Absolution by Murder

Chapter Nine

When Sister Fidelma reached the cloisters leading to the domus hospitale, the bell had started to chime for the midnight prayers. Brother Eadulf was already in Sister Athelswith’s officium, his head bent over his prayer beads, intoning the Angelus in the Roman fashion.

Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae.

The Angel of the Lord announced unto Mary.

Et concepit de Spiritu Sancto.

And she conceived of the Holy Ghost.

Sister Fidelma waited quietly until Eadulf had finished his office and replaced his beads.

‘Well?’ she demanded without preamble.

Brother Eadulf pursed his lips.

‘It seems that you were right. Only Wulfric claims he heard Canna pronounce the name of the abbess and the exact manner of her death. Of the other three, one says it was Wulfric who told him what Canna had said. He had not even heard Canna speak. The other two say that Canna spoke only in general terms, as he did to the Abbess Hilda. In other words, we have only Wulfric’s testimony against Canna.’

Fidelma sighed softly.

‘And Sister Athelswith says that Canna was warning Abbess Abbe and others that there would be a death here. He did not single out Étain at all. This was confirmed by two of the brethren here whom Sister Athelswith called to have Canna ejected from Étain’s cubiculum. Canna seems hell-bent on sacrificing his life for immortal fame. A stupid, vain man.’

‘What should we do?’

‘I believe that Canna has committed no crime save that of vanity. The idea of him being killed for that is abhorrent. We must release Canna at once. He should put distance between himself and this place before dawn.’

Eadulf’s eyes widened.

‘But what of Alhfrith? He is the son of Oswy and ruler of Deira.’

‘And I am a dálaigh of the Brehon courts,’ replied Fidelma spiritedly, ‘acting under the commission of Oswy, King of Northumbria. I will assume full responsibility. We have been allowed to waste too much time on the cause of Canna as it is – time when we could have been tracking down Étain’s true killer.’

Eadulf bit his lip.

‘This is true, but to release Canna … ?’

But Fidelma had turned and was already leading the way to the hypogeum of the abbey. Her mind was already trying to figure out a way to release Canna in spite of the two guards outside. Hurrying along with her, Eadulf was beginning to realise that Fidelma was a determined woman. He had been misled by her youth and attractive softness at the start. He realised just how decisive she could be.

As it was, luck was with them for the two guards were both fast asleep. The nearness of the abbey’s apotheca had proved too much of a temptation and they had helped themselves to a liberal quantity of wine. They were snoring in a drunken sleep, sprawled over the table outside the cell, empty flagons by their nerveless hands. Fidelma grinned triumphantly as she removed the key from one of the sleeping guards without any trouble.

She turned to a worried-looking Eadulf.

‘If you do not want to be party to what I am about to do, you had best leave now.’

Eadulf shook his head, although with some reluctance.

‘We are in this together.’

‘The sorcerer, Canna, has gone,’ announced Alhfrith. ‘He has escaped from custody.’

Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf had been summoned yet again to the chambers of the Abbess Hilda following the serving of the jentaculum, the morning breaking of the fast. Abbess Hilda was sitting with pinched features, while Alhfrith paced agitatedly by the window. Oswy himself was sprawled in a chair by the smouldering fire. He was frowning moodily into the smoky turf.

Alhfrith had levelled his implied accusation immediately Fidelma and Eadulf had entered.

Sister Fidelma remained outwardly unperturbed.

‘He did not escape. I dismissed him. He had committed no crime.’

The petty king of Deira’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Whatever response he had been prepared for, it was not this. Even Oswy’s eyes widened as his face was drawn from the fire to gaze in astonishment at Sister Fidelma.

‘You dared to release him?’ Alhfrith’s voice was like the rumble of distant thunder before the storm erupts in its true savagery.

‘Dared? I am a dálaigh, qualified to the level of anruth. If I believe a person innocent then I am entitled to set him at liberty.’

The king of Deira’s mouth was working.

Oswy slapped his thigh and suddenly gave forth a laugh, a loud burst of genuine mirth.

‘By Christ’s wounds, Alhfrith! She is within her rights!’

‘Not so!’ snapped his son in response. ‘She has no right to practise the laws of her own land in our kingdom. No one but I could order the release of the beggar. She shall be punished. Guards!’

As quick as a lightning flash, Oswy’s expression changed from amusement to cold anger.

‘Alhfrith! You forget, I am your suzerain as well as your father. You are merely ruler of this province under me and by my patronage. Therefore I am the arbiter of law here and I shall decide who is to be punished and who not. Sister Fidelma is acting under my commission in this land.’

The foxy-faced Wulfric had entered at Alhfrith’s call for the guard, but Oswy gestured savagely for him to leave. The swarthy thane gave a hurried glance at Alhfrith, as if seeking his permission, but seeing his lord’s red, mortified face he departed swiftly.

Alhfrith’s face was a study of suppressed anger. Only the livid scar on his cheek made a curious white weal across the blood-infused skin.

Eadulf was easing his weight from one foot to another, looking uncomfortable.

‘If there is blame and punishment, sire,’ he said, speaking for the first time since they had entered the chamber, ‘then it is mine. I take responsibility. I agreed with Sister Fidelma’s assessment of the astrologer’s lack of guilt in the matter. I supported her decision to release him to save him from a needless and unjust death by fire.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened in surprise and she gave the Saxon monk a brief glance of gratitude. She had not expected him to state his support in so strong a fashion.

Alhfrith seemed to choke.

‘So you desire punishment?’ Oswy chuckled, turning to the Saxon brother.

‘No, sire. I merely say that I am also responsible for the release of the beggar.’

Oswy shook his head in amusement before turning back to Fidelma. Fidelma stood watching the Northumbrian king calmly. Eadulf shivered slightly – one word of displeasure from Oswy and they would both be dead.

‘It is a lucky thing for you, Fidelma of Kildare, that I am conversant with your ways and customs and able to check the hot-headedness of my son here. But you have nearly overreached yourself. You do not have the authority in my kingdom to release prisoners unless I specifically order it.’

Fidelma lowered her head.

‘Then I am truly sorry, Oswy of Northumbria. It was my error in thinking that when you commissioned me as a dálaigh of the Brehon courts, knowing full well what that entailed, you gave me permission to exercise my role exactly as I would in my own land.’

Oswy frowned. Did he detect a slight mocking tone in the girl’s voice?

‘I think you knew that you acted without authority,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘I do not think that you are as ignorant of the laws of this land as you are making out.’

Fidelma grimaced with apparent diffidence.

‘Do you not?’ she asked with an exaggerated air of wide-eyed innocence.

‘No, by thunder! I do not.’ Oswy paused and then his expression split into a grin. ‘In fact, Sister Fidelma, I think you are a very wise and knowing person.’

‘For that, I thank you, Oswy.’

Alhfrith interrupted angrily.

‘What of the sorcerer? Let me send Wulfric and some warriors out to track him down.’

Oswy silenced him with a gesture without his blue eyes leaving those reflective green eyes of Sister Fidelma.

‘You say that this beggar is innocent?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘His only guilt was the sin of pride. He is an astrologer. He foresaw some events in the stars. But we have questioned those he spoke to before the event. He was not specific and only after the event did he attempt to boast that he had accurately predicted the death of the abbess, thus incurring suspicion.’

Oswy slowly nodded his head.

‘I have seen the Irish astrologers at work. I can believe in the accuracy of their prophecies. But, you say, he did not name Étain as the victim before the event?’

‘That is not so. Wulfric heard him!’ interrupted Alhfrith sharply.

‘And only Wulfric,’ Eadulf chimed in. ‘The only witness who said he named Étain and the manner of her death before the event was Wulfric, a thane who wishes to discredit the Irish in general and any linked with the church of Columba. Wulfric boasts that he hanged Brother Aelfric not two days ago and that he will do the same to any monk of Columba who trespasses in his domain.’

‘This is so,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘We have questioned three witnesses who maintain that Canna was only vague in his prediction. Four witnesses, counting the Abbess Hilda here, will swear to that. Only after the murder did Canna claim that he had accurately made the prediction.’

‘Why should the beggar lie?’ queried Oswy. ‘Surely he knew the suspicion it would bring on him? And that if he were suspected of employing black arts to encompass a death, then death would be his retribution?’

‘He lies because he wished to take the credit for a great prophecy, one that would be remembered for generations,’ Fidelma answered. ‘He twisted the truth in his mind and claimed his prediction was more accurate than it was.’

‘But he was accepting death by so doing,’ Oswy pointed out again.

‘But the Irish have little fear of entering the afterlife,’ Eadulf commented. ‘They do so joyously. Even before they turned to the word of Christ, it was their teaching that there was an Otherworld, a life of the ever young into which all living things were admitted. Canna sought glory in this world and was happy to start his new life in the Otherworld.’

‘A madman then?’

Fidelma shrugged diffidently.

‘Who is to say whether he was mad or sane? Fame and immortality. There is a little of that madness in us all. Nevertheless, he should not be punished for what he did not do and so I released him and told him that unless he wished the truth of his vanity to be talked about throughout the feasting halls of Ireland, unless he wanted to be satirised throughout the five kingdoms, he should stick to the accuracy of his prophecy.’ She paused and smiled. ‘He should be well on his way to the kingdom of Rheged by now.’

‘Father!’ It was Alhfrith again. ‘You cannot let this pass. It is an insult to me—’

‘Silence!’ thundered Oswy. ‘I have decided the matter.’

‘The most important thing is to find out who really did slay the Abbess Étain. Why waste time on petty spite?’ Fidelma said, giving Alhfrith a cold glance.

Oswy raised a hand to stifle the outburst that hovered on the lips of his son.

‘You are right. I, Oswy the king, endorse what you have done, sister. The beggar, Canna, is at liberty. He can stay or go in freedom. But better he did go to Rheged and the lands beyond.’ He looked meaningfully at his mortified son. ‘And nothing further shall be mentioned or done about the matter. Is that clear, Alhfrith?’

His tall, blond-haired son stood silent, his eyes downcast, his lips compressed.

‘Is it clear?’ repeated the king ominously.

Alhfrith raised his rebellious eyes and tried to meet his father’s gaze and then lowered then again, nodding silently.

‘Good,’ smiled Oswy, relaxing again in his chair. ‘Then we have the synod to attend to while you and the good Brother Eadulf here continue your quest.’

Sister Fidelma bowed her head in acknowledgment.

‘Much time has been wasted on this matter,’ she remarked quietly. ‘Eadulf and I will withdraw and continue our investigation.’

Outside the Abbess Hilda’s chamber, Brother Eadulf wiped a hand across his perspiring forehead.

‘You have made a bitter enemy in Alhfrith, Sister Fidelma.’

The girl seemed disinterested.

‘The conflict was none of my seeking. Alhfrith is a bitter young man by his own nature and is at odds with his world. Making enemies is more easy to him than making friends.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Eadulf said, ‘you had best have a care. Wulfric is his man and does whatever Alhfrith tells him. He probably lied about Canna on Alhfrith’s instruction. Could Alhfrith have killed Étain to create a problem in the synod?’

Fidelma had not ruled that possibility out and said so as they turned into the cloisters.

‘What next?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Seven people are known to have visited Étain in her cell before she was found murdered. We have spoken with one of them – Canna the astrologer. Now we must speak with the other six.’

Eadulf agreed.

‘Sister Gwid, Brother Taran, Abbess Hilda, Bishop Colmán, Brother Seaxwulf and Agatho the priest from Icanho,’ he counted.

Fidelma grinned lightheartedly.

‘You have a good memory, brother. That is good. We will learn nothing from Colmán and Hilda other than what we have already. They merely accompanied Étain to the midday meal and talked about the debate.’

‘Shall we see Sister Gwid first?’ he suggested. ‘As she was the abbess’s secretary she may well know something which could be of help.’

Sister Fidelma sceptically shook her head.

‘I doubt it. I journeyed with her from Iona. She is a gawky but well-meaning girl. I do not think she was a close confidant of the abbess but simply followed her about with a sheep-like devotion. The abbess was once her tutor in Ireland.’

‘Even so, we should speak with her. According to Sister Athelswith, the abbess was arguing with her on the morning of her death. What could that have been about?’

Fidelma had forgotten mention of an argument.

They had reached the officium of the guest quarters and found Sister Athelswith bending over some ledgers.

‘We wish to speak with several brethren in private, sister,’ Fidelma told her. ‘With your permission, we will use your officium as the most convenient place to conduct our questioning. I am sure that you will have no objection?’

From her facial expression, Sister Athelswith had many objections but she knew that Fidelma and Eadulf had the full support of the Abbess Hilda and so she simply exhaled and removed her ledgers.

‘And may we ask you to serve us by summoning these people as we want them?’ pressed Eadulf with a winning smile.

The elderly sister sniffed, trying to hide her displeasure at this interruption to her routine.

‘It will be as you request, brother. I will serve you in whatever way I can.’

‘Good,’ smiled Fidelma brightly. ‘Then bring us Sister Gwid. She should be in her dormitorium.’

It was a short time later when the gawky Sister Gwid entered. She was more in control of her emotions now, although her eyes were still red from crying. She looked from Fidelma to Eadulf with an air of a child lost and bewildered.

‘How are you feeling this morning, sister?’ asked Fidelma, motioning her to take a seat.

Gwid bowed her head and seated herself on a wooden stool before the table that served as Sister Athelswith’s desk.

‘I apologise for my display of emotion,’ she replied. ‘Étain was a good friend to me. The news of her death unnerved me for a while.’

‘But you will do your best to help us?’ Fidelma’s tone was almost cajoling.

Sister Gwid shrugged indifferently and Eadulf felt he had to explain their task and their authority.

‘There is little I can say,’ Sister Gwid became a little more accommodating. ‘You will recall that I was in the sacrarium with you, Sister Fidelma, waiting for the opening of the debate when news came of the Abbess Étain’s death.’

‘Indeed,’ Fidelma acknowledged. ‘Yet you held the office of her secretary and met with her in her cubiculum yesterday morning.’

Gwid inclined her head in agreement.

‘I did. Can you track down the foul thing that killed her?’ she asked, her voice suddenly fierce.

‘That is what we are here to discover, Gwid,’ Brother Eadulf intervened. ‘Firstly, we must ask some questions.’

Gwid made an inviting gesture with her hand. It made her seem even more awkward, drawing attention to her large bony hands.

‘Ask away.’

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and indicated that he should continue. The Saxon leant forward across the table.

‘You were seen to be arguing with Étain outside her cubiculum yesterday,’ he said abruptly.

‘Étain was my friend,’ Gwid replied abashed.

‘Did you argue with her?’ Eadulf demanded.

‘No!’ The reply came immediately. ‘Étain was … was simply annoyed with me because I had forgotten to collate some facts for her in the preparation of her argument for the debate. That is all.’

It was logical enough that Étain, in preparing to meet with Wilfrid, would be highly strung and quick to temper.

‘Are you from the land of the Picts?’

Fidelma frowned at Eadulf’s abrupt change of tack.

The dark face of Sister Gwid became bewildered.

‘From the land of the Cruthin whom you call “Picts” which is but a corruption of a Latin nickname meaning “painted ones”,’ she said pedantically. ‘It was a custom of our warriors in ancient times to paint themselves when they went into battle – a custom that has long since ceased. I was born when Garnait son of Foth ruled the Cruthin and extended his rule over the kings of Strath-Clòta.’

Fidelma could not help smiling at the fierce pride in the girl’s voice.

‘But not all Picts are Christian,’ Eadulf observed slyly.

‘And certainly not all Saxons are Christian,’ responded Gwid sharply.

‘True. But you were trained in Ireland, weren’t you?’

‘I studied firstly in the abbey of Iona but then crossed to Ireland to study at Emly before finally returning to Iona. It was at Emly that I studied under Sister Étain, as she then was.’

‘So?’ Fidelma leant forward now. ‘How long did you study with Étain?’

‘Only three months. She was teaching philosophy in the faculty of Rodan the Wise. Then she heard from her own mother house of Kildare that the Abbess Ita had died and on hastening back to Kildare she was elected as head of the house. After Étain became Mother Abbess of Kildare, I saw her only once.’

‘When was that?’ Eadulf asked.

‘When I had finished my studies with Rodan and was passing on my way back to Bangor, to get ship to Iona. I sought hospitality at Kildare.’

‘How were you chosen to become secretary to Abbess Étain during this debate?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘I was chosen because Abbess Étain knew of my skills as an interpreter, for I was a prisoner of the Northumbrians for five years, until Finán of Lindisfarne had me freed and sent back to my homeland. Also I am able to construe the Greek of the writings of the Gospels without difficulty. For these reasons, Étain chose me.’

‘I did not ask why, I asked how.’

‘I have no idea. I was waiting for the ship at Bangor when a message reached me asking me to attend the assembly here and serve in the capacity of secretary to Étain. This I agreed to do most willingly. I sailed for Iona the day after and there, of course, I met with you, Sister Fidelma. Brother Taran was organising a mission to Northumbria and, as you know, we both found ourselves, with others of the brethren of Columba, journeying to this place together.’

Sister Fidelma inclined her head in agreement at Gwid’s interpretation of events.

‘And when was the last time you saw the Abbess Etain alive?’ she asked.

Sister Gwid frowned thoughtfully as she considered the answer to the question.

‘As soon as the brethren had concluded the midday meal, the prandium, an hour after the midday Angelus. The abbess, who had eaten with the Abbess Hilda and Bishop Colmán, asked me to accompany her to her cubiculum.’

‘So that was after you had the quarrel with her?’ Fidelma said quickly.

‘I said that it was no quarrel,’ Gwid snapped defensively. ‘And Étain did not keep her temper long. She was a kind woman.’

‘For what purpose did she ask you to attend her after the midday meal?’ queried Eadulf.

‘To discuss the manner of the debate that afternoon,’ replied Gwid. ‘As you know, Étain was scheduled to open the proceedings on behalf of the church of Columba. She wanted to discuss her speech with me, the way she could use quotations from the apostles to appeal to the Saxons. Her Greek was sometimes not of the best.’

‘How long were you with her?’ Fidelma asked.

‘An hour. No more than an hour. We spoke about the detail of her arguments with respect to the references from the Gospels. I stood ready to translate should there be doubt about the quotations she chose.’

‘How did she seem to you when you left her?’ Eadulf asked, rubbing the tip of his nose with his forefinger.

Gwid frowned.

‘I do not follow.’

‘Was she apprehensive? Was she relaxed? How did she seem?’

‘She seemed relaxed enough. Obviously she was preoccupied with her work but no more preoccupied than I have seen her when preparing for one of her tutorials at Emly.’

‘She expressed no alarm? No one had threatened her since she had been here?’

‘Ah, you mean a threat from one of the Roman faction? She told me that once or twice she had been insulted by Roman priests. Athelnoth, for example. But he—’

Gwid suddenly bit her lip.

Fidelma’s eyes sparkled immediately.

‘You were going to say something, sister?’ Her voice was quiet but insistent.

Gwid grimaced awkwardly.

‘It is nothing. Something personal and irrelevant.’

Eadulf scowled.

‘We will judge what is irrelevant, sister. What were you going to say?’

‘Athelnoth was very antagonistic to Etain.’

‘Because?’ prompted Fidelma, sensing the woman’s extreme reluctance to make herself clear.

‘It is not seemly that I should speak of the dead abbess in this manner.’

Eadulf gave a bark of exasperation.

‘You have not spoken in any manner as yet. What is not seemly?’

‘We know that Athelnoth is not only pro-Roman but he views Northumbrians as superior to all people,’ Fidelma remarked, remembering what Étain had told her on her first night at Streoneshalh.

Gwid bit her lip again, colouring slightly.

‘The antagonism was one of personal anger rather than one of theological conflict.’

Fidelma was perplexed.

‘You will have to explain this. What do you mean by “personal anger”?’

‘I believe that Athelnoth made advances to the Abbess Étain. Advances of an amorous nature.’

There was a brief silence.

Sister Fidelma’s lips puckered into a long, silent whistle. Étain was an attractive woman, Fidelma had long realised that fact, and Étain was no celibate. She was a woman appreciative of manly attraction. Indeed, Fidelma had placed in the dim recess of her memory what Étain had told her when they had met, of her wish to remarry and resign from the abbacy of Kildare.

Eadulf was shaking his head in surprise.

‘Are you sure of this, Sister Gwid?’

The Pictish religieuse raised her broad shoulders and let them fall in a gesture that was one of part indecision and part resignation.

‘I cannot say that I am sure. All I know is that Étain disliked him intensely and said to me that under some circumstances she could accept some of the new teachings of Rome.’

‘What do you think she meant by that?’

‘I believe she was referring to the teachings on celibacy, brother,’ responded Gwid with some coyness.

‘Did you know, then, Abbess Étain was to announce her resignation as abbess of Kildare after this assembly?’ Fidelma asked suddenly. ‘Did you know she contemplated taking a husband—?’

‘When did Étain make this comment about celibacy?’ Eadulf interrupted.

Fidelma bit her lip in irritation for Eadulf had cut off the spontaneity that she had hoped for in Gwid’s reply. The Pictish sister stirred uneasily.

‘We were talking about how she would respond if the Roman faction brought up the arguments on celibacy. Many of them believe that there should be no mixed houses, and that all the religious, from the brethren to the bishops should remain celibate. It was after this that the abbess made her remark. I did not know that Étain contemplated marriage herself or resigning from the abbacy.’ Gwid frowned. ‘If this is true, it would have been unjust.’

‘Unjust?’

‘Immoral then, immoral that a woman of the abbess’ talent should resign her office to live with a man. Perhaps her death was a form of absolution from an action which would have been vile and sinful.’

Fidelma gazed curiously at her.

‘How do you know that she referred to Athelnoth when she made her remarks? How could you interpret that to mean that the Saxon had made advances to her?’

‘Because Athelnoth disturbed us when we were talking of this matter, requesting to speak alone with Etain. Étain told him that she was busy and he went away. It happened while we were talking of celibacy. She said, so far as I recall, “When a man like that makes advances, I could accept these new teachings of Rome” – or words to that effect.’

Eadulf returned to the questioning.

‘Are you sure she said “when” rather than “if’? Was she implying that Athelnoth had made such advances or was she hypothesising?’ he demanded curtly.

Sister Gwid raised a shoulder and let it fall.

‘I came away with the distinct impression that Athelnoth had already made licentious suggestions to the abbess.’

There was a silence while Fidelma and Eadulf digested the significance of what Gwid had told them.

Fidelma continued after a moment or two of silence.

‘And was there any other person or incident which Étain spoke of in connection with antagonism or dislike from the Roman faction?’

‘Only the subject of Athelnoth was spoken of.’

‘Very well. Thank you, sister. We are sorry to have added to your sorrow.’

The ungainly sister rose and turned for the door.

‘Incidentally – ’

Fidelma’s voice stayed her.

‘– you seemed to indicate that marriage among religious is a vile, sinful practice. What do you think of the controversy of celibacy among the religious?’

Sister Gwid’s mouth tightened grimly.

‘I am in favour of the teaching of the blessed Paul of Tarsus and of Maighnenn, abbot of Kilmainham. Let the sexes not defile each other in the service of the Almighty!’

Eadulf waited until Sister Gwid had left before rounding on Fidelma in annoyance, interrupting her thoughts.

‘If we are working together, sister, you really should not keep information from me.’

Fidelma was about to respond angrily but suddenly realised that Eadulf was right to be annoyed. She had not mentioned Étain’s decision to resign her office to marry. She had not even thought it important and she was not convinced that it was. She sighed under her breath.

‘I am sorry. I was not sure whether Étain’s decision to resign her office was a matter of relevance. Étain only mentioned it to me on the night before her death.’

‘Who was she to marry?’

‘I presume it was someone she met in Ireland. Her intention was to go back to Kildare and resign her office. Then I suppose she would continue to teach in a double house as she did before at Emly.’

‘But you don’t know whom she was to marry?’

‘She did not tell me. What relevance is it here, in Northumbria?’

Eadulf bit his lip and was silent a moment.

‘I find this hard to believe,’ he said suddenly.

Fidelma raised an eyebrow.

‘What in particular?’

‘About Athelnoth. It is reported that he is a haughty man; he seems to believe all foreigners are his inferiors and he is an ardent supporter of Roman rule. Why then would he have developed a passion for Abbess Étain?’

Fidelma was cynical.

‘Was he not a man?’

Eadulf felt a colour on his cheeks.

‘Surely. But even so—’

‘Étain was a very attractive woman,’ Fidelma amplified. ‘Nevertheless, I take your point. But sometimes opposite personalities are attracted to each other.’

‘That is so,’ Eadulf agreed. ‘You have known Sister Gwid for a while. Can we trust her as an accurate observer? Would she have misinterpreted what Étain said or this business with Athelnoth?’

‘She is an awkward girl. One who is intent to please her superiors. But her gawky limbs hide an astute brain. Indeed, I found her almost a pedant on matters of detail. I think we may trust her word.’

‘Then I think we should see this Athelnoth next,’ Eadulf suggested.