Act of Mercy

Chapter Fourteen

‘I don’t understand it,’ Murchad announced, not for the first time, as he scratched the back of his head and stared down at the body. Fidelma had called him down to the cabin without informing anyone else. He looked utterly bewildered. ‘Are you sure that this is Sister Muirgel? I only saw her for a few moments on the day when they all came aboard. Maybe it is another of the Sisters?’

Fidelma shook her head firmly.

‘I saw her only for a few minutes as well when I went into her cabin, but I am certain that this is the same woman. It is certainly none of the other three.’

Murchad heaved a frustrated sigh.

‘It seems, then, that this Sister Muirgel has been murdered twice,’ he observed dryly. ‘Once during the first night out when her bloodstained robe was found but not her body, and once just now when someone stabbed her and cut her throat. What can it mean?’

‘It means that Sister Muirgel initially wanted us to believe that she was dead … whereas in reality she was still aboard, hiding somewhere … or being hidden by someone. Remember what Wenbrit said about the missing food? I suspected immediately. That was why I wanted another search. Muirgel was faking it. Yet there is no sign of the knife.’

‘But why did Muirgel want us to believe that she had been stabbed or swept overboard in the storm?’ asked Murchad. ‘Why was the robe planted so that we would then immediately suspect that she had been murdered?’

Fidelma glanced down at the crucifix she was holding in her hand. It was the one which Muirgel had been holding. Fidelma had almost forgotten it during the last few minutes while she tried to seek an explanation for the mystery.

‘What’s that?’ enquired the captain, noticing Fidelma studying it.

‘Her crucifix. It must have comforted her during the last few minutes of her life. She was holding it in her hand when she died.’

‘A pious woman,’ Murchad observed, indicating a larger and more ostentatious crucifix still around the dead woman’s neck.

Fidelma gazed down at the crucifix in her hand. It was of an entirely different style to that worn by Muirgel. Albeit smaller, it was of a more tasteful workmanship, and she suddenly realised that this crucifix did not belong to Muirgel. She turned it over in her hand thoughtfully. It was only on the second time of turning it over that she suddenly realised that a name was scratched on it.

‘Hold the lamp nearer,’ she instructed Murchad.

He did so.

The lines of the marks were faint but the name was easily discernible. Canair.

Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.

‘Did you ever meet this Sister Canair?’ she asked Murchad.

‘I never saw her. The passage money, like your own, was negotiated by the Abbey of St Declan before the pilgrims arrived. I knew the names of the pilgrims only and they had to tally with the number booked for the passage. Eleven passage fares were paid, but only ten people came on board plus yourself. I was told that this Sister Canair, who was leading the pilgrims, had not arrived at Ardmore and, as we had to sail with the tide …’ He made a dismissive gesture with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘What can we do now?’

Fidelma hesitated a moment or so before making up her mind.

‘I will continue as before, but now we have a body to prove the crime. Initially it seems that some things might begin to make sense. For example, it explains why Brother Guss, who claimed to be in love with Muirgel, was not distraught with grief when we all thought she had been swept overboard. He obviously knew that she was still alive. However, my suspicions as to who the culprit is have to be altered. I am afraid that I am no nearer solving this mystery than I was before. There are still many more questions to be asked.’

Fidelma looked at the captain.

‘Everyone is still at breakfast, I suppose? Will you fetch Brother Tola and Brother Guss here? Do not allow them to come into the cabin until I ask them. Oh, and can you spare one of your sailors to come down here? I think we shall need to put a guard on this cabin.’

Murchad went off without further comment. After a short while, there was a tap on the door. A ruddy-faced sailor put his head around it. ‘My name is Drogon, lady. The captain says you want someone down here.’

‘I do. Stand outside and make sure no one comes into this cabin unless I say.’

Drogon raised his fist to his brow in salute and withdrew. A moment or two later, she heard Brother Tola’s querulous tones outside demanding to know why he had been summoned. Fidelma went to the door.

‘Come in, Brother Tola,’ she ordered curtly. Then, seeing Brother Guss behind him, she added: ‘Wait there. I will speak with you in a moment.’

Brother Tola came in with a frown.

‘Well, what now?’ he demanded, looking around him in distaste.

Fidelma went to the bunk and raised the lantern over the dead body.

Brother Tola let out a gasp and took a step nearer.

‘Who is this, Brother Tola?’ Fidelma asked, her eyes not leaving his face.

An expression of utter amazement crossed it and he bent forward shaking his head.

‘It is Sister Muirgel,’ he whispered. ‘What does this mean? I thought she had been swept overboard.’

There was no questioning the genuineness of his surprise.

‘Return to the others, Tola,’ Fidelma instructed quietly, ‘and do not say anything about this until I come along, which will be shortly. Tell Brother Guss to come in as you leave.’

Shaking his head a little, the shocked religieux left. Fidelma was disappointed. She had been almost counting on some sign that Tola was not exactly astonished to see the body of Muirgel. She was certain that he was not that good an actor. He was as bewildered at the reappearance of Muirgel as she was. There was a cough and the young monk entered.

Again, Fidelma simply held the lantern high and watched his face.

‘Who is this, Brother Guss?’

The young man’s face went white, drained of blood and he staggered back. Fidelma thought he was going to faint for a moment. His hands went to his face and he emitted a heartrending groan.

‘Muirgel! Oh my God, Muirgel!’ He started to rock back and forth on his heels.

Fidelma hung up the lantern and pushed him gently into a chair.

‘You have some explaining to do, Brother Guss. You knew that Sister Muirgel was still alive when I questioned you yesterday. You did not show this grief when we all presumed her to be washed overboard. Where has she been hiding and why?’

‘I loved Muirgel,’ the youth sobbed quietly.

‘And you knew that she was still alive?’

‘Yes, I knew,’ he confirmed between sobs.

‘Why did she go to such an elaborate charade, pretending that she had been swept overboard?’

‘She feared that she was going to be killed,’ he wept.

Fidelma examined him curiously.

‘Are you saying that she hid herself somewhere on board this ship because she felt in danger of her life?’

The young man nodded, trying to control his grief-stricken sobs.

‘Why did she come aboard ship in the first place if she believed that? Isn’t a ship the last place to find refuge in?’

‘She did not realise that she would be the next victim until after she came aboard. Then it was too late, for we had set sail. So she arranged to hide and I helped her.’

‘The next victim?’ Fidelma asked abruptly, picking up on the word.

‘Sister Canair had been killed before we came aboard.’

‘Canair?’ Fidelma’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you telling me that when Sister Muirgel and yourself came aboard this ship, you both knew that Sister Canair was dead?’

‘It is a long story, Sister,’ Brother Guss gulped, having managed to get his emotions under control.

‘Then let us begin it. What was the purpose of Sister Muirgel hiding in the ship and not remaining in her cabin?’

‘The idea was to hide from the murderer, and then I would smuggle her off at our first landing-place. That was to be the island of Ushant. We hoped to land there under the cover of darkness and remain in hiding there until after the ship sailed again, taking the murderer with it.’

‘A curious plan. Why not simply take your story to the captain? If you knew that a murderer was on board and attempting to kill …’

‘It was Muirgel’s idea. She felt that no one would believe her. They will have to now.’ The young Brother shuddered in deep distress.

‘So the murderer was on board. Did you know their identity?’

Guss shook his head sadly.

‘I did not know, not for sure. Muirgel knew but refused to tell me. She wanted to protect me. However, I can guess who it was.’

The youth was still suffering from deep emotional shock for he spoke as if he were a somnambulist, slowly and deliberately, his eyes unfocused.

In other circumstances Fidelma would have tended to him, given him a strong drink, but she needed information and she needed it quickly. Reaching into her habit, she pulled out the small silver crosswhich Sister Muirgel had been clutching in her hand and held it up before his eyes.

‘Do you recognise this?’ she demanded.

Guss gave an hysterical laugh.

‘It belonged to Sister Canair.’

‘How do you know that Canair is dead? Or is that something else that only Muirgel knew for certain?’

‘I saw her body. We saw it together.’

‘Are you sure that it was Canair?’

‘I am not likely to forget the sight of that corpse.’

‘When was this?’

‘It was the night before we came on board ship.’

‘At the Abbey of Ardmore?’

‘Not at the abbey. Muirgel and I did not stay there all that night.’

Fidelma was almost beyond being surprised by the contrary turns to the story.

‘I thought that your entire party stayed at the Abbey.’

‘Our company arrived at the Abbey during the late afternoon. Prior to our arrival, Sister Canair had told us that she was going to visit someone nearby and left us before we reached the Abbey. She said that she would join us later. If she arrived too late, she said that she would simply meet us on the quay at dawn. The Abbot had already booked our passage on The Barnacle Goose so there was nothing to be done but meet and go on board.’

‘I see. But Sister Canair did not turn up on the quay the next morning, did she?’

‘No. She was dead by then.’

‘So when did you know that she was dead?’

‘We had arrived at the Abbey, as I say. Most of our company was exhausted and retired to their beds. Muirgel whispered to me that she was going for a walk before retiring. She told me to meet her outside the Abbey gates and come without being seen. Crella was dogging her the whole time, getting on her nerves. She said she wanted to be alone with me. I told you — we were in love.’

‘Go on,’ prompted Fidelma when he paused. ‘Did you meet her outside?’

‘I did. She was in good humour and … and a very wicked humour, too. She told me that there was a tavern at the bottom of the hill and we could spend the night there without anyone finding us or interfering.’

‘Did you agree to that?’

‘Of course.’

‘And you spent the night at this inn?’

‘Some of it.’

‘And Sister Canair? Where does she come into this story?’

Brother Guss took in a deep breath and expelled it as a long sigh. ‘We … after we … sometime after we were in bed — in the tavern, that is — we heard the sound of scuffling in the next room. We did not think anything of it. Then there was a sort of cry and we heard someone hurrying down the corridor. We would not have taken any notice except we heard moaning coming from the next room.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Out of curiosity Muirgel went to the door and listened for a moment. Then she looked out into the corridor. The door of the next room was slightly ajar and a candle was flickering inside. She went in to see if she could help, for someone was obviously in pain.’

The young man came to a halt. His mouth appeared to have gone dry and Fidelma helped him to some water from a jug. After a pause he continued.

‘Muirgel came hurrying back to me. She was shocked and upset. She whispered: “It’s Sister Canair!” I went into the room and saw Canair lying on the bed; she had been stabbed several times in the chest, around the heart. Then it seemed her throat had been cut.’

Fidelma’s eyes narrowed.

‘That was surely indicative of a frenzied attack,’ she commented.

Brother Guss did not respond.

Fidelma prompted him again.

‘Yet you say that she was still alive? You said you heard her moaning?’

‘Her dying breaths, so it turned out,’ the young man replied. ‘She was dead by the time I went into the room. I covered her body with the blanket from the bed and blew out the candle. Then I went back to Muirgel.’

‘Was she dead when Muirgel entered the room? Did Canair say anything before she died?’

Brother Guss shook his head.

‘Muirgel saw the wounds and panicked. She did not check and even if she had, the woman was already beyond uttering any intelligible sound.’

‘Was there a sign of the weapon that inflicted the wounds?’

‘I did not see a weapon, but then I was too shaken to investigate. We sat a long time discussing what we should do. It was Muirgel’s idea that we simply leave the tavern and return to the Abbey, and pretend that we had been there all night.’

‘But the tavernkeeper would have given evidence that you had been there.’

‘We didn’t think of that.’

‘Why didn’t you raise the alarm? Perhaps the murderer could have been discovered.’

‘Because it would have meant revealing that we had been in the next room. Our presence would have been made known to the murderer, our journey would have had to be cancelled. There were all manner of complications.’

He looked shamefaced.

‘It seems silly and selfish now, I agree, but it did not seem so to us at the time; not when we sat in the room next to that awful corpse. You will no doubt judge us harshly, for it is easy to be logical in the day and far away from the event.’

‘Time to judge when the facts are clear. Go on.’

‘We were back at the Abbey before dawn.’

‘You were not worried that the tavernkeeper would raise the alarm and, because you had fled, you might be implicated in the murder?’

‘We left money for our lodgings. We ensured that the door of Canair’s room was shut and hoped it would be well after dawn when her body was discovered. We believed everyone was still asleep but, as we were leaving, we saw the tavernkeeper loading his cart by torchlight outside. He did not see us. We hurried back to the Abbey, and took our seats in the refectory, so that when other members of our party appeared, they did not question that we had spent the night there.’

Fidelma stroked the side of her nose with her forefinger, pondering matters. It was such a strange story that she had no doubt that the young man spoke the truth.

‘And was everyone else at the Abbey, everyone in your party?’

‘Yes, they were.’

‘No one suspected that you had not spent the night there?’

Brother Guss shook his head but added, ‘I think Crella was suspicious. She kept giving us dirty looks.’

‘So Canair did not turn up and the two of you told no one your story and then you all came on board.’

Brother Guss made an affirmative gesture.

‘I thought everything was all right. Muirgel had taken charge and allotted the cabins as I told you before. She took one for herself in the hope that we might get together later. But even before we sailed, Muirgel called me into her cabin. She was pale and trembling, almost out of her mind with fear.’

‘And she told you why?’

‘She said that she knew Canair’s murderer was on board.’ He pointed to the cross Fidelma still held in her hand. ‘She saw someone wearing that cross. It was Canair’s cross and she was never without it. She once told Muirgel it was a gift from her mother. Muirgel swore that Canair was wearing it when she left us all to visit her friends. It could only have been taken afterwards from her body by the person who killed her.’

‘But that was surely not enough to frighten Sister Muirgel. She obviously recognised the person with the crucifix. She could have gone to the captain and told him everything.’

‘No! I told you — she was very frightened. She said she knew why Canair had been killed, and that she would be the next victim.’

‘Did you seek further explanation from her?’

‘I tried. When I asked her how she knew, she quoted a verse from the Bible.’

‘What verse?’ Fidelma asked quickly. ‘Can you remember?’

‘The words were something like this:

‘Wear me as a seal upon your heart,

As a seal upon your arm;

For love is strong as death,

Jealousy cruel as the grave;

It blazes up like blazing fire,

Fiercer than any flame.’

Fidelma was reflective.

‘Did she explain what she meant by it?’

Brother Guss flushed.

‘Muirgel had … had known men before me; I’ll not deny it. She told me that she and Canair had once been in love with the same man. Then she would say no more.’

‘In love with the same man? “Jealousy cruel as the grave”?’ Fidelma sighed. ‘There is a glimmer of sense here but not much. Are you sure that she told you nothing further?’

‘Just that she knew that the person who killed Canair would kill her before the voyage was done.’

‘The motive being jealousy?’

‘That’s right. She told me that she was going to lock herself in her cabin all day, pretending to be seasick.’

‘Then I came on board and young Wenbrit thought I should share her cabin,’ said Fidelma.

‘Yes — she protested at your presence, but even though you were removed she still felt vulnerable. That was when she evolved this plan to hide and leave her bloodstained robe in her cabin. She wanted people to think that murder had already taken place so that they would not search for her.’

‘She was going to pretend to be swept overboard in the storm?’

‘No. We did not know a storm would descend on us. She was simply going to leave a bloodstained robe to make it look as though she had been stabbed. The idea was to get people to think that she had been killed and thrown overboard during the night. The storm merely confused matters. People thought she had been washed overboard during the night. We then cursed ourselves for leaving the robe because it complicated matters.’

‘Indeed; had you not left the robe to be found, we would have accepted that Muirgel had been the victim of an accident.’ Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘And you, obviously, supplied the blood for the robe.’

Brother Guss’s right hand went automatically to his left arm and then he shrugged.

‘I cut my arm to supply the blood for the robe,’ he confirmed. ‘I did not know you had already seen the robe. I wondered why you were so interested in the fact that my arm was hurt. I had to improvise.’

‘That certainly made me suspicious of your involvement in her so-called death. Where did she hide? The mate scoured the ship without a trace being found.’

‘Simple enough. She hid under my bunk. Brother Tola is a sound sleeper. Not even the trumpets announcing the Second Coming would awake him. She had to get out now and then for obvious reasons, but did so during the night or just at dawn before anyone stirred. It was very simple. Who would think of looking under my bunk?’

‘And this morning?’

‘She rose early and felt that it would be safe to go back to her own cabin. No one, she told me, would think of looking there now that she was officially dead. I was going to join her after breakfast.’

‘What do you think happened then?’

‘She was seen and murdered by the same person who killed Sister Canair.’

‘Very well. You implied you knew who killed her, or rather, whom you suspected of killing her. Are you referring to the same person on whom you put the blame during our talk yesterday?’

‘Crella? Yes, I believe that it was she who came and muttered outside Muirgel’s door that night. It was Crella who was spying onus. She was jealous of Canair and she was jealous of Muirgel, although she pretended to love Muirgel as her friend.’

‘But you did say that Muirgel did not reveal the name of the person whom she suspected? She did not tell you the name of the person she had seen with Canair’s cross? It is only your suspicion that it was Sister Crella?’

‘I told you, I think-’

‘I want facts,’ Fidelma cut in sharply, ‘not your suspicions. Did Muirgel say who she was afraid of?’

The youth shook his head.

‘She did not,’ he admitted.

Fidelma rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

‘We cannot act on suspicion, Guss. Unless you can give me something more substantial, then …’ She let the sentence hang in the air.

‘Then you are going to let Crella escape?’ Brother Guss accused angrily.

‘My concern is to discover the truth.’

The youth stared belligerently at her for a moment and then his features dissolved into a mask of misery.

‘I loved her! I would have done anything for her. Now I am afraid for my own life, for Crella must know now that I was her lover and tried to hide Muirgel. How far does her jealousy spread?’

Fidelma eyed the young man sympathetically.

‘We shall be wary, Brother Guss. In the meantime, take comfort from the thought that you loved Muirgel and if, as you say, she loved you in return, then you were twice blessed. Remember the Song of Solomon, for that is the verse which Muirgel was quoting to you. The next verse is:

‘Many waters cannot quench love;

No flood can sweep it away.’

Brother Guss could not bring himself to rejoin his companions but had returned to his own cabin to grieve alone. Fidelma joined Murchad outside the door where he was standing with the sailor named Drogon.

‘Remain on watch here, Drogon, and do not let anyone in without my permission or that of Murchad,’ she instructed him. She turned to the captain. ‘Is everyone still gathered at breakfast?’

He nodded affirmatively.

‘What will you say to them?’ he asked.

‘I shall tell them the truth. Our murderer knows the truth, so why not the others? The sooner all is revealed, the sooner the murderer may make a slip.’

Murchad followed Fidelma into the mess deck where Wenbrit was clearing the breakfast remains. The pilgrims sat in silence. Brother Tola had rejoined them and though he refused to tell them what was amiss, they all realised that something had happened. When Fidelma entered and strode to the head of the table, only Cian attempted to acknowledge her. She did not respond. Everyone fixed their eyes on her, trying to guess what news she was bringing them.

Even young Wenbrit realised something was afoot and halted, hands still filled with dirty plates.

‘We have found the body of Sister Muirgel,’ announced Fidelma.

There were several reactions as they digested the statement.

Sister Crella half-rose and then sat down again with a low moan of anguish. Sister Gorman sniggered agitatedly.

It was Brother Tola, now able to speak having had to contain himself until she arrived, who asked the first question.

‘Are you telling us that she was on board all this time? That she had not fallen overboard?’

‘I am.’

‘I don’t understand. How could she have drowned without falling overboard?’ demanded Sister Ainder.

Fidelma fixed her with a cold smile.

‘That is simple: she did not drown. She had her throat cut within the last half an hour.’

Sister Crella’s moan rose to a sharp wail.

Fidelma quickly glanced round the table. Sister Crella seemed to be the one most visibly shaken, although everyone else seemed to register some emotion.

‘Are you sure?’ It was Cian who asked the question.

‘Sure about what?’ she demanded.

Cian shifted uneasily under her sharp gaze.

‘Sure that it is Sister Muirgel of whom we speak,’ he explained lamely. ‘First we are told she is dead, then alive and now dead. Is it she or not?’

Fidelma looked across the cabin to Brother Tola.

‘It is Sister Muirgel,’ Tola confirmed quietly. ‘I identified the body. So did Brother Guss …’ He glanced round, realising for the first time that Guss had not returned.

Fidelma guessed the question he was about to form.

‘Brother Guss has gone to his cabin to lie down,’ she told them all. ‘He was very shocked as well.’

There was no sound from those at the table except Sister Crella’s sobbing.

‘Sister Muirgel met her killer within the last hour,’ Fidelma resumed. ‘Can you all account for your movements during that time?’

‘What?’ Sister Gorman was all a-flutter.

‘Are you claiming it is one of us?’

Fidelma looked at them each in turn.

‘It is certainly not one of the crew!’ She smiled thinly. ‘Sister Muirgel knew her killer. In fact, she had engineered her disappearance in order to avoid her killer. She hid during the day and emerged to eat and exercise during the night or early morning.’ As she spoke, Fidelma suddenly remembered something. ‘In fact, the morning after she was supposed to have been swept overboard, when that thick mist enveloped the ship, I encountered her on deck and did not recognise her. We may assume, Wenbrit, that your missing food was consumed by her.’

The boy was looking at her in amazement.

‘You are saying that Sister Muirgel arranged for us to think that she had fallen overboard?’ Sister Ainder was still having problems coming to terms with what she had been told. ‘Why?’

‘She wanted to mislead her killer.’

Brother Tola made a sardonic barking laugh, expressing his disbelief.

‘Where, in God’s name, could she have hidden on this ship? There is nowhere.’

‘You’ll forgive me if I disagree with you.’ Fidelma felt tempted to tell him that Muirgel had spent the first night within a yard or so of him while he slept. ‘The more important matter is that Sister Muirgel’s murderer is a member of your company. Where were each of you during this last hour?’

They looked at each other suspiciously.

Brother Tola acted as their spokesman.

‘We sat down to breakfast all at the same time. That was about an hour ago.’

It turned out that everyone claimed to be in their cabins before that, with the exception of Sister Ainder, who accounted for her absence by stating she was in the defectora, and Cian, who said he was exercising on deck.

‘Were you in your cabin, Brother Bairne?’ enquired Fidelma.

‘I was.’

‘It is next to Muirgel’s cabin. Did you hear anything?’

‘Are you accusing me?’ stormed the young man, his face reddening. ‘You might have to prove such an accusation.’

‘If I made such an accusation I would do so when I am sure of proving it,’ replied Fidelma confidently. ‘I shall want to speak with each of you individually again.’

‘By what right?’ snapped Sister Ainder indignantly. ‘This matter is ridiculous. People being washed overboard when they are not. Accidents that turn to murders. Corpses that are not corpses!’

‘You already know my right and authority for this investigation,’ Fidelma interrupted her tirade.

Brother Tola glanced at Murchad.

‘I presume that Fidelma still acts with your approval, Captain?’

‘I have appointed Fidelma of Cashel in full charge of the matter,’ Murchad said heavily. ‘That is final.’