’

Fergus Fanat frowned. The contraction of his muscles resonated on his injury and he winced, raising a hand to his bandaged forehead.

‘She must have told you,’ he said.

‘I am asking you to tell me,’ Fidelma said firmly.

He made a resigned gesture with his shoulders. ‘I was visiting the abbey of Ard Stratha on behalf of Blathmac and Sister Marga had come there to investigate some old manuscripts. . I cannot remember precisely. The story is not complicated. I fell in love; she said that she reciprocated my feelings. When she went back to her own abbey at Cill Ria, I contrived to meet her many times. .’

‘You contrived?’ Fidelma emphasised the word.

‘You will recall that I knew all about Abbot Ultán, his background and his pious prejudices. He had already separated what used to be a conhospitae into separate houses for the males and females. He did not sanction any fraternisation between the sexes and our meetings were very difficult to arrange. Then she stopped meeting me at all, and through an intermediary she told me that the relationship was over and that she no longer wanted to see me.’

Fidelma raised her head with interest. ‘Who was the intermediary?’

‘The same woman who is her companion now.’

‘Sister Sétach?’

Fergus Fanat nodded. ‘I was forced to accept it, though I could not understand it. I saw no more of Marga until the very day you mention, in the township here when I was playing immán.’

‘And when was the first time that you spoke to her after that?’

‘In the woods, during the hunt.’

‘Tell me about that,’ Fidelma said, sitting back.

Once more Fergus Fanat gave her a quick examination from under lowered brows. ‘I suppose you know that she was running away from Cashel?’

‘I do.’

‘Well, we had encountered the boars, a whole pride of them with a large male tusker who had already caught one of the hounds and injured it badly. Then this boar espied us and did it run off? It did not, but came and charged our horses. Boars are fighting animals and do not searc easily — but to charge at the spearmen? Incredible. That was when I managed to prick it with my bir. Anyway, some of the horses were frightened. Some took off. I was separated in that charge and started looking for the main body. It was then that I came across Marga.’

Fidelma leaned forward. ‘So your meeting was not prearranged?’

He shook his head quickly, confirming the story that Marga had told Fidelma. ‘I knew that she was a good horsewoman. She told me her family bred horses up on the Sperrins. Those are the mountains in Uí Thuirtrí country. So I was not surprised when I found her.’

‘You had not known that she was in the party of women following the hunt?’

‘Not until then.’

‘What then?’

‘She halted and we exchanged a few awkward words. Then she began to cry and we dismounted and began to talk. She told me why she had decided that we should stop seeing each other.’

‘Which was to do with the way she had been treated by Abbot Ultán?’

Fergus looked shocked. ‘You know that?’

‘She told me. Go on. What was your response?’

‘The response of any man who loves a woman,’ he replied vehemently. ‘I said that it was of no consequence to me. I loved her still and wanted her to be my wife.’

‘In spite of what she had been made to suffer?’

‘In spite of it and because of it. It was not her fault. She told me that she was on her way to Laigin. She had wanted to escape from Ultán for a long time. She had come on this trip with Ultán only as a means of finding the right opportunity. She was afraid that even with Ultán dead, Brother Drón, who was Ultán’s friend and the heir apparent to the abbacy, would force her to go back to Cill Ria.’

Fidelma had not realised that Drón would be the successor to Ultán, but she supposed it made sense. The heads of the abbeys and religious houses of Éireann were elected in the same way as the clan chiefs, nobles and kings: by the derbhfine. In the case of the abbeys and monastic houses, the derbhfine consisted of the familia or the religious.

‘So why did you prevent her going to Laigin? Why bring her back? It seems illogical behaviour if you were concerned for her welfare.’

Fergus Fanat was silent for a moment. ‘Not so illogical. I understood why she wanted to escape from Brother Drón and Cill Ria and she had seized the first opportunity. But I realised that it would do her no good in the long run.’

Fidelma put her head on one side thoughtfully. ‘Why not?’

The young warrior smiled without humour. ‘I do not need to tell you that.’

‘I think you do. Whatever I know or can guess, I need you to tell me what thoughts are in your mind.’

‘As I say, it is obvious. Ultán is murdered. Marga hated him and had every reason to hate him. She takes Ultán’s own horse and flees from Cashel. It takes no great leap of the imagination to guess what people would think. They would believe that she was the killer and she would soon be overtaken and tried for his murder.’

‘Two questions then,’ Fidelma rejoined. ‘First, how did you know it was Ultán’s horse she was riding?’

Fergus Fanat smiled briefly. ‘Simple enough. She told me.’

‘Second, why would you think that once it was known that Marga had fled from Cashel a hue and cry would be raised and she would be soon overtaken and the murder of Ultán laid at her feet?’

‘Because. .’ began Fergus Fanat confidently, and then he paused, staring at her.

‘Exactly,’ murmured Fidelma. ‘So far as you would have known at the time you met her in the forest, Muirchertach was still alive and Muirchertach was the person charged with the murder of Ultán. Even though you knew I was defending him, there was no reason to think that Marga was under any suspicion.’

Fergus met her penetrating blue-green eyes with his black defiant ones.

‘You were trying to be protective?’ she suggested, when he failed to reply.

‘Of course I was.’

‘But only because you believed that she had killed Abbot Ultán. You believed that Marga had killed Ultán and that she was probably justified. But you feared that if she continued her flight to Laigin, then I — who did not believe Muirchertach Nár was guilty — would immediately be suspicious about her; that I would raise that hue and cry. That is why you persuaded her to come back to Cashel.’

Fergus thrust out his jaw pugnaciously.