Our Lady of Darkness (9 page)

Read Our Lady of Darkness Online

Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Our Lady of Darkness
11.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘And that was?’
‘The girl was dead. There were bruises around her neck. Clearly she had been strangled. Moreover, there were obvious indications that she had been raped beforehand.’
‘And how did those obvious indications manifest themselves?’
‘The girl had been a virgin. Not surprising. She was only twelve, so I am told. The sexual intercourse had caused her to bleed extensively. It needed no great medical knowledge to see the blood.’
‘So there was blood on her robe?’
‘There was and around the area where you would expect to find it in the circumstances. There is no doubt as to what happened.’
‘No doubt? You say it was rape. Could it have been otherwise?’
‘My dear …
dálaigh,
’ the old physician was pitying in his tone. ‘Use some imagination. A young girl is strangled after having intercourse; does it seem likely that it could be anything else but rape?’
‘It is still more of an opinion than true medical evidence,’ Fidelma said. The old physician did not reply and so she passed to her next question. ‘Did you know the child?’
‘Gormgilla was her name.’
‘How did you know that?’
‘Because I was told.’
‘But you had never seen her in the abbey before she was brought to you in death?’
‘I would not have seen her unless she had been ill. I think it was Sister Étromma who told me her name. Come to think of it, I would have been seeing her sooner rather than later, had she not been killed.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I think she was one of those religieuses who like to punish themselves for what they think are their sins. I noticed that she had sores around both wrists and around one ankle.’
‘Sores?’
‘Signs that she had used bonds on herself.’
‘Bonds? Not connected with her rape and murder?’
‘The sores had come from the use of constraints which she had obviously worn some time prior to her death. The sores had nothing to do with her other injuries.’
‘Were there signs also of flagellation?’
The physician shook his head. ‘Some of these ascetic masochists simply use bonds to expiate the pain of what they deem as sins.’
‘Did you not find that this masochism, as you define it, was strange in one so young?’
Brother Miach was indifferent. ‘I have seen worse cases. Religious fanaticism often leads to shocking self-abuse.’
‘Did you also examine Brother Eadulf?’
‘Brother Eadulf? Oh, the Saxon, you mean. Why would I do that?’
‘I am told that he was found with blood on him and in possession of a piece of the girl’s torn robe. Perhaps it would have been appropriate to have examined him to show whether there was any consistency in his appearance with the idea that he had carried out an attack on the girl.’
The physician sniffed again. ‘From what I hear, it needed no words of mine to convict him. As you say, he had blood on him and a piece of the girl’s bloodstained robe. He was also identified by someone who saw him do the killing. What need for me to examine him?’
Fidelma restrained a sigh. ‘It would have been … appropriate.’
‘Appropriate? Pah! If I spent my life doing what was appropriate, I would have let a hundred suffering patients die.’
‘With respect, that is hardly a comparison.’
‘I am not here to argue ethics with you,
dálaigh.
If you have done with your questions then I have work to do.’
Fidelma ended the interview with a brief word of thanks and left the room. There was nothing else to pursue with the physician. There was no sign of Sister Étromma returning. She waited outside the apothecary for several minutes before a thought came to her. One of the gifts Fidelma possessed was an almost uncanny ability to find her way in any place once she had been there before. She knew by means of retained memory and instinct just how to find her way back to the places in the abbey through which she had been led. So instead of continuing to wait for Sister Étromma, she turned along the passageways and began to retrace her steps towards the chamber of Abbess Fainder.
She opened the door onto the silent courtyard of the abbey and crossed it slowly. The body of the monk was still hanging from the wooden gibbet. What was his name – Brother Ibar? Strange that he should have murdered a boatman and robbed him on the same quay just a day after the rape and death of Gormgilla.
She suddenly halted in the middle of the courtyard’s quadrangle.
This was one of the two people in the abbey to whom Eadulf had spoken at any great length on the evening that he had arrived.
She turned back and rapidly made her way up the stairs to the dank corridor which led to Eadulf’s cell. Brother Cett had gone; another religieux was standing guard in his place.
‘What do you want?’ he muttered rudely, emerging from the gloom.
‘Firstly, I would like to see you use better manners, Brother,’ Fidelma replied curtly. ‘Secondly, I would like you to open the door to this cell for me. I have authority from the abbess.’
The figure took a step back in the gloom as if in surprise.
‘I have no orders …’ came his sullen tone.
‘I am giving you the orders, Brother. I am a
dálaigh.
Brother Cett had no problem when I came here earlier with Sister Étromma.’
‘Sister Étromma? She said nothing to me. She and Cett have gone down to the quay.’
The religieux considered the matter while Fidelma fretted impatiently for several long seconds. She thought that she would be met with a stubborn refusal. Then, almost reluctantly, he moved forward and threw the bolts back.
‘I will call you when I am ready to leave,’ Fidelma told him in relief, entering the room.
Eadulf looked up in surprise.
‘I did not expect to see you again so soon …’ he began.
‘I need to ask you a few more questions. I want to know more about this Brother Ibar. We may not have long as they don’t know that I have come back to see you.’
Eadulf shrugged. ‘Little enough to tell, Fidelma. He sat next to me in the refectory for the evening meal on the day that I arrived here. We spoke briefly there. I never saw him again – well, not until this morning, down here.’ He nodded towards the courtyard.
‘What conversation passed between you?’
Eadulf looked at her with a frown.
‘He only asked me where I came from. I told him. He said he was from the north of this kingdom, a blacksmith by trade. He was proud of his trade although disappointed that the abbey couldn’t make better use of his talents than to ask him to turn out constraints for the animals. He had been unhappy here since Abbess Fainder’s arrival. I recall that I pointed out that many communities needed animals by which to feed themselves and every task was worthy of the labourer. He said …’
‘You spoke of nothing else? You spoke only of such general matters?’ Fidelma tried not to sound disappointed.
‘Oh, he also asked me about some Saxon customs, that’s all.’
‘Saxon customs? Such as what?’
‘Why Saxons kept slaves. A curious thing to ask, I thought.’
‘Nothing else?’
Eadulf shook his head. ‘He just seemed unhappy with the work that he was asked to do. He seemed preoccupied with it right to the end. In fact, the last thing I heard the poor fellow cry was “ask about the manacles”. I think he had gone out of his mind by then. It’s a terrible thing to face, is a hangman’s rope …’
Fidelma was clearly disappointed and did not notice the falter in Eadulf’s voice. She had hoped that the late Brother Ibar might have made some remark which would prove to be the thread that could unravel and disentangle this curious web. She forced a smile at Eadulf.
‘No matter. I will see you again and soon.’
She banged on the door.
The surly Brother had been waiting outside, for the door immediately swung open and she was let out.
Sister Fidelma was crossing the courtyard again when Sister Étromma caught up with her.
‘I asked you to wait at the apothecary,’ she admonished irritably. ‘You might have become lost, for this abbey is no small country church.’
Fidelma did not bother to explain that she had a facility for remembering her way to and from a place once she had been shown. Neither did she mention that while the abbey was, indeed, large by comparison to many houses in the five kingdoms, she had seen greater abbey complexes at Armagh, at Whitby and in Rome.
‘I was told that you had been called down to the quay,’ she said.
The stewardess appeared to be taken aback. ‘Who told you that?’
Fidelma did not want to confess that she had seen Eadulf again and so continued: ‘I was on my way to find Abbess Fainder. ‘I have a few more questions for her. Did you find the novitiate, Sister Fial?’
Sister Étromma looked uncomfortable for a moment.
‘No, I have not been able to find her.’
‘Why on earth not?’ Fidelma was exasperated.
‘No one appears to have seen her for some time.’
‘Exactly how do you quantify
some
time?’
‘I am told that she has not been seen for several days. We are still looking for her.’
Fidelma had a dangerous glint in her eye. ‘Before we see the abbess, I would like you to show me the guest hostel – the place where Brother Eadulf slept.’
It did not take long for the stewardess to guide Fidelma to the hostel. The dormitory of the guests’ quarter was not large; there were only half a dozen beds in it.
‘Which bed did Brother Eadulf occupy?’ asked Fidelma.
Sister Étromma pointed to the farthest placed bed in a corner of the room.
Fidelma went to it and sat on its edge. She gave a cursory glance underneath the bed. There was nothing there.
‘Naturally it has been used several times since the Saxon was here,’ the stewardess explained.
‘Naturally. And has the mattress been changed?’
Sister Étromma appeared puzzled. ‘The mattresses are changed as and when they need to be. I don’t think that we have changed it since the Saxon slept here. Why?’
Fidelma pulled away the blankets to reveal the straw-filled mattress. It was the usual thin palliasse type. She reached forward tentatively and prodded it here and there.
‘What are you looking for?’ demanded the
rechtaire
.
Fidelma did not respond.
She had felt a slight hardness amidst the straw and her eyes detected the hole at the side of the mattress where the stitching had become undone. She smiled. She knew Eadulf better than he knew himself. He was a cautious man and the upheavals of the last weeks had caused him to forget just how cautious he had been.
Fidelma reached into the mattress and her slim fingers caught the small rod of wood. Next to it she felt the soft roll of vellum. She withdrew them swiftly and held them up to Sister Étromma’s astonished gaze.
‘You will bear me witness, Sister,’ Fidelma said as she stood up. ‘Here is the white wand of office which Brother Eadulf carried showing that he was an official messenger from the King of Cashel. Here is a letter in the hand of the same King, to Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury. Brother Eadulf had put them for safekeeping in the mattress.’
Sister Étromma’s face bore a curious expression, of which uncertainty seemed predominant.
‘These had best be taken to Abbess Fainder,’ she said eventually.
Fidelma shook her head and deliberately placed them in her
marsupium,
the leather pouch she always wore at her waist.
‘These will remain with me. You saw from where I retrieved them? You will be my witness. These plainly show that Brother Eadulf was a
fer taistil,
a
techtaire
, a king’s messenger, and therefore part of the king’s household with rights of protection.’
‘It is no use telling me the law,’ protested Sister Étromma. ‘I am no
dálaigh.
’
‘Just remember that you bear witness to my finding these items,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘And now …’
She began to move towards the door with Sister Étromma trailing unhappily in her wake.
‘Where do you want to go now, Sister?’ she asked. ‘To see the abbess again?’
‘The abbess? No, I will see her later,’ replied Fidelma, changing her mind. ‘Show me first where the girl Gormgilla was attacked and killed.’
Sister Étromma seemed troubled as she conducted Fidelma along more corridors to another tiny courtyard on the far side of the abbey which, from the aromas that permeated the air, Fidelma guessed to be an adjunct to the abbey kitchens and presumably to its storerooms. On one side of the small courtyard were two tall wooden gates and Sister Étromma went immediately to them. She did not attempt to move the great heavy iron bolts that secured them for there was, set in one of the large gates, a small door through which one person at a time might squeeze. She opened the door and pointed at it wordlessly.
When Fidelma had climbed through – for one had to step over the bottom of the door — she found herself facing the broad stretch of river. Immediately before the gates, running along the abbey walls, was a well-used track wide enough for wagons to pass along. Beside the track lay an earthen embankment from which a wooden quay had been constructed, for the river itself was parallel to the track at this point. Next to the quay, a sizable river boat was tied up. Several men were unloading barrels from it.
‘This is our own quay, Sister,’ Sister Étromma explained. ‘Goods for the abbey are landed here. You will see, further along the river, other quays where the merchants of the town conduct their business.’
Fidelma stood for a moment, bathing her face in the sun. It was warm, in spite of the gentle breeze, and refreshing after the mustiness and gloom of the abbey building from which she had emerged. She closed her eyes momentarily and relaxed, breathing deeply. After a pause, she looked around her. The stewardess was right. Along the river there were several boats tied up to the quays. Fearna, she reminded herself, was the centre of trade as well as being the royal centre of the Uí Cheinnselaigh dynasty which ruled Laigin.
‘Where was this murder committed?’
Sister Étromma pointed towards the abbey’s quay. ‘Just here.’
A bell began to toll in the abbey. Fidelma glanced towards the sound in surprise. It was surely not a call to prayer? A moment later, one of the religieux came running from the gates towards Sister Étromma.
‘Sister, a messenger has arrived from upriver. One of the river boats has sunk in midstream. He thinks that it was the boat which just left the abbey quay.’
‘Gabrán’s boat?’ Étromma had gone pale. ‘Is he sure? Is everyone safe?’
‘No, he is not sure, Sister,’ replied the Brother. ‘And he has no further knowledge.’
‘Then we must go to see what can be done.’
She was turning for the abbey when she suddenly remembered that Sister Fidelma was standing looking on and she hesitated.
‘Forgive me, Sister. It seems that one of the boats that regularly trades with the abbey might have sunk. As stewardess, it is my duty to attend to this matter. The river is a dangerous place.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ asked Fidelma.
Sister Étromma shook her head distractedly. ‘I have to go.’
She joined the Brother who was already hurrying along the track by the abbey walls. Fidelma watched her leave, bemused by her departure. Then she was distracted by a male voice calling her by name. Fidelma turned to see a familiar figure strolling along the river bank towards the abbey quay.
It was the warrior, Mel, the very person who Sister Étromma said had found the body of the murdered girl and then tracked her death to Eadulf. It was a stroke of good fortune that he had appeared at this moment, saving her going in search of him. She turned towards him and walked slowly across the path to the edge of the quay as Mel climbed up onto the wooden boarding.
‘We meet again, lady.’ He greeted her with a broad smile as he halted before her.
‘Indeed, that we do. I am told that your name is Mel.’
The warrior nodded pleasantly. ‘I heard that you accepted my recommendation and that you and your companions are staying at my sister Lassar’s inn. I thought there was a third man with you? Lassar tells me that only you and two others are staying there.’
Fidelma realised that the warrior’s perception was acute and she had to be careful what she said.
‘There were, indeed, three warriors with me. One had to return to Cashel,’ she lied.
‘Well, I trust that the accommodation is to your liking. My sister provides good food and comfortable beds.’
‘My companions and I are indeed very comfortable at the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. But it is good to see you here.’
The warrior frowned slightly. ‘Why so, lady?’
‘I have just spoken with those at the abbey concerning the recent murder of the young novitiate,’ replied Fidelma. ‘They told me that you were a key witness at the trial of Brother Eadulf.’
The warrior gestured deprecatingly. ‘I was not exactly a key witness. I was merely the captain of the watch on this very quay on the night that the killing took place.’
‘Will you tell me exactly what happened? I presume that you know my interest in this matter?’
The warrior looked uncomfortable for a moment before nodding.
‘Gossip travels swiftly in this town, lady. I know who you are and why you are here.’
‘How did you happen to be on the quay that night?’
‘That is simple enough. I was on watch, as I have said. There were four of us on duty here that night.’ He waved his arm expansively to take in the entire collection of wooden quays which served the township of Fearna.
‘Is there much crime here to justify such a watch?’ enquired Fidelma. Mel gave a boastful laugh.
‘Not much crime at all —
because
of the watch. As the principal city of the Laigin kings, we are an important upriver trading post. It helps the traders rest easy that their boats and cargoes appear to be safely guarded.’
He paused but she urged him to continue with his story.
‘Well, as I say, there were four of us on patrol that night. I was the captain. Each man had his allotted section of the quays. I suppose it was well after midnight that I was walking from …’ he turned to point to a small quay further down from the abbey. ‘One of my men was stationed there. Another of the watch was further along here. So I was making a normal check of my men, walking from that point along the quays checking on my watch.’
‘What sort of night was it?’
‘The weather was fair, not raining,’ he reflected. ‘But it was a cloudy sky which made it dark. We did have torches,’ he added.
‘But the visibility was impaired?’ Fidelma pressed eagerly. ‘You cannot see that far even with a torch.’
‘True enough,’ he agreed. ‘That’s why I almost stumbled over the body of the girl before I saw it.’
Fidelma raised her eyebrows. ‘You stumbled over it? You mean that you actually
discovered
it? I thought that there was a witness to this murder?’
Mel hesitated. ‘So there was. It is a little complicated, Sister.’
‘Is it? Then tell the story as plainly as you can.’
‘I was walking along, holding my torch high. It was, as I say, a very dark night. I came down the river path here and was about to cross this quay.’
‘Were there any boats tied up to the quay?’ Fidelma interrupted as the thought suddenly struck her.
‘Yes, there was one of the trade boats that puts in here regularly. It was in darkness and no one was on deck. They wouldn’t be, not at that hour in the morning. They were probably all below, asleep, or in a drunken stupor.’ He grinned, contemplating the idea. ‘As I came along, I saw a figure on horseback.’
‘Where was this figure?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘On the track there?’
‘No. It was just here. At the start of the quay.’
‘What was this figure doing?’
‘When I first saw it, the figure was still, so still I did not notice it until I saw the movement of the horse. They had no torch but sat in the darkness. That was how I discovered the body.’
Fidelma suppressed an impatient sigh. ‘Please explain – and with more detail.’
‘When I saw the figure, I raised my torch in order to challenge it but before I could do so, I was challenged to identify myself. It was the Abbess Fainder who sat on the horse.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Abbess Fainder?’ she echoed, stupidly. ‘She was sitting on horseback here by the body in total darkness?’
‘That is what I have been telling you,’ Mel nodded. ‘As soon as I identified myself, she said: “Mel, there is a body here. Who is it?” That is what she said. I stumbled forward in the dark and peered down. It was lying in the dark shadows of the bales and that was how I nearly tripped over it. I saw at once that it was a young girl and that she was dead.’

Other books

Bittersweet by Colleen McCullough
Street Music by Jack Kilborn
The Matriarch by Hawes, Sharon;
Bath Scandal by Joan Smith
Bite Me by Shelly Laurenston
Beautiful Ghosts by Eliot Pattison
She Wolves by Elizabeth Norton
Pygmalion Unbound by Sam Kepfield