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Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

Absolution by Murder (26 page)

BOOK: Absolution by Murder
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Before anyone realised what she was doing, Gwid had seized a knife from her robes and thrown it with all her force at Fidelma.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Fidelma was so surprised by Gwid’s unexpected reaction that she was frozen to the spot. She was aware of a hoarse cry of alarm and then the breath was knocked from her as she was borne to the ground by the weight of a body knocking into her.
There came a shrill scream.
The force of the fall caused her to wince in pain on landing on the stone floor and she found herself entangled with a breathless Eadulf, who had flung himself at her to knock her out of the path of the murderous missile. Fidelma peered up, trying to identify the source of the scream.
It was Agatho, who had been standing just behind her. Gwid’s knife was now embedded in his shoulder with blood pouring across his tunic. He stood staring at the haft in disbelief. Then he began to moan and sob.
Gwid was running for the door but the giant Oswy was there before her. He seized the struggling woman in his arms. Gwid was powerful, so strong that Oswy was beaten back and forced to use his drawn sword to keep the snarling Fury at bay while
he called loudly for his guards. It took two of Oswy’s warriors to drag the screaming woman from the room with Oswy’s orders to lock her in a cell and guard it well.
The king stood for a moment gazing ruefully at the red scratches on his forearms where Gwid had rent his flesh. Then Oswy glanced to where Eadulf was helping Fidelma to her feet.
‘This needs a lot of explanation, sister,’ he said. Then, more kindly, ‘Are you hurt?’
Eadulf had taken charge, fussing a little over Fidelma and pouring her a goblet of wine.
She turned it away.
‘Agatho is the one who is hurt.’
They turned to him. Sister Athelswith was hurrying forward to staunch the bleeding.
Agatho was now laughing, in spite of the knife still embedded in his shoulder and the blood soaking his clothes. He was crooning in his shrill voice.
‘Who, except the gods, can live time through forever without pain?’
‘I will take him to Brother Edgar, our physician,’ Sister Athelswith offered.
‘Do so,’ agreed Fidelma with a sad smile. ‘Brother Edgar may well be able to treat the knife wound but I fear there is little he can do to treat this poor man’s mind.’ As the elderly
domina
escorted Agatho through the door, Fidelma turned back to the others and grimaced.
‘I had forgotten how strong and swift Sister Gwid could be,’ she said almost apologetically. ‘I had no idea that she would react with violence.’
Abbess Abbe looked moodily at her.
‘Truly, are you telling us that these horrendous murders were
committed solely by Sister Gwid?’
‘That is what I am telling you,’ affirmed Fidelma. ‘Sister Gwid has now given you proof of her guilt.’
‘Indeed,’ Abbess Hilda agreed, her face still showing the shock of the revelation. ‘But a woman … to be of such strength … !’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and smiled. ‘I will have that wine now.’
The anxious brother handed her the goblet. She drained it and handed it back.
‘I knew that Gwid seemed to worship Étain and preened herself whenever she was near. I was in error to think that she had sought Étain’s friendship out of mere respect. We are all wise after the events. Gwid had studied under Étain at Emly. Étain became the object of adulation by Gwid, a lonely, unhappy girl who, incidentally, had spent five years as a slave in this kingdom, having been captured from her own country as a small child.
‘Apparently Gwid was upset when Étain left Emly for Kildare. She could not follow because she was bound in the abbey for another month. When she was free to follow Étain she found that Étain was coming to Northumbria to take part in this debate. She therefore took passage from Ireland to Iona.
‘It was there, at Iona, that I met Gwid and she claimed that she was Étain’s secretary in order that she could journey with us to Streoneshalh.
‘But the indications of what was really happening were before my eyes the whole time. When I saw Étain she seemed hesitant about acknowledging Gwid as her secretary. In fact, Athelnoth indicated that Gwid had followed Étain here not because Étain had sent for her but from her own motivation. He thought Étain
had given Gwid the job once she arrived out of pity. Naturally he did not go into detail as to how he knew this because he did not want to reveal his relationship with Étain.
‘But this was confirmed by Seaxwulf, who was Wilfrid’s secretary. He told me quite clearly that Gwid was not really Étain’s confidant nor privy to any of the negotiations Wilfrid was conducting with Étain. We were all so horrified to learn of these negotiations that we forgot this main point.’
Fidelma paused. She poured herself another goblet of wine and sipped it reflectively.
‘Gwid had developed an unnatural adulation for Étain, a passion that Étain could never return. And Étain had told me yet I did not see it. She told me that Gwid, who is a good Greek scholar, spent more time worshipping the poems of Sappho than construing the Gospels. Knowing Greek, I should have known immediately the implications of that remark.’
Oswy interrupted.
‘I do not know Greek. Who is Sappho?’
‘An ancient Greek poetess, surely,’ Eadulf interposed.
‘A lyric poetess born at Eresus on the island of Lesbos. She gathered a circle of women and girls around her and her poems are full of the passionate intensity of her love for them and theirs for her. The poet Anacreon says that it was because of Sappho that the name of the island, Lesbos, connotes female homosexuality.’
Abbess Hilda appeared distressed.
‘Are you telling us that Sister Gwid developed a … an … an unnatural love for Étain?’
‘Yes. Gwid was desperate in her passion. She demonstrated her love by giving Étain copies of two of Sappho’s poems. Étain gave one to her own lover, Athelnoth, presumably to explain to
him what was happening. He indicated as much to us. The other she kept. At some stage, just before the opening of the synod, Étain told Gwid that she could not respond to Gwid’s love – that, indeed, she loved Athelnoth and, after the synod, they were going to cohabit in a double house.’
‘Gwid went berserk,’ interposed Eadulf hurriedly. ‘You saw just how quickly she lost her temper? She was a strong woman, physically stronger than a lot of us, I’ll warrant. She attacked Étain, a slightly built woman, and cut her throat. She took Étain’s betrothal brooch, given her by Athelnoth, and tried to take back the two poems that she had given Étain. She could only find one, for the other was already in Athelnoth’s keeping.’
‘I remember that she arrived late in the
sacrarium
on that first day of the debate,’ Fidelma said. ‘She had been hurrying and was red in the face and breathless. She had just come from killing Étain.’
‘While Étain remained celibate, Gwid was more or less content to remain her doting slave. Just being near her was probably enough. But when Étain told Gwid that she loved Athelnoth—’ Eadulf shrugged.
‘There is no rage so powerful as hate born of scorned love,’ Fidelma commented. ‘Gwid was a powerful young woman but she was intelligent and cunning as well, for she cleverly tried to implicate Athelnoth. Then she realised that Étain must have given him the other poem. And rage again possessed her. That Étain could betray love and hold her up to ridicule before this mere man! Indeed, she even told me that she considered that Étain had found absolution for what Gwid saw as her sin in this murder. Oh, not so directly was this said but I should have interpreted it correctly when it was said.’
Oswy was bemused.
‘So Gwid also felt compelled to kill Athelnoth?’
Fidelma nodded.
‘She was strong enough, after she had knocked him unconscious, to hoist his body on to the hook in his
cubiculum
to choke him to death and make it seem like suicide.’
‘But,’ interposed Eadulf again, ‘Sister Athelswith heard the sounds of Athelnoth being killed and came to the door. Gwid had time to hide under the bed as the
domina
came into the
cubiculum.
She saw Athelnoth at once and ran off to raise the alarm. Gwid was now in a dilemma. She had no time to look for the vellum with her second poem on it.’
‘But how did Seaxwulf come to get the brooch and poem, the other brooch and poem?’ Wighard enquired. ‘You said that Gwid had taken this from Étain’s body.’
Sister Athelswith slid back into the room and motioned Fidelma to continue.
‘Brother Seaxwulf suffered an affliction. He had the mind of a magpie. He loved to pick up pretty things. He was rebuked and chastised for attempting to steal from the brothers’
dormitorium.
Wilfrid had him beaten with a birch stick. Later, in spite of this, Seaxwulf must have searched the
dormitorium
of the anchoresses. He had an eye for pretty jewellery and discovered Étain’s brooch among Gwid’s personal things. He found it wrapped in a Greek poem called “Love’s Attack”. He took them both. The poem intrigued him. He looked it up in the
librarium
and found that it was a poem by Sappho. He even asked me about the custom of exchanging gifts between lovers. I did not see what he was driving at until too late. Seaxwulf must have suspected Gwid. When he knew Athelnoth had been killed he came to tell me. He found me in the refectory with sisters close by. In his anxiety to be understood he addressed
me in Greek to arrange the meeting. But he forgot that Gwid, who was sitting within earshot, knew Greek better than he did. It was a fatal mistake. Gwid had to silence him.
‘She followed him, knocked him on the head and then killed him in the wine cask by holding him under the liquid. I came along too soon for her to search the body. In my surprise at discovering the body I slipped and fell off that stool by accident knocking myself out. My cry brought Eadulf and Sister Athelswith into the
apotheca.
They took me to my
cubiculum.
This gave Gwid time to retrieve Seaxwulf’s body and drag it along the passage to the
defectorum
on the cliff edge and throw it into the sea. Not before she searched it, of course.’
‘So why had she missed the brooch and poem on Seaxwulf’s body?’ demanded Abbess Hilda. ‘She had enough time while she was dragging his body from the cask and transporting it along the tunnel.’
Fidelma smiled wryly.
‘Seaxwulf followed the latest fashion. He had a new-style
sacculus
sewn into his
tunica.
This was where he had placed both the poem and the brooch. Poor Gwid did not know of the existence of the
sacculus.
But she was not worried, having disposed, as she thought, of the body and any evidence it held by throwing it into the sea. She did not realise that the tide would wash the body close inshore along the harbour within six to twelve hours.’
‘You say that Sister Gwid was able to drag the body of Seaxwulf through the tunnel to the sea. Was she really that powerful?’ demanded Hilda. ‘And how did she, a stranger, know of the
defectorum’s
existence? It is for our male brethren only and usually only male guests are informed of its existence.’
‘Sister Athelswith told me that, to keep male modesty intact,
the sisters who worked in the kitchens were told about it so that they would not wander along it by mistake. After Étain’s death, Sister Gwid took to working in the kitchens to occupy her time.’
The elderly
domina
coloured.
‘It is true,’ she confessed. ‘Sister Gwid came to ask me if she could work in the kitchens while she was here. I felt sorry for her and agreed. The mistress of the kitchens obviously warned her about the male
defectorum.’
‘We were distracted, for a while, by the politics of your son Alhfrith,’ Eadulf conceded. ‘We were misled for some time believing that he or Taran or Wulfric might have been involved in the matter.’
Sister Fidelma spread her hands with a gesture of finality.
‘There you have it.’
Eadulf smiled grimly.
‘A woman whose love is scorned is like a stream dammed by a log, deep, muddy and troubled and withal revolving with powerful turbulence. Such was Gwid.’
Colmán sighed.
‘Publicius Syrus said that a woman loves or hates, she knows no other course.’
Abbess Abbe laughed scornfully.
‘Syrus was a fool like most men.’
Oswy rose to his feet.
‘Well, it took a woman to track down this fiend,’ he observed. Then he grimaced. ‘Even so, had not Gwid been of a volatile temper, all you had was circumstantial accusations. True they all fitted into a complete pattern but if Gwid had stood and denied everything could you have convicted her?’
Fidelma smiled thinly.
‘We shall never know that now, Oswy of Northumbria.
But I would say yes. Do you know much about the art of calligraphy?’
Oswy made a negative gesture.
BOOK: Absolution by Murder
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