Hemlock at Vespers

THOSE THAT TRESPASS

“The matter is clear to me. I cannot understand why the Abbot should be bothered to send you here.”

Father Febal was irritable and clearly displeased at the presence of the advocate in his small church, especially an advocate in the person of the attractive, red-haired religieuse who sat before him in the stuffy vestry. In contrast to her relaxed, almost gentle attitude, he exuded an attitude of restlessness and suspicion. He was a short, swarthy man with pale, almost cadaverous features, the stubble of his beard, though shaven, was blue on his chin and cheeks and his hair was dark like the color of a raven’s wing. His eyes were deep-set but dark and penetrating. When he expressed his irritability his whole body showed his aggravation.

“Perhaps it is because the matter is as unclear to the Abbot as it appears clear to you,” Sister Fidelma replied in an innocent tone. She was unperturbed by the aggressive attitude of the priest.

Father Febal frowned; his narrowed eyes scanned her face rapidly, seeking out some hidden message in her features. However, Fidelma’s face remained a mask of unaffected candor. He compressed his lips sourly.

“Then you can return to the Abbot and report to him that he has no need for concern.”

Fidelma smiled gently. There was a hint of a shrug in the position of her shoulders.

“The Abbot takes his position as father of his flock very seriously. He would want to know more details of this tragedy before he could be assured that he need not concern himself in the matter. As the matter is so clear to you, perhaps you will explain it to me?”

Father Febal gazed at the religieuse, hearing for the first time the note of cold determination in her soft tones.

He was aware that Sister Fidelma was not merely a religieuse but a qualified advocate of the Brehon Law courts of the five kingdoms. Furthermore, he knew that she was the young sister of King Colgú of Cashel himself, otherwise he might have been more brusque in his responses to the young woman. He hesitated a moment or two and then shrugged indifferently.

“The facts are simple. My assistant, Father Ibor, a young and indolent man, went missing the day before yesterday. I had known for some time that there had been something troubling him, something distracting him from his priestly duties. I tried to talk to him about it but he refused to be guided by me. I came to the church that morning and found that the golden crucifix from our altar and the silver chalice, with which we dispense the communion wine, were both missing. Once I found that Father Ibor had also vanished from our small community here, it needed no great legal mind to connect the two events. He had obviously stolen the sacred objects and fled.”

Sister Fidelma inclined her head slowly.

“Having come to this conclusion, what did you do then?”

“I immediately organized a search. Our little church here is attended by Brother Finnlug and Brother Adag. I called upon them to help me. Before entering the order, Finnlug was master huntsman to the Lord of Maine, an excellent tracker and huntsman. We picked up the trail of Ibor and followed it to the woods nearby. We were only a short distance into the woods, we came across his body. He was hanging from the branch of a tree with the cord of his habit as a noose.”

Sister Fidelma was thoughtful.

“And how did you interpret this sight?” she asked quietly.

Father Febal was puzzled.

“How should I interpret this sight?” he demanded.

Fidelma’s expression did not change. “You tell me that you believed that Father Ibor had stolen the crucifix and chalice from the church and ran off.”

“That is so.”

“Then you say that you came across him hanging on a tree.”

“True again.”

“Having stolen these valued items and ran off, why would he hang himself? There seems some illogic in this action.”

Father Febal did not even attempt to suppress a sneer.

“It should be as obvious to you as it was to me.”

“I would like to hear what you thought.” Fidelma did not rise to his derisive tone.

Father Febal smiled thinly.

“Why, Father Ibor was overcome with remorse. Knowing that we would track him down, realizing how heinous his crime against the Church was, he gave up to despair and pronounced his own punishment. He therefore hanged himself. In fact, so great was his fear that we would find him still alive, he even stabbed himself as he was suffocating in the noose, the knife entering his heart.”

“He must have bled a lot from such a wound. Was there much blood on the ground?”

“Not as I recall.” There was distaste in the priest’s voice as if he felt the religieuse was unduly occupied with gory detail. “Anyway, the knife lay on the ground below the body where it had fallen from his hand.”

Fidelma did not say anything for a long while. She remained gazing thoughtfully at the priest. Father Febal glared back defi-antly but it was he who dropped his eyes first.

“Was Father Ibor such a weak young man?” Fidelma mused softly.

“Of course. What else but weakness would have caused him to act in this manner?” demanded the priest.

“So? And you recovered both the crucifix and chalice from his person, then?”

A frown crossed Father Febal’s features as he hesitated a moment. He made a curiously negative gesture with one hand.

Fidelma’s eyes widened and she bent forward.

“You mean that you did not recover the missing items?” she pressed sharply.

“No,” admitted the priest.

“Then this matter is not at all clear,” she observed grimly.

“Surely, you cannot expect the Abbot to rest easy in his mind when these items have not been recovered? How can you be so sure that it was Father Ibor who stole them?”

Fidelma waited for an explanation but none was forthcoming.

“Perhaps you had better tell me how you deem this matter is clear then?” Her voice was acerbic. “If I am to explain this clarity to the Abbot, I must also be clear in my own mind. If Father Ibor felt that his apprehension was inevitable and he felt constrained to inflict the punishment of death on himself when he realized the nearness of your approach, what did he do with the items he had apparently stolen?”

“There is one logical answer,” muttered Father Febal without conviction.

“Which is?”

“Having hanged himself, some wandering thief happened by and took the items with him before we arrived.”

“And there is evidence of that occurrence?”

The priest shook his head reluctantly.

“So that is just your supposition?” Now there was just a hint of derision in Fidelma’s voice.

“What other explanation is there?” demanded Father Febal in annoyance.

Fidelma cast a scornful glance at him.

“Would you have me report this to the Abbot and inform him that he need not worry?; that a valuable crucifix and a chalice have been stolen from one of his churches and a priest has been found hanged but there is no need to worry?”

Father Febal’s features grew tight.

“I am satisfied that Father Ibor stole the items and took his own life in a fit of remorse. I am satisfied that someone then stole the items after Ibor committed suicide.”

“But I am not,” replied Fidelma bitingly. “Send Brother Finnlug to me.”

Father Febal had risen automatically in response to the commanding tone in her voice. Now he hesitated at the vestry door.

“I am not used-” he began harshly.

“I am not used to being kept waiting,” Fidelma’s tone was icy as she cut in, turning her head away from him in dismissal. Father Febal blinked and then banged the door shut behind him in anger.

Brother Finnlug was a wiry looking individual; his sinewy body, tanned by sun and wind, proclaimed him to be more a man used to being out in all sorts of weather than sheltering in the cloisters of some abbey. Fidelma greeted him as he entered the vestry.

“I am Fidelma of-”

Brother Finnlug interrupted her with a quick, friendly grin.

“I know well who you are, lady,” he replied. “I saw you and your brother, Colgú the King, many times hunting in the company of my Lord of Maine.”

“Then you know that I am also an advocate of the courts and that you are duty bound to tell me the truth?”

“I know that much. You are here to inquire about the tragic death of Father Ibor.” Brother Finnlug was straightforward and friendly in contrast to his superior.

“Why do you call it a tragic death?”

“Is not all death tragic?”

“Did you know Father Ibor well?”

The former huntsman shook his head.

“I knew little of him. He was a young man, newly ordained and very unsure of himself. He was only here about a month.”

“I see. Was he the newest member of the community then? For example, how long has Father Febal been here?”

“Father Febal has been priest here for seven years. I came here a year ago and Brother Adag has been here a little more than that.”

“I presume that your little community were on good terms with one another?”

Brother Finnlug frowned slightly and did not reply.

“I mean, I presume that there was no animosity between the four of you?” explained Fidelma.

Finnlug’s features wrinkled in an expression which Fidelma was not able to interpret.

“To be truthful, Father Febal liked to emphasize his seniority over us. I believe he entered the Church from some noble family and does not forget it.”

“Was that attitude resented?”

“Not by me. I was in service to the Lord of Maine. I am used to being given orders and to obeying them. I know my place.”

Was there a slight note of bitterness there? Fidelma wondered.

“If I recall rightly, the Lord of Maine was a generous man and those in his service were well looked after. It must have been a wrench for you to leave such a employer to enter religious life?”

Brother Finnlug grimaced.

“Spiritual rewards are often richer than temporal ones. But, as I say, I have been used to service. The same may be said for Brother Adag, who was once a servant to another lord. But he is somewhat of a simpleton.” The monk touched his forehead. “They say such people are blessed of God.”

“Did Father Ibor get on well with Father Febal?”

“Ah, that I can’t say. He was a quiet young man. Kept himself to himself. I do not think he liked Father Febal. I have seen resentment in his eyes.”

“Why would he be resentful? Father Febal was the senior of your community. Father Ibor should have recognized his authority without question.”

The monk shrugged.

“All I can say is that he was hostile to Father Febal’s authority.”

“Why do you think that he stole the items from the church?”

Fidelma asked the question sharply.

Brother Finnlug’s expression did not alter.

He simply spread his arms.

“Who can say what motivates a person to such actions? Who can know the deep secrets of men’s hearts?”

“That is what I am here to discover.” Fidelma replied dryly. “Surely, you must have an idea? Even to hazard a guess?”

“What does Father Febal say?”

“Does it matter what he says?”

“I would have thought that he was closer to Father Ibor than either Brother Adag or myself.”

“Closer? Yet you said there was hostility between them.”

“I did not mean close in the manner of friends. But they were priests together. Of similar social backgrounds, unlike Adag and I. As brothers of this community, our task was more like servants in this church rather than the equals of Fathers Febal and Ibor.”

“I see.” Fidelma frowned thoughtfully. “I am sure the Abbot will be distressed to learn that this is the way your community is governed. We are all servants of God and all one under His Supreme Power.”

“That is not exactly the Faith which Father Febal espouses.” There was clearly bitterness in his voice.

“So you do not know why Ibor might have stolen the items?”

“They were items of great value. They would never be poor on the proceeds of that wealth.”

“They?”

“I mean, whoever stole the items.”

“You have a doubt that Father Ibor stole them, then?”

“You are sharp, Sister. Alas, I do not have the precise way with words that you do.”

“Why do you think Father Ibor hanged himself having fled with these valuable items?”

“To avoid capture?”

“Your reply is in the form of a question. You mean that you are not sure of this fact either?”

Brother Finnlug shrugged.

“It is difficult for me to say. I cannot understand why a priest should take his life in any event. Surely no priest would commit such a sin?”

“Would you say that you cannot be sure that Father Ibor took his life?”

Brother Finnlug was startled.

“Did I say that?”

“You implied it. Tell me, in your own words what happened during the last two days. Had there been any tension between Ibor and Febal or any one else?”

Finnlug set his jaw firmly and stared at her for a moment.

“I did hear Father Ibor arguing the night before he disappeared.”

Fidelma leant forward, encouragingly.

“Arguing? With Father Febal?”

Brother Finnlug shook his head.

“I cannot be sure. I passed his cell and heard his voice raised. The other voice was quiet and muffled. It was as if Father Ibor had lost his temper but the person he was arguing with was in control.”

“You have no idea who this other person was?”

“None.”

“And you heard nothing of the substance of the argument?”

“I caught only a few words here and there.”

“And what were these words?”

“Nothing that makes sense. Ibor said, ‘It is the only way.’ Then he paused and after the other person said something, he replied. ‘No, no, no. If it has to end, I shall not be the one to end it.’ That was all I heard.”

Fidelma was quiet as she considered the matter.

“Did you interpret anything from these words, especially in the light of what subsequently happened?”

Brother Finnlug shook his head.

The door of the vestry suddenly opened and Father Febal stood on the threshold, his features wearing a peculiar look of satisfaction. He was clearly a man who had heard some news which pleased him.

“We have found the thief who took the crucifix and chalice from Father Ibor,” he announced.

Brother Finnlug rose swiftly to his feet. His eyes flickered from Farther Febal to Sister Fidelma. Fidelma saw something in his eyes and could not quite interpret the expression. Was it fear?

“Bring the thief forth,” she instructed calmly, remaining seated.

Father Febal shook his head.

“That would be impossible.”

“Impossible?” asked Fidelma with a dangerous note to her voice.

“The thief is dead.”

“You’d best explain,” Fidelma invited. “In detail. Does this thief have a name?”

Father Febal nodded.

“Téite was her name.”

There was a deep intake of breath from Brother Finnlug.

“I take it that you knew her, Brother Finnlug?” Fidelma turned her head inquiringly.

“We all did,” replied Father Febal shortly.

“Who was she?”

“A young girl who lived not far from our community in the forest. She was a seamstress. She sewed garments for our community. She also laundered clothes for us.”

“Where was she found and how was she identified as the thief?”

“Her cabin is within a short distance of where we found Father Ibor,” explained the priest. “I understand from Brother Adag that she had picked up some garments from the community and when she did not return with them, as she had arranged, this morning, Brother Adag went to her cabin and found her-”

Fidelma raised a hand to silence him.

“Let Brother Adag come forth and tell me his story in his own words. It is proper that I hear this matter at first hand. You and Brother Finnlug may wait outside.”

Father Febal looked uncomfortable.

“I think that you had better be warned, Sister.”

“Warned?” Fidelma’s head came up quickly to stare at the priest.

“Brother Adag is slightly simple in nature. In many ways his mind has not matured into adulthood. His role in our community is to do simple manual tasks. He … how shall I explain it?… has a child’s mind.”

“It might be refreshing to speak with one who has remained a child and not developed the contrived attitudes of an adult,” Fidelma smiled thinly. “Bring him hither.”

Brother Adag was a handsome youth but clearly one who was used to taking orders rather than thinking for himself. His eyes were rounded and seem to hold an expression of permanent innocence; of inoffensive naivete. His hands were calloused and showed that he was also a man used to manual work.

“You found the body of the woman, Téite, in her cabin, so I am told?”

The young man drew his brows together as if giving earnest consideration to the question before answering.

“Yes, Sister. When she did not arrive here at midday, with some garments which she had collected the day before and promised to deliver, Father Febal sent me to fetch them. I went to her cabin and she was lying stretched on the floor. There was blood on her clothing. She had been stabbed several times.”

“Ah? So Father Febal sent you to her cabin?”

The youth nodded slowly.

“How old was this woman, Téite? Did you know her?”

“Everyone knew her, Sister, and she was eighteen years and three months of age.”

“You are very exact.” Fidelma smiled at his meticulous diction, as if he considered each word almost before he uttered it.

“Téite told me her age and, as you ask me for it, I told you.” It was a simple statement of fact.

“Was she pretty?”

The youth blushed a little. He dropped his eyes.

“Very pretty, Sister.”

“You liked her?” pressed Fidelma.

The young man seemed agitated.

“No. No, I didn’t.” He protested. His face was now crimson.

“Why ever not?”

“It is the Father’s rule.”

“Father Febal’s rule?”

Brother Adag hung his head and did not reply.

“Rule or not, you still liked her. You may tell me.”

“She was kind to me. She did not make fun like the others.”

“So, what persuaded you that she had stolen the crucifix and chalice from Father Ibor?”

The young Brother turned an ingenuous look upon her.

“Why, the chalice was lying by the side of her body in the cabin.”

Fidelma hid her surprise.

“The chalice only?” She swallowed hard. “Why would someone enter her cottage, kill her and leave such a valuable item by the body?”

Brother Adag clearly did not understand the point she was making. He said nothing.

“What did you do after you found the body?” she continued after a pause.

“Why, I came to tell Father Febal.”

“And left the chalice there?”

Brother Adag sniffed disparagingly.

“I am not stupid. No, I brought it with me. Father Febal has been searching for it these last two days. I brought it back to Father Febal for safekeeping. I even searched for the crucifix but could not find it there.”

“That is all, Adag. Send Father Febal in to me,” Fidelma instructed the youth.

The priest entered a moment later and sat down before Fidelma without waiting to be asked.

“A sad tale,” he muttered. “But at least the matter should be cleared up to your satisfaction now. You may return to give your report to the Abbot.”

“How well did you know this woman, Téite?” asked Fidelma, without commenting.

Father Febal raised his eyebrows a moment and then sighed.

“I have known her since she was a small girl. I went to administer the last rites when her mother died. Téite had barely reached the age of choice then. However, she had a talent with a needle and therefore was able to make a good living. She has lived within the forest these last four years to my knowledge and often repaired or made garments for our community.”

“Did Father Ibor know her?”

Febal hesitated and then gave an odd dismissive gesture with his hand.

“He was a young man. Young men are often attracted to young women.”

Fidelma glanced at the priest curiously.

“So Father Ibor was attracted to the girl?” she asked with emphasis.

“He was in her company more than I found to be usual. I had occasion to reprimand him.”

“Reprimand him? That sounds serious.”

“I felt that he was neglecting his duties to be with the girl.”

“Are you telling me that there was a relationship between Father Ibor and this girl?”

“I am not one to judge such a matter. I know only that they were frequently in one another’s company during the past few weeks, almost since the time he arrived at our little community. I felt that he was ignoring his obligation to his community. That is all.”

“Did he resent your admonition?”

“I really have no idea whether he resented my telling him or not. That was not my concern. My concern was to bring him to an awareness of what was expected of him in this community.”

“You did not have an argument about it?”

“An argument? I am… I was his superior and when I told him of my concern that should have been an end to the matter.”

“Clearly it was not an end to it,” observed Fidelma.

Father Febal gave her an angry look.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“The events that have unfolded since you told Father Ibor that he was spending too much time with Téite have demonstrated that it was not an end to the matter,” Fidelma pointed out coldly. “Or do you have some other interpretation of these events?”

Father Febal hesitated.

“You are right. You are implying that the two of them were in the plot to steal the artifacts from the church and, having done so, Father Ibor was overcome with remorse and killed himself….” The priest’s eyes suddenly widened. “Having killed the girl first,” he added.

Fidelma reflectively stroked the side of her nose with a forefinger.

“It is an explanation,” she conceded. “But it is not one that I particularly favor.”

“Why not?” demanded the priest.

“The hypothesis would be that the young priest was so enamored of the girl that they decided to run away, stealing the valuable objects as a means of securing themselves from want and poverty. We would also have to conclude that, having reached as far as the girl’s cabin, the young priest is overcome with remorse. He quarrels with the girl and stabs her to death. Then, leaving the precious chalice by her body, yet curiously hiding the crucifix, he wanders into the forest and, after traveling some distance, he decides he is so distressed that he hangs himself. Furthermore, while hanging, suffocating to death, he is able to take out a knife and stab himself through the heart.”

“What is wrong with that surmise?”

Fidelma smiled thinly.

“Let us have Brother Adag back here again. You may stay, Father Febal.”

The ingenuous young monk stood looking from Fidelma to Father Febal with an unstudied innocence.

“I am told that it was you who saw Téite when she came to the community yesterday?”

The boy was thoughtful. “Yes. It is my task to gather the clothes that need washing or mending and prepare a bundle for Téite.”

“And this you did yesterday morning?”

“Yes.”

“Téite collected them? These were garments for sewing?”

“And two habits for washing. Father Febal and Brother Finnlug had given me… They had been torn and one bloodied in the search for Father Ibor.”

“Let me be sure of this,” interrupted Fidelma. “Téite collected them yesterday morning?”

Brother Adag looked across at Father Febal, dropped his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“Yes; yesterday morning.”

“You are sure that she collected them after the search had been made for Father Ibor then?”

“Yes; Father Ibor was found on the day before.”

“Think carefully,” snapped Father Febal irritated. “Think again.”

The young monk flushed and shrugged helplessly.

Father Febal sniffed in annoyance.

“There you are, Sister, you see that little credit may be placed on this simpleton memory. The clothes must have been taken before we found Father Ibor.”

The young monk whirled around. For a moment Fidelma thought that he was going to attack Father Febal for both hands came up, balled into clenched fists. But he kept them tight against his chest, in a defensive attitude. His face was red and there was anger in his eye.

“Simple I may be but at least I cared for Téite.” There was a sob in his voice.

Father Febal took an involuntary step backward.

“Who did not care for Téite?” Fidelma prompted gently. “Father Ibor?”

“Of course, he did not care. But she cared for him. She loved him. Not like-”

The youth was suddenly silent.

“I would take no notice of this boy’s foolishness, Sister,” Father Febal interposed blandly. “We all know what happened.”

“Do we? Since we are talking of people being attracted to this young girl, was Brother Finnlug attracted to her?”

“Finnlug?” Brother Adag grimaced dismissively. “He has no time for women.”

Father Febal looked pained.

“Brother Finnlug has several faults. Women were certainly not one of them.”

“Faults?” pressed Fidelma with interest. “What faults does he have then?”

“Alas, if only he had the gift of spirituality we would be compensated. He was of use to us only in his ability to hunt and gather food for our table. He is not suited for this religious life. Now, I think we have spoken enough. Let us call a halt to this unhappy affair before things are said that may be regretted.”

“We will end it only when we discover the truth of the matter,” replied Fidelma firmly. “Truth is never to be regretted.” She turned to the youth. “I know you liked the girl, Téite. Yet now she is dead and has been murdered. Father Febal’s rule does not apply now. You owe it to your feelings for her to tell us the truth.”

The boy stuck out his chin. “I am telling the truth.”

“Of course, you are. You say that Father Ibor did not like Téite?”

“He did not love her as I did.”

“And how did Téite feel toward Ibor?”

“She was blinded by Father Ibor’s cleverness. She thought that she loved him. I overheard them. He told her to stop… stop pestering, that was his word… stop pestering him. She thought that she loved him just as Father Febal thought that he loved her.”

The priest rose angrily.

“What are you saying, boy?” he thundered. “You are crazy!”

“You cannot deny that you told her that you loved her,” Brother Adag replied, not intimated by the priest’s anger. “I overheard you arguing with her on the day before Father Ibor died.”

Father Febal’s eyes narrowed.

“Ah, now you are not so stupid that you forget times and places and events. The boy cannot be trusted, Sister. I would discount his evidence.”

“I loved Téite and can be trusted!” cried Brother Adag.

“I did not love her…” Father Febal insisted. “I do not love anyone.”

“A priest should love all his flock,” smiled Fidelma in gentle rebuke.

“I refer to the licentious love of women. I merely looked after Téite when her mother died. Without me she would not have survived.”

“But you felt, perhaps, that she owed you something?”

Father Febal scowled at her. “We are not here to speak of Téite but the crime of Father Ibor.”

“Crime? No, I think that we are here to speak of a crime committed against him rather than by him.”

Father Febal paled. “What do you mean?”

“Téite was murdered. But she was not murdered by Father Ibor. Nor was she responsible for stealing the crucifix or the chalice, which was found so conveniently by her body.”

“How have you worked this out?”

“Send for Brother Finnlug. Then we may all discuss the resolution of this matter.”

They sat in the small vestry facing her: Father Febal, Brother Finnlug and Brother Adag. Their faces all wore expressions of curiosity.

“I grant that people behave curiously,” began Fidelma. “Even at the best of times their behavior can be strange; but I doubt that they would behave in the manner that is presented to me.”

She smiled, turning to them each in turn.

“What is your solution to this matter?” sneered the priest.

“Certainly it would not be one where the murder victim appears alive and well after the murderer has hanged himself.”

Father Febal blinked. “Adag must be mistaken.”

“No. Father Ibor and the artifacts vanished the day before yesterday? You immediately raised the alarm. Brother Finnlug tracked Ibor through the forest and you found him hanging from a tree. Isn’t that right?”

“Quite right.”

“Had he killed Téite, as is now being suggested, before he hanged himself, she could not have come to the community yesterday noon to pick up the garments that needed sewing.”

“Why do you discount the fact that Adag might be confused about the day?”

“Because he gave Téite two habits that had been torn and bloodied in the search for Father Ibor, those worn by you and Finnlug when you found him hanging on the tree. Doubtless they will be found in her cabin to prove the point.” Fidelma paused. “Am I to presume that no one thought to tell the girl that Ibor had just been discovered having hanged himself? She did think she was in love with him.”

“I did not see the girl,” Father Febal replied quickly. “Brother Adag did.”

“And Brother Adag admits that he loved Téite,” added Brother Finnlug cynically.

The young man raised his head defiantly.

“I do not deny it. But she didn’t return my love, she loved Father Ibor who rejected her.”

“And that made you angry?” asked Fidelma.

“Yes. Very angry!” replied Brother Adag vehemntly.

Brother Finnlug turned to gaze at his companion in suspicion.

“Angry enough to kill them both?” he whispered.

“No,” Fidelma replied before Brother Adag could put in his denial. “Ibor and Téite were not killed in anger, but in cold blood. Weren’t they, Brother Finnlug?”

Brother Finnlug turned sharply to her, his eyes were suddenly dead.

“Why would I know that, Sister Fidelma?”

“Because you killed them both,” she said quietly.

“That’s nonsense! Why would I do that?” exploded the monk, after a moment’s shocked silence.

“Because when you stole the crucifix and chalice from the church, you were discovered by Father Ibor. You had to kill him. You stabbed him in the heart and then took the body to the forest where you concocted a suicide by hanging. Then you realized the knife wound could not be hidden and so you left the knife lying by his body. As if anyone, hanging by a cord from a tree, would be able to take out a knife and stab themselves in the heart. How, incidentally, was the poor man able to climb to the branch to hang himself? No one has reported to me any means whereby he could have climbed up. Think of the effort involved. The body was placed there by someone else.”

She gazed at Father Febal who was deep in thought. He shook his head, denying he could offer an explanation.

Fidelma returned her gaze to Brother Finnlug.

“You concocted an elaborate plan to deceive everyone as to what had truly happened.”

There was a tension in the vestry now.

“You are insane,” muttered Brother Finnlug.

Fidelma smiled gently.

“You were huntsman to the Lord of Maine. We have already discussed what a generous man he was to those in his service. None went in want, not even when the harvest was bad. When I asked you what reason you had to leave such a gainful employer, you said it was because of your spiritual convictions. Do you maintain that? That you rejected the temporal life for the spiritual life?”

Father Febal was gazing at Brother Finnlug in bemusement. The monk was silent.

“You also revealed to me, unwittingly, perhaps, your resentment at the structure of this community. If it was a spiritual life you wanted, this was surely not it, was it?”

Father Febal intervened softly.

“The truth was that Finnlug was dismissed by the Lord of Maine for stealing and we took him in here.”

“What does that prove?” demanded Finnlug.

“I am not trying to prove anything. I will tell you what you did. You had initially hoped to get away with the robbery. The motive was simple, as you told me; the sale of those precious artifacts would make you rich for life. That would appease your resentment that others had power and riches but you did not. As I have said, Ibor discovered you and you stabbed him and took his body to the forest. When you returned, you realized that you had his blood on your clothing.

“The theft was now discovered and Father Febal sought your help. The blood was not noticed. Maybe you put on a cloak to disguise it. You, naturally, led him to Father Ibor’s body. Everything was going as you planned. Father Ibor had been blamed for the theft. Now Father Febal was led to believe that Ibor must have killed himself in a fit of remorse. Even the fact that Ibor had been stabbed was explained. The fact there was little blood on the ground did not cause any questions. You could pretend that the bloodstains were received in the search for Ibor. Perhaps you, Finnlug, came up with the idea that the missing crucifix and chalice had been taken by some robber.

“The following day Téite, unaware, came to collect the sewing and washing. Adag had gathered the washing as usual, including your habit, the bloodstained one. You had not meant the girl to have it. You hurried to her cottage to make sure she did not suspect. Perhaps you had made your plan even before you went there? You killed her and placed the chalice by her side. After all, the crucifix was such as would still give you wealth and property. It was known that Téite and Ibor had some relationship. Everyone would think the worst. All you had to do was return and bide your time until you could leave the community without arousing suspicion.”

Brother Finnlug’s face was white.

“You can’t prove it,” he whispered without conviction.

“Do I need to? Shall we go to search for the crucifix? Will you tell us where it is … or shall I tell you?” She stood up decisively as if to leave the room.

Brother Finnlug groaned, raising his hands to his head.

“All right, all right. It is true. You know it is still hidden in my cell. It was my chance to escape … to have some wealth, a good life.”

Later, Father Febal walked slowly with Fidelma to the gate of the complex of buildings which formed the community.

“How did you know where Brother Finnlug had hidden the crucifix?” he asked.

Sister Fidelma glanced at the grave-looking priest and suddenly allowed a swift mischievous grin to flit across her features.

“I didn’t,” she confessed.

Father Febal frowned.

“How did you know, then…? Know it was Finnlug and what he had done?” he demanded.

“It was only an instinct. Certainly it was a deduction based on the same facts, such as they were. But had Brother Finnlug demanded that I prove my accusation, I do not think I would have been able to under the strictures of the proceedings of a court of law. Sometimes, in this business of obtaining proof, more depends on what the guilty person thinks you know and believes that you can prove than what you are actually able to prove. Had Brother Finnlug not confessed, I might not have been able to clear up this business at all.”

Father Febal was still staring at her aghast as she raised her hand in farewell and began to stride along the road in the direction of Cashel.