Absolution by Murder (11 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Absolution by Murder
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Sister Athelswith started forward, but Fidelma stayed her.
‘Let’s leave her alone with her grief for a while.’
The
domina
bowed her head in submission and resumed the path forward.
‘The poor sister is distraught. She seems to have had a great attachment to the abbess,’ she observed as she continued onward.
‘We all have different ways of dealing with our grief,’ replied Fidelma.
Beyond the catacombs was a series of storerooms and beyond those was the
apotheca
or wine cellar, in which stood great casks containing wines imported from Frankia, Gaul and Iberia. Here Fidelma paused, sniffing. The scent of the wines was powerful but some other bitter-sweet odour seemed to permeate the underground chambers, a curious aroma which made her face pucker in distaste.
‘We are below the abbey kitchens, sister,’ Athelswith said, as if in apology. ‘Smells permeate along this area.’
Fidelma made no comment but motioned the
domina
to continue onwards. A little way further they came on a series of cells, usually kept for the storing of provisions, so Sister Athelswith told them, but also used in extreme circumstances for the imprisonment of miscreants. Brand torches lit the grey, cold subterranean chambers.
Two men sat playing dice in the gloomy light.
It was Sister Athelswith who announced their presence in sharp authoritative Saxon.
The two men rose grumbling to their feet and one of them took a key from a hook by a stout oak door.
Sister Athelswith, her task fulfilled, turned to vanish back in the gloom.
The man was handing the key to Eadulf when he suddenly glanced at Fidelma. He grinned lewdly and said something which his companion found amusing.
Eadulf spoke to them sharply. The two men shrugged and the first man tossed the key on to the table. Fidelma had enough Saxon to hear Eadulf ask for the names of the witnesses against the condemned man. The first warrior grunted some names including that of Wulfric of Frihop. They then returned to their dice game and took no more notice.
‘What did he say?’ whispered Fidelma.
‘I asked for the names of the witnesses.’
‘That I could understand. But what did he say beforehand?’
Eadulf looked embarrassed and shrugged. ‘It was just the mouthing of the ignorant,’ he replied evasively.
Fidelma did not press him further but watched as he unlocked the door.
There was no light inside the tiny, foul-smelling cell.
On the straw, in a corner, sat a man with an unkempt beard and long hair. He had obviously been roughly treated for his face was bruised and there was blood on the tattered garments he wore.
He raised dark hollow eyes to Fidelma and some noise approaching a chuckle gurgled in his throat.
‘A hundred thousand welcomes to this house!’ His voice
tried to express confident sarcasm but it croaked nervously.
‘Are you Canna?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Canna, son of Canna of Ard Macha,’ agreed the beggar conversationally. ‘Am I to be allowed the last rites of the Church?’
‘We are not here to perform that service,’ replied Brother Eadulf sharply.
The beggar examined him for the first time.
‘So? A Saxon brother, and one who adheres to Rome. It is no use asking me to confess. I did not kill Abbess Étain of Kildare.’
Fidelma gazed down at the wreckage of the man.
‘Why do you think you stand accused?’
Canna glanced up. His eyes widened as he saw the youthful sister and recognised her as a compatriot.
‘Because I excel at my art.’
‘Which is?’
‘I am an astrologer. I can foretell events by means of the interrogation of the stars.’
Eadulf gave a grunt of disbelief.
‘Do you admit that you foretold the death of the abbess?’
The man nodded complacently.
‘There is no surprise in that. Our art is ancient in Ireland as the good sister will confirm.’
Fidelma nodded agreement.
‘It is true that astrologers have this gift—’
‘Not a gift,’ corrected the beggar. ‘An astrologer studies as in any other science or art. I have studied for many years.’
‘Very well,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Astrologers have practised their art for many years in Ireland. It was once the prerogative of the druids but still the art continues and many kings and chieftains
will not even have their new houses constructed until a horoscope is cast as to the most auspicious time for such an event.’
Eadulf sniffed disparagingly.
‘Are you saying that you cast a horoscope and saw the death of Etain?’
‘I did.’
‘And you named her and the hour of her death?’
‘I did.’
‘And did people hear you say this before the hour of her death?’
‘They did.’
Eadulf stared at the man in disbelief.
‘Yet you swear that you did not kill her or have any part in the encompassing of her death?’
Canna shook his head.
‘I am innocent of her blood. This I swear.’
Eadulf turned to Fidelma.
‘I am a plain man, not given to fanciful notions. I think that Canna must have had prior knowledge of this event. No man can see the future.’
Sister Fidelma shook her head firmly.
‘Among our people the science of astrology has been far advanced. Even the simple people are taught to know the sky and make simple astronomical observations in daily life. Most know the hour of the night throughout the year by the position of the stars.’
‘But to foretell that the sun will be blotted from the sky to the very minute—’ began Eadulf.
‘Easy to do,’ interrupted Canna, annoyed at the Saxon’s tone. ‘I have trained long years to be proficient in my art.’
‘Among our people, it would not be difficult to foretell such a thing,’ agreed Fidelma.
‘And to tell that a person will be killed?’ pressed Eadulf. ‘Is that so simple?’
Fidelma hesitated and bit her lip.
‘More difficult. But I know these people have an art and can do so.’
Canna interrupted with a wheezy laugh.
‘Do you want to know how it is done?’
Sister Fidelma nodded encouragement at the beggar.
‘Tell us how you arrived at your conclusion,’ she invited.
Canna sniffed loudly and reached into his tattered clothing, drawing forth a piece of vellum on which lines and computations were drawn, thrusting it forward to their gaze.
‘This is simple to relate, brethren. On the first day of this month, which in Ireland is given over to the sacred fires of Bel, the moon stands in the way of the sun at the seventeenth hour of the day, perhaps several minutes after the hour for we are not able to be accurate to the minute or second. Here, in the eighth house, stands Taurus. The eighth house is that which signifies death. Taurus represents the land of Ireland and also is the sign that governs the throat. A death by strangulation or the cutting of the throat or even a hanging is indicated. And from Taurus I deduced such a tragedy would befall a child of Éireann.’
Eadulf looked sceptical but Sister Fidelma, who seemed to follow the logic of the astrologer, merely nodded and indicated that Canna should continue.
‘See here, then.’ Canna pointed to his calculations. ‘We have, at this time, the planet Mercury standing in mutual reception to Venus. Does not Mercury rule the twelfth house, which represents murder, secrecy and deception? And is not Venus
the ruler of the eighth house of death, which also represents the female? And Venus sits in the ninth house which is also ruled by Mercury which additionally rules religion in this particular chart. And if all these signs were not enough, by a translation of light, which is practised in our profession, Mercury goes to conjunct the sun which is in eclipse.’
Canna sat back and gazed at them triumphantly.
‘Any child could read the astrology.’
Eadulf sneered to hide his ignorance.
‘Well, I am no child. Tell me plainly what all this means?’
Canna drew his brows together in anger.
‘Plain, then, plain it is to see. The sun went into eclipse just after five o’clock of the afternoon. The planets showed that a death would take place by strangulation or throat cutting; that the victim would be a woman, a woman of Ireland and that she would be a religieuse. The planets also showed that this death would be a murder. Have I not made it plain enough?’
Eadulf stared for a long time at the beggar and then raised his eyes to Fidelma.
‘Though I studied long in your country, sister, I did not study this science. Do you know anything of it?’
Fidelma pursed her lips.
‘Little enough. But enough to know that Canna is making sense according to the strictures of his art.’
Eadulf shook his head doubtfully.
‘But I can see no way of saving him from the fires of Alhfrith tomorrow. Even if what he says is true and he did not kill Étain, my fellow Saxons will be afraid of one who had read portents in the sky in such a manner.’
Sister Fidelma sighed deeply.
‘I am coming to learn much about your Saxon culture. But my aim must be to discover the murderer not to appease superstition. Canna admits that he foretold the death of Étain. Now we must find those witnesses who heard him give her name and the precise hour. In short, we must find out exactly what he said. I fear he is a vain man.’
Canna spat angrily.
‘I have told you what I said and why I said it. I am not afraid of these Saxons and their punishments, for my name will go down to posterity as the greatest seer of my age by reason of this prophecy from the stars.’
Sister Fidelma raised an eyebrow disdainfully.
‘Is that what you want, Canna? To be martyred so that you may have your place in history?’
Canna chuckled wheezily.
‘I am content to let posterity judge me.’
Sister Fidelma motioned Eadulf towards the cell door and then turned back abruptly.
‘Why did you visit the Abbess Étain today?’
Canna started. ‘Why … to warn her, of course.’
‘To warn her against her own murder?’
‘No …’ Canna’s chin came up. ‘Yes. Why else?’
Outside the cell Eadulf turned to Fidelma.
‘It could be that this man killed Étain to fulfil his prophecy?’ he suggested. ‘He admits going to warn her and Sister Athelswith was a witness to it.’
In fact, Eadulf had forgotten Sister Athelswith’s mention of a beggar visiting the abbess before her death. It was clever of Fidelma to spot the connection.
‘I doubt it. I have respect for this art which he practises for it is an ancient and honourable profession in my land. No one
could so perfectly form the stars to his own bidding. No, I have a feeling that Canna saw what he saw in the stars but the real question is, was he so specific about who was to be killed? Remember that the Abbess Hilda said that he was not specific at all when he warned her that blood would flow at the time of the eclipse?’
‘But if Canna did not know who was to be the victim why did he specifically warn Abbess Étain?’
‘The hour grows late. But if Alhfrith is intent on burning this man tomorrow at dawn we have little time. Let us seek out and question these witnesses and discover what they have to say about Canna’s actual words. You pursue the three Saxons and the thane of Frihop and get their testimony and I will have another word with Sister Athelswith about Canna’s visit to Étain. We will meet back in the
domus hospitale
at midnight.’
Sister Fidelma led the way back into the abbey from the
hypogeum.
She was convinced that Canna was presenting himself as a willing victim to the flames of the Saxons. She was sure he was not guilty of the murder of Étain. His guilt lay in his colossal vanity, for she was sure that he sought immortality by one great prediction which would be talked of by the chroniclers for generations to come.
She felt an anger against him for, impressive as his prophecy was, he was delaying them from tracking down the real culprit, the genuine murderer of her friend and mother abbess, Étain of Kildare. He was an unnecessary distraction in her task.
One thing she realised, that there were many at the great assembly who apparently feared the oratorical skills of the Abbess Étain of Kildare. Could they have feared those skills enough to attempt to silence her, silence her permanently?
She had seen enough displays of temper between the Roman and Columban factions to know that the dislikes and hatreds ran deep. Perhaps they ran deep enough to cause Étain’s death.

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