simply asked you some questions. It is my task as a dalaigh to ask questions and it is your obligation to answer them. Now, be seated and calm yourself.’
Brother Cu Mara stood undecided for a moment or two and then he shrugged and sat down again.
‘Excellent,’ she approved. ‘Now tell me, when did you first learn of the death of the Venerable Cinaed?’
‘When?’ The young man frowned. ‘It is now four days ago. It was before dawn. I had arisen and washed and was about to go to the chapel to attend the service for the Blessed Ite, which we hold on her feast day. She it was who-’
Fidelma interrupted impatiently. ‘I know who Ite was. Go on.’
‘I was on my way there when one of the community came rushing up saying that he had heard shouting from the oratory.’
‘Shouting? As in an argument?’
‘Someone crying for help. It turned out to be the abbot, for I went there without delay and found the abbot in great distress. He had discovered the body of the Venerable Cinaed lying behind the altar and the rest you know.
‘I see. As rechtaire, what steps did you undertake to investigate the crime?’
The young man looked uncomfortable.
‘I am not a dalaigh like you, lady.’ The words were uttered as a protest.
‘So you did nothing?’
‘On the contrary. I asked the members of the community if anyone knew anything.’
‘They did not, of course?’ Fidelma said cynically.
‘They did not. It was generally agreed that some wandering bandit probably entered the abbey grounds and was discovered by Cinaed who then paid with his life for attempting to stop the thief.’
‘Having obliged his assailant by turning his back to him?’
The young man did not understand Fidelma’s sarcasm and said so.
‘By whom was it generally agreed?’ pressed Fidelma, ignoring his remark.
‘By the elders of the community.’
‘Being the abbot… and who else?’
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma, Brother Eolas the librarian, our physician…’
‘Was anything stolen by these wandering bandits?‘interrupted Fidelma.
‘Stolen?’
Fidelma felt the young man was being deliberately obtuse.
‘Presumably, in your oratory, you would have icons and items worthy of theft? Why else would this hypothetical thief break into the abbey?’
The young steward paused a moment and then shook his head.
‘Nothing was taken. The oratory was searched for a weapon. It was not found, showing that the murderer took it away with him.’
‘So much for the theory of the thief,’ Fidelma observed coldly.
Before Brother Cu Mara could respond, Eadulf emerged at the entrance of the herb garden, hurrying towards them with a triumphant expression. He bore a bundle of clothing in his arms.
‘Success!’ he cried.
He held out two robes. They both bore the unmistakable dark patches of bloodstains.
CHAPTER FOUR
F idelma rose from the bench to examine the bloodstained robes that Eadulf held out to her.
‘Indeed, it is dried blood and splattered in such quantity that the wearer must have bled profusely or been in contact with someone whose blood has drenched their clothing.’ She gave an appreciative look at Eadulf. ‘Well done. Now, is there a way of finding out the identity of the wearer?’
Brother Cu Mara was staring at the clothes with a curious frown.
‘Did you not ask Sister Sinnchene?’ he inquired. ‘She is very particular about the washing and would not mix such stained garments with the other clothing for wash.’
Eadulf looked a little crestfallen.
‘I was so agitated by the discovery that I came straightway to inform you, Fidelma. Sister Sinnchene was not in the tech-nigid when I discovered them and so I did not think to ask. They were certainly in a pile set to one side,’ he added defensively to the young steward.
Fidelma reached out a hand to touch Eadulf’s arm.
‘Go now and repair the omission. Seek the identity of the wearer of these garments but do not approach them until I am ready. I see,’ she glanced across the herb garden, ‘Conri has returned and that must be the merchant with him. I will deal with him and then we will pursue the wearer of these clothes.’
A little downcast, for he realised that he should have discovered the information before coming to Fidelma, Eadulf nodded and went back to the tech-nigid.
Fidelma turned to watch Conri approaching with his companion. Mugron looked more like a sailor than a merchant. He was a stocky man, barrel-chested and walking, arms akimbo, with the rolling gait of
‘Greetings, Fidelma of Cashel. We have met before.’ He had a deep, rasping voice.
Fidelma frowned, searching her memory but gave up with a shake of her head.
‘I do not recall…’ she began.
The merchant interrupted with a smile.
‘You would not. You were a little girl. I was a young merchant, sailing my ship up the River Siur to the trading post that serves Cashel. Maenach mac Fingin was king at that time. You and your brother had come down to the quay to see my boat come in.’
Memory came back to her. Her father, King Failbe Flann, had died when she was a baby. She had little memory of her father’s successor, King Cuan, who had also died when she was four or five years of age. But Maenach had been king during most of her childhood until she had been sent away to study under the great Brehon Morann at Tara. She and her brother Colgu had looked upon Maenach as a kindly uncle for he was certainly, in their eyes, old enough to be so, although he was actually their first cousin. He had been the son of Fingin, the elder brother of their father Failbe Flann. He had looked after Fidelma and Colgu well, ensuring that they were properly educated. He had died two years before she had set out for the great Synod at Hilda’s Abbey in Northumbria, and another cousin, Cathal, had taken the throne until he died of the Yellow Plague. Maenach had been the only relative that she could think of in terms of what it must have been like to have a father. And she did remember playing along the banks of the great Siur with her brother and watching the trading boats coming up and down the river.
‘Lady?’
She started and guiltily realised that she had drifted off into the world of her remembrance. She brought herself back to the herb garden and to the gaze of the stocky merchant and Conri. It was Brother Cu Mara who had spoken.
‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I was trying to recall something, but no matter. Come, let us sit awhile, Mugron. I want you to tell me the story of how you came to find the body of the Abbess Faife.’
She and the merchant seated themselves on the wooden bench while Conri and the steward took up positions nearby.
‘It was purely by accident,’ the merchant began and then hesitated. ‘I am not sure where to start.’
Fidelma smiled encouragement.
‘Let us start with how you came to be on that road in the land of the Corco Duibhne.’
The merchant paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts.
‘As you have probably been told, I am the main merchant in this area and dwell on the coast to the south- west of here.’
‘I have been told,’ confirmed Fidelma solemnly.
‘I have several ships and we do good business along this coast and often have commissions to supply goods
