Whispers of the Dead

WHO STOLE THE FISH?

Sister Fidelma glanced up in mild surprise as the red-faced religieux came bursting through the doors into the refectory where she and her fellow religieuses were about to sit down at the long wooden tables for the evening meal. In fact, Abbot Laisran had already called for silence so that he could intone the gratias.

The man halted in confusion as he realized that his abrupt entrance had caused several eyes to turn questioningly upon him. His red cheeks, if anything, deepened their color and he appeared to wring his hands together for a moment in indecision. He knew well that this was no ordinary evening meal but a feast given in welcome to the Venerable Salvian, an emissary from Rome who was visiting the Abbey of Durrow. The patrician Roman was even now sitting by the side of the abbot, watching the new arrival with some astonishment.

The red-faced monk apparently summoned courage and hurried to the main table where Abbot Laisran stood with an expression of irritation on his rotund features. He bent forward. A few words were whispered. Something was wrong. Fidelma could tell that by the startled look which formed momentarily on the abbot’s face. He leaned across to his steward, who was seated at his left side, and muttered something. It was the steward’s turn to look surprised. Then the abbot turned to his guest, the Venerable Salvian, and seemed to force a smile before speaking, waving his hand as if in emphasis. The old patrician’s expression was polite yet puzzled.

The abbot then rose and came hurrying down the refectory in the wake of the religieux who had delayed the meal. To her surprise, Fidelma realized the abbot was making directly toward her.

Abbot Laisran was looking very unhappy as he bent down with lowered voice. “I have need of your services, Fidelma,” he said tersely. “Would you follow me to the kitchens?”

Fidelma realized that Laisran was not prone to dramatic gestures. Without wasting time with questions, she rose and followed the unhappy man. Before them hurried the red-faced brother.

Beyond the doors, just inside the kitchen, Abbot Laisran halted and looked around. There were several religieux in the long chamber where all the meals of the abbey were prepared. Curiously, Fidelma noted, there was no activity in the kitchen. The group of religieux, marked as kitchen workers by the aprons they wore and rolled-up sleeves, stood about in silent awkwardness.

Laisran turned to the red-faced man who had conducted them hither. “Now, Brother Dian, tell Sister Fidelma what you have just told me. Brother Dian is our second cook,” he added quickly for Fidelma’s benefit.

Brother Dian, looking very frightened, bobbed his head several times. He spoke in rapid bursts and was clearly distressed.

“This afternoon, our cook, Brother Roilt, knowing that the Venerable Salvian was to be the guest of the abbey at this feast, went down to the river with his fishing rod and line, intent on hooking a salmon to prepare as a special dish.”

Laisran, fretting a little at this preamble, cut in: “Brother Roilt caught a great salmon. He showed it to me. It was just right for the dish to present to Salvian. It would show him how well we live in this part of the world. .”

Brother Dian, nodding eagerly, intervened in turn. “The fish was prepared and Brother Roilt had started to cook it a short while ago for we knew that the gratias was about to be said. I was in charge of preparing the vegetables, so I was working at the far end of the kitchen. Brother Roilt was cooking the fish over there. .” He indicated the respective positions with a wave of his hand. “A short while ago, the chief server entered and told me that everyone was ready at the tables. I looked up to see whether Brother Roilt was ready also so that the servers could take in the fish. I could not see Brother Roilt. I came down to where he had been cooking the fish and. . and the fish was gone.”

Abbot Laisran gave a groan. “The fish has been stolen! The delicacy that we were to present to the Venerable Salvian! What shall I do?”

Fidelma had not said a word since she had been summoned from the refectory. Now she spoke. “The fish is missing. How do you deduce it was stolen?”

It was Brother Dian who answered. “I made a thorough search of the kitchens and questioned the kitchen staff.” He gestured to the half-dozen or so brothers who stood gathered in their silent group. “Everyone denies knowledge of the missing fish. It has simply vanished.”

“But what of the cook, Brother Roilt?” Fidelma demanded, irritated by the lack of explanation of the obvious. “What does he say about this matter?”

There was a pause.

“Alas,” moaned Brother Dian. “He, too, has disappeared.”

Fidelma arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying that one moment he was cooking the salmon over a fire in this kitchen, with half a dozen others around him, and the next moment he had vanished?”

“Yes, sister,” the man wailed. “Maybe it’s sorcery.Deus avertat! ”

Fidelma sniffed disparagingly. “Nonsense! There are a hundred reasons why the cook might have disappeared with his fish.”

Brother Dian was not convinced. “He took such care with it because he knew it was going to be placed before the emissary from Rome. He caught the fish in the River Feoir itself-a great, wise salmon.”

“Show me exactly where he was last seen with this fish,” Fidelma instructed.

Brother Dian took her to a spot at the far end of the kitchen beside an open door leading into the abbey gardens. There was a table below an open window to one side and next to this was a hearth over which hung both a bir, or cooking spit, and an indeoin, or gridiron.

“It was at this gridiron that Brother Roilt was cooking the fish,” the red-faced brother informed her. “He was basting it with honey and salt. See there.” He pointed to a large wooden platter on the table before the open window. “There is the platter he intended to put it on.”

Fidelma bent forward with a frown. Then she put a finger to the platter where she had seen grease stains and raised it to her lips.

“Which he did put it on,” she corrected gently.

Then her eyes fell to the floor. There were a several spots on the oak boards. She crouched down and looked at them for several seconds before reaching forward, touching one with her forefinger and bringing it up to eye level.

“Has anyone been slaughtering meat in this part of the kitchen?” she asked.

Brother Dian shook his head indignantly. “This area of the kitchen is reserved for cooking fish only. We cook our meat over there, on the far side of the kitchen, so that the two tastes do not combine and ruin the palate.”

Fidelma held her red-tinged fingertip toward Abbot Laisran.

“Then if that is not animal blood, I presume our cook has cut himself, which might account for his absence,” she observed dryly.

Abbot Laisran frowned. “I see. He might have cut himself and dropped blood over the fish and, seeing that it was thus tainted, might have been forced to discard it?”

Sister Fidelma smiled at the chubby-faced abbot.

“A good deduction, Laisran. We might make you a dálaigh yet.”

“Then you think that this is the answer?”

“I do not.” She shook her head. “Brother Roilt would not simply have vanished without telling his staff to prepare some substitute dish. Nor would he have deserted his kitchen for such a long period. There are more blood spots on the floor.”

Keeping her eyes on the trail of blood, Fidelma followed it to a small door on the other side of the open door to the garden.

“Where does that lead?”

“A storeroom for flour, barley and other grains. I’ve looked inside. He is not hiding there, Sister,” Brother Dian said.

“Yet the spots of blood lead in there.”

“I did not see them before you pointed them out,” confessed the second cook.

Fidelma opened the door and peered inside. There were several large cupboards at the far end, beyond the stacked sacks of grains. She walked swiftly toward them, having observed where the blood spots led, and opened the door of the central one.

The body of an elderly monk fell out onto the floor to the gasps of horror from those about her. A large butcher’s knife protruded from under the corpse’s ribcage.

“This, I presume, is Brother Roilt?” she enquired coldly.

“Quod avertat Deus!” breathed the abbot. “What animals are we that someone kills the cook to steal a fish?”

One of the younger brothers began to sob uncontrollably. The abbot glanced across in distraction. “Take Brother Enda and give him a glass of water,” he instructed another youth who was trying to comfort his companion. He turned back to Fidelma apologetically. “The sight of violent death is often upsetting to the young.”

“I know who must have done this evil deed,” interposed one of the young men, who was wearing a clean white baker’s apron over his habit. “It must be one of those wandering beggars that were camping by the river this morning.”

The term he actually used was daer-fuidhir, a class of people who were more or less reduced to penury and whose labor was as close to slavery as anything. These were criminals or prisoners taken in warfare who could not redeem themselves and had lost all civil rights in society. They often wandered as itinerant laborers hiring themselves out to whoever would offer them food and lodging.

Abbot Laisran’s face was grave. “We will take our revenge on this band of miscreants if-”

“There is no need for that,” interrupted Fidelma quietly. “I have a feeling that you will not find your fish thief among them.”

They all turned toward her expectantly.

“Abbot Laisran, you must return to your distinguished guest. Is there some other dish which can replace the fish that you were to serve him?”

The Abbot glanced at Brother Dian.

“We can serve the venison, Father Abbot,” the second cook volunteered.

“Good,” Fidelma answered for Laisran. “Then get on with the meal and while you are doing that I shall make some inquiries here and find out how Brother Roilt came by his death and who stole the fish.”

The Abbot hesitated but Fidelma’s expression was determined and confident. He nodded briefly to her and, as an afterthought, directed Brother Dian to obey all her instructions.

Fidelma turned to the table under the window and stared down at the empty wooden platter with the now drying grease marks on it. After a moment or two, she raised her eyes to gaze into the tiny plot beyond. It was a small, enclosed herb garden.

It was clear, from the blood spots, that Brother Roilt had been standing here when he was stabbed. He could not have walked to the store cupboard on his own. The killer would have had to drag him there, probably on his back, pulling him by his two arms. Had he been dragged on his stomach then the blood trail would have been more noticeable. The physical removal of the body would not have been difficult for Brother Roilt was elderly, small and frail in appearance. Indeed, he did not look remotely like the typical cook. But why had no one else in the kitchen seen anything?

She swung ’round.

The kitchen staff were busy handing platters to the servers who were waiting to take them to the tables in the refectory beyond.

There were six workers in the kitchen. It was a long, large chamber but, she realized, it actually was L-shaped. Part of it was hidden from the other part. Brother Roilt would not have been seen by anyone beyond the angle. Furthermore, the center of the room, along its entire length, contained preparation tables and a central oven. The kitchen was fairly wide but, with a series of wooden supports running along its center, it was obvious that certain lines of sight would be met with visual obstruction. Yet while these might obscure vision from various points, it was surely impossible that no one had been in a position to see the killer stab the cook and then drag him to the storeroom, even if the murder had been executed almost sound-lessly.

That a murder could have been done in full view and no one had noticed it was also impossible.

She glanced back down to the platter. Who stole the fish? Why kill someone to steal a salmon? It was not logical. Not even an itinerant worker would come forward and attempt such a thing in these circumstances.

She went to the open door and stood looking out into the herb garden. It was no more than ten meters square, surrounded by a high wall and with a wooden gate at the far end. She walked down the paved pathway toward it and saw that it carried a bolt. The bolt was firmly in place and this would have prevented any access into the garden from the outside. Furthermore, anyone leaving by this means could not have secured the bolt behind them.

She turned and walked back to the kitchen door. There was nothing unusual; nothing out of place. By the door stood a spade and some other gardening tools. Next to them, on the ground, was an empty tin dish. Presumably, the tools were used for tending the garden. Fidelma realized that there was only one conclusion. Brother Roilt must have been killed by someone who had been in the kitchen.

She was so engrossed in contemplating this fact as she re-entered the kitchen and took her stand by the empty fish platter that she did not see Brother Dian return to her side until he cleared his throat in order to regain her attention.

“The dishes have been taken into the refectory, Sister. What do you wish us to do now?”

Fidelma made a quick decision. “I want everyone who was working in the kitchen to come forward,” she instructed.

Brother Dian waved the men forward. “I was here; then there was Brother Gebhus, Brother Manchán, Brother Torolb, Brother Enda and Brother Cett.”

He indicated them each in turn. They stood before her looking awkward, like small boys caught in some naughty escapade and brought before their senior. It had been the youthful Brother Enda who had given way to his emotions at the sight of the dead body. Now he seemed in more control, although his eyes were red and his facial muscles pinched in maintaining his calm.

“I want each one of you to go to the position where you were working at the time when it was noticed that Brother Roilt was missing.”

Brother Dian frowned. “To be truthful, Sister, it was the fish which I noticed was missing first. I was, as I said, at the far end of the kitchen preparing the vegetables. Brother Gebhus was my assistant, working at my side.”

“Go there, then,” Fidelma instructed.

Brother Dian walked to the far end of the room with Brother Gebhus trotting after him. They were hidden from sight by the central obstructions but did not go into the area which was hidden by the angle of the L. She stood at the spot where the murdered man must have worked. She could not see the second cook or his assistant from that point.

“Now repeat your actions when you came to check on the readiness of the fish,” she called.

Brother Dian appeared around an obstruction at the top of the kitchen, hesitated, and then came toward her.

“What made you take the trouble to do this?” she enquired.

“The server who was to take the fish to the table had entered from the refectory. The door as you know is at the top end of the chamber near where I was working. He told me that the gratias was about to be said. That was why I turned and saw Brother Roilt was not at his position and when I came along I saw that the fish was missing.”

“How many entrances are there to the kitchen?”

“Three.”

“And these are. .?”

“The garden entrance, the door from the refectory and the one which leads into a small anteroom in which the servers prepare their trays and plates to go into the refectory.”

“So if anyone left the kitchen they would have to go directly into the refectory or into the servers’ room?”

“In which case,” Brother Dian pointed out, “they would have been observed. The only way in and out without going through one of those rooms is through the kitchen garden. That is why I agree it was the itinerants who slunk in-”

Fidelma held up a hand. “The garden is surrounded by a high wall. There is a wooden door which gives the only exit or entrance. That door is bolted from the inside.”

Brother Dian pursed his lips. “The reason it is locked Sister, is because I locked it. When I noticed the fish had gone, I went out to see if the culprit was still in the garden.”

Fidelma gestured in exasperation. “And was the door shut or opened at that time?” she demanded.

“It was open. That was very unusual. Indeed, I clearly remember that when we arrived to start the meal this evening the gate was shut and locked. That’s why I threw the bolt on it, to make sure no one else came through that way.”

“I am glad that you have told me.” She was reflective. “It could have led to a wrong conclusion.” She did not explain further but turned to the others.

“Will everyone now go to the positions that they occupied?”

She saw that Brother Enda and Brother Cett immediately went into the area beyond the angle of the L at the far end of the kitchen. It was obvious that they could not see around the corner.

She called them out into her line of vision again. “How long were you in that area, Brothers?”

The two young religieux exchanged glances. Brother Cett spoke for them both, for the red-eyed Brother Enda was clearly still upset.

“This is where we prepare the fruit. We were washing and cutting pieces for the dessert course. That is our only task and so we were here most of the time. There was no reason for us to be anywhere else.”

“When did you last see Brother Roilt?”

“When we arrived in the kitchen to start to prepare our dishes. As he was head cook we had to report to him.”

“Stay there then.” She walked back to her original position. “Now the rest of you. .”

Brother Gebhus still remained out of sight at Brother Dian’s original position. Brother Torolb stood on the far side of the kitchen in front of another big range supporting meat spits, while Brother Manchán took a position at the center table next to some clay ovens where he had obviously been preparing bread.

Fidelma regarded their positions carefully. If Torolb and Manchán had been glancing in Roilt’s direction, then they would have seen him, although with various obstructions depending on what they were doing. For example, if Brother Torolb had been bending to his cooking range he would have been facing the opposite wall, and even when he turned there would have been a central table with a low central beam from which a number of metal pots and pans hung which would have obstructed his view. He could only have seen the midsection of Brother Roilt.

She checked each of their views carefully before sighing in exasperation.

If everyone had been totally engrossed with their work, it might just have been possible for someone to enter from the herb garden, stab Roilt, drag his frail body to the storeroom and then steal the fish. Yet she was sure that the murderer had not come in from the garden. It made no sense. Why kill Roilt for a fish? The plate was by the window. If they were so desperate, they could have waited until Roilt’s attention was distracted, leaned forward across the windowsill and grabbed the fish. Why take such an extraordinary risk of discovery and resort to murder? And there was the matter of the gate.

Perhaps she was looking at this from the wrong viewpoint?

“I shall speak to each of you individually, starting with Brother Dian,” she announced. “The rest of you will continue about your duties until you are called.”

With the exception of Brother Dian, the others, reluctantly it seemed, resumed their tasks in other parts of the kitchen.

“How long have you been second cook here?” Fidelma began.

Brother Dian reflected. “Five years.”

“How long had Roilt been cook here?”

“Is this relevant? We should be searching for the itinerants,” he began, and then caught the glint in her eye. “Roilt had been here for a year longer than I. That was why he was head cook.”

“Did you and the others get on with him?”

“Roilt? No one liked him. He was a weasel of a man.” He stopped, flushed and genuflected.“De mortuis nil nisi bonum,” he muttered. Of the dead say nothing but good.

“Vincit omnia veritas,” replied Fidelma sharply. Truth conquers all things. “I prefer to hear the truth than false praise.”

Brother Dian glanced around. “Very well. It is known that Roilt liked the company of the young novitiates, if you know what I mean. Male novitiates,” he added with emphasis.

“There was hatred toward him because of this?”

Dian nodded. “Many brothers disliked his abuse of the young.”

“Abuse? Do you mean that he forced his attentions on them against their will?”

Dian gave an expressive shrug by way of reply.

“Did Roilt have affairs with any of the kitchen staff?” she demanded.

Dian blinked at the directness of the question. “I must protest, Sister. . you are here to find out who stole the fish. .”

“I am here to find out who murdered Brother Roilt,” snapped Fidelma, causing Brother Dian to start.

“It is clear that he was killed for the fish,” Dian said doggedly after a moment to recover.

“Is it?” Fidelma glanced to the far end of the kitchen. “Ask Brother Enda to come to me.”

Brother Dian looked surprised at being summarily dismissed. A moment later the youthful, red-eyed Brother Enda arrived at her side.

“Are you feeling better now?” Fidelma asked him.

The young man nodded slowly. “It was a shock, you see. .” he began hesitantly.

“Of course. You were close to Brother Roilt, weren’t you?”

Brother Enda flushed and pressed his lips firmly together, saying nothing.

“Were you currently in a relationship with him?” demanded Fidelma.

“I was not.”

“He preferred someone younger?”

“He was the only person who was kind to me in this abbey. I shall not speak ill of him.”

“I do not ask you to say anything that is not the truth and will not help us find out who killed him.”

The young man seemed bewildered for a moment. “I thought he was killed for. .”

“For the fish?” Fidelma’s expression did not change. “Did he have a current lover?”

“I think there was a young novitiate that he had just taken a liking to.”

“When did he end his relationship with you?”

“Six months ago.”

“Were you angry about that?”

“Sad. I was not-” The young man’s eyes abruptly widened. “You think that I. . that I killed him?” His voice rose on a high note causing some of the other kitchen workers to turn in their direction.

“Did you?” Fidelma was unperturbed.

“I did not!”

“How about Brother Cett? He is your age. Did he have a relationship with Roilt or with yourself?”

Enda laughed harshly. “Brother Cett is not like that. He loves women too much.”

“There is no feeling, beyond fraternity, between you and Cett?”

“We are friends, that is all.”

“I am told that Roilt was disliked. Perhaps he was disliked for his sexuality? Often people kill out of fear of things they cannot comprehend.”

“I can only tell you what I know,” insisted the young man stubbornly.

“That is all that is asked of the innocent.” Fidelma smiled thinly. “Send Brother Torolb to me.”

Torolb was a man about twenty years of age. He was handsome and still in the vigor of youth, though not so young as Enda or Cett. He was dark-eyed and had determined features, an expression as though he would not suffer fools gladly. He wore a short leather apron around his habit.

“Your task is to cook the meat dishes?” she asked. Torolb nodded warily.

“How long have you worked in the kitchens here?”

“Since I came to the abbey at the ‘Age of Choice.’ ”

“Three or four years ago?”

“Four years ago.”

“So you learned your art in this kitchen?”

Torolb smiled thinly. “Part of it. I was raised on a farm and taught to butcher and cook meat when I was young. That was why I specially asked to work in the kitchens.”

Fidelma glanced down at his clothing. “You have blood on your apron,” she observed.

Torolb uttered a short laugh. “You cannot butcher and cut meat without blood.”

“Naturally,” sighed Fidelma. “How well did you know Brother Roilt?”

An expression of displeasure crossed Torolb’s features. “I knew Roilt,” he replied shortly.

“You did not like him?”

“Why should I?”

“He was head cook and you were under his direction. People have feelings about those they work with and an elderly man usually influences the young.”

“Roilt could only influence gullible youths like Enda. Others despised him.”

“Others, like yourself?”

“I do not deny it. I obey the law.”

“The law?” Fidelma frowned.

“The law of God, the Father of Christ Jesus,” replied the young man fiercely. “You will find the law in Leviticus where it says ‘If a man has intercourse with a man as with a woman, they both commit an abomination. They shall be put to death; their blood shall be on their own heads.’ That is what is written.”

Fidelma examined the saturnine young man thoughtfully.

“Is that what you believe?”

“That is what is written.”

“But do you believe it?”

“Surely we must believe the word of the Holy Scripture?”

“And would you go so far as to carry out the word of that Scripture?”

The young man glanced at her, his eyes narrowing suspiciously for a moment. “We are forbidden to take the law into our own hands and to kill. So if you are trying to accuse me of killing Brother Roilt, you are wrong. Yet if those who are given authority under the law had said he should be executed, then I would not have lifted a hand to prevent it.”

Fidelma paused for a moment and then asked: “When you came here as a young novice, did Roilt make any advances toward you?”

Brother Torolb was angry. “How dare you imply-”

“You forget yourself, Brother Torolb!” snapped Fidelma.

“You are talking to a dálaigh, an advocate of the Laws of the Féncchus. I ask questions to discover the truth. Your duty is to answer.”

“I tell you again, I obey the laws of the Faith as given in Scripture. Anyway, you forget one thing in desperately seeking to find the guilty.”

“What is that?”

“The missing fish. If I were called to be God’s instrument to punish Roilt, what reason would I have to steal a fish that I did not want? Or would you like to come and search my cupboards for it?”

Fidelma gazed coldly at him. “That will not be necessary. Tell Brother Manchán to come to me.”

Torolb turned away, his attitude one of barely controlled anger.

Brother Manchán came forward smiling. He was a fleshy, bright-faced young man, scarcely older than Torolb. He gave the impression that he had just stepped from a bath and was freshly scrubbed. His smile seemed a permanent part of his features.

“And you, Brother, I observe, are the baker of this abbey?” Fidelma said in greeting.

Manchán wore a pristine white apron over his habit, yet this had not prevented the fine dust of flour settling over his clothing like powder.

“I have been baker here for two years and was three years assistant baker until the death of poor Brother Tomaltach.”

“So you came here as a young novitiate five years ago?”

Manchán bobbed his head and his smile seemed to broaden. “Even so, Sister.”

“How well did you know Roilt?”

“I knew him well enough, for he was head cook here. Poor Brother Roilt.”

“Why do you say ‘poor’?”

“The manner of his death, what else? Death comes to us all but it should not visit us in such a terrible fashion.” The young baker shuddered and genuflected.

“Any untimely death is terrible,” Fidelma agreed. “Yet I believe that many in this kitchen do not feel grief at this man’s passing.”

Manchán glanced quickly in the direction of Brother Dian, still at the far end of the kitchen.

“I can imagine that some would even feel pleased at it,” he said quickly.

“Pleased?”

“A matter of ambition, Sister,” the young man replied.

“Do you imply that Brother Dian was ambitious to be head cook here?”

“Isn’t that natural? If one is second then it behooves him to strive to be first.”

“I was not particularly thinking about ambition.”

Brother Manchán regarded her for a moment or two and then grimaced. “I suppose you refer to Roilt’s sexual inclinations?”

“What were your views?”

“Each to his own, I say.Quod cibus est aliis est venenum. What is food to some is poison to others.”

“That is laudable, but not a view shared by some of your colleagues.”

“You mean Torolb? Well, pay no attention to his fundamentalism. It is so much baying at the moon. Who knows? It may even be an attempt to hide his own inclinations, even from himself.”

“Yet a man who can wield a knife and slaughter an animal might have no compunction in slaughtering a human being.”

Brother Manchán reflected for a moment.

“Are you really sure that Roilt was killed by one of us? That he was not killed by itinerants determined to feed well on the salmon that disappeared? After all, wasn’t the garden gate open and un-bolted? One of the itinerants must have come in.”

“And you can think of no other explanation?” countered Fidelma.

The young man raised a hand to rub his chin thoughtfully.

“Anything is possible. I agree some did not like Roilt. But I think you are wrong about Torolb. Brother Dian coveted Roilt’s position as head cook and disliked him because he thought himself a better cook.”

Fidelma smiled. “But Brother Dian was at the far end of the kitchen. He would have had to leave his position and walk down the length of the kitchen to where Roilt was cooking his fish. He would have been seen by either yourself or Torolb or, indeed, by Brother Gebhus who was working beside him and would have noticed him leave.”

“But he did come by me. He did leave his position,” pointed out Brother Manchán.

“That was when he went to check whether the fish was ready; when he noticed that the fish and Roilt were missing.” Fidelma frowned as an idea occurred to her. “Did you see Dian pass by?”

Brother Manchán nodded. “I had my head down rolling dough but I was aware that he passed my table.”

“How long was it before he announced that Roilt was missing?”

Brother Manchán thought for a moment.

“I think that some time passed between my being aware of him passing my table and the moment I thought I heard a door bang. That made me look up and go to the corner where I could see without obstruction. I saw Brother Dian standing by the kitchen door. He was looking rather flushed, as from exertion. I asked him what was wrong and that was when he said that the fish was missing and that he could not find Brother Roilt.”

Fidelma was thoughtful. “Thank you, Brother Manchán.”

She went forward to where Brother Gebhus was standing nervously awaiting her.

“Now, Brother Gebhus.” She drew him to one side of the kitchen, away from where Brother Dian was now intent on ensuring the fruit dishes were being handed to the servers.

“I don’t know anything, Sister,” the young man began nervously.

Fidelma suppressed an impatient sigh. She pointed to a hearth where a fire crackled under a hanging cauldron.

“Would you like to put your hand in that fire, Brother Gebhus?” she asked.

Brother Gebhus looked startled. “Not I!”

“Why?”

“I don’t want my hand burnt.”

“Then you do know something, Gebhus, don’t you?” she replied acidly. “You know that the fire will burn your hand.”

Brother Gebhus stared blankly at her.

“Think about the meaning of what you are saying before you answer my questions,” explained Fidelma. “I need them to be answered with accuracy. How long have you worked here?”

“Two years in this kitchen.”

“You assist Brother Dian?”

He nodded briefly, eyes warily on her.

“How well did you know Brother Roilt?”

“Not well. I. . I tried to avoid him. I did not like him because. .” He hesitated.

“He made advances to you?”

The young man sighed deeply. “When I first came to the abbey. I told him that I was not like that.”

“You were standing here when Dian went to look for Roilt?”

“He went to look for the fish,” corrected Gebhus. “The chief server had come in and said that the gratias was about to be said and Brother Dian turned and looked down the aisle there to where Brother Roilt was cooking the fish for the guest of honor. He could not see him and so he went to find him.”

“And you remained here?”

“I was here from the moment I came into the kitchen this evening.”

“Was Brother Dian with you the whole time?”

“Not the whole time. He had to discuss the meal with Brother Roilt before we began and once or twice he went to consult with him and the other cooks.”

The refectory door opened at that point and Abbot Laisran came in, looking worried. He approached Fidelma.

“I just had to come to see if you had any news. Have you decided who stole the fish?”

Fidelma smiled her curious urchin-like grin.

“I knew who stole the fish some time ago. But you are just in time, Father Abbot.”

She turned and called for everyone to gather around her. They did so, expectantly, almost fearfully.

“Do you know who murdered Brother Roilt?” demanded Brother Dian, asking the question that was in everyone’s minds.

Fidelma glanced swiftly at them, observing their growing anticipation.

“Brother Manchán, would you mind removing your apron?” she asked.

The young brother suddenly turned white and began to back away.

Brother Torolb grabbed him and tore the apron off. Beneath the pristine white apron, Brother Manchán’s habit was splattered with bloodstains.

Abbot Laisran was bewildered. “Why would Brother Manchán kill Roilt?”

“Reasons as old as the human condition: jealousy, love turned to hatred; an immature and uncontrollable rage at being rejected by a lover. Manchán had been Roilt’s lover until Roilt turned his attentions to a new young novitiate. Roilt rejected Manchán for a younger man. Presumably Roilt was neither sensitive nor tactful in bringing an end to his relationship and so Manchán killed him.”

The young man did not deny her accusation.

“How did you know?” asked the Abbot.

“Brother Manchán was very eager to point an accusing finger at others in the kitchen and out of it, especially at Brother Dian. I realized that he was just too eager.”

“But you must have had something else to go by?” Brother Dian asked. “Something made you suspect him.”

“Brother Manchán was, of course, best placed to kill Roilt. When everyone had their attentions fixed on their tasks he seized the opportunity. He went forward, struck so quickly that Roilt did not have time to cry out, and then he dragged Roilt to the storeroom. He even went into the garden and opened the wooden gate, which was usually kept shut and bolted, in an attempt to lay a false trail. He pointed out to me that the gate had been open. Yet Dian, finding it so, had shut it and bolted it again almost immediately. How had he known that it had been open?”

“And he also took the fish to lay a false trail?” suggested Brother Dian.

Fidelma shook her head with a smile. “He did not have time to do that. No; the fish was actually stolen by someone else. The opportunity to take the fish was seized when Roilt was no longer there to prevent it.”

“Just a minute,” interrupted Abbot Laisran. “I still do not understand how you initially came to suspect Manchán. Suspicion because he tried to lay the blame on others is not sufficient, surely?”

“You are right, as always, Father Abbot,” conceded Fidelma. “What alerted me was the problem of his apron.”

“His apron?” frowned the Abbot.

“Manchán would have us believe that he was working away making bread. Indeed, there was a fine dust of flour over his clothing with the exception of his apron which was clean; pristine white. It was clearly not the apron that he had been wearing while he was working. Why had he changed it? When Roilt was killed blood had splattered on the floor. It would have splashed on his clothes, especially on a white apron. He changed the apron in the storeroom, covering the bloodstains that had seeped through onto his habit. Seeing that clean white apron made me suspicious and his eagerness to point the finger at others simply confirmed my instinct. The reference to the gate merely confirmed matters. Now you have the proof,” she added with a gesture at Manchán’s bloodstained robes.

Abbot Laisran stood nodding his head thoughtfully as he considered the matter. Then he suddenly looked at her in bewilderment. “But the fish? Who stole the fish?”

Sister Fidelma moved across to the kitchen door and pointed down to the empty tin dish by the door.

“I noticed this earlier. It looks as though it is used to contain milk. Therefore, would I be correct in presuming that there is a cat who frequents the kitchen area?”

Brother Dian gave a gasp which was enough acknowledgment of this surmise.

Fidelma grinned. “I suggest that a search of the garden will probably disclose the remains of the fish and your cat curled up nearby having had one of the best meals of its life. It was the cat who stole the fish.”