The Subtle Serpent

Chapter Nine

Sister Fidelma was awake even before the tense voice cut through the darkness. Her sleep had been disturbed by the turning of the handle on her small chamber door and her mind, alert to possible dangers, caused her to become wide awake in an instant. A shadow stood framed in the doorway. It was still night and only the ethereal light of the moon illuminated the space beyond. The cold was intense and her breath made clouds as she struggled upwards in the pale blue light which bathed everything.

‘Sister Fidelma!’ The voice was almost a nervous cry from the tall figure of the religieuse.

Fidelma recognised it in spite of the unnatural tone of the voice. It was the Abbess Draigen.

Immediately Fidelma was sitting up in bed, reaching for the flint and tinder to light the tallow candle.

‘Mother abbess? What is the matter?’

‘You must come with me straight away.’ Draigen’s voice was cracking with ill-concealed emotion.

Fidelma managed to light the candle and turn to the figure.

The abbess was fully dressed and her face, even in the yellow glow of the candle light, seemed pale and her features were etched in horror.

‘Has something happened?’ Fidelma realised that her question was superfluous almost at once. Without waiting for a reply, she rose swiftly from her bed. She was now oblivious to the cold as she realised something terrible had taken place. ‘What is it?’

The figure of the abbess stood trembling but more from some fearful emotion than from the cold night air. She appeared unable to answer coherently. She seemed to be suffering from some kind of shock.

Fidelma threw on her cloak and slipped into her shoes.

‘Lead the way, Draigen,’ she instructed calmly. ‘I am with you.’

The abbess paused only a moment and then turned, moving towards the courtyard. It was almost as bright as day outside for there had been another snow flurry which now reflected against the light of the moon.

Fidelma glanced at the sky, noting automatically the moon’s position, and judged that it was some hours beyond midnight. It was still, however, well before dawn. The stillness of the night seemed absolute. Only the sound of their leather shoes, crunching on the icy snow of the courtyard, sounded in the silence of the night.

Fidelma noticed that they were heading for the tower.

She followed behind the abbess, saying nothing, one hand holding the candle and the other shielding its flame from any wayward breath of wind. But the cold, wintry night was so still that there was hardly a flicker from the flame.

The abbess did not pause at the doorway to the tower but entered immediately. Inside, the library was dark but Draigen hurried to the foot of the steps which led up to the second floor almost without waiting for Fidelma to light the way. They moved rapidly to the third floor where the copyists worked. At the foot of the next set of steps which led on to the floor where the water-clock was situated Fidelma noticed an extinguished candle and its holder lying separately on the floor as if it had been carelessly flung aside. Draigen abruptly halted here, so that Fidelma was forced to stumble a little for fear of colliding with her. In the light of Fidelma’s flickering candle, Abbess Draigen’s face was ghastly. However, she appeared to be slowly composing herself.

‘You should prepare yourself, sister. The sight which youwill see is not a pleasant one.’ They were the first words Draigen had uttered since rousing Fidelma from her sleep.

Without another word, she turned and mounted the steps.

Fidelma did not say anything. She felt that there was nothing to say until she knew the meaning of this night’s excursion.

She followed the abbess into the room of the clepsydra. There was a soft red glow from the fire, the water was still steaming in the great bronze bowl. There were also two lanterns whose light made her candle superfluous.

She was but a second in the room when she saw the body stretched on the floor. That it was female and wore the dress of a sister of the community required no great inspection. That much was obvious.

Abbess Draigen said nothing, merely standing to one side.

Fidelma placed her candle carefully on a bench and moved closer. Even though she had witnessed many violent deaths in the violent world in which she lived, Fidelma could not suppress the shudder of revulsion that went through her.

The head of the corpse had been severed. It was nowhere in sight.

The body would have been lying face down, had there been a face. It was lying with arms outstretched. She noticed immediately that there was a small crucifix in the right hand and around the left arm was tied a small aspen wand with some Ogham characters. There was a mess of blood, still red and sticky, around the severed neck. She saw that there was another pool of blood under the body at chest level.

Fidelma took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.

‘Who is it?’ she asked of the abbess.

‘Sister Síomha.’

Fidelma blinked rapidly.

‘How can you be so sure?’

The abbess uttered a strangled noise which had been intended for a short bark of cynical laughter.

‘You lectured us on recognising a corpse by means other than a face only a short while ago, sister. Those are her robes. You will find a scar on the left leg where she once fell and cut herself. Also, she was on duty as keeper of the water-clock for the first cadar of the day. By these things I know it is Síomha.’

Fidelma pressed her lips together and bent down. She raised the hem of the skirt and saw, on the white flesh of the left leg, healed scar tissue that had once been a deep gash. Fidelma then pushed the corpse towards its left side and looked at the front of it. From the amount of blood and the slashed clothing, she presumed that Síomha had been stabbed in the heart before her head had been severed. Gently, she allowed the body to resume its original position. She peered at the hands of the corpse and was not surprised when she saw the brown red mud under the fingernails and on the fingers themselves. Then she reached forward and untied the aspen wand and read the Ogham inscription.

‘The Mórrigú is awake!’

She frowned and, holding the stick in her hand, she rose to her feet and faced Draigen.

The abbess was not entirely recovered from her shock. Her eyes were red, the face pale, her lips twitching. Fidelma felt almost sorry for her.

‘We must talk,’ she said gently. ‘Will it be here or would you prefer to go elsewhere?’

‘We must rouse the abbey,’ Draigen countered.

‘But first the questions.’

‘Then it would be better if you asked your questions here.’

‘Very well.’

‘Let me tell you this immediately,’ Draigen went on before Fidelma could frame her first question. ‘I have already caught the evil sorceress who did this deed.’

Fidelma controlled her utter surprise.

‘You have?’

‘It was Sister Berrach. I caught her red-handed.’

Fidelma was unable to restrain her astonishment. Abbess Draigen’s announcement deprived her of speech for a space of several moments.

‘I think,’ Fidelma said after a lengthy pause, ‘I think that you should tell me your story first.’

Abbess Draigen sat down abruptly and averted her gaze from the body, fixing it on some point beyond the far window where the moonlight was shimmering on the waters of the inlet, silhouetting the dark outline of the Gaulish merchant ship that rode at anchor.

‘I have told you that Sister Síomha was taking the first cadar, that is the quarter day, watching the clepsydra. That is from midnight to the sounding of the morning Angelus.’

Fidelma asked no question. Sister Brónach had already explained the workings of the water-clock.

‘I could not rest. I have been feeling much anxiety. What if your suggestion were true and that some evil has befallen our two sisters on their return from Ard Fhearta? I could not fall asleep. And because I could not sleep, I noticed that a lengthy time had passed since I heard the stroke of the gong, which should sound each passing time period.’

The abbess paused briefly for apparent reflection before continuing.

‘I realised that the gong had not been sounded for some time. This was unlike Sister Síomha who is usually so punctilious in such matters. I rose from my bed and dressed and came to the tower to find out what was wrong.’

‘Were you carrying a candle?’ interposed Fidelma.

The abbess frowned uncertainly at the question and then nodded hastily.

‘Yes, yes. I had lit a candle in my chambers and used it to light my way across the courtyard to the tower. I entered the tower, moving through the library and into the copyists’ room. I was crossing the room when something prompted meto call to Sister Síomha. It was so quiet. I felt something was wrong and so I called.’

‘Go on,’ Fidelma urged after she had hesitated.

‘It was a moment later that a dark shadow came charging down the stairs. It happened so suddenly that I was knocked aside, my candle went flying. The person pushed by me and out of the room.’

‘What then?’

‘I continued up the stairs to this room.’

‘Without a candle?’

‘I saw that the lamps were lit exactly as they are now. Then I saw Sister Síomha’s body.’

‘You saw the headless corpse on the floor?’

Abbess Draigen’s face was suddenly angry.

‘The person who passed me on the stair was Sister Berrach. I have no doubt of it. You know, having seen Berrach, that it would be impossible to mistake anyone else for her.’

Fidelma could concede the point but she wanted to make sure.

‘That is what worries me. You say that Berrach came “charging down the stairs” — your words — but we both know that Berrach has a deformity. Are you certain that it was Berrach? Remember your candle was flung from your hand and she passed you in the darkness.’

‘Perhaps I have used the wrong phrase in my agitation. The figure moved with alacrity but, even so, I know her misshapen form anywhere.’

Fidelma silently agreed that Sister Berrach was not a person one could easily mistake for another.

‘And after she had run by you …?’

‘I came immediately to you so that you might witness this madness.’

Fidelma was grim. ‘Let us go in search of Sister Berrach.’

The Abbess Draigen was now in control of her emotions since unburdening her story. She grunted cynically.

‘She will have fled the abbey by now.’

‘Even if she has, unless she has access to a horse and can ride, she would not have been able to go far. Nevertheless …’

Fidelma fell silent at the sound of a soft footfall on the steps below.

The abbess started forward as if to say something but Fidelma placed a finger over her lips and motioned her back. Someone was climbing the stairs towards the clepsydra room.

Fidelma found her body tensing and she felt irritated that this was so. Surely, if anything, she had been trained not to respond to outside stimuli so that she was prepared at all times. She carefully relaxed her tightening muscles. And moved to stand with the abbess so that whoever entered the room would do so with their back towards them. Someone in the robes of the community came up the stair. Fidelma saw immediately it was not the figure of a young person, she had recognised who it was before they had turned to face into the room.

‘Sister Brónach! What are you doing here at this hour?’

Brónach nearly fell in her startled surprise. She then relaxed as she recognised Fidelma and then the abbess.

‘Why, I have just come from the chamber of Sister Berrach. The girl is distraught. She told me that murder has been committed here.’

‘You have seen her?’ Draigen demanded. ‘She woke you?’

‘No. I was awake already. I was about to come to the tower myself,’ explained Brónach. ‘I had realised that some time had passed since I heard the sounding of the gong. In fact, several time periods must have elapsed since I heard it. So I had risen to come to see what ailed the time-keeper. As I was about to leave my cell, I heard the noise of someone passing hurriedly down the corridor. I realised it was Sister Berrach. I went to see her and found her sitting on her bed in a distressed state. She told me that Sister Síomha was dead and I came directly here to see if she was imagining …’

She suddenly caught sight of the crumpled heap on the floor behind Fidelma and her mouth formed a round shape. Her hand came up to cover it. The eyes widened fearfully.

‘It is Sister Síomha,’ Abbess Draigen confirmed solemnly.

Fidelma, watching the expression on Sister Brónach’s face, was sure that she saw a momentary look of relief in her expression. But it was gone before she could be sure. The light of the lanterns helped to distort facial expressions anyway.

‘Sister Brónach, I require you to see what you can do about resetting the clepsydra,’ Abbess Draigen said, completely in charge again. ‘For generations this community has prided itself on the accuracy of our water-clock. Do what you can to recover the accuracy of our calculations.’

Sister Brónach looked bemused but bowed her head in acquiescence.

‘I will do my best, mother abbess, but …’ she cast a nervous glance to the body.

‘I will rouse some of the sisters to come and take our unfortunate sister to the subterraneus. You will not be alone long.’

It was while she was turning towards the stairs that an idea suddenly occurred to Fidelma. She turned hurriedly back to Sister Brónach.

‘Didn’t you show me that after each time period elapsed, and the gong was sounded, the watcher had to enter the time on a tablet of clay?’

Sister Brónach nodded affirmation.

‘That is the custom in case we loose track of the time periods.’

‘At what time did Sister Síomha make her last notation?’

Fidelma realised that this would at least give her an accurate knowledge of the time Sister Síomha was killed.

Sister Brónach was looking round for the clay writing tablet. She found it lying face-down by the stone-built fireplace and picked it up.

‘Well?’ prompted Fidelma, as she studied it.

‘The second hour of the day has been marked and the first pongc or time period after that.’

‘So? She was killed between two-fifteen and two-thirty this morning,’ mused Fidelma.

‘Is that important?’ demanded the Abbess Draigen impatiently. ‘We already know who did this terrible thing.’

‘What hour do you think it is now?’ Fidelma asked.

‘I have no idea.’

‘I have,’ said Sister Brónach. She went to the window and stared up at the lightening night sky. There was a complacent expression on her face. ‘It is well after the fourth hour of the day. I believe it is closer to the fifth hour.’

‘Thank you, sister,’ Fidelma acknowledged absently. Her mind was working rapidly. She asked the abbess, ‘Can you calculate how long ago it was since you found the body?’

Abbess Draigen shrugged.

‘I do not see that it matters …’

‘Indulge me,’ insisted Fidelma.

‘Less than an hour ago, I would say. I came to you almost immediately that I discovered it.’

‘Indeed. In fact it was much less than an hour ago,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘I would say that we have been here under half-an-hour.’

‘We should go in search of Sister Berrach rather than wasting time in this manner,’ Abbess Draigen insisted.

‘Can’t you question the poor girl in the morning?’ It was Sister Brónach who spoke, surprising Draigen. ‘Sister Berrach has suffered from the shock of finding the body.’

Fidelma asked: ‘Did she tell you that she had found the body?’

‘Not specifically. She told me that Sister Síomha was dead in the tower. So the fact that she found the body is surely obvious.’

‘Perhaps,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I think we should see Sister Berrach now. One thing more, though, since you are here,Sister Brónach,’ she added, causing the Abbess Draigen to heave an impatient sigh. ‘Does the name Mórrigú mean anything to you?’

Sister Brónach shuddered.

‘Surely the name of the evil one is well known, sister? In the ancient times, before the word of the Christ was brought to this land, she was regarded as the goddess of death and battles. She embodied all that was perverse and horrible among the supernatural powers.’

‘So, you have a knowledge of the old pagan ways, then?’ Fidelma observed.

Sister Brónach pouted.

‘Who would not know about the old gods and goddesses and the old ways? I was raised in these very forests where there are many who still cling to the old beliefs.’

Fidelma inclined her head and then, to Abbess Draigen’s apparent relief, turned, took up her candle again and preceded the abbess down the stairs. They had reached the ground floor of the tower when a hollow, knocking sound caused Fidelma to halt. It was the same sound that she had heard in the duirthech, the chapel. The far off banging of hollow wood resonated through the building.

Fidelma turned towards a darkened corner of the room, from where the sound echoed loudest, and moved forward cautiously, holding the candle before her.

‘That is only the stairs that lead to the cave below,’ Draigen’s voice came from behind her.

‘Has no one ever traced the source of this sound?’ Fidelma asked as she reached the top of the stairs.

‘No, why should we?’ breathed Draigen nervously. ‘It certainly does not come from our subterraneus.’

Fidelma peered down in the gloom.

‘Yet it appears to be coming from there. You said that you believed that it was caused by water filling a cave beneath the abbey?’

‘So I do,’ Draigen did not sound entirely convinced.‘Where are you going?’ she demanded as Fidelma began to descend the stone stairs into the cave below.

‘I just want to check …’ Fidelma did not finish but descended the narrow stairway.

The cave below was empty and now silent. Fidelma looked around in disappointment. There was no place one could hide. A few boxes in one corner but that was all. With a stifled sigh, she turned and began to make her way back up the steps, feeling her way against the cold wall with one hand to help her in the gloom.

The substance was wet and sticky and she knew what it was before she examined her fingers by the candlelight. Then she examined the side of the wall. There was a smear of blood there. It had been made recently.

‘What is it, sister?’ demanded Draigen’s voice from the top of the stairway.

Fidelma was about to explain when she changed her mind.

‘Nothing, mother abbess. It is nothing.’

Outside, in the courtyard, they encountered the anxious figure of Sister Lerben.

‘Something is wrong, mother abbess,’ she greeted breathlessly. ‘The simpleton, Berrach, is sobbing in her cell. I saw lights in the tower but heard no gong from the keeper of the water-clock.’

Abbess Draigen laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

‘Prepare yourself, child. Sister Síomha has been killed. Berrach is responsible …’

‘You do not know that for certain,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘Let us go and question the girl before we apportion the blame.’

But Sister Lerben had already hurried away with the news, crying to rouse the sleeping community. They had hardly crossed the courtyard before the news was spreading like a wildfire. Everyone was awakening to become aware of what had happened. Abbess Draigen told a passing novice to go tothe dormitories and quiet the tumult but before she could respond the courtyard began to crowd with anxious sisters. The babble of hysterical and angry voices filled the air. Candles and lamps were lit, and sisters hurriedly dressed or with draped cloaks around their shoulders, were gathering in tiny circles, speaking in fearful and angry tones.

Sister Berrach had, it seemed, barricaded herself in her cell. Sister Lerben returned to say that she could still hear Berrach’s wailing cries, a curious mixture of prayers and ancient curses.

‘What shall we do, mother abbess?’

‘I shall go to speak with her,’ Fidelma intervened decisively.

‘That is not a wise idea,’ the abbess advised.

‘Why so?’

‘You know how strong Berrach is, in spite of her deformity. She could easily attack you.’

Fidelma smiled thinly.

‘I do not think that I need to fear Berrach. Where is her cell?’

The young Sister Lerben glanced at the abbess and then gestured with her arm in the direction of one of the dormitory buildings.

‘She has the last cell in that building, sister. But should you not go armed?’

Fidelma shook her head with an expression of annoyance.

‘Wait here and do not come until I call you.’

She raised a hand to shield her candle against the quickening morning breeze and walked across to the building which Sister Lerben had indicated. It was a long wooden building consisting of a corridor with some twelve cell-like chambers along one side. In fact, all the community dormitories seemed to be constructed in such a fashion.

She entered and examined the darkened corridor.

From the end room she could hear Sister Berrach’s sobbing.

‘Sister Berrach!’ Fidelma called, trying to keep her voice from conveying the anxiety that she really felt. ‘Sister Berrach! It is Fidelma.’

There was a pause and the crying seem to halt. There were one or two sniffs.

‘Berrach, it is Sister Fidelma. Do you remember me?’

There was another pause and then Berrach’s voice came defensively.

‘Of course. I am no idiot.’

‘I never thought you were,’ Fidelma replied in a conciliative tone. ‘May we talk?’

‘Are you alone?’

‘Quite alone, Berrach.’

‘Then come forward until I see you.’

Slowly, holding her candle high, Fidelma moved down the corridor. She could hear the scraping of furniture and presumed Berrach was removing a barricade from her door. As she came towards the end of the corridor, the door opened a crack.

‘Stop!’ instructed Berrach’s voice.

Fidelma obeyed immediately.

The door opened further and Berrach’s head appeared to confirm that there was no one else there. Then the door opened wider.

‘Come in, sister.’

Fidelma looked at the young girl. Her eyes were red and her cheeks tear-stained. She entered the cell and stood still while behind her Berrach pushed the door shut and heaved a table to secure it.

‘Why are you barricading yourself in?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Whom do you fear?’

Berrach lurched towards her bed, sat down and took a grip on her thick blackthorn stick.

‘Don’t you know that Sister Síomha has been killed?’

‘Why should this cause you to blockade the door to your chamber?’

‘Because I will be accused of the crime and I do not know what to do.’

Fidelma glanced round; saw a small chair and seated herself, putting down the candle on the adjacent table.

‘Why would you be accused of the deed?’

Sister Berrach looked at her scornfully.

‘Because Abbess Draigen saw me in the tower when the body was found. And because most people in this community dislike me on account that I am misshapen. They will surely accuse me of killing her.’

Fidelma sat back and folded her hands in her lap, looking long and thoughtfully at Berrach.

‘You seem to have lost your stutter,’ she observed carefully.

The girl’s face twisted in a cynical expression.

‘You are quick to notice things, Sister Fidelma. Unlike the others. They only see what they want to see and have no other perception.’

‘I suppose you stammered because it was expected of you?’

Sister Berrach’s eyes widened a little.

‘That is clever of you, sister.’ She paused before continuing. ‘A misshapen mind must needs be in a misshapen body. That is the philosophy of ignorance. I stammer for them because they think I am a simpleton. If I showed intelligence then they might think some evil spirit possessed me.’

‘But you are honest with me, why can’t you be honest with others?’

Sister Berrach’s mouth twisted again.

‘I will be honest with you because you see beyond the curtain of prejudice where others cannot see.’

‘You flatter me.’

‘Flattery is not in my nature.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yes. The Abbess Draigen saw you coming down from the room where the water-clock is kept. Sister Síomha, as youknow, was found beheaded in that room. You were in some hurry and pushed the abbess aside causing her to drop and extinguish her candle.’ Fidelma looked at Sister Berrach’s clothing. ‘I see a dark patch staining the front of your habit, sister. I presume that will be Sister Síomha’s blood?’

The wary blue eyes stared solemnly at Fidelma.

‘I did not kill Sister Síomha.’

‘I believe you. Will you trust me enough to tell me exactly what happened?’

Sister Berrach spread her hands, almost in a pathetic gesture.

‘They think that I am a simpleton in this place solely because I am deformed. I was born like this. Some problems with my spine, or so the physicians told my mother. Yet my body and arms are strong. Only my legs have not grown properly.’

Sister Berrach paused but Fidelma made no retort, waiting for the girl to continue.

‘At first the physician said I could not live and then he said I should not live. My mother could not nurse me in her community. My father did not want to have anything to do with me. After my birth he even left my mother. So I was raised by my grandmother but she was killed when I was young. I survived and was brought to this abbey when I was three years old and here Brónach raised me. I survived and I have lived. This community has always been my home so long as I can remember.’

There was a quiet sob in the girl’s voice. Fidelma now understood why Sister Brónach always seemed protective towards the girl.

‘Now tell me what happened at the tower,’ she pressed gently.

‘Each night, before dawn, while most of the community are still sleeping, I rise and go to the library,’ Berrach confided. ‘That is when I devote myself to reading. I have read almost all of the great books in our library.’

Fidelma was surprised.

‘Why wait until near dawn to go to the library to read?’

Berrach laughed. There was no mirth in it.

‘They think I am a simpleton who can’t even think let alone read. I have taught myself to read my own tongue and I can also read Latin, Greek and even some Hebrew.’

Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at her but the girl did not seem to be boasting, simply stating fact. An extraneous thought abruptly crossed Fidelma’s mind.

‘Did you know that this abbey has a copy of the annals of Clonmacnoise?’

Sister Berrach nodded immediately.

‘It is a copy made by our librarian,’ she volunteered.

‘Have you read it?’

‘No. But I have read many other books there.’

‘Go on,’ Fidelma sighed in disappointment. ‘You were saying that you rise and go to the library before dawn. Are you not frightened to be alone in such a place?’

‘There was always a sister on watch in the tower above. Recently,’ she shivered, ‘it has been Sister Síomha who took most of the night watches. Before these events there was no physical danger to fear in this place.’

Fidelma grimaced.

‘I was not concerned with physical danger. What of the knocking sound under the duirthech which frightened the sisters the other day? I am told that it has been heard before.’

Sister Berrach thought for a moment.

‘The sounds have been heard before but infrequently. Abbess Draigen says it is some underground cave which fills with water but sometimes the sisters are scared by it. It does not scare me nor should it scare anyone who cleaves to the Faith.’

‘That is laudable, sister. Do you accept the abbess’s explanation that it is caused by an underground cave filling with water from the inlet?’

‘It is a possibility. More of a possibility than those who talkof the restless spirits of victims of pagan sacrifices which they believe were once enacted here.’

‘But you are not sure? Not sure that it is only water in an underground cave?’

‘Sometimes, like the other day in the duirthech, the abbess makes her explanation sound plausible. At other times, especially when I am in the library at night, the sound is fainter, but more like the tapping of someone hacking at rock or digging. But whatever it is, it is a sound produced by earthly agents, so why should I be afraid of it?’

‘Just so. And you went, as usual, to the library this morning?’

‘Yes, in the hours before dawn. I tried to be as quiet as possible for I did not wish to alarm the sister on duty at the water-clock. Especially when it was Sister Síomha who dislikes me more than most.’

‘When did you enter the library this morning? Can you be fairly exact?’

‘As near as I recall, I had heard the second hour strike, and perhaps the first quarter of the hour after that. I am not sure. It was not later than the third hour, of that I know, for I do not recall it being struck.’

‘Go on.’

‘I went into the library and found the book I wanted …’

‘Which was?’

‘Do you want the name of the book?’ frowned Sister Berrach.

‘Yes.’

‘The Itinerary of Aethicus of Istria. I took the book to a small table in a corner. I usually choose this spot in case someone enters unexpectedly and then this can give me time to conceal myself. I was reading the passage of how Aethicus came to Ireland to observe and study our libraries when it occurred to me that time was passing. I had heard no gong sounded by the keeper of the clepsydra. I went to the foot of the stairs and listened. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.’

Berrach paused and rubbed her cheek absently for a moment.

‘I felt that something was wrong. You know how one can suddenly get a feeling? I decided to go up to investigate …’

‘Even though you did not want anyone to know you were there, least of all Sister Síomha?’

‘If something was wrong, it was better not to ignore it.’

‘And what did you do with the book?’

‘I left it on the table where I was reading it.’

‘So it will still be there? Very well. Go on.’

‘I climbed the stairs as carefully as I could into the room where the clepsydra was kept. I thought I saw Sister Síomha lying on the floor.’

‘You thought?’ stressed Fidelma.

‘The body had no head. But I did not see that at once. I saw only a body in the dress of a sister. I knelt down by it to feel her pulse, thinking that she must have passed out — perhaps fainted for lack of food or some other cause. My hands touched her neck, cold, not quite icy cold but a clammy coldness. Then I felt something sticky. I was feeling for her head …’

Sister Berrach’s voice caught and she shuddered at the memory.

‘Holy Mother of Jesus, protect me! I realised at that moment that Síomha had been slain in the same manner as the corpse found in the well. I think that I cried aloud in my horror.’

‘And then you ran down the stairs?’ Fidelma prompted.

‘Not immediately. As I cried out, I heard a sound behind me in the room. I turned, my heart beating rapidly. I saw a shadow, a cowled head and shoulders, slipping quickly below the level of the floor down the stairway.’

Fidelma leant forward quickly.

‘Was this head and shoulders male or female?’

Berrach shook her head.

‘Alas, I do not know. It was so gloomy and the movementwas hurried. I was not in the mood to investigate further. I was frozen with fear. That I was alone in the dark with the monster who did this deed put the very fear of eternal damnation into me. I do not know how long I knelt there in the dark by the body. Some time must have passed, no doubt.’

‘You just knelt there in the dark? You did not move or cry out?’

‘Fear is a strange controller of your body, sister. Fear can make the lame run, the physically active freeze like a cripple.’

Fidelma acknowledged this with an impatient gesture.

‘Then what, Berrach?’

‘Finally, I rose to my feet, feeling the blood in my veins course like ice. I do not know how long this was, as I have said. I wanted to sound an alarm and was going to strike the gong. I lit the lanterns. Then I heard another noise.’

‘A noise? What sort of noise?’

‘I heard the thud of a door. I heard footsteps beginning to ascend the stairs. I heard them coming closer. My thought, my true thought, sister, was that the murderer was returning — returning to ensure that I would say nothing.’

She paused and seemed to have difficulty in breathing for a moment or two but then she recovered herself.

‘Then my fear, instead of rooting me to the spot, as it had before, lent me strength. I turned and clambered down the stairs as fast as I could. I remember seeing a figure ascending. I thought it was the cowled figure returning. That is the truth! I used all my strength to collide violently with it, so knocking it off balance, and allowing me time to effect my escape …’

‘Do you recall if this figure was carrying a light?’

Berrach frowned.

‘A light?’

‘A lamp or a candle?’

The girl gave it some thought.

‘I can’t remember. I think there might have been a candle.Is it important? I heard it cry out. It was not until I was already across the courtyard that I realised that it had been the abbess.’

‘Why did you not return once you realised that fact?’

‘I was confused. After all, I had seen the cowled figure in the water-clock room. Perhaps it had been the abbess herself who was the killer. How was I to know?’

Fidelma did not answer.

‘I came here as fast as I could. I had just reached my cell when Brónach came in and asked me why I was upset. I told her and she said that she would go and discover what had happened. I was frightened in case the murderer had followed me.’

‘But the murderer did not. And surely you would have feared for Brónach’s safety going alone to the tower?’

‘I was confused,’ repeated Berrach.

‘Why then did you barricade yourself in?’

‘I heard the noise of the community being awakened. There were lights in the tower and then in the dormitories. I was about to come out when I heard one of the sisters, I think it was Lerben, calling — “Sister Síomha has been killed by Berrach!” I knew then that I was doomed. What chance has someone like me to justice? I will be punished for something that I have not done.’

Fidelma regarded her thoughtfully.

‘One more question, Berrach. Did you see anything peculiar about Sister Síomha’s body? Apart from the decapitation, that is?’

Berrach wrenched her thoughts momentarily away from her fears and peered questioningly up at Fidelma.

‘Peculiar?’

‘Perhaps something similar to the way the nameless corpse in the well was left,’ prompted Fidelma.

Sister Berrach thought cautiously for a moment.

‘I do not think so.’

‘I mean, did you notice anything tied to her left arm?’

The girl’s bewilderment seemed genuine enough as she shook her head.

‘Do you know anything about the old pagan customs?’

‘Who does not?’ replied Berrach. ‘In these remote places, away from the great cathedrals and towns, you should know that people still dwell close to nature, keep to the old well-trodden paths. Scratch a Christian here and you will find the blood is pagan.’

Fidelma was about to say something further when she heard sounds which seemed to be growing in volume. It was the noise of chanting voices coming from outside the building. She stared in astonishment as she listened. The voices were chanting a name. ‘Berrach! Berrach! Berrach!’

The sister gave a pitiful moan.

‘You see?’ she whimpered. ‘You see? They have come to punish me?’

‘Sister Fidelma!’

Fidelma recognised the voice of Sister Lerben as it cut through the noise. Slowly the chanting voices fell silent.

Fidelma stood up and went to the door. She glanced back at Sister Berrach and tried to smile encouragement.

‘Trust me,’ she reassured the girl. Then she pushed the table aside and opened the door.

Sister Lerben was standing at the far end of the corridor, some of her fellow novices were crowding behind her with lamps.

‘Are you safe, sister?’ demanded the young religieuse. ‘We were worried when we did not hear from you.’

‘What is the meaning of this unruly shouting? Disperse the sisters to their cells.’

‘The members of this community have come for the murderess. The slaughter of Sister Síomha cannot go unpunished. Bring out Berrach. Her sisters have decided that death shall be her only punishment.’