Hemlock at Vespers

HOLY BLOOD

“Sister Fidelma! How came you here?”

The Abbess Ballgel, standing at the gate of the Abbey of Nivelles, stared at the dusty figure of the young religieuse with open-mouthed surprise.

“I am returning home to Kildare, Ballgel,” replied the tall, slimly built figure, a broad smile of greeting on her travel-stained features. “I have been in Rome awhile and where else should I come when passing through the land of the Franks on my way to the coast?”

To the surprise of two elderly religieuse standing just behind the Abbess, the Abbess Ballgel and Sister Fidelma threw their arms around one another and hugged each other with unconcealed joy.

“It is a long time,” observed the Abbess Ballgel.

“Indeed, a long time. I have not seen you since you departed Kildare and left the shores of Éireann to come to this place. Now I am told that you are the Abbess.”

“The community elected me to that honor.”

Sister Fidelma became aware that the two sisters who accompanied the Abbess were fretting impatiently. She was surprised at their grim faces and anxiety. Abbess Ballgel caught her swift examination of her companions. The group had been leaving the abbey when Fidelma had come upon them.

“I am afraid that you have chosen a bad moment to arrive, Fi-delma. We are on our way to the Forest of Seneffe, a little way down the road there. You didn’t come by that route, did you?”

Fidelma shook her head.

“No. I came over the hills from Namur where I arrived by boat along the river.”

“Ah!” The Abbess looked serious and then she forced a smile. “Go in and accept our hospitality, Fidelma. I hope to be back before nightfall and then we will talk and catch up on each other’s news.”

Fidelma drew her brows together, sensing a preoccupation in the Abbess’s voice and manner.

“What is the matter?” she demanded. “There is something vexing you.”

Ballgel grimaced.

“You had ever a keen eye, Fidelma. A report has just arrived that one of our Sisters has been found murdered in the Forest of Seneffe and another member of our community is missing. We are hurrying there now to discover the truth of this report. So go and rest yourself from your travels and I will join you later.”

Fidelma shook her head quickly.

“Mother Abbess,” she said softly, “it has been a long time and perhaps you have forgotten. I had spent eight years studying law under the Brehon Morann. I have an aptitude for solving conundrums and investigating mysteries. Let me come with you and I will lend you what talent I have to resolve this matter.”

Fidelma and Ballgel had been novices together in the Abbey of Kildare.

“I remember your talent well, Fidelma. In fact, I have often heard your name spoken for we receive many travelers from Éire-ann here. By all means come with us.”

In fact, Ballgel looked slightly relieved.

“And you may explain the details of this matter as we go,” Fidelma said, putting down her traveling bag within the gate of the abbey before joining the others.

They set off, walking side by side, with the two other religieuse bringing up the rear.

“Who has been reported murdered?” Fidelma began.

“I do not know. I know that early this morning Sister Cessair and Sister Delia set off to the Abbey of Fosse. It is the seventeenth day of March and so they were taking the vial of the Holy Blood of Blessed Gertrude to the Brothers of Fosse for the annual blessing and…”

Fidelma laid a hand on her friend’s arm.

“You are raising more questions than I can keep pace with, Ballgel. Remember that I am a stranger here.”

The Abbess was apologetic.

“Let me start at the beginning then. Twenty-five years ago the ruler of this land, Peppin the Elder of Landen, died. His widow, Itta, decided to devote herself to a religious life and came here, to Nivelles, with her daughter, Gertrude. They built our abbey. When Itta died, the Blessed Gertrude became Abbess.

“About that time two brothers from Éireann, Foillan and Ultan, came wandering and preaching the word of God. They decided to stay and Gertrude granted them lands a few miles from here in Fosse, the other side of the forest of Seneffe. Foillan and Ultan gathered many Irish religious there and some were attracted to our abbey as well. It is said that the Blessed Foillan prophesied that Abbess Gertrude, because she so loved and encouraged the Irish missionaries, would die on the same day that the Blessed Patrick died. And it happened as it said it would seven years ago today.”

Abbess Ballgel grew silent for a while until Fidelma encouraged her to continue.

“So Foillan proved to be a prophet?”

“He did not live to see his prophecy fulfilled for he died four years before his beloved Gertrude. He and his three companions were traveling from his Abbey of Fosse through the very same forest that we are entering-the forest of Seneffe-when they were set upon by robbers and murdered. Their bodies were so well hidden in the forest that it took three months before anyone stumbled across them. Foillan’s brother Ultan then became the Abbot.

“When the Blessed Gertrude died it was agreed between the two abbeys that, as she was the benefactor of both, each anniversary of her death, a vial of her holy blood, taken from her at death to be held behind the high altar at our abbey, would be taken to the Abbey of Fosse and blessed by the abbot in service with his community and then returned here. This was the task which Sister Cessair and Sister Delia set out to fulfill this morning.”

“How did you hear that a Sister had been murdered in the forest?”

“When midday came, the time of the service at Fosse, and no members of our community had arrived with the holy blood, Brother Sinsear, a brother from the Fosse abbey, set out to see what delayed them. He found the dead body of one of the Sisters by the roadside. He came straightaway to us to tell us and then immediately returned to alert the community at Fosse.”

“But you do not know which of the poor Sisters was killed?”

The Abbess shook her head.

“Brother Sinsear was too agitated to say but merely told our gatekeeper the news before returning.”

By now they had entered the tall, dark, brooding forest of Se-neffe. The track was fairly straight though at times it twisted around rocky outcrops and avoided streams to find a ford in a more accessible place. The afternoon sun was obliterated by the heavy foliage and the day grew cold around them. Fidelma real-ized that the highway proved an ideal ambush spot for any robbers and it did not surprise her to hear that lives had been lost along this roadway.

Although Irish religious went out into the world unarmed to preach the Faith, most of them were taught the art of troid-sciathagid or battle through defense-a method of defending one-self without the use of weapons. Not many religious, thus prepared, fell to bands of marauding thieves and robbers. Clearly from their names, the two Sisters had been Irish and must have known some rudiments of the art for it was the custom to have such knowledge before being allowed to take the holy word from the shores of Éireann into the lands of the strangers.

Now they walked silently and swiftly along the forest track, eyes anxiously scanning for any dangers around them.

“Is it not a dangerous path for young Sisters to travel?” observed Fidelma after a while.

“Not more so than other places,” her friend replied. “Do not let the death of Foillan color your thinking. Since his death a decade ago, the robbers were driven from these parts and there have been no further incidents.”

“Until now,” Fidelma added grimly.

“Until now,” sighed Ballgel.

A moment or so later, they rounded a clump of trees which the path had skirted. Not far away they saw a group of religious. There were four or five and they had a cart with them, harnessed to an ass. They clustered under a gnarled oak whose branches formed a canopy over the pathway, so low that one might almost reach up and grab the lower branches. It made this particular section of the forest path even more gloomy and full of shadows.

A tall, florid man, wearing a large gold cross, and clearly one of authority, saw Abbess Ballgel and came hurrying forward.

“Greetings, Mother Abbess. This is a bad business-a profane business.” He spoke in Latin but Fidelma could hear his Frankish accent.

“Abbot Heribert of Fosse,” Ballgel whispered to Fidelma as he approached.

“Where is the body?” Ballgel came straight to the point, also speaking in Latin.

Abbot Heribert looked uncomfortable.

“I would prepare yourself…” he began.

“I have seen death before,” replied Abbess Ballgel quietly.

He turned and indicated the far side of the oak tree.

Ballgel hurried forward in the direction of his hand, followed by Fidelma.

The woman was tied to the oak tree on the far side from the path, almost in mockery of a crucifixion. There was blood everywhere. Fidelma screwed her features up in distaste. The woman, who was dressed in the habit of a religiuese, had been systematically mutilated about the face.

“Cut her down!” cried the sharp tone of the Abbess Ballgel. “At once! Do not leave the poor girl hanging there!”

Two of the monks went forward grimly.

“Who is it?” Fidelma asked. “Do you recognize her?”

“Oh yes. We have only one Sister with hair as golden as that. It is young Sister Cessair. God be merciful to her soul.” She genuflected.

Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully. She watched as two male religieux cut down the body.

“Wait!” Fidelma called and, turning to the Abbess, she said quickly, “I would examine the body carefully and with some privacy.”

Ballgel raised her eyes in surprise.

“I do not understand.”

“This is a bizarre matter. It might be that she has been… brutalized.”

Ballgel passed a hand across her brown eyes as if bewildered but she understood what Fidelma meant.

She called to the monks to set the body down on the ground before the cart and then asked Abbot Heribert to withdraw his men to a respectful distance while Fidelma made her investigation.

Fidelma knelt by the body, noticing that the shade of the oak tree stopped the sun’s rays from drying the ground. It was muddy and the mud had been churned by the cart and the footprints of those trampling round. Her attention was momentarily distracted by indentations of two feet at one point which were far deeper than the others to the extent that water had formed in the hollows. Nevertheless, she ignored the mud and bent over the body. She tuned and motioned the Abbess Ballgel to come closer.

“If you will observe and witness my examination, Ballgel,” she called over her shoulder. “You will observe that the Sister’s face has been severely mutilated with a knife. The skin has been deliberately marked with a sharp blade, disfiguring it, as if the purpose were to destroy the features of this young girl.”

Ballgel forced herself to look on and nodded, suppressing a soft groan of anguish.

Fidelma bent further to her work before pausing satisfied as to her physical examination. Then she turned her attention to the small leather marsupium which hung at the dead Sister’s waist. It was not secured with the leather thong that usually fastened such a purse and it was empty.

Fidelma rose to her feet. Next she went to the tree from which the body had been taken and began to look about. With a grasp of triumph she bent down a picked up a torn scrap of paper. There was no writing on it but a few curious short lines drawn on it. Fidelma frowned and placed it in her marsupium.

Her keen eye then caught a round stone on the ground. It was bloody and pieces of hair and skin were stuck on it.

“What is it?” demanded Abbess Ballgel, coming forward.

“That is the instrument with which Cessair was killed,” Fidelma explained. “Her death was caused by her skull being smashed in and not through the blade of the knife that destroyed her features. At least this was no attack by robbers.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“We have observed that the girl was not sexually molested in any way. Yet this was an attack of hate toward the Sister.”

Ballgel stared at her friend in amazement.

“How can you say it was an attack of hate?”

“Let us discount the idea of robbers. The purpose of a thief is to steal. It is true that some thieves have been known to even sexually assault Sisters of the faith. There was no attempt at theft here. The Sister’s crucifix of silver still hangs around her neck. It was not a sexual assault. What is left of the motivation which would cause someone to smash her skull, tie her to a tree and mutilate her features? There is surely only hatred left?”

“The holy blood of the Blessed Gertrude is not in her marsu-pium,” Ballgel pointed out. “I have been looking all around for the vial. That is valuable; but above all, where is Sister Delia?”

Fidelma grimaced.

“The holy blood may be valuable to you, yes. Not to a thief. There would be no purpose is stealing that if one wanted money.”

“Do thieves and robbers need a purpose?”

“All people need a purpose, even those whom we deem mad follow a logic, which may not be our logic but one of their own creation with its own rules. Once one deciphers the code of that logic then it is as easy to follow as any.”

“And what of Sister Delia?”

Fidelma nodded. “There is the real mystery. Find her and we may find the missing phial. Has a search been made for her?” She asked the question of the Abbot.

Abbot Heribert looked sourly at Fidelma.

“Not yet. And who are you?”

“Sister Fidelma is a qualified advocate of our legal courts,” explained Abbess Ballgel hurriedly, seeing the look of derision on the Abbot’s face.

“Do women have such a status in your country?” he demanded in astonishment.

“Is that so strange?” Fidelma replied irritably. “Anyway, we waste time. We must find Sister Delia for she may be in danger. If Sister Cessair was not robbed, and was not attacked for sexual motives, the alternative is that she was killed from some personal motive which, judging from the savagery of the attack, shows a depth of malice that makes me shudder. Who could have been so angered by her that they would attempt to destroy her beauty? It is as if she were attacked by a jealous lover for it is known that hate and love are two sides of the same coin.”

Fidelma suddenly saw Abbot Heribert’s eyes widen a fraction. She saw him glance swiftly at Ballgel and then drop his gaze.

“Why does the mention of a lover have some special meaning for you?” she demanded.

It was Abbess Ballgel who answered for him.

“Sister Cessair did have a… a liaison,” she said quietly.

“It was disgusting!” grunted Abbot Heribert.

“A curious choice of word.” Fidelma’s eyes narrowed. “Disgusting in what way?”

“Abbot Heribert is a firm believer in the concept of celibacy,” explained Ballgel.

“Celibacy is by no means universally approved of by the Church,” Fidelma pointed out. “There are many double houses where religious of both sexes live and raise their children to the service of God. What is disgusting about that?”

“Paul of Tarsus spoke firmly in favor of celibacy and many other Church Fathers have done so. There are those of us who argue that only through celibacy do we have the power to spread the Faith.”

“I am not here to discuss theology, Heribert. Are you telling me that Cessair was in love with a religieux from your abbey of Fosse?”

“God forgive him,” Heribert lowered his head piously.

“Only him?” Was there sarcasm in Fidelma’s voice. “Surely forgiveness is universal? Who was this monk?”

“Brother Cano,” replied Ballgel. “He was a young monk who arrived from Éireann only a few weeks ago. It seems that he and Sister Cessair met and were immediately attracted by one another.”

“And this relationship was disapproved of?”

“It did not matter to me,” Ballgel said hastily. “Our culture does not forbid such relationships as you have pointed out. Even Kil-dare, where we studied, was a mixed house.”

“But it mattered to Abbot Heribert.” Fidelma swung round on the tall Frankish prelate.

“Of course it mattered. My Abbey of Fosse is for men of the Faith only. I follow the strict rule of celibacy and expect all members of my community to do the same. I warned Brother Cano several times to cease this disgusting alliance. Abbess Ballgel knew my views. It does not surprise me that this woman of loose morals has paid a bitter price.”

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“That is also an interesting statement. Are you given to much passion over this matter, Father Abbot?”

Heribert frowned suspiciously at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I merely make an observation. Does it worry you that I comment on the passionate tones by which you denounce this poor Sister?”

“I believe in the teachings of Paul of Tarsus.”

“Yet it is not the rule of the Church. Nor, indeed, does the Holy Father denounce those who reject celibacy. It is not even a rule of our Faith.”

“Not yet. But the ranks of those of us who believe in the segregation of men and woman and the rule of celibacy are increasing. One day the Holy Father will have to pay us heed. Already he has suggested that celibacy is the best way forward …”

“Until that happens, it is not a rule. Very well, I understand your position now. But we have a murder to be solved. Where is this Brother Cano?”

Abbot Heribert shrugged.

“I understand from Brother Sinsear that Brother Cano left the abbey this morning and was last seen heading along this road. Perhaps he meant to meet Sister Cessair?”

Abbess Ballgel groaned softly. “If Cano was coming to meet Sister Cessair… if he could do this to her… we must find Sister Delia!”

Fidelma gave her a reassuring smile. “No one has said that Cano did this as yet,” she observed quietly. “However, it seems that, as well as the missing Sister, we also have a missing Brother to account for. Perhaps we will find one with the other. Where is this Brother Sinsear?”

A religieux who was standing nearby coughed nervously and took a hesitant step toward her. He was a pale-faced young man, hardly more than an adolescent youth. His features were taut and he appeared in the grip of strong emotions.

“I am Sinsear.”

Fidelma regarded his flushed, anxious face.

“You appear agitated, Brother.”

“I work with Brother Cano in the gardens of our abbey, Sister. I am his friend. I knew that he had a…” he glanced nervously at his abbot, “… a passion for Sister Cessair.”

“A passion? You do not have to bandy words, Brother. Was he in love with her?”

“I only knew that they met at regular times in the forest here because of Father Abbot’s disapproval of their relationship.”

Abbot Heribert’s brows drew together in anger but Fidelma held up a hand to silence him.

“Go on, Brother Sinsear. What are you saying?”

“They had a special meeting spot in a glade not a far distance from here. A woodsman’s hut. It occurs to me, in the circumstances, that the hut might be examined.”

“You should have spoken up sooner, Brother,” snapped Abbot Heribert. “Cano may have fled by now. I see no point in seeking him in that hut.”

“You are presuming that he is guilty of this deed, Heribert,” Fidelma rebuked him. “Yet I think we should investigate this hut. Do you know the way to it, Brother Sinsear?”

“I think so. There is a small path leading off this track about fifty meters in that direction.” He pointed toward Fosse, and on the far side of the track to the oak tree where Cessair had been found.

“How far into the forest?”

“No more than three hundred meters.”

“Then lead the way. Father Abbot, you may send the rest of Brothers of your community to escort the Sisters and the body of Cessair back to the abbey of Nivelles.”

Heribert made to object and then did her bidding.

Brother Sinsear turned pale eyes on Fidelma.

“Could Cano really have done such a terrible deed? Oh God, to maltreat such grace and beauty! Why did she not give her love to one who would appreciate such exquisite-”

Abbot Heribert interrupted him.

“Let us get a move on, Brother Sinsear. I expect it will be a waste of time. If Cano killed her then he will not be hiding in a forest hut but will have left the area by now.”

“You are also forgetting the missing Sister Delia,” Fidelma pointed out. “And it is wrong to assume Cano’s guilt.”

“Yes, yes,” Heribert snapped. “Have it your own way.”

With the young Brother Sinsear leading the way, clutching at a newly cut hawthorn stick, they trod a well-worn little path through the great forest.

Eventually they came on a little glade, a pleasant spot through which a small stream meandered. By it stood a woodsman’s crude hut. The door was shut and there was no sign of life.

Fidelma raised her hand and brought them to a halt on the edge of the glade. As they neared the door of the hut, Fidelma’s keen eyes surveyed it quickly. The first things she noticed were bloodstains on the doorjamb and several palm prints on the door as if someone had, with bloodied hands, pushed it open with their palm or palms. Blood was on a piece of wood near the door.

They heard a sobbing sound from within.

“Brother Cano!” Sinsear suddenly called. “The Abbot and I are here.”

There was a silence. The sobbing suddenly halted.

“Sinsear?” came a hesitant male voice. “Thank God! I need help.”

There was another sound now. A feminine cry which sounded as if it were stifled almost immediately.

Fidelma glanced at her companions.

“Stay back. I shall go in first.” She turned and raised her voice. “Brother Cano? I am Fidelma of Kildare. I have come to help you. I am coming in.”

There was no response.

Slowly Fidelma leant forward, placing her hand near the bloodied imprint and pushed against the door. It swung open easily.

At the far end of the woodsman’s hut she saw a young man clad in religious robes, kneeling on the floor. His hair was disheveled, his eyes red and cheeks stained as if from weeping. He held a piece of bloodstained cloth in his hands. Before him lay the prone figure of a girl. Her eyes were open and she appeared conscious but her clothes were covered in blood.

Fidelma heard a sound behind her and swung round. She saw Abbot Heribert and the others trying to squeeze behind her and swiftly waved them back.

“Stay there!” she snapped. There was such a power in her voice that they paused. “I will speak with Cano and Sister Delia first.”

Fidelma turned and took a step into the hut.

“I am Sister Fidelma,” she repeated. “May I attend to Sister Delia?”

“Of course.” The young man seemed bewildered.

Fidelma knelt by his side. He had been trying to cleanse her wounds.

“Lie still,” she said, as she examined the wound of the young religieuse. Sister Delia had been clubbed on the back of the head in the same fashion as Sister Cessair. Unlike the blow delivered to Cessair, it had not broken the bone of the skull. There was, however, a nasty swelling.

“Am I dying, Sister?” The girl’s voice was faint.

“No. In a moment we will get you back to the Abbey so that you may be properly attended. What can you tell me about the attack on Sister Cessair and yourself?”

“Little enough.”

“A little in these circumstances may mean a lot,” encouraged Fidelma.

“Alas, the little is nothing. Sister Cessair and I were bringing the phial of the holy blood of Blessed Gertrude to the Abbey of Fosse. We were walking through the woods. I remember…” She paused and groaned. “I did not hear anyone behind us for we were talking together and …” She held up a hand to her head. “There came a sharp blow and then I can remember nothing until I came to, lying on the path with a blinding pain in my head. I thought I was alone. I could see no one. I began to look around and then, then I saw Cessair….”

She gave a heart-rending sob.

“What then?” prompted Fidelma gently.

“I could do nothing for her, except try to get help. I came here and-”

“You came here?” Fidelma interrupted quickly. “Why come to this woodsman’s hut? Why not go on to the Abbey of Fosse or back to Nivelles?”

“I knew Cano would be here.” The girl groaned again.

“She knew that I had arranged to meet Cessair here on the journey from Nivelles to Fosse,” interrupted Cano defiantly. “I am not ashamed of it.”

Fidelma ignored him and smiled down at the girl.

“Rest awhile. It will not be long before we have you safe and your wound attended.”

Only then did she turned to Cano.

“So you were waiting here for Cessair?”

“Cessair and I loved one another. We often met here because Abbot Heribert was vehement against us.”

“Tell me about it.”

“There is not much to tell. I arrived at Fosse about a month ago to join the community. Although there are several Irish religious here and in Nivelles, it is a strange land. They are more inclined to celibacy than we are in Éireann. They do not have the number of mixed houses that we do. Abbot Heribert was fanatical for the rule of celibacy; even though there is no such proscription in the church, he makes it a rule in his abbey. I think I would have left long ago had I not met Cessair.”

“When did you and Cessair meet?”

“The week after I came here. It was Brother Sinsear who introduced me when we were taking produce from Fosse to Nivelles.”

“Brother Sinsear introduced you?”

“Yes. As a gardener, Sinsear often took produce between the two abbeys. He knew many of the religieuse at Nivelles.”

“Did Cessair have any enemies that you knew of?”

“Only Abbot Heribert, when he discovered our relationship.” Cano’s voice was bitter. From the doorway, Fidelma heard Heri-bert’s expression of anger.

“Why didn’t you leave and move on to a mixed house?”

“We planned to but Abbess Ballgel counseled Cessair against it.”

Fidelma frowned.

“Why would she be against such a plan?”

Cano shrugged.

“She was … protective of Cessair. She felt Cessair was too young.”

“More protective than of her other charges?”

“I do not know. All I know is that we were desperate and planning to leave here.”

Fidelma waited a while. Then she said abruptly:

“Did you kill Cessair?”

The young monk raised a tear-stained face to her and there was a haunted look in his eyes.

“How can you ask such a question?”

“Because I am a dálaigh, an advocate of the law,” replied Fi-delma. “It is my duty to ask.”

“I did not.”

“Tell me what happened this morning, then.”

“I knew that Cessair and Delia were bringing the vial to Fosse for the annual blessing. So we arranged to meet here.”

“Surely that would mean a delay in the bringing of the vial to Fosse? The service was at midday.”

“Cessair was going to persuade Delia to take the phial on to Fosse while she joined me here. We only meant to meet briefly to make some arrangements and then Cessair would hasten after Delia, pretending she had broke her sandal on the road.”

“What arrangements were you going to make?”

“Arrangements to leave this place. Perhaps to go back to Ireland.”

“I see. So you arrived here …?”

“And here I waited. I thought Cessair was late and was about to go down to the main track to see if there was a sign of her when Delia came stumbling into the hut. She was almost hysterical and told me what had happened, then she passed out. I could not leave her alone and have been trying to return her to consciousness ever since. It is only a moment ago that she regained her senses.”

Fidelma turned to Delia.

“Do you agree with this account?”

The girl had raised herself on an elbow, she still looked pale and shaken.

“So far as I am able. I do not remember much at all.”

“Very well. Then I think we should get you to the abbey where you may have the wound tended.” She glanced at Cano who was twisting his hands nervously. Then she remembered something.

“Do you have the vial of blood, Sister Delia? The holy blood of the Blessed Gertrude?”

Delia frowned and shook her head

“Cessair carried it in her marsupium.”

“I see,” replied Fidelma thoughtfully, before turning to the others and waving them forward.

“We will carry Sister Delia to Fosse,” she told them. “There are a few more questions that I wish to ask but we should ensure that Sister Delia gets proper treatment for her wound.”

The church and community of Fosse was not as spectacular as some of the abbeys which Fidelma had encountered in her travels. She reminded herself that it was barely twenty years old. It was not more than a collection of timber houses around a large, rectangular wooden church.

Sister Delia was immediately taken to the infirmary while the Abbot led the Abbess and Fidelma to the refectory for refreshments. Brother Sinsear and Brother Cano were told to go to their cells and await the Abbot’s call.

Abbess Ballgel was the first to break the uneasy silence that had fallen among them. She had seen Fidelma’s work before while they had been together at the Abbey of Kildare.

“Well, Fidelma, do you see a solution to this horror? And where is the holy blood of Gertrude?”

“Let us summarize what we know. We can eliminate certain things. Firstly, the concept that this action was committed by robbers. I have already given one main reason, that is the mutilation of Cessair. That was done from hate. Secondly, we have the testimony from Delia who says that she was walking along talking with Cessair and did not hear or see anything until she was struck from behind.”

“You mean, if there had been robbers waiting in ambush then she would have seen something of them?”

“Just so. The very idea of even a single person creeping unobserved behind someone walking in a forest is, I find, rather a difficult one to accept.”

Abbess Ballgel frowned quickly.

“You claim that Sister Delia is lying?”

“Not necessarily. But think of it in this way; think of a forest path strewn with dead leaves, twigs and the like. An animal might move quietly over such a carpet but can a human? Could a man or woman creep up so quickly behind someone walking along and strike them before they knew it?”

“Then we must question the girl further,” snapped Heribert, “and force her to confess.”

Fidelma looked at him in disapproval.

“Confess to what?”

“Why, the killing of the other girl,” replied Heribert.

Fidelma gave a deep sigh.

“There is another more plausible explanation why Sister Delia did not hear her assailant creep up behind her.”

The Abbot frowned in anger.

“What game are you playing? First you say one thing and then you say another. I do not follow.”

The Abbess Ballgel intervened as she saw Fidelma’s facial muscles go taut and her eyes change color.

“Fidelma is a qualified advocate used to these puzzles. I suggest we allow her to follow her path of reasoning.”

The Abbot sat back his face set in a sneer.

“Proceed, then.”

“Before I come back to that point, let us proceed along another route. The savagery with which Sister Cessair was attacked, the fact that her features were mutilated, the fact that Sister Delia was left unmarked except for the blow that laid her unconscious, means that Cessair was, indeed, singled out particularly in this attack. She was, as I said before, attacked out of some great malice toward her.”

“It is logical, Fidelma,” agreed the Abbess.

“Then we must consider who had such a hatred of Cessair.”

She paused and allowed them to consider her proposal in silence.

“Well, we can eliminate almost everyone,” the Abbess smiled briefly.

“How so?”

“Brother Cano was her lover. Sister Delia was her closest friend in the abbey. Cessair made no enemies… except…”

She suddenly hesitated.

“Except?” encouraged Fidelma gently.

The Abbess had dropped her eyes.

It was Abbot Heribert who flushed with anger.

“Except me, you mean?” He rose to his feet. “What are you implying? Because I uphold the teaching of celibacy? Because I forbid any liaison with women among the members of my community? Because I urged the Abbess to forbid Sister Cessair to see Brother Cano as I had forbidden him to meet with her? Are these things to be thrown at me in accusation that I murdered her?”

“Did you?”

Fidelma asked the question so quietly that for a long time it seemed that the Abbot had not heard her.

“How dare you!”

“I dare because I must,” replied Fidelma calmly. “Keep your bluster to yourself, Abbot. We are hear to discover the truth, not to engage in games of vanity.”

Heribert went red in the face. He was inarticulate with rage.

The Abbess Ballgel leant forward.

“Abbot Heribert, we are simply intelligent people trying to resolve a problem. Our pride and self-regard should not impinge on that process for we are seeking the truth and the truth alone.

Abbot Heribert blinked.

“I resent being accused-”

“I did not accuse you, Heribert,” Fidelma replied. “Your unthinking pride did so. But, since you have raised this matter yourself, I put it to you that you certainly had no liking for Cessair.”

He stared at her and then shrugged.

“I have made that evident. No. I disliked her for she was a distraction to Brother Cano. Indeed, she was a distraction to all the young men in my community. I have even seen young men like Brother Sinsear moonstruck in her presence.”

“My mentor, the Brehon Morann of Tara used to say-it is easier to become a monk in one’s old age,” sighed Fidelma.

Abbess Ballgel hid a smile.

“Anyway,” Fidelma continued, “as Abbot you were expecting Sisters Cessair and Delia to arrive at Fosse at noon or so I am led to believe?”

“Not precisely. I was expecting two sisters of Abbess Ballgel’s community to arrive but I did not know who they would be. Had I known one was going to be Sister Cessair….”

“What would you have done?”

“I should have stopped her coming to mislead Brother Cano further into temptation’s way.”

“Cano was misled?” queried Fidelma. “I thought he was in love with Cessair?”

The Abbot stirred uncomfortably.

“Women are the temptresses by which the saintly fall from grace.”

He did not meet Fidelma’s flashing anger. But Fidelma, realizing it impossible to overcome the misogynist’s prejudice, decided to ignore the remark.

“Ballgel, why did you choose Cessair and Delia to bring the vial of blood for the service this morning?”

“Why?”

“Someone knew that Cessair was going to be walking along that forest track.”

The eyes of the Abbess widened.

“Why, it was Sister Delia who came to me last night and asked if she be allowed to take the vial for the blessing. She also asked me if she could choose a companion to accompany her.”

“You did not know that she would choose Cessair?”

“As a matter of fact,” smiled the Abbess, “I presumed that she would. They have been inseparable companions.”

“You knew that she would choose Cessair to accompany her through the forest of Seneffe even though the Abbot disapproved on Cessair? Isn’t that strange?”

“Not at all. I am like you, Fidelma. I refuse to be dictated to as to who I can send here or there.”

Abbot Heribert’s mouth set in a grim line. He was clearly displeased but did not say anything.

“So Sister Delia was the only other person who knew Cessair would go with her, apart from yourself, Ballgel?”

Abbess Ballgel looked carefully at her friend.

“You will remember, Fidelma,” she said softly, “that you arrived at Nivelles only a short time after Brother Sinsear had brought us the dreadful news.”

Fidelma smiled sympathetically.

“I do remember. And you need hardly remind me that you would have had no time to have done the deed. Besides, it would be very difficult for an abbess to absent herself from her abbey for the time needed to do carry out this murder. I also presume that you would have had no motive either?”

Before Ballgel could respond, Abbot Heribert interrupted.

“It would like be difficult for an abbot to absent himself from his abbey,” he said shortly.

“I had not forgotten, Heribert,” Fidelma said solemnly. “Tell us, as a matter of record, where you were about noon?”

Abbot Heribert shrugged. “I will play the game to the end,” he said heavily. “Today, being the anniversary of the death of the Blessed Gertrude, we have a midday Angelus followed by a service of remembrance not only for Gertrude but in memory of the Blessed Foillan whom she allowed to build our abbey. The vial of the holy blood is brought to the abbey just before the midday Angelus bell is sounded.

“At ten minutes before midday I was standing with several Brothers awaiting the appearance of the two Sisters, who usually carry the vial from Nivelles. I did not know who they would be. When midday came and the bell was tolled, I thought that the only thing to do was proceed with the service although without the vial.”

“Did you not send anyone to look for the Sisters?’

“I was informed that Brother Sinsear had already left to escort the Sisters through the forest. So I did not need to.”

“I see. Go on.”

“Well, we performed the service and when it was over there was no sign of the Sisters nor of Brother Sinsear.”

“Brother Sinsear had come straight to Nivelles to alert us,” pointed out Ballgel.

“It was some time before Brother Sinsear returned,” agreed Heribert, “and told us the appalling news and we immediately set out to the forest. We had barely reached there when you arrived.”

“I see. Will you send for Brother Sinsear?”

It was moments before they were joined by the young monk. The youth made an effort to overcome the nervous twisting of his hands by placing them behind his back.

“It is a terrible business,” he began, breaking the silence.

“I know that you are upset,” Fidelma smiled gently. “After all, it is your close friend who stands in some danger. The finger of suspicion points in his direction.”

“Brother Cano might be possessed of a temper but he would never… never…”

“He was quick-tempered?” Fidelma interrupted.

Brother Sinsear hung his head.

“I should not have said that. I meant…”

“It is true,” observed Abbot Heribert. “I have rebuked him a couple of times for his turbulent moods.”

“Well, all I want from you, Brother Sinsear, are the details about today. I understand that you left the abbey to go in search of the two Sisters bringing the vial of holy blood. At what time was this?”

“Some time before midday, I think. Yes, it was half an hour before the midday Angelus bell sounded because that was when the vial was due to be at the abbey.”

“Were you instructed to do so?”

Brother Sinsear shook his head.

“No. But knowing Cessair… well, I knew she would be in no hurry.”

There was a brief silence.

“You knew that one of the two Sisters would be Cessair?” pressed Fidelma. “How did you know?”

“Why, Brother Cano told me. We had few secrets. He left to go to the woodsman’s hut where he and Cessair usually met. I knew that this would delay them bringing the vial to the abbey. That was why I set off in good time to meet them and encourage them to hurry. Alas, I was too late.”

“You found Cessair dead?”

“I did. She was tied to the tree even as you saw her.”

“And Sister Delia?”

“There was no sign of her. So I hurried straight to Nivelles to alert Abbess Ballgel.”

“Why did you do that?” Fidelma asked.

“Why?”

“There were other options. Why not rush back to Fosse and alert the Abbot Heribert?”

Sinsear grimaced. “It is well known that Nivelles is closer to that point in the forest than is Fosse. I thought it more expedient to bring the news to Nivelles and then return to alert Fosse.”

“Have you been friends with Cano from the time he arrived in Fosse?”

“He was assigned to help me in the gardens and we became friends.”

“Yet you knew Cessair before Cano arrived?”

“I have met Cessair and Delia as well as many others of the Sisters of Nivelles. There is much intercourse between the abbeys. You see, I am employed in the gardens and my job is taking fruit and vegetables to Nivelles once a week.”

“Brother Sinsear is perfectly correct,” interrupted Heribert. “Members of our community often go to Nivelles to help them with the heavy building work and the upkeep of their fields and crops. In fact, Brother Sinsear took produce to Nivelles only yesterday afternoon. Ah, and didn’t Brother Cano accompany you?”

Brother Sinsear flushed and nodded reluctantly.

Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“There is a further question that I must now ask Sister Delia. Please wait for me here.”

In the infirmary Sister Delia, although pale-faced and weak, was looking much improved.

“Sister Delia,” Fidelma began without preamble. “There is only one question I need ask you. Why did you especially ask to be allowed to take the vial of holy blood to Fosse today?”

“Sister Cessair asked me to.”

“Cessair, eh? Then it was not your idea?”

“No. Neither was it her idea, to be truthful. She knew that there would be some argument with the Abbot who disliked her and was reluctant to go. However, Brother Cano had especially asked her to come….”

“How had he asked? Had he not seen her yesterday?”

“No. He sent a message for there is always someone coming or going between our two abbeys. He sent a note to Cessair asking her to come early to the hut so that he would spent a few moments with her to discuss their future.”

“Did you approve of her meetings with Cano?”

“I was Cessair’s friend. I knew that there is no stopping the stupidities that love brings with it. And I thought it was only one question that you wished to ask?”

“So it was. Is this the note?” She pulled out the piece of torn paper from her marsupium.

Sister Delia glanced at it and shrugged.

“I do not read Ogham,” she said. “But I think it is part of the note. Cano and Cessair used the ancient form of Irish writing to write cryptic notes to one another.”

Fidelma turned back to the refectory.

“I think I have the solution to this mystery,” she announced as Abbess Ballgel and Abbot Heribert gazed up as she reentered the refectory.

“Who then is guilty?” demanded Heribert.

“Ask Brother Cano to come here. You will remain, Brother Sin-sear.”

“Brother Cano,” Fidelma began when the young man arrived, “the future looks bleak for you.”

Cano grimaced in resignation.

“The future is empty for me,” he corrected. “Without Cessair, my life is indeed an abyss filled with pain.”

“Why did you ask Cessair to meet you today?”

“I have told you already. So that we could plan to go away together and find a mixed house where we could live and work together and, God willing, raise our children in his service.”

“Whose idea was that?”

“Mine.”

“I thought that someone else might have suggested it to you as a solution to your problems,” Fidelma said quietly.

Cano frowned. “It matters not who suggested it. That was the purpose of our rendezvous.”

“It does matter. Wasn’t it Brother Sinsear who suggested that you should plan to leave here?”

“Perhaps. Sinsear has been a good friend. He saw that there was no future for us here.”

“You went with Brother Sinsear to Nivelles last evening to take garden produce. Why didn’t you speak with Cessair then?”

“We arrived during the evening service and as there was no excuse to delay at Nivelles, I wrote Cessair a note in Ogham suggesting the meeting. I knew that Cessair could read the ancient Irish writing so I put the instructions in that note and left it with the gatekeeper.”

“Yes. It all fits now,” Fidelma sighed. She turned to the young Brother. “Sinsear, would you mind handing Abbess Ballgel the vial of holy blood from your marsupium? The Abbess has been fretful about it ever since she realized that it was missing.”

Brother Sinsear started, his face white. As if in a dream he opened his waist purse and handed it over.

“I found it on the ground…. I meant to give it to you before. …”

Fidelma shook her head sadly.

“One of the most terrible passions is love turned to hatred because of rejection. A lover who sees the object of their love in love with a rival can sometimes be transformed into a fiend incarnate.”

Brother Cano looked astounded.

“Cessair did not reject me,” he exclaimed. “I tell you again, I did not kill her. We planned to go away together.”

“It is Sinsear to whom I refer,” replied Fidelma. “It was Sinsear whose love had turned to a rage-who wanted to hurt and mutilate her.”

Sinsear was staring at her open-mouthed.

“Sinsear had been in love with Cessair for a long time. Being young and unable to articulate his love, he worshipped her from afar, dreaming of the day when he could summon up courage to declare himself. Then Cano arrived. At first the two were good friends. Then Sinsear introduced Cano to his love. Horror! Cano and Cessair fell truly in love. Day by day, Sinsear found himself watching their passion and his jealousy grew to such a peak at what he saw as Cessair’s rejection of him, that his mind broke with the anguish. He would revenge himself on Cessair with such a vengeance that hell did not possess.”

Sinsear stood with his face drained of all emotion.

“He suggested to Cano that he invite Cessair to a rendezvous in the hut and gave him the pretext of discussing a means of leaving the abbeys. Then he left Fosse in plenty of time to climb the old oak, hiding among the low-hanging branches, to await the arrival of Cessair and her companion. That was why Sister Delia did not hear anyone approach them from behind. He jumped down. I saw the indentation where he landed. He landed just behind Delia and felled her with a blow before she knew it. Am I right?”

Sinsear did not respond.

“Perhaps then he revealed his twisted love to Cessair. Perhaps he begged her to go with him. Did she react in horror, did she laugh? How did she treat this frenzied would-be-lover? We only know how it resulted. He struck her several blows on the head and then, in a gruesome ritual, which serves to demonstrate his immaturity, he decided to punish her beauty by which she beguiled him by mutilating her face with a knife. Whether he tied her first to the tree or not, we do not know unless he tells us. But I have no doubt that she was dead by then.

“Something made him pick up the vial of holy blood and his religious training took the better of him, for instead of leaving it in Cessair’s purse, he put it in his own for safekeeping. Knowing the missing vial was irrelevant, I could not account for its disappearance before.

“Perhaps then he heard Sister Delia coming to. He turned and raced on to Nivelles to raise the alarm. He believed that Sister Delia would probably go on to Fosse to raise the alarm which is why he chose Nivelles.”

Abbot Heribert was staring at Sinsear, seeing the truth of Fi-delma’s accusation confirmed in his cold features.

“How did you first suspect him?” he asked.

“Many reasons can be mentioned if you think back over the events. But, according to his story, Sinsear went along the path in search of Cessair and Delia. He found Cessair dead and tied to the tree. He claimed that he had reached the point after Delia had disappeared. But how could he have seen the body tied to the tree when it was on the far side of the tree to the path he was traveling?

“Even allowing he somehow might have spotted something that made him suspicious, that he was so distraught that he did not think to cut her down and see if he could revive her, why did he run on to Nivelles?”

“For help. He wished to raise the alarm and, as he pointed out when you asked, Nivelles was closer than Fosse to the place. It is logical.”

“There was an even closer place to seek help,” Fidelma pointed out. “Why not go there? He knew that Brother Cano was waiting in the woodsman’s hut just a few hundred meters away. Had he been innocent, he would have rushed to seek Cano and get immediate help.”

The scream made them freeze.

Sinsear had turned and drawn a knife and made a thrust at Brother Cano. He was babbling incoherently.

Cano reacted by striking out in self-defense, felling the young monk with a blow to the jaw.

“Now you can punish him by whatever laws apply here,” Fi-delma told Abbot Heribert. She turned to the Abbess. “And we, Ballgel, shall escort poor Sister Delia back to Nivelles. We have much to talk about….” She paused and glanced sadly at Brother Cano who was now sitting quietly, his head in his hands.

“Even the ancients were acutely aware of the role of emotions causing the symptoms of mental illness. Aegra amans-the lover’s disease-can make people lose all reason. Even the most mature people can go mad and to the young and immature love can destroy the soul as well as the mind.”