Act of Mercy

Chapter Fifteen

They had sighted the western coast of Armorica — that land which was now being called ‘Little Britain’.

Murchad announced, ‘Within a few hours we shall be sighting the island of Ushant, which is at its western extremity.’

Fidelma had never been to Armorica but knew that within the last two centuries, tens of thousands of Britons had been driven out of their lands by the expansion of the Angles and Saxons, and most had found a new home among the Armoricans. Many others had found refuge in the north-west of Iberia which had come to be named Galicia, the land to which they were sailing; others still had settled in the Five Kingdoms of Eireann, although not in such large numbers as elsewhere. But it was in Armorica, among people who shared a similar language and culture, that the refugees from Britain had begun to change the political map of the country so that the land was renamed ‘Little Britain’.

‘We’ll take on water at Ushant and some fresh food,’ continued Murchad. ‘We are under the halfway mark on our journey but, after this, there will be no other opportunity for you to stretch your legs on firm ground and to have a hot meal and a bath.’

Fidelma had acknowledged the information absently. She was watching her fellow pilgrims taking their ease on the main deck. She felt confused. One of them was a murderer and she had no idea which one she should even start suspecting! She had not revealed Brother Guss’s secret, that Sister Canair was also dead. She hoped, by withholding the information, that someone would eventually reveal knowledge which might indicate that they also knew — and that knowledge would identify them as the murderer. The accusation against Sister Crella certainly could not be substantiated as yet.

Brother Tola had taken up his usual position on deck, seated with his back against the water butt near the main mast reading his Missal. Brothers Dathal and Adamrae were arm in arm, strolling along the deck incongruously, or so it seemed to Fidelma, laughing together at a shared joke. The tall figure of Sister Ainder was seated on the starboard side lecturing Brother Bairne. Sister Crella was pacing thedeck, arms folded around her, still agitated and muttering to herself. Fidelma looked round for Brother Guss but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Sister Gorman.

‘Well, Fidelma?’ Cian appeared at her side, interrupting her thoughts. His voice was mocking. ‘From the reputation you have gathered to yourself these last few years, I would have thought that the mystery of Sister Muirgel would have been solved by now.’

She found it hard to believe that she had once been so immature as to be in love with this man. Resisting the impulse to utter a sharp rebuke, she recalled that she still needed information from him — and here was an opportunity to obtain it. Instead of reacting, she asked coolly, ‘How long did your affair with Sister Muirgel last?’

Cian blinked rapidly. His supercilious smile broadened.

‘Are you checking up on my affairs now? Why do you want to know about Muirgel?’

‘I am simply pursuing my enquiries into her death.’

Cian studied her phlegmatic expression, then shrugged slightly.

‘If you must know, not very long. Are you sure that you have no personal interest in asking?’

Fidelma chuckled.

‘You flatter yourself, Cian — but then, you always did. Sister Muirgel was murdered by someone she knew. I told you at breakfast.’

‘Are you trying to implicate me?’ demanded Cian. ‘Has your hurt pride, after all these years, turned your mind so that you accuse me? That is utterly ridiculous!’

‘Why should it be ridiculous? Don’t lovers kill each other?’ she asked innocently.

‘My affair with Muirgel was over long before we set out on this journey.’

‘Long is an abstract term.’

‘Well, a week or so prior to the journey.’

‘Did you walk out on her without a word, or this time did you have sufficient courage to tell her face to face?’ she added brutally.

Cian coloured hotly.

‘As a matter of fact, it was she who walked out on me — and, yes, she did tell me. Incredible as it may seem, she told me that she was in love with someone else — that young idiot, Brother Guss.’

Here was confirmation that some of Guss’s story was truthful, in spite of Crella’s denial that her friend was having an affair with him.

‘Knowing you, it was not something you would meekly accept, Cian. You have too much vanity. You would have protested.’

Cian’s hearty chuckle took Fidelma by surprise.

‘If you must know, I was very relieved by her confession, because I was about to end the relationship myself.’

She did not believe him. ‘I find it hard to credit that you would let a young boy like Guss take over from you without your pride being wounded.’

‘If you want the gory details, Canair and I had been lovers for a short while. I was trying to ditch Muirgel. Thankfully, she made it easy for me.’ It was plain by his boastful attitude that Cian was not lying.

‘When did you become Canair’s lover?’

‘Oh, so you want details of that as well! Really, Fidelma, when did you become a voyeur?’

She had to restrain herself from slapping his sneering face.

‘Let me remind you,’ she said icily, ‘that I am a dalaigh investigating a murder.’

‘A dalaigh miles from our homeland, on board a pilgrim ship,’ Cian said mockingly. ‘You have no rights to pry into my life, dalaigh.’

‘I have every right. So you had affairs with Muirgel and Canair? I suppose, knowing your character, you dallied with most of the young women at Moville.’

‘Jealous, are we?’ Cian sneered. ‘You were always possessive and jealous, Fidelma of Cashel. Don’t disguise your prying as being part of your duty. I had enough of your sulky ways when you were younger.’

‘I am not interested in your foolish pride, Cian. I am only interested in knowledge. I need to find Muirgel’s killer.’

She had become aware that their voices were raised and they had been shouting at each other. Luckily the sound of the wind and sea seemed to have disguised their words, although Murchad, standing nearby at the steering oar, looked studiously out to sea as if embarrassed. He must have heard their exchange.

Fidelma suddenly noticed that the young, naive Sister Gorman had come unnoticed on deck and was standing nearby, watching them with an expression of intense curiosity. She was picking at a shawl that she had draped over her shoulders to protect her from the chilly winds. When Fidelma caught her eye, she giggled and began to chant.

‘My beloved is fair and ruddy

A paragon among ten thousand.

His head is gold, finest gold,

His locks are like palm fronds.

His eyes are like doves beside brooks of water,

Splashed by the milky water

As they sit where it is drawn …’

Cian uttered a suppressed exclamation of disgust and turned down the companionway, brushing by the girl as he left Fidelma. Sister Gorman uttered a shrill laugh.

Gorman was a strange little thing, Fidelma thought. She seemed able to quote entire sections of Holy Scripture effortlessly. What was it that she had been quoting just then, something from the Song of Solomon? Sister Gorman glanced up and her eyes met Fidelma’s once more. She smiled again — a curious smile that had no humour to it, only a movement of the facial muscles. Then she turned and moved away.

‘Sister Gorman!’ Fidelma had promised herself to spend some time with the young girl for she was clearly highly-strung and no one seemed to be concerned for her. The girl watched suspiciously as Fidelma came up. ‘I hope you are not still blaming yourself for what has happened to Sister Muirgel?’

The girl’s apprehensive expression deepened.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you did tell me, when we thought she had fallen overboard, that you felt guilty because you cursed her.’

‘That!’ Gorman pouted in a gesture of dismissal. ‘I was just being silly. Of course my curse did not kill her. That’s been proved by her death now. If my curse had killed her, she would not have been alive these past two days.’

Fidelma raised her eyes a little at the apparent callousness of the girl’s tone. But then Gorman displayed curious swings of temperament.

‘As you know,’ Fidelma passed on hurriedly, ‘I was asking where everyone was immediately before sitting down to breakfast. I think you said you were in your cabin?’

‘I was.’ The reply came curtly.

‘And you were there with Sister Ainder who shares that cabin?’

‘She went out for a while.’

‘Ah yes; so she said.’

‘Muirgel is dead. You are wasting your time asking these questions,’ snapped Gorman.

Fidelma blinked at her rude tone.

‘It is my duty to do so,’ she ventured, and then tried to change the conversation to put the young girl at her ease. ‘I notice you like chanting songs from the Scriptures.’

‘Everything is contained in the holy words,’ replied Gorman,almost arrogantly. ‘Everything.’ She suddenly stared unblinkingly into Fidelma’s eyes and her features formed once more into that eerie smile.

‘There can be no remedy for your sore,

The new skin cannot grow.

All your lovers have forgotten you;

They look for you no longer.

I have struck you down.’

Fidelma shivered in spite of herself.

‘I don’t understand …’

Gorman actually stamped a foot.

‘Jeremiah. Surely you know the Scriptures? It is a suitable epitaph for Muirgel.’

At that, she turned away and hurried past the tall figure of Sister Ainder. The latter moved towards her as if to speak with her, but the girl pushed by her, causing the sharp-faced woman to give an exclamation of annoyance as the girl almost made her lose her balance.

‘Is there anything wrong with Sister Gorman?’ she called to Fidelma.

‘I think she is in need of a friend to counsel her,’ replied Fidelma.

Sister Ainder actually smiled.

‘You do not have to tell me that. She has always kept to herself, even talking to herself at times as though she needs no other companion. But then, they say that true saints see and speak to angels. I would not condemn her for she might have more of the Faith then the rest of us put together.’

Fidelma was sceptical.

‘I think she is just a troubled soul.’

‘Yet madness can be a gift from God, so perhaps she is to be blessed.’

‘Do you think that she is mad?’

‘If not mad, then a little eccentric, eh? Look, there she is again, muttering her imprecations and curses.’

Sister Ainder pursed her lips and apparently did not wish to pursue the topic of conversation, for she changed the subject, remarking: ‘It seems that for a pilgrimage of religieux on our way to a Holy Shrine there is one thing missing on this voyage.’

‘Which is?’ asked Fidelma cautiously.

‘Religion itself. I fear that apart from a few exceptions, God is not with those on this voyage.’

‘How do you judge that?’

Sister Ainder’s bright eyes bore into Fidelma.

‘There was certainly no religion in the hand that killed Sister Muirgel and she, in turn, was certainly no religieuse. That young woman would have been better off in a bawdy house.’

‘So you disliked Muirgel?’

‘As I have told you before, I really did not know her enough to dislike her. I only disapproved of her loose ways with men. But, as I say, she does not appear to be outrageous company among our band of so-called pilgrims.’

‘I presume you don’t include yourself in the “outrageous company”? Are there any other exceptions?’

‘Brother Tola, of course.’

‘But not me?’ Fidelma smiled.

Sister Ainder looked at her pityingly.

‘You are not a religieuse. Your concern is the law and you are simply a Sister of the Faith by accident.’

Fidelma fought to keep her face impassive. She had not thought it was so obvious. First Brother Tola, and now Sister Ainder felt able to take her to task on her religiosity. Fidelma decided to move the conversation onwards.

‘What of the others of your party then? You don’t consider they should be in religious Orders?’

‘Certainly not. Cian, for instance, is a womaniser, a man without morals or thought for others. There is no caring in him. With his vanity, it would not occur to him that he was hurting anyone. As a warrior he was probably in the right occupation. Fate caused him to seek security in a religious house. It was the wrong decision.’

Then Sister Ainder gestured across the deck of the ship to Dathal and Adamrae.

‘Those young men should be … well!’ Her face was twisted in disapproval.

‘You would condemn them?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Our religion condemns them. Remember the words of Paul to Romans: “Their men in turn, giving up natural relations with women, burnt with lust for one another; males behave indecently with males, and are paid in their own persons the fitting wage of such perversion … Thus, because they have not seen fit to acknowledge God, He has given them up to their own depraved reason”.’

Fidelma pulled a face.

‘We all know that Paul of Tarsus was an ascetic who believed in austerity and rigidity in morals.’

Sister Ainder shook her head in irritation.

‘It is very clear, Sister, that you take no thought to the words God spoke to Moses. Leviticus, eighteen, verse twenty-two: “You shall not lie with a man as with a woman; that is an abomination.” An abomination!’ she repeated in an angry voice.

Fidelma waited a moment or two and then said, ‘Isn’t the basis of our Faith salvation for everyone? Surely we are all sinners and we all need salvation? God did not judge the world, therefore we have no right to judge it. I give you back the words of John’s Gospel: “It was not to judge the world that God sent His Son into the world, but that through Him the world might be saved”.’

Sister Ainder actually chuckled, though sourly.

‘You are indeed a dalaigh, quoting sentences here and there to support your arguments. You are ever a woman of law and yet you can speak about not judging the world?’

‘I don’t judge. I seek the truth — and in truth is accountability.’

Sister Ainder sniffed and made to end the conversation. But she paused and turned back.

‘Brother Bairne is probably the only other person I would save from this ship of fools,’ she added. ‘He has some religious potential but the others, Sister Crella, for example — well, she seems no better than her friend Muirgel. I swear that, in this tiny ship, traversing the waters, we have all seven of the deadly sins that are cursed by the Living God. There is anger, covetousness, there is envy and gluttony, there is lust and pride and sloth.’

Fidelma looked at the strict religieuse with unconcealed amusement.

‘Have you identified all these sins among us?’

Sister Ainder’s features did not soften.

‘You will find that lust features prominently on this ship. Lust is the one sin that seems to be shared among many of our company.’

‘Oh?’ Fidelma smiled softly. ‘Am I supposed to be part of this sin of lust?’

Sister Ainder shook her head.

‘Oh no, Fidelma of Cashel. You are guilty of the worst sin of the seven … for pride is your sin. And pride is the mask of one’s own faults.’

Fidelma found her features hardening slightly. She would have been prepared to chuckle in earnest if any of the other six had been levelled at her by Sister Ainder, but she was not expecting pride. The barb hurt because it was something which had worried Fidelma for a long time. She did have a pride in her abilities, but not a vanity. There was adifference. Yet she was never sure what the difference was. To her, false humility was worse than pride in one’s achievements.

Sister Ainder was smiling complacently, watching the conflict on Fidelma’s features.

‘Proverbs, Sister Fidelma,’ she intoned. ‘Proverbs sixteen, verse eighteen: “Pride comes before disaster and arrogance before a fall”.’

Fidelma flushed with annoyance.

‘And which of the sins do you own up to, Ainder of Moville?’ she demanded testily.

Sister Ainder smiled thinly.

‘I keep all the Lord’s covenants,’ she replied with self-assurance.

Fidelma’s eyebrows arched a little.

‘A person with snot on their nose rejoices to see snot on the nose of another,’ she said brutally.

It was an old rural proverb which Fidelma had once heard a farmer use. It was coarse and strong, but Fidelma felt a sudden anger at the conceit of the woman and she uttered it without a thought.

Sister Ainder gasped in fury at the vulgarity.

Fidelma heard Murchad, who was still standing nearby, snort in mirth. It was a humour he could appreciate.

Yet the moment she had uttered the saying, Fidelma felt contrite and turned to express her regret that she had let anger get the better of her. However, Sister Ainder had already stalked away.

Fidelma paused for a moment and then met Murchad’s eye guiltily. The captain was still grinning; he suppressed a chuckle.

‘I’m sorry, lady, but you were in the right. That creature is the epitome of the very pride which she accused you of.’

Fidelma appreciated his support but continued to feel contrite.

‘Words uttered in anger, whether true or not, are not likely to have an effect, and-’

A cry cut her short. It was not the cry of the lookout, but a shout of alarm. Someone on the main deck, she thought it was Brother Bairne, had shouted some warning. He was pointing forward.

On the for’ard deck of the vessel were two figures. Sister Crella was standing there. A short distance in front of her stood Brother Guss. He was backing away from her, almost in a cringing attitude. The shouted warning from Brother Bairne was because Guss was backing dangerously near the ship’s rail.

The warning cry came too late.

Brother Guss teetered on the edge of the starboard side of the vessel and then fell backwards into the sea with a cry of fear.

Sister Crella stood, apparently reaching forward with both hands outstretched towards the spot where he had fallen overboard.

Murchad bellowed: ‘Man overboard!’

Many of those on deck, including Fidelma, ran to the starboard side. The ship was moving fast and they saw Brother Guss’s head bobbing past at an alarming rate and disappearing aft.

‘Stand by to wear the ship!’ came Murchad’s cry.

The ship’s crew materialised as if by magic and started to haul down the sail while Gurvan and another crew member threw their weight against the oar, turning the ship with what seemed incredible slowness in a wide arc.

Fidelma had run forward, along the main deck to the small for’ard deck.

Sister Crella was still standing there. She was bent forward now, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. She saw Fidelma scrambling towards her. Her features were white, her eyes wide. The shock on her face was plain.

‘He … he fell …’ she began helplessly.

‘What did you say to him?’ Fidelma demanded sharply. ‘What did you say?’

The girl stared at her as if unable to speak.

‘He was backing away from you,’ Fidelma pressed, speaking roughly to shock her into speech. ‘Were you threatening him?’

‘Threatening?’ Sister Crella returned her gaze in bewilderment. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Then what made him back away from you in such fear that he fell overboard?’

‘How do I know?’

‘What did you say to him?’

‘I told him that I knew about the seventh union, that’s all.’

‘What?’ Fidelma was in the dark.

‘You should know,’ retorted Sister Crella, pulling herself together. Her face took on a defiant look. ‘Now leave me alone. They’ll pick him up in a moment and you can ask him yourself.’

Sister Crella pushed her way by Fidelma and went running along the deck.

Fidelma hurried back to Murchad. The crew and the other passengers were still lining the sides of the ship, staring across the water attempting to catch sight of Guss.

‘Can we reach him?’ Fidelma asked breathlessly as she came up to Murchad.

The captain was sombre.

‘I’ m afraid we can’t even see him yet.’

‘What? But he passed us by so closely.’

Murchad’s attitude was morose.

‘Even shortening sail and beginning our turn at once, we would have gone on for a long distance from the spot where he went in. I’ve turned and come back on my wake but I can see no sign of him.’

He glanced up to the mast head where a lookout had been posted.

‘Any sign, Hoel?’ he bellowed up.

The voice came back with a negative.

‘We’ll search as much as we can. The only chance is if he is a strong swimmer.’

Fidelma glanced across to where Brother Bairne was standing surveying the waters anxiously.

‘Do you know if Guss swims well?’ she demanded.

Brother Bairne shook his head.

‘Even a good swimmer in these waters would surely not last long.’

‘I’ll try my best,’ Murchad was saying. ‘The best is all that I can try.’

Fidelma moved to Brother Bairne’s side.

‘When you cried the warning, what was it that you saw?’ she asked softly so that the others would not hear her question.

‘Saw? I shouted a warning because Guss was stumbling too near the edge.’

‘But did you see why he was backing himself into that dangerous position?’

‘I do not think he realised he was.’

Fidelma was impatient.

‘Did you see Sister Crella threatening him?’

Brother Bairne looked shocked.

‘Sister Crella threatening him? Are you serious?’

‘You did notice Sister Crella on the for’ard deck with him?’

‘Of course. They were speaking together and then Brother Guss began to move backwards, a little rapidly, or so I thought. I cried the warning but he stumbled and fell.’ Brother Bairne was examining her with some perplexity.

‘Thank you,’ Fidelma said. ‘I just wanted to make sure of what you had seen, that’s all.’

She walked slowly back to the stern deck, her head bent slightly forward in thought. As the minutes went by, a feeling of depression descended on everyone. It was a full hour later before Murchad called off the search.

‘I am afraid there is nothing that we can do for the poor boy,’ he told Cian, who had again asserted his leadership of the party. ‘I think he went under almost immediately. There is no hope now. I am so sorry.’

Fidelma went below and made her way to Sister Crella’s cabin.

Sister Crella was lying on her back staring up at the deck above. As Fidelma entered, she sat up with a hopeful expression, saw Fidelma’s grim features and her own hardened.

‘Murchad has called off the search for Brother Guss,’ announced Fidelma. ‘There is no hope of finding him alive.’

Sister Crella’s face was immobile.

‘Now perhaps you will tell me what you meant?’ went on Fidelma. Sister Crella’s voice was tight.

‘It should be easy for a dalaigh such as you to know what the seventh union means.’

‘The seventh union?’ Fidelma’s eyes cleared. ‘Do you mean the seventh form of union between man and woman? The law term that means secret sexual relations?’

Sister Crella closed her eyes without replying.

‘Yes, I know the law on the seventh union,’ Fidelma agreed, ‘but there is nothing about it that makes sense in these circumstances. Why did Brother Guss react in the way he did?’

‘I merely told him that I knew how he had been pestering Muirgel.’ Her eyes were bright, her gaze defiant. ‘You see, I think Guss killed her because she would not respond to his advances.’

Fidelma lowered herself on to the chair in the cabin.

‘Pestering? That is an interesting word.’

‘What else would you call it when one person tries to enforce their attentions on another?’ demanded Sister Crella.

‘So you believe that Brother Guss forced his attentions on Sister Muirgel, and that she did not respond to him?’

‘Of course. He was a moonstruck youth — just like Brother Bairne. Muirgel did not want to have anything to do with him. Of that I am sure.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because Muirgel was my friend. I told you before — there were no secrets between us.’

‘Yet Muirgel did not tell you that she feared for her life and had gone into hiding on this ship, did she? If there was no relationship, why did Muirgel ask Guss to help her to hide … even from you?’

Crella stared angrily at Fidelma.

‘Guss has been telling lies about Muirgel.’

‘How do you explain, then, that it was Guss to whom Muirgel turned when she felt threatened?’ insisted Fidelma. ‘That it was Guss who helped to hide her during the last two days?’

‘That spotty-faced youth was saying that he was Muirgel’s lover. That is why I challenged him on the seventh union.’

She suddenly bent down and reached under the bunk, drawing out a long slim knife in one continuous motion, then she stood up and brandished it before her. Fidelma rose quickly to her feet, her mind reacting swiftly, thinking that she would have to defend herself from attack. However, Sister Crella simply stood staring down at the knife for a moment. Then she held it out, hilt towards Fidelma.

‘Here, take it.’

Fidelma was startled.

‘Go on!’ snapped Sister Crella. ‘Take it! You’ll see it has dried blood on it still.’

‘What is it?’

‘The knife that probably killed my poor friend, what else?’

Fidelma took the knife carefully from her grasp. It was true that there were signs of dried blood on the blade. Whether it was, indeed, the murder weapon she did not know. Nor could she prove it was not the weapon. It was a knife usually used to cut meat.

‘Why do you suspect that this is the weapon?’ She phrased her question carefully. ‘How did you come by it?’

‘Brother Guss planted it in my cabin.’ Crella gulped ‘I had gone along to have breakfast. Then you came in and told us of Muirgel’s death. I was returning when I bumped into Guss in the corridor. I did not like the way he was staring at me. He brushed by me and went up on deck. I continued into my cabin. It was then I found the knife.’

Fidelma’s eyes dropped to the bunk; she could not see under it from where she stood.

‘Where was it hidden?’ she asked.

‘Under the bunk.’

‘How did you spot it?’

‘By luck, I suppose.’

‘Luck does not make one’s vision see through solid objects! It could not be seen from any point in this room unless you were down on your knees peering under the bunk.’

Crella was not flustered.

‘I came back with an apple in my hand. When I opened the door, I dropped my apple. It was as I was bending down to pick it up that I saw the knife.’

‘You did not actually see Guss put it there, did you? Your account does not explain why you think he was responsible.’

‘Because we were all at breakfast — with one exception. Brother Guss was not there. You claimed that he was in his cabin, but I saw him coming from his cabin. Guss has been trying to implicate me in Muirgel’s killing. He told everyone that I was the murderer.’ She frowned. ‘He must have told you.’

‘Where did you hear that he had told everyone that you were the murderer?’ demanded Fidelma.

Crella hesitated. ‘It was from Brother Cian. Guss had told him; Cian told me.’

‘What did you do? You had found the knife and Cian told you that Guss was accusing you. What then?’

‘I was so furious I went charging up on deck to confront Guss.’

‘But you left the knife here in your cabin.’

‘How did you know?’

‘Because you did not have it in your hand when you were on deck. A moment ago you reached under your bunk and took it out.’

‘I suppose I did leave it here.’

‘Strange, therefore, that you did not confront him with the weapon. Wouldn’t that be the normal thing to do?’

‘I don’t know. I just wanted him to know that I was wise to his little tale about secret sexual relations with Muirgel. I just meant to warn him that he would not get away with his claims!’

‘And he did not, did he? He was so fearful of you that he backed away from you and fell overboard.’ Sister Crella began to protest but Fidelma went on sternly, ‘A fine ruthless killer was this Brother Guss, who not only killed but planted evidence — and yet, when faced by a woman in full view of everyone, he was so scared that he allowed himself to be literally driven overboard.’

Sister Crella listened to the sarcasm in her voice.

‘He planted the knife and accused me!’

‘Sadly, we cannot now question Brother Guss,’ observed Fidelma dryly. ‘It seems that everything is so conveniently tied up with this death.’

Crella regarded her suspiciously.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Tell me, why are you so sure that Muirgel was not having an affair with Guss? That is something that I still do not understand.’

Crella raised her jaw defensively.

‘You do not believe me?’

‘Did Muirgel have many affairs?’

‘We were both normal young women. We each had our amours.’

‘So she always told you with whom she was having affairs?’

Crella sniffed defensively.

‘Of course.’

‘When was the last time she told you about an affair?’

‘I mentioned it before. She was having an affair with Cian. In fact, I had a brief affair with Cian before I tired of him.’

‘Isn’t the truth rather that Cian dropped you for Muirgel?’

Crella coloured hotly.

‘No one drops me.’

‘Didn’t that make you jealous and angry?’

‘Not enough to kill her! Don’t be ridiculous. We often swapped lovers. We were close friends and cousins, don’t forget.’

‘And you believe that she was still having an affair with Cian and not with Guss?’

‘Not with Guss, but I think she and Cian had some sort of row just before we set out from Moville.’

‘Why are you so sure that she was not having an affair with Guss? In spite of Muirgel’s frankly libertine views?’

‘Because she would have told me,’ Crella said doggedly. ‘Guss is the last person she would have an affair with. He was too serious. It is obvious to me that when Guss became moonstruck on her and she rejected him, he plotted her death and then killed her.’

‘What’s your explanation as to why and how Muirgel hid herself on this ship for a couple of days, trying to lead people into thinking she had been swept overboard?’

‘Maybe it was to escape from Guss’s unwanted attentions.’

‘Then why didn’t she let you in on the secret? I am sorry, Crella, but I have to tell you that the evidence points to the fact that Guss, indeed, was her lover. There is one other matter. How do you explain about Sister Canair?’

Fidelma looked deeply into Crella’s eyes to judge her reaction.

A slight expression of bewilderment could be discerned there.

‘Sister Canair? What about her?’

‘Are you claiming that Guss killed her as well?’

The bewilderment grew and was unfeigned.

‘What makes you think Sister Canair has been killed?’ the girl demanded. ‘You didn’t even meet our company until after we set sail. How do you know anything about Sister Canair?’

Fidelma stood examining the girl for a moment or two and then she smiled briefly.

‘No reason,’ she said, dismissing the subject. ‘No reason at all.’

She turned and left the cabin holding the knife.

Either Sister Crella was telling the truth, or … Fidelma shook her head. This was the most frustrating case that she had ever been involved in. If Sister Crella was telling the truth, then Guss must have been an exceptional liar. If Brother Guss was telling the truth, then Crella must be the liar. Who was telling the truth? And who was telling the lies? She had always been taught that truth was great and would prevail. But with this matter she could not begin to recognise the truth.

It would serve no purpose to lay the complete story as told by Guss before Crella. She would merely deny it, if she was guilty, and without any further evidence, it would lead nowhere. Fidelma, it seemed, had reached a dead end.