Act of Mercy

Chapter Twenty-one

They had gathered as Fidelma had requested, seated on each side of the long table in the central cabin with Murchad lounging against the mast well. Gurvan was seated uncomfortably to one side while Wenbrit perched on the table at which he usually prepared the food, legs swinging, watching the proceedings with interest. Fidelma leaned back in her chair at the head of the table and met their expectant gazes.

‘I have been told,’ she began quietly, ‘that I am someone who knows all by a kind of instinct. I can assure you that this is not so. As a dalaigh, I ask questions and I listen. Sometimes, it is what people omit in their replies to me that reveals more than what they actually say. But I have to have information laid before me. I have to have facts, or even questions, to consider. I merely examine that information or ponder those questions, and only then can I make a deduction.

‘No, I do not have any secret knowledge, neither am I some prophet who can divine an answer to a mystery without knowledge. The art of detection is like playing fidchell or brandubh. Everything must be there, laid out on the board so that one can choose the solution to the problem. The eye must see, the ear must hear, the brain must function. Instincts can lie or be misleading. So instincts are not infallible as a means of getting to the truth, although sometimes they can be a good guide.’

She paused. There was silence. The others continued to watch her expectantly, like rabbits watching a fox.

‘My mentor, Brehon Morann, used to warn us students to beware of the obvious because the obvious is sometimes deceiving. I was taking this into account until I realised that sometimes the obvious is the obvious because it is the reality.

‘If you meet someone running down the road with their hair wild, dishevelled eyes and contorted features, screaming with white froth on their lips, an upraised knife in their hand which is bloodstained and there is also blood on their clothes, how would you perceive such a person? It could be that they have contorted features and are screaming because they have been hurt; that they have the bloodstainedknife because they have just slaughtered meat for their meal and have been careless enough to get the blood on their clothes. There are many possible explanations, but the obvious one is that here is a homicidal maniac about to do injury to those who do not get out of his or her way. And sometimes the obvious explanation is the correct explanation.’

She paused again but still there was no comment.

‘I am afraid that I was looking at the obvious for a long time and refusing to see it as the truth.

‘When I traced everything back, there seemed one person to whom all the events were linked — one common denominator who was there no matter which way I turned. Cian, here, was that common denominator.’

Cian rose awkwardly to his feet, the rocking motion of the ship causing him to fall towards the table, saving himself from disaster by thrusting out a hand to steady himself.

Gurvan had risen and moved behind him, and now put a hand on his shoulder.

Cian shook it off angrily.

‘Bitch! I am no murderer! It is only your petty jealousy that makes you accuse me of it. Just because you were rejected-’

‘Sit down and be quiet or I will ask Gurvan to restrain you!’

Fidelma’s cold tone cut through his outburst. Cian stood still, defiant, and she had to repeat herself.

‘Sit down and be silent, I said! I have not finished.’

Brother Tola looked disapprovingly towards Fidelma.

‘Cum tacent clamant,’ he muttered. ‘Surely if you do not allow him to speak, his silence will condemn him?’

‘He can speak when I have finished and when he knows what there is to speak about,’ Fidelma assured Tola icily. ‘Better to speak from knowledge than to speak from ignorance.’ She turned back to the others. ‘As I was saying, once I realised that Cian was the common denominator in all these killings, then they began to make sense to me.’ She raised a hand to silence the new outburst from Cian. ‘I am not saying that Cian was the murderer, mark that. I have only said, so far, that he was the common denominator.’

Cian was now clearly as puzzled as everyone else. He relaxed back in his seat.

‘If you do not accuse me of murder, what are you accusing me of?’ he demanded gruffly.

She eyed him sourly.

‘There are many things that you can be accused of, Cian, but in this particular case, murder is not one of them. Whether or not youare the Butcher of Rath Bile is no longer my concern. The accusation died with Toca Nia.’

She looked at the others, who now sat mesmerised, waiting for her to continue. She paused, examining their faces in turn. Cian stared back at her in defiance. Brother Tola and Sister Ainder shared a slightly sneering, cynical expression. Sister Crella and Sister Gorman sat with downcast looks. Brother Bairne’s expression was one of a caged animal, his eyes flickering here and there as if seeking a means of escape. Brother Dathal was leaning slightly forward, returning her gaze with an almost enthusiastic expression as if waiting with anticipatory pleasure for her revelation. His companion, Adamrae, was gazing at the table, impatiently drumming his fingers silently on it as if he were bored by the proceedings.

‘There is no need for me to tell you, of course, that a very dangerous killer sits among us.’

‘That much is logical,’ Brother Dathal agreed, nodding eagerly. ‘But who is it, if not Brother Cian? And why do you call him the common denominator?’

‘This killer has been known to you ever since you started out from the north on this pilgrimage,’ she went on, ignoring him. ‘The first victim of the murderer was Sister Canair.’

Sister Ainder exhaled sharply.

‘How can you possibly know that?’ she demanded. ‘Sister Canair simply did not turn up when the tide forced this ship to sail. What makes you think she has been murdered?’

There was a muttering of agreement.

‘Because I spoke to someone who saw the body. Brother Guss saw it, as did Sister Muirgel.’

Cian gave a cynical bark of laughter.

‘Convenient, isn’t it, since both Muirgel and Guss are now dead and cannot support your claim?’

‘Very convenient,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Muirgel was also murdered while Brother Guss …’ She shrugged. ‘Well, we all know what happened. He fell overboard because he was driven by fear.’

All eyes turned to Sister Crella.

‘There was only one person from whom Guss was backing away in fear at the time,’ Brother Dathal commented.

Sister Crella sat hypnotised like a terrified rabbit. She was deathly pale and could only shake her head from side to side as if in denial.

‘Sister Crella?’ Brother Tola pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it makes some sense. There are rumours that she was jealous of Muirgel.’

‘Brother Guss told me that he firmly believed that Sister Crella was the person who had killed Muirgel,’ Cian offered, glad that the responsibility had apparently shifted from his shoulders.

‘Jealousy? Lust!’ sneered Sister Ainder disapprovingly. ‘The greatest sin.’

Sister Crella started to cry softly. Fidelma thought she should intervene again.

‘Sister Crella was only the unwitting cause of the death of Brother Guss,’ she revealed. ‘Unfortunately, Brother Guss did have that unshakable belief that Crella was the guilty person. He was young and fearful — and don’t forget that he had seen what the killer had done to both Canair and Muirgel. He was afraid for his life; frantic with a fear that caused him to lose his reason. When Crella came towards him, he thought she was going to strike him down and he backed away in fear, only to fall overboard. His death was caused not by Crella — but by the person who had engendered such a fear of death in him.’

There was another, long silence. Sister Crella was staring at Fidelma through her tears, not really understanding what she had said, simply registering that Fidelma was not accusing her.

‘Are you playing games with us, Sister?’ Sister Ainder turned angrily towards her. ‘You accuse in one breath and then you acquit in another. What do you mean by it? Can you not simply tell us what the motive for these killings was, and who is responsible?’

Fidelma kept her tone reasonable, as if discussing the weather.

‘You, yourself, have told me the motive.’

Sister Ainder blinked.

‘What?’

‘You told me — it was one of the seven deadly sins, the sin of lust.’ Fidelma paused to let her words sink in before continuing. ‘In any investigation the first question that needs to be asked is the one which Cicero once asked of a Roman judge. Cui bono? Who stands to gain? What is the motive?’

‘Are you saying lust was the motive?’ Brother Tola interrupted, his voice full of derision. ‘How was the death of that Laigin warrior, Toca Nia, attributable to lust? Or are you treating his murder separately? To me it seems obvious that he was killed because of his accusations against Cian there. Only Cian stood to gain by his death.’

There was clearly no love lost between him and Cian.

‘You are right,’ agreed Fidelma calmly. ‘Toca Nia was killed to protect Cian.’

Cian tried to rise again but Gurvan pressed him back in his seat.

‘So you are accusing me, after all?’ he said bitterly. ‘I did not-’

‘Did not kill him?’ interrupted Fidelma mildly. ‘No, you did not. I said he was killed to protect you: I did not say he was killed by you. But the motive for Toca Nia’s death was the same as the motive for the deaths of Canair and Muirgel and the two attempts on my life.’

‘Two?’ frowned Brother Dathal. ‘Someone has tried to kill you twice?’

‘Oh yes,’ nodded Fidelma. ‘A second attempt was made in my cabin last night during the storm. I owe my life to a cat.’ She did not bother to explain further. There would be plenty of time later on.

‘So there is one killer and one motive? Is that what you are saying?’ Murchad asked, trying to follow her reasoning.

‘The motive being lust,’ she confirmed. ‘Or rather, I should say, a belief that they were in love with Cian, to the extent that all sanity was driven from their minds, leaving an obsession that they must protect him and drive out any who tried to win his love.’

Cian sat back, white-faced and shaky.

‘I don’t understand what you are saying.’

‘Had Toca Nia harmed you, then you would have been denied to this person, who wanted you for themselves.’

‘I still do not understand.’

‘Easy enough. I said that you were the common denominator. Weren’t you the lover of both Canair and Muirgel at various times?’

Cian’s face was defiant.

‘I do not deny it,’ he said shortly.

‘There were several others also whose affections you won in your insatiable appetite for young women. Were you trying to compensate for what Una had done to you?’ She could not help the malicious twist

‘Una has nothing to do with it,’ Cian swore.

Sister Gorman leant forward anxiously.

‘Who is Una? We had no Sister Una at Moville.’

‘Una was Cian’s wife. She divorced him on the grounds that he was sterile,’ Fidelma said with an unforgiving smile. ‘Perhaps Cian was compensating for that degrading position by finding as many young lovers as he could.’

Cian’s face was working in anger.

‘You …’ he began.

‘One of those lovers could not abide the idea that you had loved others,’ went on Fidelma. ‘Unlike most of your loves, this person was unbalanced. Insane, we might say, with jealousy. You did not realise what a cauldron of jealousy and hate you were stirring. Howfortunate, Cian, that the hate was not directed at you but at the other lovers you took.’

As if she had poured ice water on his anger, Cian had become suddenly still. He was sitting with his mouth partially open; his mind appeared to be working rapidly as he thought over what she was saying.

Brother Tola bent towards her.

‘If I have understood you correctly, Toca Nia was killed because he was threatening Cian; and this person, insanely determined to protect Cian, simply saw him as a threat, to be removed in the same manner that his lovers were.’

‘The person wanted Cian for themselves,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘Apart from Crella, there was no one else I had an affair with,’ Cian stated, ‘other than …’ He stared with wide-eyed suspicion at Fidelma; a flicker of fear came into his eyes.

Fidelma chuckled sardonically as she realised what was going through his mind. That he could accuse her was ironic in the extreme, but it followed his natural arrogance that he actually believed that she would have retained an intensity of feeling for him after all these years.

‘I have to confess that when I was eighteen I might have become a victim of that same insanity,’ she admitted to them all. ‘Youth intensifies such emotions, and sometimes we are not mature enough to control them. Yes, it is to the instability of youth that we must look in this matter. But you delude yourself, Cian, if you think that you still have any ability to rouse such emotions in me. You don’t even arouse my pity.’

Brother Dathal, eager and ferret-like, asked, ‘Why, surely you were not Cian’s lover, Sister?’

Fidelma grimaced resignedly.

‘Oh yes. I, too, came under Cian’s spell ten years ago when I was a young student at the college of Brehon Morann at Tara.’ She gazed thoughtfully at Cian. ‘It was a youthful, immature affair on both sides,’ she added with a maliciousness she did not realise that she possessed. ‘I grew up. Cian didn’t.’

‘Well, how would this insane lover realise that?’ asked Brother Dathal intrigued. ‘If your affair happened ten years ago, it was before Cian joined the religieux at Bangor and doubtless long before any of us knew him.’

Fidelma shot him a glance of appreciation.

‘You ask a good question, Brother Dathal. You all became aware when I first came aboard that I had known Cian before. One personwas very interested in that fact. That same person overheard Cian and me discussing our sad little affair.’

She swung round abruptly to Cian.

‘I am sure that you can work things out for yourself. You admitted to me that you had affairs with Canair, Muirgel and Crella.’

Before she had finished speaking, Brother Bairne had leapt from his seat opposite Cian and flung himself across the table. He was brandishing a knife.

‘Bastard!’ he cried, grabbing Cian by the throat and raising the weapon.

Gurvan had reached forward in front of Cian and grabbed Bairne’s s wrist with the weapon in it in a vice-like grip, thrusting the wrist back in a painful bend. With a scream Brother Bairne’s fingers let the knife drop through onto the table. It fell with a clatter and Brother Tola had the presence of mind to scoop it up and hand it to Murchad.

Brother Bairne was no match for the stocky and muscular Breton seaman. Even as they struggled, while Cian slipped back out of the way, Gurvan hauled the flushed-faced, frenzied young man across the table and twisted his arm behind his back. The young monk went suddenly limp; all the fight seemed to have left him.

Fidelma regarded him with disapproval.

‘That was a silly thing to do, Brother Bairne, wasn’t it?’

‘I hate him!’ the young man whimpered.

‘Hated but lusted for him?’ Sister Ainder was aghast. ‘I don’t understand!’

‘Brother Bairne, explain why you hated Cian,’ Fidelma invited patiently.

‘I hated Cian for taking Muirgel from me.’

Cian laughed harshly.

‘Madness! Muirgel was never yours to take from you, you stupid child.’

‘Bastard!’ cried Bairne again, but was still firmly held in the grip of Gurvan.

Sister Crella had recovered some of her spirits now.

‘Cian is telling the truth. Muirgel wanted nothing to do with Bairne. She thought he was weird, an effeminate dreamer. And she did have an affair with Cian.’

Cian nodded agreement.

‘But Muirgel and I ended that relationship just before we set out from Moville. Muirgel had found another lover and I had found Canair. It was as simple as that. Muirgel told me that, against all the odds, she was in love with Guss.’

‘Guss?’ Crella stared at him confounded. ‘Is it true? It can’t be.’ She raised a hand to her cheek as the horror of her denial of her friend’s involvement with the young man grew.

‘It is true,’ Fidelma told her. ‘Muirgel really did love him and only your dislike of Guss kept you from believing it. Your refusal to believe that Muirgel was in love with him, made me suspect Guss for a while but, at the same time, your dislike of him, which seemed like jealousy in his eyes, caused Guss to believe that you were the killer — hence his great fear of you, which led to him falling overboard.’

Brother Tola was shaking his head in perplexity.

‘I still cannot see why Brother Bairne would kill Toca Nia if, as he says, he hated Cian. Surely the arrival of Toca Nia was the answer to Bairne’s dreams — the best way to get rid of Cian?’

Fidelma was impatient.

‘You have missed the point. Bairne did not kill anyone. He was not competent enough. Look at the feeble attempt he made just now! Let me get back to what I was saying before he made that stupid display. I was suggesting that Cian was well able to work things out for himself. He had admitted to affairs with Canair and Muirgel. He even admitted to a brief affair with Crella. But there was still one more person on this ship with whom he had an affair, the only person who overheard us arguing about our youth.’

Sister Gorman had risen from the table, for already a look of horror had spread over Cian’s face and he had turned to her, memories flooding back. Gorman’s features were not reflective of guilt but defiant, and there was a curious glint in her eyes. Her jaw stuck out aggressively. The laugh she gave sounded slightly hysterical, a high-pitched chortling sound, the tone close to malignant triumph. As Fidelma gazed on her face, she was completely confirmed in her estimation that Gorman was, indeed, insane.

The young girl glowered in defiance at all of them.

‘I have committed no crime,’ she spoke scornfully. ‘Does not the Book of Genesis say:

‘I kill a man for wounding me,

A young man for a blow.

Cain may be avenged seven times

But I seventy-seven!’

Fidelma corrected her gently.

‘You are quoting from the Song of Lamech, son of Methushael, whose endless desire for vengeance was transformed by the words ofthe Christ. Remember what Christ told Peter according to the Gospel of Matthew? “Then Peter came up and asked him, ‘Lord, how often am I to forgive my brother if he goes on wronging me? As many as seven times?’ Jesus replied, ‘I do not say seven times; I say seventy times seven.’” Let Lamech’s shade die with his vengeance, Gorman.’

The girl turned furiously towards her.

‘Do not be clever with me, whore of Babylon! I would have killed you too but you were able to thwart me twice. You will be punished yet. “ … I saw a woman mounted on a scarlet beast which was covered with blasphemous names and had seven heads and ten horns. The woman was clothed in purple and scarlet and bedecked with gold and jewels and pearls. In her hand she held a gold cup, full of obscenities and the foulness of her fornication; and written on her forehead was a name with a secret meaning: Babylon the great, the mother of whores and of every obscenity on earth. The woman I saw was drunk with the blood of God’s people and the blood of those who had borne their testimony to Jesus”.’

‘The girl is raving!’ Sister Ainder muttered uneasily, rising and edging away from her.

Murchad glanced towards Fidelma as if to ask what he should do.

Cian had relaxed now and was sitting with his hands resting on the table. He regarded the girl with complete indifference.

‘Thank God this matter is resolved,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘This insanity has nothing to do with me. I am not responsible for the madness of this girl. Dominus illuminatio … Why, I only ever slept with her once.’

Sister Gorman wheeled round on him, eyes blazing.

‘But it was for you I did it, for you — don’t you understand? I did it to save you! So that we could be together!’

Cian smirked.

‘For me?’ he sneered. ‘You are crazy. What gave you the idea that I wanted anything more to do with you after that night? You women always want to turn everything into permanent ownership.’

Sister Gorman jerked back as if he had struck her across the face. A bewildered expression crossed her features.

‘You can’t mean that. You said that night that you loved me.’ Her voice became a soft wailing sound.

Fidelma found compassion welling for the young woman as the memories of her own youth drifted through her mind again.

‘Cian loves only Cian, Gorman,’ she said sternly. ‘He is incapable of loving anyone else. As for you, Cian, you may claim that you are not responsible for these atrocities, and you are correct so faras the law goes. However, the law is not always justice. You cannot neglect that moral responsibility which you bear. Your selfishness, your manipulation of people’s emotions, especially the emotions of young women, are your responsibility. You must answer for it eventually, if not soon then at some later stage in your life.’

Cian flushed in annoyance.

‘What is wrong with grasping at pleasure in this life? Have we all to become Roman ascetics and go into the desert as hermits? Why can’t we continue to live our lives filled with enjoyment?’

Brother Tola’s face mirrored his anger.

‘Thou shalt not kill, is the Commandment of the Lord. The woman is condemned but you, Cian, you have been the cause of this madness and you must stand condemned alongside her.’

Cian turned to him with derision.

‘Under whose law? Don’t dictate your narrow morals to me. They do not apply.’

Gorman stood with hunched shoulders, like a whipped dog; her arms wrapped round her body as if they gave her some comfort. She was rocking back and forth on her heels, sobbing.

‘I did this for you, Cian,’ she crooned softly. ‘Muirgel … Canair … I even killed Toca Nia to protect you from his wicked accusations. I would have killed her — Fidelma — and then Crella. They both meant you harm. You had to be protected. Without them we could have been together. They interfered with our happiness.’

Fidelma spoke softly, almost kindly, to her.

‘Perhaps you will tell us how you killed Sister Canair. I know part of the story from Guss; I would like to know the other part. Can you tell us?’

Gorman giggled. It was a chilling sound for it was the giggle of an innocent young girl.

‘He loved me. Cian loved me — I know it. “I will betroth you to me for ever; I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness …”!’

Fidelma dimly recalled the words. She thought they came from the Book of Hosea. There had been many quotations from Hosea.

‘Even if he denies it now, he loved me as I loved him. We would have married if … if these others had not ensnared him with their lust, and … and …’

Cian shrugged diffidently.

‘She is clearly demented,’ he muttered. ‘I wash my hands of this matter.’

‘Gorman!’ Fidelma turned sharply to the girl. ‘Tell us of the fate of Canair. When did you kill her?’

Somehow Fidelma’s coaxing tone pulled Gorman back from whatever darkness she was descending into and there came a few moments approaching sanity.

‘The night before we sailed, I killed her in the tavern at Ardmore.’

She gave the statement coldly, without emotion now, standing quite still, her eyes suddenly devoid of feeling as they stared at Cian.

‘All because Canair was having an affair with Cian?’ interposed Brother Tola.

The girl had a curious smile on her face.

‘Persuasively she led him on,

She pressed him with seductive words.

Like a simple fool he followed her,

Like an ox on its way to the slaughterhouse,

Like an antelope bounding into the noose,

Like a bird hurrying into the trap,

He did not know that he was risking his life …’

‘Stop that rubbish!’ Cian cried. ‘I have had enough of these nonsensical ramblings.’

Sister Ainder bent forward and chided him with a frosty look.

‘The Book of Proverbs is not rubbish, Brother Cian. You are unworthy to hear those words and not fit to wear the habit of a religieux.’

‘Do you think I ever wanted to wear these stupid rags?’ Cian shot back at her.

‘What I have heard today is disgusting,’ replied Sister Ainder. ‘If nothing else, I shall give all the details to the Abbot of Bangor. When you return to your Abbey, you will suffer by bell, book and candle, if I have anything to do with it.’

‘If I ever return to Bangor,’ sneered Cian.

Sister Gorman, in the meantime, was continuing to speak as if she had become oblivious to her surroundings.

Fidelma bent forward and spoke to her slowly and clearly.

‘Why did you kill Sister Canair?’ she demanded.

‘Canair seduced him, lured him away from me,’ she replied diffidently. ‘She had to die.’

Cian opened his mouth to protest but Fidelma waved him to silence and addressed the girl.

‘How did it happen? From what I know, Canair had left yourcompany before you reached Ardmore. The group all went on to the Abbey of St Declan to stay the night. You went with them, didn’t you?’

‘I overheard Canair arranging with Cian to meet him in the tavern later.’

Fidelma glanced back to Cian who simply shrugged.

‘It is true,’ he admitted. ‘Canair said she would be at the tavern after midnight, after she had seen her friend. That was the principal reason why she did not come to the Abbey. She went to see a friend who dwelt nearby. It was as an afterthought that we made arrangements to meet.’

‘Did you go to the tavern, Cian?’

There was a silence.

‘Did you go to meet Canair?’ pressed Fidelma.

Cian sullenly nodded as if reluctant to admit the fact.

‘What then?’

‘I reached the tavern when there were still people about. I wasn’t sure whether Canair had arrived and while I was hesitating outside I saw Muirgel and Guss arrive. From the way they were behaving, it seemed they had the same intention as Canair and me.’ Cian sniffed. ‘It was no business of mine. As I said, my affair with Muirgel was long over.’

‘Go on,’ Fidelma pressed when he paused.

‘I waited. The hour was late and Canair had not turned up. I decided to go back to the Abbey. That’s all.’

Fidelma waited expectantly.

Cian sat back and folded his arms with an air of finality.

‘You say that is all?’ asked Fidelma, slightly incredulously.

‘I went back to the Abbey,’ repeated Cian. ‘What else would I do?’

‘You weren’t worried when Canair did not turn up at your rendezvous?’

‘She was no child. She could make her own decisions as to whether or not she turned up.’

‘Didn’t you think it strange when Canair did not appear at the quay either, to take the boat the next morning? Why didn’t you raise an alarm?’

‘What alarm should I raise?’ he asked defensively. ‘Canair did not turn up, either at the rendezvous or at the quay, so what was I to do about that? It was her decision. I had no idea that she had been killed.’

‘But …’ For once Fidelma was left without words at the self centred attitude of Cian.

‘Anyway, what alarm was there to raise and with whom?’ he added.

Fidelma turned back to Gorman.

‘Can you tell us what happened at the tavern?’

Gorman looked at her with dull, unseeing eyes.

‘I was there as the right hand of God’s vengeance. Vengeance is-’

‘Did you go there to kill Canair?’ Fidelma interrupted her firmly.

‘Canair came to the inn. I was hiding in the shadows. She stood in the doorway for a while, looking about. She was waiting for Cian but he had already gone back to the Abbey. I watched him go. Then Canair seemed to make up her mind and she went in. I heard her ask in the tavern if anyone had asked for her, or if a religieux had taken a room. She was told that a male and female religieux had taken a room but when she was given a description, she lost interest. I stayed in the shadows listening. Eventually she took a room and went to it. I stood in the inn yard, wondering what to do. Then I saw a light at an upstairs window. There was Canair looking out, still hoping that Cian would turn up. I slid back into the shadows. She did not see me.’

Suddenly Gorman had become alive, alive with an expression of malicious elation as she told the story.

‘I waited a while and then, when the inn was quiet, I entered. It was quite easy.’

‘A curse on the law which forbids innkeepers to bar their doors to prevent travellers seeking rest,’ muttered Sister Ainder. ‘The same law leaves us unprotected.’

The girl continued without paying attention to her.

‘I went up to Canair’s room. The whore was asleep and I killed her. Then I left as silently as I had arrived.’

‘What made you take her crucifix?’ demanded Fidelma, holding out the cross that had fallen from the hand of the dying Muirgel.

Gorman giggled again.

‘It was … so pretty. So pretty.’

‘Then you went back to the Abbey?’

‘The next morning Muirgel and Guss were at the Abbey, breakfasting as if they had not left it. Well, I could punish Muirgel later. And so I did.’

‘And so you did,’ repeated Fidelma. ‘So Canair’s body remained in the tavern, presumably undiscovered, until after we had set sail?’

Her remark was not expressly addressed to Gorman and it was Murchad who answered.

‘It would seem so,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck with hishand. ‘I know Colla, the owner of the inn. He would have raised the alarm immediately he discovered the body.’

‘Muirgel and Guss were in the next room and heard the dying moans of Canair. So Guss told me,’ Fidelma explained. ‘They saw her body and stupidly decided to return to the Abbey and say nothing. Only when she came aboard did Muirgel see Gorman wearing Canair’s crucifix. It was Muirgel who worked out why Gorman had killed Canair, and she realised that she was going to be next. That’s why she pretended first to be seasick and then to be washed overboard. But Gorman stumbled on her as she left Guss’s cabin and killed her. Muirgel seized the crucifix that Gorman had taken. Muirgel was still alive when I saw her and tried to warn me … but all she could do was attempt to press Canair’s crucifix into my hand.’

‘So Canair, Muirgel and Toca Nia have all fallen to this madness,’ muttered Sister Ainder. ‘The girls because they had the misfortune to be seduced by this,’ she jerked her head at Cian, ‘this degenerate wretch, and the Laigin warrior because he accused Cian of high crimes and misdemeanours, and this insane creature saw that as a further danger. What madness and evil is here, brethren?’

Cian stood up angrily.

‘It seems that you are putting the blame on me rather than on this stupid bitch!’ he snarled.

Once again, Gorman’s head jerked back as if he had physically assaulted her.

‘Deserting me, you have stripped and lain down

On the wide bed which you have made,

And you drove bargains …

For the pleasure of sleeping together

And you have committed countless acts of fornication

In the heat of your lust …’

Then her hand reached inside her habit and something flew from it. Murchad, standing near to Cian, reacted quickly and shoved the former warrior to one side. A knife embedded itself a wooden beam just behind Cian.

With a cry of rage at having missed him, Gorman seized the opportunity offered by their confusion and indecision, to turn out of the cabin and scamper up the companionway to the deck above.

Fidelma was the first to recover her senses and start to rush after her, but Murchad held her back.

‘Don’t worry, lady,’ he said. ‘Where is she going to flee to? We are in the middle of the ocean.’

‘It is not fear of escape that concerns me,’ she told him. ‘It is fear of what she might do to herself. Madness acknowledges no logic.’

As they tumbled onto the deck, Drogon, who stood at the steering oar, cried out to them; he was pointing upwards.

They looked up.

Gorman was swaying dangerously from the rigging at least twenty feet or more above them.

‘Stop!’ cried Fidelma. ‘Gorman, stop! There is nowhere to run to.’

The girl kept climbing up the swaying ropes.

‘Gorman, come down. We can find a resolution to the problem. Come down. No one will harm you.’ As Fidelma called, she realised how hollow her assurances sounded, even to someone whose mind was so damaged.

Murchad, standing at Fidelma’s side, touched her arm and shook his head.

‘She can’t hear you for the wind up there.’

Fidelma continued to stare up. The wind was whipping at the girl’s hair and clothing as she clung to the rigging. Murchad was right. There was no way sound could carry up.

‘I’ll go up,’ Fidelma volunteered. ‘Someone needs to bring her down.’

Murchad laid a hand on her arm.

‘You are not acquainted with the dangers of being aloft in a strong wind on shipboard. I’ll go up.’

Fidelma hesitated and then stood back. She realised that it would need someone more sure-footed than she was to bring the insane young woman down.

‘Don’t scare her,’ she instructed. ‘She is completely mad and there is no telling what she is liable to do.’

Murchad’s face was grim.

‘She is only a slight young girl.’

‘There is an old saying, Murchad. If a sane dog fights a mad dog then it is the sane dog’s ear that is likely to be bitten off.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ he assured her and started up the rigging.

He had hardly reached it when Sister Ainder gave an inarticulate cry of warning which made Fidelma look up.

Gorman had missed her footing and was hanging desperately onto the ropes with one hand, reaching out, trying to grasp hold of the rigging with the other.

‘Hold on!’ yelled Fidelma, her cry disappearing into the wind.

Murchad, too, had seen the slip and launched himself into the rigging. He had hardly risen a few feet when Gorman’s grip relaxed and she fell, crashing down onto the deck with a sickening thud.

Fidelma was the first to reach her-side.

There was no need to check for a pulse. It was obvious that the young girl had broken her neck in the fall. Fidelma leaned forward and closed Gorman’s staring eyes while Sister Ainder began to intone a prayer for the dead.

Murchad dropped back to the deck and joined them.

‘I’m sorry,’ he panted. ‘Is she …?’

‘Yes, she’s dead. It’s not your fault,’ Fidelma said, rising from the deck.

Cian was peering over the shoulder of Brother Dathal, gazing down at the body of the girl.

‘Well,’ he said with relief in his voice. ‘That’s that.’