Our Lady of Darkness

Chapter Twenty-One

‘I knew it,’ stormed Bishop Forbassach, rising in anger from his seat again. ‘This is some plot to attack and slander Abbess Fainder. I will not tolerate it.’

‘I have no plot to involve Abbess Fainder any more than she is involved,’ replied Fidelma quietly. ‘I did have suspicions, especially when I gathered that, since coming to the abbey, Fainder has acquired much wealth.’

‘Barrán! I accuse this woman of persecution!’ cried Abbot Noé, also rising from his seat. ‘We cannot sit by while she criticises Abbess Fainder in this fashion.’

‘I have said that-’ began Fidelma.

‘Deny it!’ screamed the abbess, suddenly losing control of her temper. ‘You are trying to trap me in your web of lies!’ It was some time before she was persuaded to regain her composure. When calm was restored, Barrán addressed himself to Fidelma.

‘It does sound as though you are leading up to an accusation of Abbess Fainder’s guilt. You point out that it was essential that the punishment of death as prescribed by the Penitentials was enacted. You point out that Abbess Fainder insisted on that and for reasons best known to himself the Brehon Forbassach agreed and persuaded the King to give his approval. You keep mentioning this, this puppet-master — as you call him — as being a member of the abbey community. Who better to be at the centre of the terrible web which you describe than the abbess herself? And now you claim, as if with significance, that she has become wealthy since arriving at the abbey?’

‘Lies! Lies! Lies!’ cried the abbess, banging her fist on the wooden arm of her chair. She had to be calmed again by Bishop Forbassach.

‘Abbess Fainder is indirectly responsible for much of what has happened here and we must now deal with that matter. But I have already shown that she did not kill Gabrán.’

A rumble of noise came from those present. Barrán called immediately for silence.

‘In fact,’ went on Fidelma, ‘it could be said that Abbot Noé was more indirectly responsible than anyone else.’

The abbot shot up from his seat in a belligerent posture.

‘Me? You dare accuse me of being involved in murder and this terrible trade in young girls?’

‘I did not say that. I said you were indirectly responsible for what happened here. For some time now you have been converting to the philosophies of Rome. I realised that your conversion must have occurred when you first met with Fainder in Rome.’

‘I’ll not deny my conversion to the Penitentials,’ muttered Noé, reseating himself but placing himself in a defensive posture.

‘Do you deny that Fainder exercised a strong influence over you, persuaded you to bring her back to Laigin and appoint her abbess while you invited Fianamail to make you his spiritual adviser, thereby giving you a power throughout the whole kingdom?’

‘That is your interpretation.’

‘It is the facts of the matter. You went so far as to overrule the system of appointments in the abbey in order that Fainder could be made abbess. You claimed she was a distant cousin; she was not, but no one seemed to challenge the appointment, not even when they knew that Fainder bore no relationship to you. Once Fainder was abbess she ruled the community by the Penitentials. You were besotted by her. You started the process, Noé. The ground on which the laws were changed and these events were able to happen was sown by you through your infatuation with this woman.’

‘How do you know that Fainder is not related to Noé?’ asked Barrán quickly. ‘And where does this question of her new wealth come into the story?’

‘Her sister is Deog, widow of the watchman Daig,’ explained Fidelma. ‘Deog told me about her sister’s new-found wealth. Fainder frequently visited Deog but, alas, it was no sisterly love that caused the abbess to ride to her sister’s cabin so regularly, was it, Forbassach?’

Bishop Forbassach’s face crimsoned under her gaze.

‘You also became a very recent convert to the use of the Penitentials, didn’t you?’ queried Fidelma. ‘Do you want to tell us why?’

For the first time in the proceedings, the Brehon of Laigin was silent before her question.

It was Abbess Fainder who answered. She was broken and trying to suppress her sobs.

‘Forbassach’s love for me had nothing to do with his embracing true Christian law,’ she cried defensively. ‘He became an advocate for the Penitentials based on logic, not on our love for one another.’

A cry of outrage rang out and a woman was led outside from the back of the hall by two other women. Forbassach half-rose but Fidelma gestured for him to reseat himself.

‘That is something you will have to sort out with your wife later, Forbassach,’ she said. Fainder’s eyes were fixed with malignance on her but she met their gaze without rancour.

‘The new wealth was merely an over-abundance of gifts from both Forbassach and Noé, isn’t that so? They were showering you with presents in an effort to court you. Amantes sunt amentes. Lovers are lunatics.’

The look on the face of the abbess was enough to frighten a lesser person. Forbassach was clearly embarrassed by the revelations but was not demonstrating guilt. Abbot Noé sat in silence, completely stunned by these revelations. Even Fidelma felt a pang of remorse that she had revealed Fainder’s duplicity to him. He was obviously so intoxicated by the abbess that the idea that Forbassach was also her lover was like a knife-wound.

‘At least my deduction that you were not guilty, Fainder, was confirmed when you fainted at Cam Eolaing when I pointed out that the person behind this evil was someone with a high rank at the abbey. You fainted because you thought that I was referring to one of your lovers. But which?’

Abbess Fainder’s face was red with mortification.

‘If I follow your reasoning, Fidelma,’ interrupted Barrán, ‘you are saying that Abbess Fainder did not kill Gabrán. Yet you also say that Fial did not kill Gabrán. Who did, then — and was it by Abbess Fainder’s orders?’

‘Let me lead to it in my own way,’ Fidelma pleaded, ‘for I have never come across such a complicated conspiracy. Our puppet-master was beginning to panic at the increasing number of deaths that were occurring following in the wake of Gabrán’s first crime. Things were not working out as expected. Each attempt to cover up the guilty led to an even worse disaster. As I said, it was decided that Gabrán had to be silenced and the trade ended — for a while at least. The person designated to kill Gabrán was due to leave the abbey to visit a relative who lived nearby where Gabrán’s boat had been moored. Gabrán was waiting forhis new cargo. Two girls were to be picked up that morning. The killer set off to find Gabrán’s boat not realising, perhaps, that Abbess Fainder was a short distance behind him.

‘He arrived at the boat and found Gabrán having sent one of his men into the hills to collect his merchandise. The arrival of the girls on the boat always took place in a secluded spot. Most of Gabrán’s crew were given money and told to take the asses, which drew the boat along the river to this point, and not return until the next day. While they were away, the girls would arrive and only one or two of the crew would know of their existence.

‘Our killer found Gabrán apparently alone. He killed him with the powerful stroke of a sword on his neck. The killer then had to wait, presumably to kill the other man when he arrived with the young girls. He would probably have killed them as well so that all the mouths were shut. However, the killer then saw the abbess approaching along the bank. There was no alternative but to leave hurriedly. He went into the hills. Perhaps he thought that Gabrán’s man and the girls might be encountered on the road and the murders completed. When he could not find the man and the girls, the killer continued on to the relative that they had promised to visit.

‘Back on Gabrán’s boat, unbeknown to anyone, in the tiny cabin where she had been a prisoner for several days, poor little Fial had freed herself from her foot constraints. Not knowing what had happened, she climbed up into Gabrán’s cabin and saw him lying dead on the floor. Her first thought was to break for freedom and she grabbed the key that she knew opened her wrist manacles.

‘Then she paused as a great rage welled up in her. She seized a knife and dragged Gabrán’s head up by the hair and plunged the little knife into his chest and arms in a frenzy of anger. He was already dead and no mortal wounds were struck. It was an expression of rage only for all the harm and hurt he had done to her. Then there came a knock at the cabin door. The abbess had by this time come aboard. Startled, Fial dropped both Gabrán and the knife, and fled back into her hole, grabbing a handful of keys as she did so. The abbess entered.

‘Fial eventually found the right key among the four she had taken, escaped through the length of the ship into the hold, climbed up onto the deck and jumped into the water. She was swept away downriver until she was able to climb out, but then found herself pursued by Forbassach and Mel.’

‘It is a good reconstruction, Fidelma,’ observed Barrán. ‘Do we come near to proving any of it? Some of it I can see has the weight of evidence from Fial and the abbess, but what of this mysterious killer? And how do you know about the relative in the hills?’

‘It is not so mysterious. Thanks to what Brother Eadulf has told me of his adventures, we can identify this man.’

‘The Saxon? How can he identify the killer? He was already a fugitive,’ asked Barrán.

‘Brother Eadulf found hospitality with a blind recluse named Dalbach.’

Fianamail stirred for the first time since the proceedings began. He sat up suddenly.

‘Dalbach? But he is a cousin of mine! He is my relative!’

Barrán smiled thinly at him before turning to Fidelma.

‘Are you saying that it was the King of Laigin himself who was visiting his cousin that day?’

Fidelma sighed impatiently.

‘Dalbach told Eadulf that his relative was one of the religious at the abbey of Fearna. The identity was obvious.’

When no one responded and made what seemed to Fidelma the obvious identification she continued testily.

‘Very well, let me lead you further. Dalbach obviously made the mistake of confiding to his cousin that he had given Eadulf hospitality. Willingly or unwillingly, he told that cousin that he had recommended that Eadulf should seek sanctuary that night on the Yellow Mountain. This relative of Dalbach’s, realising that Eadulf’s death was vital to the plan to hide the traces of this conspiracy, rode for the Yellow Mountain.’ She paused and looked at Fianamail. ‘You were at your hunting lodge which was close by the community of the Blessed Brigid, where Eadulf had taken the two girls. In the middle of the night, someone arrived to inform you where Eadulf might be.’

Many eyes had fallen on Abbot Noé but Fianamail was looking askance.

‘It was my cousin, my cousin …’

Brother Cett had made a curious animal cry and was trying to fight his way out of the hall. It took four of Barrán’s guards to restrain the big, powerful man.

Fidelma spread her hands.

‘Quod erat demonstrandum. It was Brother Cett. I knew he was yourcousin, Fianamail, and when Eadulf told me only Dalbach had known where he was hiding last night and that Dalbach was also related to the royal family of the Uí Cheinnselaig and further, has a cousin who was a religieux at Fearna, I simply put two and two together. For further proof, if you examine Brother Cett’s robe, you will probably find that it has a tear and is frayed at a point about fifty centimeters from the hem.’

A warrior bent to examine the area and sprang up to give confirmation to Barrán.

Fidelma took out some frayed strands of wool from her marsupium. ‘I think these will match his garment. Cett caught his robe on a nail in Gabrán’s cabin.’

It was confirmed in a few moments.

‘Only a strong man like Cett could deliver that upward blow that killed Gabrán, not a weak girl like Fial nor even the abbess.’

There was a murmur of applause among those in the hall. It was interrupted by Bishop Forbassach’s cynical tones. He had recovered something of his old aplomb and he was looking for revenge. He was actually chuckling.

‘You are doubtless very clever, Fidelma, but not that clever. The religious who was aboard the boat when Fial was instructed to lie was not Brother Cett, otherwise the girl would have remarked on the burly build of the man. In fact, she denied it was the same person.’

There was a moment of silent anticipation while everyone looked towards Fidelma.

‘Let me congratulate you on your perception, Forbassach,’ she acknowledged. ‘It is a shame that such close scrutiny of evidence was singularly lacking when you made your examinations of Eadulf and Ibar before you sentenced them to death.’

Bishop Forbassach let out a bark of angry laughter.

‘Insult does not disguise the fact that your story does not scan. Fianamail will forgive me when I observe that Cett is not the brightest member of his family. Apart from the difference in description, the very idea of Cett being able to be the … what did you call it? … the puppet-master — that is blatant nonsense!’ And Forbassach sat back with a satisfied smirk.

‘If I recall, in the discussion of this matter at Coba’s fortress — and I am sure that Coba will confirm what I say — I also said the puppet-master was someone with a position of power in the abbey.’

Coba nodded eagerly. ‘You did, indeed, but Forbassach is correct.Fial’s description hardly fits Cett. Nor does Cett have a position of power in the abbey.’

‘I agree,’ Fidelma said. ‘The person who thought up this sordid means of making money and who persuaded Cett and Gabrán to support them was Cett’s sister; his real sister, Sister Étromma, the rechtaire of the abbey.’

Sister Étromma had been sitting stony-faced with folded arms from the moment Cett had been denounced. She did not change her attitude now even when two of Barrán’s warriors approached and stood on either side of her.

‘Do you deny this, Sister Étromma?’ demanded Barrán.

Sister Étromma raised her head and stared at the Chief Brehon. Her features were without emotion.

‘A silent mouth is melodious,’ she replied quietly, quoting an old proverb.

‘It is wise to make a statement,’ urged Barrán. ‘Guilt can be interpreted from silence.’

‘A wise head makes a closed mouth,’ the stewardess responded firmly.

Barrán shrugged and signalled to the warriors to remove her from the hall along with her now subdued brother, Cett.

‘I think that a search of Étromma’s personal possessions might reveal where she has been hoarding money,’ offered Fidelma. ‘I recall that she once said to me that she hoped one day to settle on the island of Mannanán Mac Lir. I had assumed that she was going to join the Abbey of Maughold. Now I think she meant to go to the island with her brother, simply to live in comfort on the money she had made from her evil enterprise.’

Coba stood up.

‘Chief Brehon, I have just spoken to the messenger that I sent to the abbey. He confirms that when he went there on my instruction to tell the abbess that I had granted the Saxon sanctuary, Fainder was not available. He gave that message to the rechtaire. Étromma knew where Brother Eadulf was on the evening before Gabrán came to my fortress and attempted to kill him.’

‘I have been suspicious of Étromma for some time,’ Fidelma told them all, ‘but I could not work out why. It was only when I realised that Fial had been taken from the abbey and placed on Gabrán’s boat that I was certain she was at the centre of this enterprise.’

‘Why?’ Barrán wanted to know.

‘I had asked to see Fial. Étromma left me with the physician Miach while she went in search of her. Instead of waiting for her at the apothecary I went back to see Eadulf again. When I arrived, Brother Cett, who had been his jailer, had disappeared. The new man told me that he and Étromma had gone down to the quay. The reason why, I later deduced, was so they could get Fial out of the abbey and onto Gabrán’s boat before I could speak with her. Étromma then returned to tell me Fial was missing. Very convenient! A short while later, I learnt that Gabrán’s boat had left the abbey quay.’

‘I think the path has now been made clear, Fidelma,’ Barrán thanked her. ‘However, can you shed some light on why this woman could bring herself to engage in such wicked work?’

‘I think the immediate motive was acquisition of sufficient wealth to live in some degree of comfort and independence. What is it that Timothy tells us in his Epistle? Radix omnium malorum est cupiditas. The love of money is the root of all evil. Étromma is an unfortunate woman: many people know that. She is of the royal family, but a poor relation. She and her brother were taken as hostages when they were children, and not one of the branches of the royal family offered to pay the honour price for their release.’

Fianamail stirred uncomfortably but said nothing in defence of his family.

‘Étromma and Cett effected their own escape and, being still children, entered the service of the abbey. Cett was, through no fault of his own, simple and mainly dominated by his sister. Étromma was not outstanding enough to rise beyond the office of rechtaire. She was bitter because of that, although it was an influential enough position. She had been rechtaire, running the day-to-day business of the abbey for ten years, when Fainder was brought in over her head and made abbess. It was a considerable blow to her. Perhaps it was then that her thoughts turned to acquiring enough wealth to be able to leave the abbey and become independent. She worked out the plan and her brother Cett and the boatman Gabrán became her willing accomplices.’

‘It seems clear enough now,’ muttered Forbassach begrudgingly.

Fidelma smiled but without humour.

‘As my mentor Brehon Morann would have said, it is afterwards that events are always understood.’

While Barrán was instructing the scribes and explaining the law tothe Brehons, Eadulf turned to Fidelma and spoke for the first time since the hearing got underway.

‘When did you start to suspect Sister Étromma?’ he asked. ‘You said that you had had your eye on her for some time, but only confirmed your suspicions when you realised Fial had been on Gabrán’s boat.’

Fidelma sat back and gave the question some thought before answering.

‘I suspected her when she was showing me the quay on the very first day that I arrived.’

Eadulf was astounded. ‘The first day? How can that be?’

‘I had, as I said, learned that she and Cett had gone to the quay when she was supposed to be looking for Fial. She had come back to tell me that Fial was missing. Then we went to the quay. A religieux interrupted us to say a river boat had sunk and it was thought to be Gabrán’s. Étromma seemed unduly concerned, although she did her best to disguise it. She went off immediately to investigate. Had it been Gabrán’s vessel, Fial might have been rescued or the wreck searched, in which case the terrible trade in young girls might have been revealed.’

She paused for a moment.

‘That was one thing. Then, of course, she lied about having witnessed me finding the wand of office and letter to Theodore in the mattress where you had placed it. She had seen me find them: I knew it. I thought at first she might simply have been in awe of Forbassach and the abbess, but the real reason was that she wanted my enquiries to end with your execution …’

Several days later, Eadulf and Fidelma stood together on the quay by the side of Loch Garman. It was not technically a loch or lake at all but a big opening to the sea, a main port for ships from Gaul, Iberia, from the lands of the Franks and Saxons and many other countries as well. Loch Garman was the busiest port in the five kingdoms, standing at the south-eastern tip of the island and thus being the most easily accessible stopping off point; a fact which benefited Laigin by a rich trade as well as bringing a curse by attracting frequent raids from buccaneers.

Fidelma and Eadulf stood facing one another with the wind gently ruffling their hair and tugging at their clothes.

‘So,’ Fidelma sighed, ‘that is that. Young Fianamail has been summoned to Tara to be admonished by the High King. Forbassach has been stripped of rank and can no longer practise in law. He has beensent to some obscure community and his wife is divorcing him. Abbess Fainder has already gone abroad again, presumably to Rome, and Abbot Noé … well, I think he too will be heading to Rome now that he is no longer spiritual adviser to Fianamail.’

‘Fainder is a curious woman,’ Eadulf reflected. ‘On the one hand she is a fanatic about the Penitentials and the Rule of Rome. On the other, she had no compunction about using her sexuality to claw her way up to the position of abbess. How she could dominate both Abbot Noé and Bishop Forbassach, I cannot understand. I did not even think she was attractive.’

Fidelma threw back her head and chuckled. ‘De gustibus non est disputandum.’

Eadulf grimaced wryly. ‘I suppose it is so: that what I find abhorrent others may find attractive.’ He pursed his lips reflectively. ‘So, as you say, that is that. I presume that Laigin will now return to the rule of the Fénechus Law?’

Fidelma smiled confidently. ‘It will be a while before the cruel punishments of the Penitentials are tried again. I hope that may be never.’

There was an awkward pause between them before Fidelma raised her eyes to his.

‘Are you determined on this course?’ she asked abruptly.

Eadulf seemed sad but resolute.

‘I am. I have duties both to Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, as well as to your brother, for whom I undertook to take these messages.’

Fidelma had been confused these last few days at Eadulf’s quiet determination to continue his journey back to the lands of the Saxons. She had made it as clear as she felt possible that she would welcome him returning with her to Cashel. She had never seen Eadulf so stubborn before. Her pride had not permitted her to unbend further to him. He must surely know how she felt and yet … yet he would not return with her. He had insisted on travelling to the seaport to seek a ship and she had accompanied him, thinking to change his mind and persuade him to return with her. Brehon Morann had once told her that pride was merely a mask for one’s own faults. Was she at fault? What else could she say or do? Fidelma was hesitant, as if finding it difficult to express herself clearly.

‘Are you sure that I cannot persuade you to return with us to Cashel? You know that you will be most welcome at my brother’s court.’

‘I have my duty,’ replied Eadulf solemnly.

‘When duty becomes a creed then we may as well say goodbye to happiness,’ she ventured, remembering her own excuses about duty which had previously caused her to deny her feelings towards him.

Eadulf reached out to take her hands in his.

‘You are fond of quoting the sages, Fidelma. Wasn’t it Plautus who wrote that to an honest man, it is an honour to have remembered his duty?’

‘The Law of the Fénechus says that God does not demand that a man give more than his ability allows,’ she countered hotly, thinking that he was teasing her about her previous opinions.

There was a shout across the water and a small skiff was pulling away from one of the large sea-going ships which lay at anchor in the inlet. The rowers were pulling rapidly towards the quay and several people, carrying baggage, were gathering to await its arrival.

‘The tide is on the turn.’ Eadulf raised his head and felt the change of wind on his cheek. ‘The ship’s captain will want to get away. I must go on board now. It seems, then, that we are always parting. I remember the last time we parted at Cashel. You determined then that your duty lay in going on a pilgrimage to the Tomb of St James in Iberia.’

‘But I came back,’ Fidelma pointed out reproachfully.

‘True,’ he agreed with a quick smile. ‘Thank God that you did or I should not be here now. Yet you told me then that I had a duty towards Theodore of Canterbury. I recall your very words: “There is always a time to depart from a place even if one is unsure where one is going”.’

She bowed her head contritely. ‘I recall those words. Perhaps I was wrong.’

‘And do you recall me replying that I felt at home in Cashel and could find a means to stay in spite of the demands of Canterbury?’

She remembered his words very clearly and she also remembered how she had answered him.

‘Heraclitus said that you cannot step twice into the same river for other waters are continually flowing into it. That is what I answered. I remember.’

‘I cannot return to Cashel now, for honour’s sake. I have promises to keep at Canterbury.’

He made to turn away and then swung back, seizing her hands again. His eyes were moist. He was on the verge of telling her that he wouldreturn to Cashel but he knew that he had to be strong if they had any future together.

‘I do not want to be parted from you again so soon, Fidelma. One of your ancient triads asks — what are the three diseases that you may suffer without shame?’

She reddened a little and replied softly, ‘An itch, a thirst and love.’

‘Will you come with me?’ Eadulf asked with rough enthusiasm. ‘Come with me to Canterbury? There would be no shame in that.’

‘Would that be a wise decision for me to make?’ Fidelma asked with a ghost of a smile trembling on her lips. Her emotions wanted her to say yes, but logic held her back.

‘I am not sure wisdom enters into such matters,’ Eadulf said. ‘All I know is that no wind will serve the sails on your ship of life unless you steer for a particular port.’

Fidelma glanced behind her.

Along the quay Dego, Enda and Aidan were standing, waiting patiently while Fidelma and Eadulf said their farewells. They were holding the horses ready to commence the journey back to Cashel. She thought for a moment. No decision would come immediately. Perhaps being unable to make a decision, was a decision in itself? She did not know how to respond. Her thoughts were too confused. Eadulf seemed attuned to her doubts.

‘If you need to stay, stay; I will understand,’ he told her, his voice soft in resignation.

Fidelma met his warm brown eyes with her fiery green ones for several long seconds before she squeezed his hand, smiled quickly, let it fall, turned and walked silently away.

Eadulf made no attempt to say anything else. He watched her walking with a firm step back towards her mare. Aidan and Enda mounted their horses in readiness and Dego moved forward, leading her mount. Eadulf waited, his mind in conflict, torn between uncertainty and anticipation. He watched as she spoke a few words to Dego. Then she took her saddle bag from her horse. When she returned to Eadulf her face was flushed but she was smiling confidently.

‘Brehon Morann said that if reason cannot be satisfied, then follow the impulse. Let’s go aboard the ship before the captain sails without us.’