Our Lady of Darkness

Chapter Five

As the door swung shut behind her, and the bolts rasped in their sockets, Fidelma stepped to the centre of the small room and held out her hands to the young man who rose swiftly from the stool on which he had been sitting. Brother Eadulf took her hands in his and for a moment the two stood gazing at each other; no words passed between them but their eyes met and spoke silently of their concern and anxieties for each other.

Eadulf looked haggard. He had not been allowed to shave regularly and, as a result, a stubble covered his cheeks and jowl. His brown curly hair was untidy and matted and his clothing was dirty and rank. Eadulf saw her expression of dismay at his condition and he grinned in apology.

‘I am afraid that the hospitality in this place has not been of the best, Fidelma. The good abbess does not believe in wasting soap and water on one who is not destined to stay long in this vale of tears.’ He paused. ‘But I am so glad to see you once again before I depart.’

Fidelma made a sound, inarticulate, it could even have been a small sob. Then she grimaced, making the contortion of her features an attempt to disguise her feelings.

‘Are you well otherwise, Eadulf? You have not been ill-treated?’

‘Roughly handled … at first,’ confessed Eadulf lightly. ‘Emotions can run high, due to the nature of the crime of which I am accused. It was a young girl who was raped and killed. But how are you, Fidelma? I thought you were on a pilgrimage to Iberia? To the Tomb of St James?’

Fidelma made a small dismissive gesture with her hand.

‘I returned as soon as I heard the news. I hurried here to be your counsel.’

Eadulf smiled brightly for a moment and then he grew serious again.

‘Have they not told you that it is all over? The so-called trial did not last long and tomorrow I have an appointment in the quadrangle down there,’ he jerked his head to the window. ‘Did you see the gibbet?’

‘I have been told.’ Fidelma glanced round and chose to sit on the stool which Eadulf had vacated.

Eadulf took his seat on the bed. ‘I forget my manners in this place, Fidelma. I should have invited you to sit.’ He tried to sound humorous but his voice was hollow and flat.

Fidelma sat back, hands clasped in her lap, and gazed inquisitively at Eadulf.

‘Did you do this thing that they accuse you of?’ she asked abruptly.

Eadulf’s gaze did not falter.

‘Deus miseratur, I did not! You have my word on that, though I am afraid my word does not count in this matter.’

Fidelma nodded slightly. If Eadulf gave his word then she accepted it.

‘Tell me your story. I left you at Cashel when I went to take the pilgrim ship for Iberia. Take up your story from there.’

Eadulf was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

‘My story is not complicated. I decided to accept your advice and return to Canterbury, to Archbishop Theodore. I have been away for a year now. There was nothing to stay in Cashel for, anyway.’

He paused but Fidelma, though she shifted her position slightly on her stool, did not comment.

‘Your brother had messages for me to take to Theodore and to the Saxon kings.’

‘Verbally or in writing?’ queried Fidelma.

‘One message, to Theodore, was in writing. The other messages, to the kings, were verbal ones, mere salutations and expressions of friendship.’

‘Where is the written message now?’

‘My personal belongings were confiscated by the abbess.’

Fidelma thought for a moment. ‘Did you have anything to identify you as a techtaire?’

Eadulf knew the word and smiled.

‘He gave me a white wand of office. Now that I think of it, I believe I removed that and the written letter from my travelling bag and hid them for safekeeping under the bed in the guests’ room.’

‘So that they would have been removed by now and put with your other belongings?’

‘I expect so. Your brother offered me the loan of a good horse. However, not knowing when and how I could return that kindness, I took the offer of a place on the wagon of a merchant who was travellinghere to trade. I knew that I could get a passage in a boat going downriver where I could expect to find a Saxon merchant ship on which to get passage home. The journey to this place was without incident.’

He paused for a moment as though to put the events in sequence before recounting them.

‘I arrived at the abbey in the late afternoon and, naturally, I came asking for hospitality for the night, thinking to find a boat the next morning. I spoke to the rechtaire, Sister Étromma, who asked me my business. I told her that I was on my way back to Canterbury. I did not think it worth mentioning that I was bearing messages to the archbishop. She offered me a bed in the guests’ dormitory. There was no one else staying that night. I attended devotions, had a meal and went to bed. Oh, and Sister Étromma introduced me to Abbess Fainder … but the abbess seemed preoccupied, or else she does not like Saxons. She more or less ignored me.’

‘What then?’

‘I was in a deep sleep. It must have been early morning, perhaps an hour before dawn, when I found myself being dragged out of bed. There was shouting all around me and I was punched and pummelled. I did not know what was happening. I was dragged here and thrown in a cell …’

Fidelma leaned forward with interest.

‘Did anyone explain to you what was happening? Did anyone accuse you of anything or say why you were being dragged from your bed at such an hour?’

‘No one said anything except to scream abuse at me.’

‘When did you first know what you were being accused of?’

‘Not for a long time. I would say that it was about midday when that giant, Brother Cett, came into this cell. I demanded to be told what was going on, but almost immediately, Abbess Fainder entered with a young girl. The girl was dressed in the robe of a novitiate although she seemed very young.’

‘What then?’

‘The girl simply pointed at me. Nothing was said and then she was led from the cell.’

‘She did not say anything? Anything at all?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘She just pointed at me,’ repeated Eadulf. ‘Then the abbess took her away. Nothing was said at any time and Brother Cett withdrew and locked the door.’

‘When were you actually informed of the crime of which you were being accused?’

‘It was not until two days later that I was told.’

‘You were left here for two days without anyone telling you anything?’ Fidelma’s tone rose angrily.

Eadulf grinned ruefully. ‘And without food and water,’ he added. ‘I told you that the hospitality of this abbey was not of the best.’

Fidelma stared at him in consternation. ‘What?’

‘It was two days later that Brother Cett came in again and allowed me to wash and eat something. An hour afterwards, a tall man, cadaverous-looking with a brittle voice, came and told me he was the King’s Brehon.’

‘Bishop Forbassach!’

‘Indeed, Bishop Forbassach was his name. Do you know him?’

‘He is an old adversary. But go on.’

‘It was this same Forbasssach who told me that I was accused of raping a young novitiate of the abbey and then strangling her. I was speechless. I told him that I had come to the abbey for food and a bed for the night. That I had been awakened and assaulted and thrown in this cell for two days.

‘He told me that I had been found in bed with blood on my clothes and a piece of the novitiate’s torn and bloody robe.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I thought I was being clever for I said, sarcastically, to the bishop, that I thought he had said the girl had been strangled, so if I had been found with blood all over me it was miraculous. It was then that the bishop told me where the blood had come from. The novitiate was a twelve-year-old virgin. As the final blow, the bishop informed me that there was an eye-witness to my attack.’

‘I am afraid it is pretty damning evidence, Eadulf,’ Fidelma said. ‘Do you have any explanation as to how it was come by?’

Eadulf lowered his head. ‘None. I thought I was having a bad dream,’ he muttered.

‘Was it true that there was blood on your clothes?’

Eadulf held out his hand. She could see dark stains on it.

‘I noticed the blood on my robe soon after I was thrown in here. I thought it was simply my own blood, having been punched and kicked by those who dragged me here. I did have a cut on the face.’

Fidelma could see a small, healing scar. ‘What of the piece of torn robe?’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘That I knew nothing about until a piece of cloth was presented at the formal hearing. I had no knowledge of it.’

‘And the eye-witness?’

‘The young girl? She was either lying or mistaken.’

‘Had you seen her before? Before she accused you, that is?’

‘I don’t think so. I presumed that it was the same young girl who was shown into the cell and pointed to me. I must admit that I was not very alert after my beating. She appeared at the trial and was called Fial.’

‘You say that you attended devotions and a meal before going to bed? Did you see this girl, Fial, at that time?’

‘Not to my knowledge, though she might have seen me. The strange thing is that I could not remember any young novitiates at all in the chapel; at least, not as young as she was. Fial was no more than twelve or thirteen years old.’

‘Did you talk with anyone at all, apart from the stewardess and the abbess?’

‘I did talk a short while to a young Brother. His name was Ibar.’

Fidelma raised her head sharply. ‘Ibar?’ She glanced automatically towards the window, thinking of the body of the hanging monk.

‘They say he killed a boatman the day after I was supposed to have killed the young girl,’ confirmed Eadulf. ‘They hanged him this morning.’ He suddenly shivered. ‘There is something vile here, Fidelma. I think you should leave immediately lest anything happens to you. I could not bear to think …’

Fidelma reached forward and laid her hand on his arm reassuringly.

‘Whatever evil it is, Eadulf, they would not dare to harm me for fear that it might bring down a retribution they are unable to contend with. Whoever “they” are. Have no fear for my safety. Besides, I have a couple of my brother’s warriors with me.’

Eadulf shook his head stubbornly. ‘Even so, Fidelma, there is little assurance of safety in this place of darkness. Some evil stalks this abbey and I would rather you abandon me and go back to Cashel for your own safety.’

Fidelma’s jaw came up dangerously. ‘No more talk like that, Eadulf. Here I am and here I stay until we have sorted this matter out. Now, concentrate. Tell me about your trial.’

‘Time passed; I lost count of it. Brother Cett fed me irregularly and allowed me to wash when it took his fancy. He likes inflicting hardship, that one. An evil man. Have a care of him.’

‘I was told that he is somewhat simple.’

Eadulf grinned crookedly. ‘Simple? Yes. He obeys orders and cannot understand anything complicated. But when he is told to inflict pain, he enjoys it. He was the executioner for …’ Eadulf spread a hand towards the window leaving it to Fidelma to assume the rest.

She wrinkled her nose in repugnance. ‘A member of the religious as an executioner? God have mercy on his misguided soul. But you were about to tell me of the trial.’

‘I was taken down to the chapel and Bishop Forbassach sat in judgment with Abbess Fainder. They were joined by a man who looked as grim and stony-faced as Forbassach. He was an abbot.’

‘Abbot Noé?’

Eadulf nodded affirmatively. ‘Do you know him as well?’

‘Both Bishop Forbassach and Abbot Noé are my antagonists of old.’

‘Bishop Forbassach repeated the charges: I denied them. Forbassach said it would go hard with me as I was wasting the time of the court. I denied them again; what else could I do but speak the truth?’ Eadulf was silent a moment, contemplating. ‘Sister Étromma was called as a witness. She told how she had welcomed me to the abbey. Then she identified the body of the murdered girl as one Gormgilla, who was entering the abbey as a novitiate …’

Fidelma interrupted him sharply.

‘Just a moment, Eadulf. What were her exact words? About Gormgilla, I mean.’

‘She said that Gormgilla was a novitiate …’

‘That is not what you said. You said “who was entering the abbey”. Why did you use that form?’

Eadulf shrugged diffidently. ‘I think that was the way she said it. What does it matter?’

‘It matters a lot. But continue.’

‘That was all Sister Étromma had to say, apart from the fact that this Gormgilla was but twelve years old. Then the other girl was called …’

‘The other girl?’

‘The one who had entered my cell and pointed at me.’

‘Ah yes, Fial.’

‘She identified herself to the court as a novitiate in the abbey. She said that she had been a friend of Gormgilla. She also said that she had arranged to meet her on the quay just after midnight.’

‘Why?’

Eadulf stared blankly at Fidelma. ‘Why?’ he echoed.

‘Was she asked why she was going to meet a young novitiate on the quay after midnight? We are speaking of twelve-year-olds here, Eadulf.’

‘No one asked her. She simply said that she went to the quay and saw her friend struggling with a man.’

‘How did she see?’

Eadulf looked bewildered; Fidelma was patient.

‘It was after midnight,’ she explained. ‘One presumes that it was dark. How could she see all this?’

‘I presume that the quay is lit with torchlight.’

‘Was this checked? And could the features of a man’s face be seen clearly by torchlight? Was she asked how close she was and where the light was situated?’

‘Nothing was said. All she told the court was that she had seen her friend struggling with a man.’

‘Struggling?’

‘She said that the man was strangling her friend,’ he went on. ‘The man rose from her body and ran for the abbey. She then identified me as that man. She said she had recognised the man as the Saxon stranger staying at the abbey.’

Fidelma frowned again. ‘She used the words “Saxon stranger”?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you claim that you had not seen her before? That you had not spoken to her?’

‘That is so.’

‘How did she know that you were a Saxon then?’

‘I suppose that she must have been told.’

‘Exactly. What else was she told?’

Eadulf looked at her mournfully. ‘A pity that you were not at the trial.’

‘Maybe not. You have not mentioned who represented your legal interests at the trial.’

‘No one.’

‘What?’ The word exploded from her in anger. ‘You did not have the services of a dálaigh? Were you offered such services?’

‘I was just taken into the court. I was not given the opportunity to ask for some legal representative.’

Fidelma’s face was beginning to take on an expression of hope for the first time.

‘There are many things wrong here, Eadulf. Are you sure that Bishop Forbassach did not ask if you wished to be represented or if you would represent yourself?’

‘I am sure.’

‘What other evidence was offered against you?’

‘A Brother Miach gave evidence. I understand he is the physician here. He came forward to give details of how the girl had been sexually assaulted and strangled. Then I was asked if I still denied the matter and I said I did. It was then that Forbassach said that the matter was being judged under the ecclesiastical code and not the laws of the Brehons of Éireann. I was to be hanged. The sentence would be referred to the King himself to confirm. A few days ago the King’s confirmation came and so, tomorrow, I am to meet Brother Cett on that platform down there.’

‘Not if there is justice, Eadulf,’ replied Fidelma firmly. ‘There are too many questions to be asked based on what you have told me.’

Eadulf pursed his lips ruefully. ‘Perhaps it is a little late to ask them now, Fidelma?’

‘Not so. I will put forward an appeal.’

To her surprise Eadulf shook his head.

‘You don’t know the abbess. She has great influence over Bishop Forbassach. People here walk in fear of her.’

Fidelma looked interested. ‘How do you know this?’

‘Having been incarcerated in here for some weeks, I have become attuned to that communication I do possess. Even that unspeakable Brother Cett can supply me with information in his monosyllabic way. If this abbey is a spider’s web, then the abbess sits at its centre like a hungry black spider.’

Fidelma smiled, for it seemed an apt description of Abbess Fainder.

She rose slowly to her feet and glanced about the cell. It contained nothing apart from a stool and a cot with a straw mattress and a blanket. The only clothes Eadulf had were those which he was wearing.

‘You said that the abbess must have your travelling bag and the wand and letter from Colgú to Theodore?’

‘If they have not been left under the bed in the guests’ hostel.’

Fidelma turned to the door and banged upon it, calling for Sister Étromma. She turned her head to Eadulf and smiled encouragement.

‘Have hope, Eadulf. I will seek out the truth here and try to find justice.’

‘You have my support in that but I have come to expect nothing in this place.’

It was the burly, sinister Brother Cett who opened the door and stood aside to let Fidelma pass into the dark corridor beyond. He slammed the cell door shut and threw the bolts.

‘Where is Sister Étromma?’ demanded Fidelma.

The big man did not answer but simply raised his hand to point along the corridor.

Fidelma followed his directions and found Sister Étromma waiting in a seated recess by a window at the head of the stairway. The window gave a view of the river beyond. Boats were moving on it. It seemed a busy stretch of waterway. So intent was Sister Étromma on examining this vista that Fidelma had to cough to attract her attention.

She turned and came to her feet at once.

‘Your talk with the Saxon was satisfactory?’ the stewardess of the abbey asked brightly.

‘Satisfactory? Hardly. There is much that is unsatisfactory about the proceedings. I hear that you were a witness at the trial?’

Sister Étromma’s features became defensive. ‘I was.’

‘I heard that you also identified the victim, Gormgilla. I had not realised that you knew her.’

‘I did not.’

Fidelma was perplexed. ‘Then how did you identify her?’

‘I told you before, she was a young novitiate in the abbey.’

‘Indeed. So am I to presume that you, as rechtaire of the abbey, greeted her among the novitiates when she arrived at this abbey? When did she join this community?’

There was a look of uncertainty on Sister Étromma’s face.

‘I am not sure exactly …’

‘It is exactness that I am seeking, Sister,’ Fidelma snapped waspishly. ‘Tell me, exactly, when you first met the dead girl, Gormgilla.’

‘I … I only saw her after her body was brought to the abbey mortuary,’ the rechtaire confessed.

Fidelma stared at her for a moment in astonishment. Then she shook her head. Perhaps she should grow used to being astonished in this case.

‘You saw her for the first time only after she was dead? Then how could you identify her as a novitiate at the abbey?’

‘I was told that she was by the abbess.’

‘But you had no right to identify her in evidence before a court if you did not personally know her.’

‘I would not doubt the word of the abbess. Besides, Fial said that she was her companion and came to the abbey with her to be a novitiate.’

Fidelma felt it pointless to lecture the rechtaire on the rules of being a witness.

‘Your testimony is worthless in the court. Who did see this girl before her death? She surely did not simply appear in the abbey?’

Sister Étromma was defiant. ‘The abbess told me and I tell you. Besides, the mistress of the novitiates greets all the newcomers and trains them. She would have seen the girl.’

‘Ah. Now we are getting somewhere. Why didn’t the mistress of the novitiates give evidence? Who is this woman and where do I find her?’

Sister Étromma hesitated. ‘She has gone on a pilgrimage to Iona.’ Fidelma blinked. ‘And when did she do that?’

‘A day or so before the murder of Gormgilla. Therefore it was natural that I, as stewardess of the abbey, came forward to give evidence. It was from the mistress of the novitiates that the abbess probably knew that the girl was one of her charges.’

‘Except that your testimony in law is without any foundation. You are only repeating what you have been told, not what you know.’ Fidelma was angry; angry that normal legal procedures seemed to have been totally disregarded. There were certainly enough discrepancies of legal practice to put forward an appeal.

‘But Fial was also a novitiate and identified her friend,’ protested Sister Étromma.

‘Then we must find Sister Fial, for it seems her testimony is more than crucial to this entire affair. Let us do so now.’

‘Very well.’

‘Also I want to see the other witnesses to this matter. There is a Brother Miach, I believe?’

‘The physician?’

‘The same — but perhaps he, too, has gone on a pilgrimage?’ she added sarcastically.

Sister Étromma did not react to the barb.

‘His apothecary is on the floor below. I will leave you with him while I go to find Sister Fial.’

She turned and made her way down the steps, with Fidelma following.

Fidelma’s mind was racing. Never in her years as a dálaigh had sheencountered such flagrant breaches of legal procedures. She believed that she already had sufficient grounds on which to base an appeal to have the trial re-heard. She could scarcely believe that the Brehon of Laigin could have officiated over this farce. He surely knew the rules of evidence.

Obviously, the main problem was the eye-witness testimony of the young novitiate, Fial. That would be the main obstacle in any move to seek an acquittal for Eadulf. Her eye-witness evidence was disastrous for Eadulf. Yet the saga of events sounded bizarre.

There were many questions she must ask Fial. Why had she and her friend arranged to meet on the quay in the middle of the night? And, in the darkness of that night, how could she have seen the features of the killer of her friend so clearly that she could identify him? Who told her that he was a Saxon stranger? If one accepted Eadulf’s word, he had neither seen nor spoken to Fial before. Had he been pointed out to her? If so, by whom?

Fidelma sighed deeply, knowing that while she might pick at points and challenge the legal procedures, the main facts remained. Eadulf had been identified by an eye-witness. He had been found with his robe bloody and with a torn piece of the girl’s clothing on him. How could she refute that evidence?

The apothecary was a large, stone room with wooden doors and shuttered windows which opened onto a herb garden. Dried herbs and flowers hung in bunches from wooden rafters and a fire burnt in a hearth at one end of the room, above which a large black iron cauldron hung. In it steamed a noxious-smelling brew. Jars and boxes were stacked along the surrounding shelves.

An elderly man turned as Sister Étromma entered. He was slightly stooped, his grey-white hair merging with a flowing beard. His eyes were light grey and had a cold, dead quality.

‘Well?’ His tone was high-pitched and querulous.

‘This is Sister Fidelma from Cashel, Brother Miach,’ Sister Étromma announced. ‘She needs to ask you some questions.’ She spoke to Fidelma. ‘I will leave you here while I find Sister Fial.’

Fidelma found the elderly physician glaring suspiciously at her.

‘What do you want?’ he snapped. ‘I am very busy.’

‘I will not keep you long from you work, Brother Miach,’ she assured him.

He sniffed disdainfully. ‘Then state your business.’

‘My business is as a dálaigh, an advocate of the courts.’

The man’s eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘And what is that to do with me?’

‘I want to ask you some questions about the trial of Brother Eadulf.’

‘The Saxon? What of it? I hear that they are hanging him, if they have not done so already.’

‘They have not hanged him yet,’ Fidelma assured him.

‘Ask your questions then.’ The old man was impatient and temperamental.

‘I understand that you gave evidence at the trial?’

‘Of course. I am the physician of this abbey. If there is a suspicious death then I am asked for my opinion.’

‘Tell me, then, of your evidence.’

‘The matter is over and done with.’

Fidelma replied harshly: ‘I will say when it is over and done with, Brother Miach. You will answer my questions.’

The old man blinked rapidly, apparently unused to being spoken to in such tones.

‘They brought me the body of a young girl to examine. I told the Brehon what I had found.’

‘And that was?’

‘The girl was dead. There were bruises around her neck. Clearly she had been strangled. Moreover, there were obvious indications that she had been raped beforehand.’

‘And how did those obvious indications manifest themselves?’

‘The girl had been a virgin. Not surprising. She was only twelve, so I am told. The sexual intercourse had caused her to bleed extensively. It needed no great medical knowledge to see the blood.’

‘So there was blood on her robe?’

‘There was and around the area where you would expect to find it in the circumstances. There is no doubt as to what happened.’

‘No doubt? You say it was rape. Could it have been otherwise?’

‘My dear … dálaigh,’ the old physician was pitying in his tone. ‘Use some imagination. A young girl is strangled after having intercourse; does it seem likely that it could be anything else but rape?’

‘It is still more of an opinion than true medical evidence,’ Fidelma said. The old physician did not reply and so she passed to her next question. ‘Did you know the child?’

‘Gormgilla was her name.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘Because I was told.’

‘But you had never seen her in the abbey before she was brought to you in death?’

‘I would not have seen her unless she had been ill. I think it was Sister Étromma who told me her name. Come to think of it, I would have been seeing her sooner rather than later, had she not been killed.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘I think she was one of those religieuses who like to punish themselves for what they think are their sins. I noticed that she had sores around both wrists and around one ankle.’

‘Sores?’

‘Signs that she had used bonds on herself.’

‘Bonds? Not connected with her rape and murder?’

‘The sores had come from the use of constraints which she had obviously worn some time prior to her death. The sores had nothing to do with her other injuries.’

‘Were there signs also of flagellation?’

The physician shook his head. ‘Some of these ascetic masochists simply use bonds to expiate the pain of what they deem as sins.’

‘Did you not find that this masochism, as you define it, was strange in one so young?’

Brother Miach was indifferent. ‘I have seen worse cases. Religious fanaticism often leads to shocking self-abuse.’

‘Did you also examine Brother Eadulf?’

‘Brother Eadulf? Oh, the Saxon, you mean. Why would I do that?’

‘I am told that he was found with blood on him and in possession of a piece of the girl’s torn robe. Perhaps it would have been appropriate to have examined him to show whether there was any consistency in his appearance with the idea that he had carried out an attack on the girl.’

The physician sniffed again. ‘From what I hear, it needed no words of mine to convict him. As you say, he had blood on him and a piece of the girl’s bloodstained robe. He was also identified by someone who saw him do the killing. What need for me to examine him?’

Fidelma restrained a sigh. ‘It would have been … appropriate.’

‘Appropriate? Pah! If I spent my life doing what was appropriate, I would have let a hundred suffering patients die.’

‘With respect, that is hardly a comparison.’

‘I am not here to argue ethics with you, dálaigh. If you have done with your questions then I have work to do.’

Fidelma ended the interview with a brief word of thanks and left the room. There was nothing else to pursue with the physician. There was no sign of Sister Étromma returning. She waited outside the apothecary for several minutes before a thought came to her. One of the gifts Fidelma possessed was an almost uncanny ability to find her way in any place once she had been there before. She knew by means of retained memory and instinct just how to find her way back to the places in the abbey through which she had been led. So instead of continuing to wait for Sister Étromma, she turned along the passageways and began to retrace her steps towards the chamber of Abbess Fainder.

She opened the door onto the silent courtyard of the abbey and crossed it slowly. The body of the monk was still hanging from the wooden gibbet. What was his name — Brother Ibar? Strange that he should have murdered a boatman and robbed him on the same quay just a day after the rape and death of Gormgilla.

She suddenly halted in the middle of the courtyard’s quadrangle.

This was one of the two people in the abbey to whom Eadulf had spoken at any great length on the evening that he had arrived.

She turned back and rapidly made her way up the stairs to the dank corridor which led to Eadulf’s cell. Brother Cett had gone; another religieux was standing guard in his place.

‘What do you want?’ he muttered rudely, emerging from the gloom.

‘Firstly, I would like to see you use better manners, Brother,’ Fidelma replied curtly. ‘Secondly, I would like you to open the door to this cell for me. I have authority from the abbess.’

The figure took a step back in the gloom as if in surprise.

‘I have no orders …’ came his sullen tone.

‘I am giving you the orders, Brother. I am a dálaigh. Brother Cett had no problem when I came here earlier with Sister Étromma.’

‘Sister Étromma? She said nothing to me. She and Cett have gone down to the quay.’

The religieux considered the matter while Fidelma fretted impatiently for several long seconds. She thought that she would be met with a stubborn refusal. Then, almost reluctantly, he moved forward and threw the bolts back.

‘I will call you when I am ready to leave,’ Fidelma told him in relief, entering the room.

Eadulf looked up in surprise.

‘I did not expect to see you again so soon …’ he began.

‘I need to ask you a few more questions. I want to know more about this Brother Ibar. We may not have long as they don’t know that I have come back to see you.’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘Little enough to tell, Fidelma. He sat next to me in the refectory for the evening meal on the day that I arrived here. We spoke briefly there. I never saw him again — well, not until this morning, down here.’ He nodded towards the courtyard.

‘What conversation passed between you?’

Eadulf looked at her with a frown.

‘He only asked me where I came from. I told him. He said he was from the north of this kingdom, a blacksmith by trade. He was proud of his trade although disappointed that the abbey couldn’t make better use of his talents than to ask him to turn out constraints for the animals. He had been unhappy here since Abbess Fainder’s arrival. I recall that I pointed out that many communities needed animals by which to feed themselves and every task was worthy of the labourer. He said …’

‘You spoke of nothing else? You spoke only of such general matters?’ Fidelma tried not to sound disappointed.

‘Oh, he also asked me about some Saxon customs, that’s all.’

‘Saxon customs? Such as what?’

‘Why Saxons kept slaves. A curious thing to ask, I thought.’

‘Nothing else?’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘He just seemed unhappy with the work that he was asked to do. He seemed preoccupied with it right to the end. In fact, the last thing I heard the poor fellow cry was “ask about the manacles”. I think he had gone out of his mind by then. It’s a terrible thing to face, is a hangman’s rope …’

Fidelma was clearly disappointed and did not notice the falter in Eadulf’s voice. She had hoped that the late Brother Ibar might have made some remark which would prove to be the thread that could unravel and disentangle this curious web. She forced a smile at Eadulf.

‘No matter. I will see you again and soon.’

She banged on the door.

The surly Brother had been waiting outside, for the door immediately swung open and she was let out.