Whispers of the Dead

THE ASTROLOGER WHO PREDICTED HIS OWN MURDER

I can appreciate why the bishop has sent you to defend Abbot Rígán, Sister. However, I think that you will find this is an open and shut case. The abbot is demonstrably guilty of the murder of Brother Eolang.”

Brehon Gormán was a tall, dark man, swarthy of complexion. He sat back regarding Sister Fidelma, seated across the table opposite him, with a look of cynical amusement. He had an arrogance of manner which irritated her. They were using the chamber of Brother Cass, the steward of the Abbey of Fota, who stood nervously to one side.

“As I understood the circumstances, there were no eyewitnesses. How, then, can the abbot be demonstrably guilty?” she asked coldly, with an emphasis on the words he had used.

The sharp-faced Brehon smiled even more broadly. The smile made Fidelma feel a coldness at the nape of her neck. It had all the warmth of a shark about to snap at its prey.

“Our law takes cognizance of the words of a man uttered before his death,” remarked the Brehon in the manner of a teacher explaining something to a backward child.

“I do not follow.”

“The victim named the abbot as his murderer before his death.”

Sister Fidelma was stunned into silence by his calm announcement.

It had been only that morning when the Bishop of Cashel had called her into his chambers and asked her if she, being a dálaigh, an advocate of the courts, would undertake the defense of Abbot Rígán, whose abbey of Fota stood on an island in a nearby lake. The abbot had been accused of killing one of his own brethren. Brehon Gormán was to hear the case and it was known that Gormán was no lover of the religious. The Bishop of Cashel was concerned for the abbot, who was, by all accounts, a man with a reputation for kindliness and largess, whose good works had distinguished him among the brethren. However, the abbot was also known to be a man of strict obedience to the Rule of Rome which brought him into conflict with many of his fellow religious.

The community of the Abbey of Fota was a small exclusive brotherhood of leather workers and a few scholars. They were a self-sufficient community. As protocol requested, Fidelma had introduced herself to the worried looking steward, Brother Cass, who had then introduced her to Brehon Gormán who had ensconced himself in the steward’s chamber. She had asked to be informed of all the facts of the case.

The facts seemed simple, according to the Brehon. Brother Eolang, a member of the community, had been found by the lake under a wooden landing pier. He had evidently been drowned but there was bruising and cuts to his head. The community’s apothecary, Brother Cruinn, had expressed suspicion about the death. Brother Eolang had not been an elderly man. He was in the prime of his life and the bruising seemed to indicate that he had been struck on the forehead and pushed into the lake where he had drowned.

Brother Gormán had been sent for. After some initial inquiries he had placed Abbot Rígán in custody pending a full trial.

For a moment or two Fidelma sat gazing at Brehon Gormán in astonishment.

“My understanding of what I have been told is that Brother Eolang was dead when he was discovered in the lake? Is this not so? But you say he was able to name the abbot as his killer. How was this miracle accomplished?”

“He was certainly dead when his body was found,” agreed the Brehon.

“Then explain this riddle which you have set me.”

“It is quite simple. Brother Eolang told several of his brethren a week ago that he would be murdered on a particular day and that the abbot would be responsible.”

Fidelma found herself in the unusual position of being unable to comment for a moment or so. Then she shook her head in bewilderment, trying to control the growing sarcasm in her tone.

“This is the evidence? He predicted he would be murdered by the abbot?”

Brehon Gormán smiled again, even more coldly.

“Brother Eolang also foretold the exact manner of his death,” he added.

“I think you need to explain more precisely, Brehon Gormán,” Fidelma said. “Was Brother Eolang a prophet?”

“It would appear so, for we have the accusation and prediction written in Brother Eolang’s own hand.”

Sister Fidelma sat back and folded her hands in her lap.

“I am listening attentively to your explanation,” she said quietly.

“Please tell me the facts so that I do not make any assumptions.”

“There was no love lost between Abbot Rígán and Brother Eolang,” replied the Brehon. “There are witnesses to several arguments between them. They arose because the abbot did not agree with some of Brother Eolang’s beliefs and activities. . ”

Fidelma frowned, still feeling lost.

“Activities? What activities?”

“Brother Eolang was the assistant to the apothecary of the abbey and an adept at making speculations from the patterns of the stars.”

“Medicine and astrology were often twins in the practice of the physician’s art,” conceded Fidelma. “Its use is widespread throughout the five kingdoms of Éireann. Why was the abbot so condemning of the practice?”

Fidelma herself had studied the art of star charts and their interpretation under Brother Conchobar of Cashel, who had once told her that she would have made an excellent interpreter of the portents. However, Fidelma placed no great reliance on astrologers, for it was a science which seemed to rely solely on the interpretive ability of the individual. However, she did accept that much might be learnt from the wisest among them. The study of the heavens, nemgnacht, was an ancient art among the people of Éireann, and most who could afford to do so had a chart cast for the moment of their children’s birth which was called nemindithib, a horoscope.

The more ancient forms of astrology used by the Druids before the coming of Christianity had fallen out of use because the New Faith had also brought in new forms which were practiced among the Greeks and Romans and originated in Babylon.

“The abbot did not approve of astrology, Sister,” interrupted the steward of the community, Brother Cass, who had been standing quietly by during the initial exchange. “The abbot disliked Brother Eolang on account of his practice of astrology. The abbot had read a passage in one of the Scriptures which denounced astrology and so he took his teaching from it. He tried to forbid its practice within our community.”

Fidelma smiled softly.

“Forbidding anything is a sure way of encouraging it. I thought we were more tolerant in such matters? The art of the réaltóir, the astrologer, has been one that has its origins from the very time our ancestors first raised their eyes to the night sky. It is part of our way of life and even those who have accepted the New Faith have not rejected the fact that God put the stars in the sky for the obedience of fools and the guidance of the wise.”

There was a silence, then Brother Cass spoke again.

“Yet there was an animosity between Eolang and the abbot over this matter.”

“Over a week ago,” commenced the Brehon, “according to certain members of the community, and as they will testify, Brother Eolang became so worried about the animosity that he cast a chart, what is a called a horary chart, to see if he was in any danger from the abbot. He did this because the abbot’s language had grown quite violent in the denunciation of Brother Eolang’s beliefs.”

Fidelma did not make any comment but waited for the Brehon to continue.

“Eolang told certain of his comrades among the brethren that within a week from the time he had cast that chart, he would be dead. The chart, he said, showed that he was powerless against the abbot and would suffer death at his hands either by drowning or poisoning.”

Brehon Gormán sat back with a smile of triumph.

Fidelma regarded him with some skepticism.

“You appear to believe this.”

“I have seen the chart. I am an amateur in such things but my knowledge is such that the accuracy of the prediction becomes obvious. I shall accept it into evidence along with the testimony of those of the brethren with whom Brother Eolang discussed the meaning of it before his death.”

Fidelma considered the matter silently for a moment. Then she turned to Brother Cass.

“Do you have someone available who could take a message to Cashel for me?”

Brother Cass glanced at the Brehon, who frowned.

“What do you propose, Sister Fidelma?”

“Why, since this chart is apparently central to the abbot’s supposed guilt, I would send to Cashel for an expert witness to verify its interpretation.”

“What expert witness?”

“Doubtless, as someone who has dabbled in the art, you have heard of Brother Conchobar, the astrologer of Cashel? He was taught by the famous Mo Chuaróc mac Neth Sémon, the greatest astrologer that Cashel ever produced.”

The Brehon’s frown deepened.

“I have heard of Conchobar, of course. But do we need worry him when everything is so clear?”

“Oh, for the sake of justice,” smiled Fidelma, without humor, “we need to ensure that the abbot has the best defense and that implies someone who is an expert in the evidence against him. You have admitted to having only an amateur’s knowledge. I also have but a passing knowledge so it is best to consult a real expert.”

The Brehon examined her features carefully. A suspicion crossed his mind as to whether she was being facetious. Then he glanced to Brother Cass and inclined his head in approval.

“You may send for Brother Conchobar.”

Sister Fidelma smiled briefly in acknowledgment.

“And if we are to take this star chart seriously as evidence,” she went on as Brother Cass departed on his mission, “then I shall want to have proof that it was drawn up by Eolang at the time it is claimed. I shall want to examine those brethren with whom he discussed it and its conclusions. And, having some slight knowledge of the art, I shall want to see it for myself.”

Brehon Gormán raised an eyebrow.

“It sounds as if you do not trust my judgment?” There was a dangerous quality to his voice.

“You are the Brehon,” Fidelma replied softly.

“When you sit in your court and pronounce your judgment, having heard all the evidence and the plea from myself, as a dálaigh defending my client, then your judgment demands and receives respect. Until that time, I shall presume that you have not made any judgment, for if you had that would have been contrary to law.”

Her features seemed inscrutable but he noticed her green eyes glimmering with an angry fire as they returned his stare.

The Brehon’s cheeks crimsoned.

“I. . of course, I have made no judgment. All that I have done is point out to you that I have accepted this chart as essential evidence. Also that the people to whom Brother Eolang spoke about its conclusions are satisfactory witnesses. The chart and witnesses will be presented to the court.”

“Do you have the chart here?”

“I have it and written on it is testimony as to when it was written and its interpretation in the very hand of Brother Eolang and witnessed.”

“Show me,” demanded Fidelma.

Brehon Gormán drew a vellum from a case and spread it on the table between them.

“Note the date and time and Eolang’s signature in the corner. You will also note that a Brother Iarlug has signed his name as witness and dated it on the same day.”

“This Brother Iarlug is available to testify?”

“Of course, as are Brothers Brugach, Senach and Dubán to whom Eolang spoke of his prediction. They all will testify when this chart was drawn up and when he spoke to them.”

Fidelma pursed her lips skeptically.

“With five of the brethren, including the victim, forewarned of the day when the abbot would commit this alleged murder, it seems a curiosity that Brother Eolang was not given protection against the event.”

Brehon Gormán shook his head, his face serious.

“You cannot alter fate. Fate has no reprieve.”

“That is a concept brought to us by Rome,” Fidelma rebuked. “Our own wise men say that whatever limits us, we call fate. Fate is not something which is inevitable whether we act or not. It is only inevitable if we do not act.”

Brehon Gormán glowered at her for a moment but she was oblivious to his stare.

“Now, let us examine this chart. You may explain it to me, as you confess to be something of an amateur in its deciphering.”

It took a moment or two before Brehon Gormán became involved in the task and, in spite of his antagonism to Fidelma, his voice took on an enthusiastic tone.

“The chart is easy to follow. See here-” He thrust out a finger to the symbols on the vellum.

Sister Fidelma bent over it, silently thanking the time she had spent with old Conchobar learning something of the mysteries of the art.

“It seems that Eolang was so worried that he asked a question ‘Am I in mortal danger from Abbot Rígán?’ This is called a horary question and the chart is timed for the birth of the question. It is like looking at a natal chart but, in this case, it is the birth of the question.”

Fidelma suppressed a sigh of impatience. She knew well what a horary question was. But she held her tongue.

“It seems from the chart that Eolang was ruled by Mercury ruling the Virgo ascendant with the moon as co-ruler. His enemy, the abbot, is represented by the ruler of the seventh house, signified by Jupiter in the seventh house in Pisces.”

“Very well. That I can follow. Continue.”

“Brother Eolang’s first impression was that Mercury was very weak in Pisces, being in detriment and fall and also retrograde. Also Mercury was close to the cusp of the eighth house of death. Jupiter on the other hand was powerful. It was in its rulership and angular and disposed Mercury. Jupiter, importantly, also ruled the eighth house of death.”

Sister Fidelma followed the Brehon’s pointing finger as he indicated the positions on the chart.

“Now, see here: the moon applied to the sun, ruler of the twelfth house of self-undoing and was combust. We astrologers. .,” he smiled deprecatingly, “have long regarded this as the worst condition for any planet. The sun and moon were in the eighth house and the moon in Aries is peregrine or totally without power.”

Fidelma now found herself struggling to understand the various angles which were depicted on the chart. Her knowledge was insufficient to discern the nuances.

“In Brother Eolang’s interpretation, what did all of this mean?” she asked.

“All these indications told Brother Eolang that he was powerless against Abbot Rígán. It told him that he would suffer death at the abbot’s hands either by drowning or poisoning. Drowning was more likely with Pisces being a water sign. And, see, Jupiter in Pisces indicates a large, powerful man, religious and well respected in the community. Who else did that identify but the abbot?”

“And from your knowledge, you find this interpretation acceptable?” Fidelma asked curiously. Certainly, from her own limited knowledge of how astrologers worked, she could see no flaw in his presentation.

“I accept it completely,” affirmed Brehon Gormán.

“Very well. Let us now send for these witnesses to see what they have to say. Firstly, Brother Iarlug who signed the chart as a witness to its provenance.”

Brother Iarlug was thin and mournful and had no hesitation in verifying that he had witnessed Eolang drawing up his chart. Eolang had also explained what the chart portended. That within the week Eolang would be dead and at the hands of the abbot.

“Why, then, was nothing done to protect Eolang if he believed this knowledge,” demanded Fidelma, not for the first time.

“Eolang was a fatalist. He thought there was no escape,” Brother Iarlug assured her, while Brehon Gormán smiled in satisfaction behind him.

One after the other, Brothers Brugach, Senach and Dubán all told how Brother Eolang had showed them his chart over a week before. He had predicted the very day on which he would be found in the lake. Each of them confirmed that they believed in inescapable fate.

Fidelma was exasperated.

“Everyone here seems a slave to predestination. Has no one free will?” she sneered.

“Fate is. .” began Brehon Gormán.

“Fate is the fool’s excuse for failure,” she snapped at him. “Am I to believe that you believed this event would happen and simply sat down and waited for it?”

“It is the fate of the leaf to float and the stone to sink,” intoned Brother Dubán. “We cannot change our destiny. Even the New Faith tells us that. In this place we have all studied the writings of the great Augustine of Hippo-De Civitate Dei, The City of God. Does he not argue that we cannot escape our fate? Our fate was predestined even before we were born. Even before God made the world, the Omnipotent One had decreed the fate of the meanest among us.”

“On the contrary. Did not our own great theologian Pelagius argue in De Libero Arbitrio-On Free Will-that meek acceptance of fate is destructive to man’s advancement? We are given information to make choices upon, not to sit back and do nothing. Doing nothing, as Augustine suggests we do, imperils the entire moral law of mankind. We have to take the initial and fundamental steps for our salvation. If we are not responsible for our actions, good or bad, then there is nothing to restrain ourselves from indulging in sin.”

“But that’s a Druidic teaching. .” protested the Brehon.

“And Pelagius was accused of trying to revive the Druidic philosophy,” interrupted the Brother Dubán in annoyance. “That was why he was declared a heretic by Rome and excommunicated by Pope Innocent I.”

“But that judgment was not accepted by the churches here, nor in Britain nor Gaul nor even by many of the Roman bishops,” answered Fidelma sharply.

“Even Pope Zosimus, who succeeded Innocent, rescinded that degree and declared Pelagius innocent of heresy. Only the African bishops, the friends of Augustine, refused to accept the Pope’s ruling and persuaded the Roman Emperor Honorius to issue an imperial decree denouncing him. It was for political reasons, not those of faith, that Pope Zosimus had to reconsider and change his ruling, which lifted the excommunication.”

Brehon Gormán was studying Fidelma with an expression of suspicion and annoyance.

“You seem well informed on this?”

“As lawyers, is it not our duty to imbibe as much information as we can?” she demanded. “Our knowledge must surely be as wide as we can make it, otherwise how can we profess to set ourselves up as judges of other people’s actions?”

Brehon Gormán seemed confused for a moment.

Fidelma continued in a confident tone: “Now, I shall want to see the person who found Brother Eolang’s body, the apothecary who examined it and, of course, the abbot.”

“The body was found by Brother Petrán,” the Brehon responded sourly. “The apothecary is Brother Cruinn and you will find the abbot confined to his chamber. I do not think there is need for me to accompany you for I am conversant with their evidence. It is of little importance.”

Sister Fidelma raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She glanced at the surly Brother Dubán.

“Then perhaps Brother Dubán will show me where I may find them?”

Brother Dubán reluctantly led the way to the herb garden of the community. There was a single brother working in it.

“Petrán tends the garden and you will see our apothecary’s shop in the far corner. There you will find Brother Cruinn.”

Brother Dubán turned and walked swiftly off without another word.

The rotund, red faced religieux who was tending some bushes in the garden, turned as she approached. He frowned for a moment and then gave a friendly smile.

“Sister Fidelma?”

“Do you know me?” she asked, puzzled by the greeting.

“Indeed. But you would not know me. I was in the court when you defended Brother Fergal from a charge of murder. Have you now come to defend our abbot?”

“Only if I believe him to be innocent,” agreed Fidelma.

“Innocent enough,” the man was now serious.

“I am Brother Petrán and I found the body of poor Eolang.”

“But you do not believe that the abbot is guilty?”

“I do not believe that a man should be condemned on the evidence of a claim based on obscure maps of the stars.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was going to go to market to buy new plants for the herb garden. This involved crossing the lake,” he added unnecessarily.

“I went to the pier where our boat was tied up. It was then that I saw the body of Brother Eolang in the water under the pier.”

“Under the pier?” Fidelma asked quickly, with emphasis.

“The pier is made of thin wooden planking. Some of it is loose and missing. You have to look down to make sure you step surely. That was how I was able to see him. I was keeping my eyes on where I was placing my feet. I saw the body between a gap in the planking. Mind you, I do not suppose I would have looked down so closely at that spot had it not been for the man calling to me and pointing down.”

Fidelma tried not to show her surprise.

“What man?” she asked slowly.

Brother Petrán did not seem perturbed.

“There was a man on horseback on the far bank. As I came onto the pier he started to shout and wave to me. I wondered what was up. It was too far to hear any words distinctly. He kept gesturing with his arm toward the water and that was when I looked down and saw the body.”

“Are you saying that this man might be a witness to what happened?” she asked quietly.

Brother Petrán shrugged.

“He certainly spotted the body and drew my attention to it.”

“Did you tell the Brehon this?”

“He thought it was irrelevant because of the evidence that showed the abbot’s involvement.”

“Can you describe the man on horseback? Did you know him?”

“He was a stranger. But he rode a fine horse and was dressed as a warrior. He carried the standard of the King of Cashel.”

“Then he must have been a messenger of the King, passing on his way to Cashel,” Fidelma cried in relief.

“We can find him.” Fidelma paused a moment and then continued: “What then? What happened after your attention was drawn to the body?”

“I raised a cry for help and, being a good swimmer, I jumped into the water and brought the body ashore. By that time Brother Cruinn, our apothecary, had arrived to help me.”

“And the man on the far bank?”

“When he saw that I had brought the body out of the water, he raised his hand and rode off. There was little else he could do for there was no boat on his side of the water.”

“You say that you could swim?” Fidelma went on. “Do you know if Brother Eolang was a swimmer?”

Brother Petrán shook his head immediately.

“He came from a small fishing community, islanders, who believe that it is wiser not to know how to swim for it is best to be drowned outright, falling into heavy, merciless seas, than prolonging the agony and torture of the body and soul by vain struggle.”

Fidelma suppressed a shiver at the idea.

“I have heard the philosophy although I do not agree with it. Was there no one else who came except the apothecary?”

“No one.”

“Do you know how long Brother Eolang had been in the water?”

“I do not. But the apothecary, Brother Cruinn, said. .”

Fidelma held up her hand to silence him.

“Perhaps we should leave Brother Cruinn to recount what he said,” she advised. “You can only give evidence as to your own views.”

Brother Petrán’s glance wandered past her shoulder and focussed.

“Then there is no better opportunity to hear his words for here is Brother Cruinn.”

Fidelma turned and saw an elderly man coming through the garden. He was strongly built, the arms of his robe rolled up around the elbows showing strong, muscular forearms. His hair was gray and eyes deep blue. He seemed puzzled at seeing the female religieuse in the herb garden.

Brother Petrán introduced her and the apothecary’s face relaxed.

“I was the one who noticed that this was no mere drowning, Sister,” he said with complacency.

“Poor Eolang. He assisted me as apothecary, you know.”

“Perhaps you will accompany me to the wooden pier and explain, on the way, the circumstances which aroused your suspicions?”

They left the herb garden and passed through a small door in a high stone wall which led immediately onto the bank of the island. Fidelma saw that the lake was very wide at this point. The pier, standing on wooden piles, was certainly old. Some of the planking was rotten and did not seem secure.

“This is in need of repair,” Fidelma commented.

“Indeed. It is only used for landing materials for our garden. The primary landing stage is at the main gate as you will have doubtless observed when you arrived.”

“Was there a specific reason why Brother Eolang was here?”

The apothecary rubbed his chin.

“He had gone out in the boat that morning to deliver something to the mainland and so, I presume, he was returning it so that Brother Petrán could use it to go to the market. Brother Petrán found his marsupium, his purse, still in the boat.”

“His purse was found in the boat?”

“He had probably forgotten it when he climbed onto the pier.”

“I understand that Brother Petrán retrieved the body of Brother Eolang from the water and then you answered his cries for assistance. Is that so?”

“I heard Brother Petrán from the herb garden and came straightaway,” confirmed Brother Cruinn.

“I saw immediately that poor Eolang was dead.”

“How long had he been dead? Could you tell?”

“I am proficient in my work, Sister.” The apothecary was proud of his professional capabilities which made him sound a trifle haughty in manner. “He had not been dead long. The blood was still flowing from the wound on his forehead and that was when I realized that murder had been committed.”

“Because of the wound? What was it like.”

“It was on the forehead, between the eyes. It was clear that someone had picked up a cudgel of some sort and smote the brother, who fell into the water and drowned.”

“And had you heard the story of how Brother Eolang had predicted that he would be murdered on that day?”

Brother Cruinn shook his head firmly.

“It was only afterwards that I learnt this story from Brother Senach.”

“But you worked with him. He was your assistant apothecary. Is it not strange that he did not mention this prediction?”

“He knew my views. I knew of Eolang’s reputation as an astrologer. Personally, I did not think much of it. I am a practical man but there are many in my profession who use it as an aid to their medical arts. However, it seems that this time Eolang was right.”

“This time?” queried Fidelma.

Brother Cruinn smiled deprecatingly.

“I have known many of Eolang’s predictions to fail. That is probably why he did not raise the matter of the prediction with me.”

Fidelma nodded thoughtfully.

She made her way back to the chamber of Brother Cass, the steward of the community, and found him in conversation again with Brehon Gormán.

“Have you sent for the messenger of the King of Cashel to hear his evidence?” she asked the Brehon without preamble.

Brehon Gormán looked bewildered.

“The man on horseback who drew Brother Petrán’s attention to the body,” she explained impatiently.

“Oh, that man? How did you find out he was a King’s messenger?” He paused at her expression and then added defensively: “I did not think his evidence would be relevant. After all, we have evidence enough about the incident.”

Fidelma scowled in annoyance.

“Don’t you realize that he might have witnessed the entire incident?” She turned to Brother Cass.

“You must send another messenger to Cashel immediately to find this man. He is one of the King’s messengers so his identity should be easy to discover. He must be brought here as an important witness.” She turned on her heel but at the door she paused and glanced back at the scowling Brehon and then looked at the unhappy steward.

“I shall expect my orders to be carried out, Brother Cass. I shall now speak with the abbot.”

Abbot Rígán was, at first meeting, a likable man; friendly, concerned, and bewildered at the situation in which he found himself. Only after talking to him for a time did Fidelma find that he was, indeed, rigid in his beliefs and a passionate supporter of the Roman Rule of the Faith.

“Did you kill Brother Eolang?” Fidelma demanded in opening the conversation after she had introduced herself.

“As God is my witness, I did not,” replied the abbot solemnly.

“Have you heard the nature of the evidence against you?”

“It is ridiculous! Surely no reasonable person would countenance such evidence as worth considering.”

“Brehon Gormán does. There is much to be explained in that evidence. Over a week ago Brother Eolang foretold that on such a day he would be killed by either drowning or poisoning. No one can deny that he did die in such circumstances.”

The abbot was silent.

“Brother Eolang said that if that circumstance happened, you would be responsible for his death.”

“But that is rubbish.”

“The Brehon says that if one part of the prediction is true, why not the other?”

“I refuse to answer the prattling of superstition.”

“I am told, Father Abbot, that you and Brother Eolang were not friends. That you criticized him because he practiced astrology. Superstition, as you have just called it.”

Abbot Rígán nodded emphatically.

“Doesn’t Deuteronomy say-‘Nor must you raise your eyes to the heavens and look up to the sun, the moon, and the stars, all the host of heaven, and be led on to bow down to them and worship them. .’?”

Fidelma inclined her head.

“I know the passage. Our astrologers would say that they do not worship the stars, but are guided by their patterns, for that very passage of Deuteronomy continues where you left off ‘. . the Lord your God created these for the various peoples under heaven.’ If He created them, why should we be afraid to follow their guidance?”

The abbot sniffed disparagingly.

“You have a quick tongue, Sister. But it is clear that God forbade star worship. Jeremiah says ‘do not be awed by signs in the heavens’. .”

“Our astrologers would say that they don’t worship the stars. They would point out that Jeremiah is actually admitting that there are, indeed, signs in the heavens, and he merely admonishes us not to be awed by them with the implication we should understand them and learn by them.”

“Not at all!” snapped the abbot. “Isaiah says:-

Let your astrologers, your star-gazers

who foretell your future month by month,

persist, and save you!

But look, they are gone like chaff;

fire burns them up. .”

“Isaiah was addressing the Babylonians during the exile of the Israelites in Babylon. Naturally, he would belittle their leaders. The point is, Abbot, whether you like it or not, astrology accuses you and astrology must, therefore, defend you.”

“I will not be defended by that which my faith denies.”

“Then you cannot be defended at all,” said Fidelma, rising. “If a man comes with a stick to beat you, would you say that I will not defend myself for that man has no right to use that stick as a weapon?”

She was at the door when the abbot coughed nervously. She turned back expectantly.

“In what way would you defend me?” he muttered.

“Where were you when Eolang was drowned?” she asked.

“That morning I was engaged in the accounts of the community. Our brethren make leather goods and sell them and thus we are able to sustain our little community.”

“Was anyone with you?”

Abbot Rígán shrugged.

“I was alone all morning until Brother Cass came to report the finding of Brother Eolang to me. I detected a strange atmosphere in the community for I was unaware of this nonsense about a prediction. I was therefore surprised when Brother Cass informed me that he had already sent for a Brehon based on information he had received. I was more surprised when the Brehon arrived and I found myself accused of killing Eolang.”

“The prediction is damning,” pointed out Fidelma.

“Could it be that Brother Eolang killed himself to spite me?”

“In my experience, suicides do not hit themselves over the head and drown nor is spite considered a sufficient motive for killing oneself.”

“It sounds as if you believe this prediction and therefore my guilt.”

“My task, Father Abbot, is to investigate the facts and if the facts show you to be guilty, then my oath as a dálaigh forbids me to hide your guilt from the court. My task would only be to explain any special circumstances which caused your guilt. A dálaigh cannot intentionally protect the guilty before the courts. But, I emphasize, judgment must be based on facts.”

When the abbot tried to speak again she raised her hand to silence him.

“At the moment, I have no judgment one way or the other. I have a suspicion of what happened but I cannot prove my suspicion before the Brehon. I am not, therefore, in full possession of the facts.”

Twenty-four hours had to pass before Brother Cass announced that his messengers were returning from Cashel.

Sister Fidelma went to the main gate to watch the boat crossing the lake towards the pier. Her sharp eyes immediately spotted the bent figure of the elderly Brother Conchobar in the stern of the boat. Her anxious eyes found a second figure, a young warrior, seated next to him.

“Brother Conchobar, I am glad that you have come,” she greeted as they stepped ashore.

The old man smiled, a slow, sad smile.

“I heard of your curious case from the messenger you sent. This is Ferchar, by the way.”

The young warrior bowed to Fidelma. He did not forget that Fidelma was sister to the King of Cashel.

“Lady, I heard that the man drowned. I am sorrowful that I was not able to do anything more than I did. Alas, it was too far for me to swim across the lake to his rescue.”

Fidelma glanced anxiously from Ferchar to Conchobar as a thought struck her.

“Have either of you discussed this matter with one another on your journey here?”

Brother Conchobar shook his head. It was Ferchar who answered.

“Lady, we know that the method of giving evidence says that no witnesses may confer with another about the event. We have kept our silence on this matter.”

One of the brethren, whom Brother Cass had sent to bring them to the abbey, came forward.

“I can swear to this before the Brehon if need be, Sister. These men have not spoken of the matter since we found them and brought them hither.”

“Excellent,” Fidelma was relieved. “Come with me.”

Fidelma led them to Brother Cass’s chamber where Brehon Gormán was waiting impatiently.

“This judgment on this matter has been delayed a full twenty-four hours. I hope this has not been a waste of time.”

“Justice, as you must know, Brehon Gormán, is never a waste of time. I have asked Brother Conchobar to wait outside while we now hear from an eyewitness.”

She motioned to Ferchar.

Brehon Gormán examined the young warrior.

“State your name and position.”

“I am Ferchar of the bodyguard of King Colgú and act as his messenger.”

“What is your evidence in the matter of the murder of Brother Eolang?”

Ferchar looked puzzled and Fidelma intervened.

“He means the death of Brother Eolang, the brother found by the pier.”

Brehon Gormán scowled in annoyance at her correction.

“That is what I meant,” he said tightly.

“I was riding along the shore on my way to Cashel,” began Ferchar. “Across, on the island, I saw a religieux mooring his boat at the end of one of the side piers of the abbey.”

“I do not think we need bring forward evidence that this was Brother Eolang bringing the boat to the herb garden pier where he was found,” intervened Fidelma.

Brehon Gormán motioned Ferchar to continue with an impatient gesture.

“The religieux had moored the boat and was walking along the pier when it seemed that he stopped abruptly and turned back to the boat. This meant that he was facing toward me. Then, curiously, he started back as if something had stopped him. I heard a crack. He staggered back and fell off the edge of the pier. I started shouting to attract attention. I shouted for some minutes and then I saw another religieux exit from a gate. He heard my voice but I doubt if he heard my words. I gestured to where the religieux had fallen in. He must have seen him for he waved acknowledgment and jumped in and started to haul the body to the shore. Seeing that another religieux had arrived, and that there was nothing else I could do, I continued on my journey, not realizing that in that short time, the first religieux had met his death.”

“Are you sure there was no one else around at the time the religieux fell into the water? The religieux was by himself on the pier?”

“No one else was there,” affirmed Ferchar.

“But you heard a crack?” intervened Brehon Gormán.

“I did. Like a branch breaking.”

“Perhaps someone had cast a spear at him to make him fall back or. . yes, a slingshot perhaps?” suggested the Brehon.

“He was facing towards me on the shore. The distance was too far to cast a slingshot or any other weapon. No, there was no one around when the man fell into the lake.”

“Are you claiming that this was the act of some supernatural force?” demanded the Brehon turning to Fidelma. “What of the prediction? You cannot explain away the accuracy of the prediction.”

Fidelma smiled at Ferchar.

“Wait outside and ask Brother Conchobar to enter.”

A moment later the old man did so and Fidelma asked the Brehon to spread the astrological chart before him.

“Conchobar will you examine this chart and give me your advice?” she invited.

The old man nodded and took the chart from her hands. He spent some time poring over it and then he looked up.

“It is a good chart. A professional one.”

Brehon Gormán smiled approvingly.

“You agree, then, learned Conchobar with the conclusions of Eolang?”

“Most things are correct. .” agreed the old man.

Fidelma could see the Brehon’s smile broaden but Brother Conchobar was continuing.

“. . except one important point. Brother Eolang appears to have predicted that within a week following his drawing and judging his horary question that he would die. It would happen on the day that Mercury and Jupiter perfected conjunction.”

“Exactly. The first day of the month of Aibreán. And that was the very day that he was killed, exactly as he predicted,” the Brehon confirmed. “You cannot deny that.”

The old man tapped on the chart with his finger, shaking his head.

“The error, however, is that he failed to note that Mercury turned direct a few hours later and never perfected the conjunction. Brehon, as you have some knowledge of the art, you should know that we call this phenomenon refranation. Alas, I have seen this carelessness, this overlooking of such an important fact, among many astrologers. To give Brother Eolang his due, perhaps he was too confused and worried to sit and spend time calculating the planetary movements accurately.”

“But he was accurate. He did indeed die on the predicted day. How do you explain it?” protested Brehon Gormán.

“But he was not murdered,” insisted Brother Conchobar. “The chart does not show it.”

“Then how can it be explained?” demanded the Brehon in bewilderment. “How did he die?”

Fidelma intervened with a smile.

“If you come with me, I will show you what happened.”

At the end of the old pier, Fidelma paused.

“Brother Eolang brought the boat to the end of the pier. He climbed onto the pier and started to head to the abbey. He forgot something in the boat. His marsupium to be exact. This was found by Brother Petrán later. So, halfway along the pier, he turned back for it. This much did our friend, Ferchar, observe from the far shore.”

There was a murmur of agreement from Ferchar.

“Now, look at the condition of the planks on the pier. Some are rotten, some are not nailed down. He stepped sharply towards the boat and. .”

Fidelma turned, examined the planking critically for a moment, stepped sharply on one. The far end rose with a cracking noise and she had to step swiftly aside to avoid being hit by it as it flew up into the air. She turned back triumphantly to the onlookers.

“Brother Eolang was hit by the end of the plank between the eyes, causing the wounds found by the apothecary. It also knocked him unconscious and he fell back into the water. Drowning does not have to be a long process. By the time he was hauled out of the water he was dead.”

“Then the prediction. .?” began the bewildered Brehon.

“Was false. It was an accident. It was nobody’s fault.”

Sometime later as Ferchar, Conchobar and Fidelma were being rowed back to the mainland, the old astrologer turned to Fidelma with a lopsided smile.

“I can’t help thinking that had Brother Eolang been a better astrologer, he would have made a correct prediction. It was all there, danger of death from water and he was accurate as to the day such danger would occur.”

Fidelma nodded thoughtfully.

“The fault was that Brother Eolang, like our friend, Brehon Gormán, believed that the patterns of the stars absolved man from using his free will; that man no longer had choice and that everything was predestined. That is not how the ancients taught the art of nemgnacht.”

Brother Conchobar nodded approvingly.

“So you do remember what I taught you?”

“You taught that there are signs that serve as warnings and give us information from which the wise can make decisions. They are options, possibilities from which we may select choices. The new learning from the east seems more fatalistic. Even the Christian teachings of Augustine of Hippo would have it that everything is predestined. That is why I am more happy with the teachings of Pelagius.”

“Even though Augustine’s supporters have sneered at Pelagius as being ‘full of Irish porridge’?”

“Better Irish porridge than blind prejudice.”

Brother Conchobar chuckled.

“Have a care, Fidelma, lest you be accused of a pagan heresy!”