A Prayer for the Damned

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It was approaching midday when the sound of a sentinel horn caused Fidelma to look up with relief from the game of brandubh that she was playing with her cousin Abbot Laisran of Durrow. The chubby cleric noticed her expression and smiled across the wooden gaming board.

‘I presume that is Brother Eadulf returning.’

Fidelma rose, with a studied leisurely poise, and crossed to the window of the chamber that overlooked the courtyard. She tried not to make her movements seem anxious or hurried. She glanced down and saw the cavalcade of horses entering the fortress courtyard and she tried to disguise her smile of satisfaction.

Eadulf and Gormán rode at the head, while behind them came Sister Marga alongside the warrior whom she had sent to Eatharlaí. Behind them came the three Saxon brothers, Berrihert, Pecanum and Naovan, and behind them rode Miach of the Uí Cuileann and two of his warriors.

She turned back to the abbot and seated herself once more at the brandubh board. He stared quizzically at her.

‘It is Eadulf,’ she confirmed, answering his unspoken question.

‘Then we can finish this game later,’ Laisran suggested.

Fidelma smiled confidently. ‘I am not so distracted, my cousin, that I cannot win this game before I go down to greet them.’

Abbot Laisran chuckled in appreciation before glancing down at the board, examining the pieces. ‘I am still in a strong position, Fidelma. I believe that it will take you some time to attempt to weaken me.’

‘I make it three moves before my High King reaches safety from your attack,’ she said.

Abbot Laisran frowned, peering forward. ‘I don’t see. .’

‘There is no advantage for you,’ she said. ‘Look, you have to begin your attack from here and I move there and then. .’

He saw at once as she indicated the squares on the brandubh board. It was logical. But then she was always logical. He sighed, trying to remember the last time he had won a game from his young cousin. He raised his shoulders and let them fall in a gesture of resignation.

‘Then I resign and acknowledge you have the game,’ he said, his chubby face almost mournfully comic.

She hesitated, wondering whether she had not been diplomatic, but the abbot was suddenly smiling again.

‘Does the arrival of Eadulf mean that you are now close to resolving this riddle?’

‘I believe so,’ she replied. ‘Now we have all those concerned back at Cashel, I think that we will be able to resolve this by midday as I promised Brehon Barrán.’

Abbot Laisran’s eyes widened a little. ‘So you already know who killed Bishop Ultán and Muirchertach Nár?’

Fidelma rose again from her seat. ‘I am sure I do, but to reveal the truth in such matters is very much like a game of brandubh.’

‘I don’t follow.’

She pointed to the board. ‘Let us merely substitute the roles. We have the board, which is seven squares by seven squares — forty-nine squares in all. That is the board on which the murderer and suspects can move this way and that. The High King piece represents the murderer. The four protecting pieces are the false leads, those suspects who will eventually be cleared of wrongdoing. Our inquiries begin from the four corners of the board; the investigators are represented by the four attacking pieces. As you know, these attacking pieces can only move in logical lines whereas the defending pieces, our suspects, can move in any direction they choose. The murderer is at the centre of the board and can move in various directions but not as far as the suspects can. He can only move one square at a time. The murderer is slow and encumbered.’

Abbot Laisran looked at the board game, trying to follow her logic. ‘Very well, I accept your symbolism. But then what?’

Fidelma bent over the board. ‘The attacking pieces have to be relentless and corner each defender and eliminate it before moving on to the High King piece, finally trapping it. So, the investigators have to corner each suspect and eliminate them from the inquiry before moving on to trap the murderer.’

‘I understand.’ Abbot Laisran smiled. ‘So where is your analogy leading?’

Fidelma straightened up. ‘The brandubh board will now become the great hall here where all the players and pieces will be gathered. Before the Chief Brehon Barrán, I shall commence my attack, eliminating each suspect before cornering the murderer.’ She turned for the door and then paused. ‘But before I do that, I have a few things to sort out with Eadulf.’

An hour later, in their chambers, with Muirgen fussing over them, Fidelma and Eadulf had brought each other up to date on the developments since they had parted on the previous afternoon.

‘Where is Sister Marga now?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘Because of her inclination to keep running away, I have had her placed in a locked chamber. Do you want to question her now?’

‘Not at once.’ She looked up to where Muirgen was playing with Alchú, and called to the nurse to go to the chamber where Sister Marga was held.

‘After her journey from Eatharlaí, I fear that she must be in need of a bath. Provide all her wants, perfumes and the like, so that she may bathe. Tell her that, should she require it, Brother Conchobhar has many scents for her bath and she may ask for anything she desires. When she has done, I will come and question her. Is that clear?’

Muirgen was a simple soul and did not question Fidelma’s instructions, but Eadulf was looking at her as if she had lost her reason. Fidelma merely returned his gaze with solemn features and did not answer his unasked question.

‘And send an attendant to take care of Alchú while you are gone,’ she added as Muirgen left.

‘Now we will have a word, at long last, with Brother Drón,’ she said when the attendant arrived. She explained how Caol and his warriors had picked up the surprised northern religious at the inn at Rath na Drínne on the previous evening and returned him to the fortress.

Brother Drón scowled as they entered the room where he was confined.

‘You are a fool, Sister Fidelma! I have been chasing Marga because I know that she killed Abbot Ultán, as doubtless she also killed Muirchertach when he found out what she had done.’

Fidelma took a chair and said: ‘You’d better tell me how you know that.’

Brother Drón scowled and looked as if he was about to argue, but Fidelma urged him to continue.

‘Sister Marga was a temptress, a siren conjured to seduce that God-fearing man. She forced an unnatural liaison with the abbot.’

Fidelma looked solemn. ‘Are you admitting that there was a sexual relationship between the abbot and Sister Marga?’

‘The fault lay entirely with Sister Marga,’ Brother Drón replied. ‘Why else would he have succumbed had she not tempted him?’

‘From what I have learned,’ said Fidelma pointedly, ‘I doubt whether he needed any temptation. Is your preamble necessary to the reason why you assert that Marga killed him?’

‘Marga came to hate him. Probably because he finally rejected her advances. That’s why she killed him.’

‘A lot of people hated Abbot Ultán with more reason.’

‘I was a witness that night. A witness to the killing.’

‘A witness?’ For the first time, Fidelma was genuinely surprised.

‘I went to Bishop Ultán’s chamber late that night. .’

‘For what reason?’ demanded Eadulf.

Brother Drón blinked at the interruption. ‘Why?’ He hesitated. ‘Because Abbot Ultán was preparing a protest against your wedding on the following day. He needed my advice.’

‘Go on,’ urged Fidelma.

‘He asked me to go to his room about midnight to run through some of the arguments that he was going to put forward. I had just left my room when I saw Abbot Ultán’s door open. His door faces the corridor where my room is. Then Sister Marga emerged. She did not see me and I pressed back into my room, for, at that time, I thought it unseemly that either Abbot Ultán or Sister Marga know that I shared their dark secret.’

‘You display a curious sense of proprieties, Brother Drón,’ Eadulf observed dryly. ‘You knew about his penchant for women, you knew even darker secrets such as his taste for sadism, the beating to death of his victims. . like the poor Saxon woman at Colmán’s island. You ignored that. Yet you ask us to believe that you were concerned for his sensitivities or Marga’s feelings? Come. What game were you playing?’

Brother Drón coloured hotly. ‘I was not playing a game. I. .’

‘Perhaps you were thinking of how best to extort something from the situation?’

The barb seemed to strike home for the man flushed and was at a loss to reply.

‘Carry on,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘You say that you saw Marga leave Ultán’s chamber. What happened then?’

‘I decided to remain where I was for a while in order to give Abbot Ultán a little time so that he could be assured that I had not seen anyone exit his room.’

‘For how long?’ At least, she thought, Drón’s story corroborated that of Fergus Fanat.

‘Not long. I doubt my candle had burned down by more than a gráinne.’ He indicated the smallest Irish measurement, meaning the length of a wheat grain.

‘And then you returned to Ultán’s chamber?’

‘The door was closed. I knocked. There was no answer. To my surprise, I found the door unbolted so I entered and saw Abbot Ultán lying on his back on the bed. It was clear what had happened. Sister Marga had stabbed him to death. I exited hastily from the room, closed the door, and started to hurry along the corridor after Sister Marga to confront her.’

‘In your haste you tripped and fell,’ put in Fidelma.

Drón looked at her in astonishment for a moment.

‘How did you know. .?’ he began. Then he nodded. ‘Ah, from Dúnchad Muirisci. I fell outside his door and he opened it to find me picking myself up. I explained that I had tripped. The fall brought me to my senses. It was little use accusing Marga of Abbot Ultán’s death. To what end?’

‘Justice?’ put in Eadulf cynically.

Brother Drón ignored him. ‘I realised that we had to get her back to Cill Ria where her fellows in the abbey could be told of what she had done and inflict the punishment in accordance with our rules rather than allow her to go free with a simple fine under the laws of the brehons. So I went back to my chamber to consider the situation.’

‘And when did you find out that Muirchertach Nár had been accused of Abbot Ultán’s murder? Why did you not come forward with your information?’

‘For the same reason. Sister Marga had to be taken back for punishment to Cill Ria.’

‘When did you hear that Muirchertach was accused?’

‘I heard a great fuss in the corridor and overheard a guard saying that Muirchertach Nár had been seen fleeing from Abbot Ultán’s chamber just before he had been found murdered. I realised what had happened. After I had returned, Muirchertach Nár had gone to see Ultán and probably entered as I had. He likely found Ultán dead, turned and fled, but just as Brehon Baithen and one of the palace guards had come along the corridor. They had jumped to the natural conclusion.’

‘So you could have proved Muirchertach Nár’s innocence immediately?’

‘Not without incriminating myself or revealing that Sister Marga was the killer.’

‘When did you tell Sister Sétach about this?’ asked Fidelma. ‘When did you ask her to search the abbot’s chamber?’

Once again, Brother Drón frowned at her apparent knowledge. Fidelma decided to explain.

‘As you know, Sister Sétach came to Ultán’s chamber the day after the murder was discovered. However, the guard refused her entry. She was so desperate in her search for something that she actually climbed on to the ledge that runs along the outside wall and made her way from the corridor window to the window in Ultán’s chamber. I can only surmise that you must have told her about Ultán’s death. What was she looking for?’

Brother Drón hesitated. ‘The next day everyone knew about the murder and that Muirchertach Nár was suspect. That morning in the chapel, I took Sister Sétach aside and told her what I knew — that Sister Marga had killed Abbot Ultán. I told her that my intention was to get her back to Cill Ria as soon as it was possible to leave. As I say, in her own community, among her fellow religious, we could punish her under the full rigours of the Penitentials.’

‘Leaving Muirchertach Nár to take the blame for the murder?’ Fidelma was aghast at the admission.

Brother Drón shrugged. ‘It was God’s justice on the man. He was no friend to Cill Ria or to what we stand for. I rejoice at his death.’

‘I find it hard to believe that you could ignore both the law and your self-proclaimed charity of the Faith. So what made Sister Sétach go to Abbot Ultán’s chamber that evening?’

‘Our duty was to ensure that there was no evidence left which would implicate Abbot Ultán with Sister Marga. I feared that there might be some incriminating evidence left in Ultán’s belongings which, having been discovered, might lead to Sister Marga. Sister Sétach offered to go, but unfortunately she had barely begun her search when you and the Saxon brother entered. At first she did not know what to do but she thought that she had finally diverted your suspicions by telling you what was an approximation of the truth.’

Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘In fact, she merely enhanced the suspicion. But, in all of this, Brother Drón, I find it hard to believe that you as a religieux would allow an innocent man to be blamed, that you would conspire to aid someone whom you thought was guilty of murder to escape the law. .’

‘Not escape the law,’ intervened Brother Drón. ‘To answer to a higher law, to suffer all the agonies that are due to a witch and murderess.’

Brother Drón’s features were alight with fanatic zeal and Fidelma realised that he truly believed in his cause.

‘Thank God it is not the Penitentials that rule this land, Brother Drón. At least you will now have to answer to the laws that do govern us,’ Fidelma said firmly as she stood up.

Brother Drón was undaunted. ‘You may shelter in your man-made rules, Sister Fidelma. Remember you will, yourself, finally have to answer to the rules of the Faith.’

‘And what rules are they?’ Fidelma asked sharply. ‘These Penitentials? Who set them down? Are they not also man-made?’

‘They are the law! The law of the Faith!’ Brother Drón replied vehemently.

‘I would have a care in your interpretation of the word “law”.’

‘Christ said that he came to fulfil the law, that the law was permanent and that people should obey it,’ grated Brother Drón.

‘And that law was Mosaic law, the ten commandments, not your Penitentials that have been devised to inflict suffering on mankind. Christ kept the commandments but he did not keep the law as made by men. Did he not set aside the understanding of his own people on issues like ritual cleansing, food laws and other matters — even the very understanding of the Sabbath day? Attend to your Scriptures and mark well, before you quote the words of Christ on law to me. If Scripture teaches anything, it is that it is not the appearance of law, the external appearance of purity and obedience, but its reality that should be obeyed. Christ’s concern was for inner purity, for the ethic of the principle of truth rather than the ethic of rules for the sake of rules. You may claim to support the ethic of punishment of the transgressor in Cill Ria but I would hope that the true Faith teaches you the principle of charity.’

Brother Drón swallowed at her emotional rebuke. For the first time, he saw the anger and passion in her usually composed features and found no answer for her.

Fidelma paused at the door and glanced back at him. ‘Does not Paul speak of the law written on the heart? Give me a pagan with a moral conscience rather than a man who proclaims the Faith in all outward appearances and yet denies that inner morality. The sooner that your type of faith is eliminated, Drón, the better will be the world.’

Silently, Fidelma and Eadulf made their way to the chamber where Sister Marga had been temporarily confined.

Enda was standing outside as they approached. He stood aside and rapped on the chamber door. Muirgen opened it.

‘Sister Marga is bathed and dressed, lady,’ she reported, with a salutation to Fidelma.

‘Excellent. And you ensured that she lack for nothing in her toiletry?’

‘I did everything as you asked, lady.’

‘Then I shall not detain you any longer. You may return to little Alchú.’

Muirgen hurried off, and Fidelma and Eadulf entered the room. Sister Marga rose uncertainly.

‘I shall not go back to Cill Ria, even if I am forced,’ she declared fiercely.

Fidelma moved forward with a smile. ‘No one will force you to go back,’ she said. ‘Be seated.’ Then she sniffed the air. ‘A nice fragrance,’ she observed.

‘I have just bathed. Your attendant was most helpful,’ replied the girl stiffly.

‘Excellent. You were able to ask for whatever perfumed sleic or fragrances our apothecaries could provide?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have my own, which I always carry in my cíorbholg.’

Fidelma sniffed again and said approvingly: ‘A good choice. Eadulf tells me that you were shocked to hear of the assault on Fergus Fanat?’

Sister Marga’s face was set in stone. ‘I did not attack him.’

‘You have to admit that it was an unfortunate coincidence that you fled from Cashel at the time he was attacked?’

‘It was nothing more than a coincidence. I had to get away, that is all. I did not know Fergus Fanat had been attacked.’

‘Life is so full of coincidences,’ Fidelma observed with a sigh. ‘In fact, the one constant factor in all our lives is that when events do become intertwined there does seem to be a fated eventuality to them. We believe that coincidence is an unusual occurrence instead of its being a normal one.’

Sister Marga stared at her, trying to understand. ‘Since you have brought me forcibly back here, I demand to be protected from Brother Drón. I demand sanctuary. I will not go back to the Abbey of Cill Ria.’

‘Fergus Fanat offered you protection,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘You did not appear to want that.’

The girl coloured hotly. ‘I trusted Fergus. .’ she said brokenly. ‘But he did not trust me. Now I cannot trust him further. After he told me that he had seen me come from Ultán’s chamber that night, I told him that Ultán had summoned me there and why. But I also told him that I was innocent of his death. He was alive when I left the chamber. But I am sorry that he has been attacked. I am glad he is recovering. Muirgen told me,’ she added. ‘I wish him no harm at all. I believed that I loved him, but love means knowing and trusting someone and he showed that he neither knew nor trusted me. Even he thought me guilty of. .’

Fidelma smiled sympathetically. ‘Even the person you loved thought you guilty of murder. Well, the blindness of a lover often distorts things through the fear it arouses. It is easy to swing from love to jealousy and into a total distortion of reality.’

Sister Marga was trying to follow what Fidelma was saying. Then she repeated: ‘My fear is of Brother Drón. I will kill myself rather than be taken back to Cill Ria.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘There is no need to fear Brother Drón. I can assure you that you will not be forced back to the Abbey of Cill Ria. We will meet again in a little while.’

Fidelma, followed by Eadulf, left the girl sitting with a bewildered expression on her features.

Outside, Eadulf was equally bewildered.

‘Did you learn anything?’ he demanded.

‘Oh, I did.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Now I must spend a short time with that trunk we found in Ultán’s room. It is still under lock and key in my brother’s strongroom.’

‘But there was nothing of interest there. Clothes, papers, the records of Ultán’s embassy on behalf of Ard Macha. . just papers.’

‘Exactly so,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Once I have seen those we can set up our brandubh board.’

Eadulf looked startled, not being privy to her discussion with Abbot Laisran. She chuckled and took his arm.

‘The great hall is to become the brandubh board for this game in which we will find the centre piece. The centre piece is the murderer and we will now trap it.’