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  Death of an Icon

  Peter Tremayne

  Peter Tremayne is the alias used by Celtic scholar Peter Berresford Ellis (b. 1943) for his mystery and weird fiction. The author of over sixty books, Tremayne is currently best known for his series of historical mystery novels featuring Sister Fidelma, which began with Absolution by Murder (1994). Fidelma is both an Irish princess and a qualified dálaigh, or advocate, of the law courts of Ireland under the ancient Brehon Law system. In addition to the series of novels, earlier Fidelma stories will be found in the collection Hemlock at Vespers (2000). The following brand-new story (from The Mamoth Book of More Historical Whodunnits (2001)) is set in the year 667.

  Death of an Icon

  Peter Tremayne

  "I cannot understand why the Abbot feels that he has to interfere in this matter," Father Maílín said defensively. "I have conducted a thorough investigation of the circumstances. The matter is, sadly, a simple one."

  Sister Fidelma regarded the Father Superior of the small community of St Martin of Dubh Ross with a mild expression of reproach.

  "When such a respected man as the Venerable Gelasius has met with an unnatural death, then it is surely not an interference for the religious superior of this territory to inquire into it?" she rebuked gently. "Portraits of the Venerable Gelasius hang in many of our great ecclesiastical centres. He has become an icon to the faithful."

  Father Mailin coloured a little and shifted his weight in his chair.

  "I did not mean to imply a censure of the Abbot nor his authority," he replied quickly. "It is just that I have carried out a very thorough investigation of the circumstances and have forwarded all the relevant details to the Abbot. There is nothing more to be said unless we can track down the culprits and that, as I pointed out, will be impossible unless, in some fit of repentance, they confess. But they have long departed from this territory, they and their ill-gotten spoils."

  Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at the Father Superior for a moment or two.

  "I have your report here," her hand lightly touched the marsupium at her waist, "and I must confess to there being some matters which puzzle me, as, I hasten to say, they have also puzzled the Abbot. That is why he has authorized me, as a dalaigh, an advocate of the courts, to visit your small community to see whether or not the questions might be clarified."

  Father Mailin raised his jaw, slightly aggressively. "I see nothing at all that is confusing nor which requires any further explanation," he replied stubbornly. Then, meeting her icy blue eyes, he added brusquely, "However, you may ask me your questions and then depart."

  Fidelma's mouth twitched a fraction in irritation and she shook her head briefly.

  "Perhaps it is because you are not a trained advocate of the law and thus do not know what is required that you take this attitude. I, however, will conduct my investigation in the way prescribed by the law. When I have finished my investigation, then I shall depart." She paused to allow her words to penetrate and then said, in a brighter tone: "First, let us begin with you recounting the general details of the Venerable Gelasius's death."

  Father Mailin's lips compressed into a thin, bloodless line in order to disguise his anger. His eyes had a fixed look. It seemed, for a moment or two, that he would challenge her. Then he appeared to realize the futility of such an action and relaxed. He knew that he had to accept her authority however reluctantly. He pushed himself back in his chair, sitting stiffly. His voice was an emotionless monotone.

  "It was on the morning of the sabbath. Brother Gormgilla went to rouse the Venerable Gelasius. As he grew elderly, Gelasius required some assistance to rise in the morning and Brother Gormgilla would help him rise and dress and then escort him to the chapel for morning prayer."

  "I have heard that Brother Gelasius was of a great age," intervened Fidelma. Everyone knew he was of considerable age but Fidelma's intervention was more to break Father Mailin's monotonous recital so that she would be able to extract the information she wanted.

  "Indeed, but Gelasius was also frail. It was his frailty that made him needful of the helping hand of Brother Gormgilla."

  "So, this Brother Gormgilla went to the chamber of the Venerable Gelasius on the morning of the sabbath? What then?" encouraged Fidelma.

  "The facts are straightforward enough. Gormgilla entered and found the Venerable Gelasius hanging from a beam just above his bed. There was a sign that a valuable personal item had been taken, that is a rosary. Some valuable objects were also missing from the chapel which adjoins the chamber of the Venerable Gelasius."

  "These discoveries were made after Brother Gormgilla had roused the community having found the body of the Venerable Gelasius?"

  "They were."

  "And your deduction was . . .?"

  "Theft and murder. I put it in my report to the Abbot."

  "And to whom do you ascribe this theft and murder?"

  "It is also in my report to the Abbot."

  "Remind me," Fidelma insisted sharply.

  "For the two days previous to the death of the Venerable Gelasius, some itinerants were observed to be camping in nearby woods. They were mercenaries, warriors who hired themselves out to anyone who would pay them. They had their womenfolk and children with them. Our community, as you know, has no walls around it. We are an open settlement for we have always argued that there is no need at all to protect ourselves from any aggressor, for who, we thought, would ever wish harm to our little community?"

  Fidelma treated his question as rhetorical and did not reply.

  "You have suggested that these itinerant mercenaries entered the community at night to rob your chapel," her tone was considered. "You have argued that the Venerable Gelasius must have been disturbed by them; that he went to investigate and that they turned on the old man and hanged him from his own roof beam and even robbed him."

  "That is so. It is not so much an argument as a logical deduction from the facts," the Father Superior added stiffly.

  "Truly so?" Fidelma gave him a quick scrutiny and Father Mailin read a quiet sarcasm there.

  The Father Superior stared back defiantly but said nothing.

  "Tell me," continued Fidelma. "Does it not strike you as strange that an elderly man, who needed help to rise in the morning as well as to be escorted to the chapel, would rise in the night on hearing intruders and go alone into the chapel to investigate?"

  Father Mailin shrugged.

  "People, in extremis, have been known to do many extraordinary things: things that are either out of character or beyond their capabilities."

  "If I have the right information, the Venerable Gelasius was nearly ninety. In that case . . .?" Fidelma eloquently spread her hands.

  "In his case, it does not surprise me," affirmed Father Mailin. "He was frail but he was a man of a very determined nature. Why, twenty and five years ago, when he was a man entering the latter years, Gelasius insisted on bearing the cross of Clonmacnoise in the battle of Ballyconnell when Diarmuid Mac Aodh was granted a victory over the Ui Fidgente. Gelasius was in the thick of the battle and armed with nothing but Christ's Cross for self-protection."

  Fidelma suppressed a sigh for all Ireland knew of the story of the Venerable Gelasius which was why the old monk's

  name was a byword for moral and physical courage throughout the five kingdoms of Ireland.

  "Yet five and twenty years ago is still a quarter of a century before this time and we are talking of an old man who needed help to rise and go to chapel as a regular course."

  "As I have said, he was a determined man."

  "Therefore, if I understand your report correctly, you believe that the Venerable Gelasius, hearing some robbers moving in the chapel, left his bed and went to confront them without rous
ing anyone else. That these robbers then overpowered him and hanged him in his own bedchamber?"

  "I have said as much."

  "Yet doesn't it also strike you as strange that these thieves and robbers, thus disturbed, took the old man back to his chamber and hanged him there? Surely a thief, so disturbed, might strike out in fear and seek to escape. Was Gelasius a tall man who, in spite of his frailty, might have appeared a threat?"

  Father Mailin shook his head.

  "Age had bent him."

  "Then the Venerable Gelasius could not have prevented the escape of the thieves nor even pursued them. Why would they bother to take him and, presumably, get him to show them the way back to his chamber to kill him?"

  "Who knows the minds of thieves and murderers?" snorted Father Mailin. "I deal with the facts. I don't attempt to understand their minds."

  "Nevertheless, that is the business in which I am engaged because in so considering the 'why' and 'wherefore', often one can solve the 'how' and 'who'." She paused for a moment and when he did not respond, she added: "After this barbaric act of sacrilege, you reported that they then removed some valuable items and went calmly off into the night?"

  "The itinerants were certainly gone by the next morning when one of the outraged brethren went to their camp. The emotional attitude of the itinerants, as to whether they be calm or otherwise, is not for me to comment on. I will leave that to you to judge."

  "Very well. You say that Brother Gormgilla was the first to discover the body of the Venerable Gelasius?"

  "Brother Gormgilla always roused the Venerable Gelasius first."

  "Ah, just so. I shall want to see this Brother Gormgilla." "But I have told you all ..."

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow, staring at him with cold, blue eyes.

  Father Mailin hesitated and shrugged. He reached for a hand bell and jangled it. A member of the community entered but when the Father Superior asked that Brother Gormgilla be summoned, Fidelma intervened. She did not want Father Mailin interfering in her questioning.

  "I will go to the Brother myself. I have trespassed on your valuable time long enough, Father Mailin."

  The Father Superior rose unhappily as Sister Fidelma turned and accompanied the religieuse from the room.

  Brother Gormgilla was a stocky, round-faced man, with a permanent expression of woe sitting on his fleshy features. She introduced herself briefly to him.

  "Had you known the Venerable Gelasius for a long time, Brother?" she asked.

  "For fifteen years. I have been his helper all that time. He would soon be in his ninety-first year had he been spared."

  "So you knew him very well?"

  "I did so. He was a man of infinite wisdom and knowledge."

  Fidelma smiled briefly.

  "I know of his reputation. He was spoken of as one of our greatest philosophers not merely in this kingdom but among all five kingdoms of Ireland. He adopted the Latin name of Gelasius; why was that?"

  Brother Gormgilla shrugged as if it was a matter of little importance.

  "It was a Latinization of the name he was given when he was received into the Church - Gilla Isu, the servant of Jesus."

  "So he was a convert to the Faith?" "As were many in our poor benighted country when he was a young man. At that time, most of us cleaved to the old gods and goddesses of our fathers. The Faith was not so widespread through our kingdoms. Gelasius's own father was a Druid and a seer. When he was young, Gelasius told me, he was going to follow the arts of his father's religion. But he was converted and took his new name."

  "And became a respected philosopher of the Faith," added Fidelma. "Well, tell me ... in fact, show me, how and where you discovered his body?"

  Brother Gormgilla led the way towards the main chapel around which the various circular buildings of the community were situated. Next to the chapel was one small circular building outside the door of which the monk paused.

  "Each morning, just before the Angelus, I came here to rouse and dress the Venerable Gelasius," he explained.

  "And on that morning . . .? Take me through what happened when you found Gelasius was dead."

  "I came to the door. It was shut and locked. That was highly unusual. I knocked upon it and not being able to get or an answer, I went to a side window."

  "One moment. Are you telling me that you did not possess a key to Gelasius's chamber?"

  "No. There was only one key which the Venerable Gelasius kept himself."

  "Was it usual for Gelasius to lock his door?"

  "Unusual in the extreme. He always left it open."

  "So the door was locked! You say that you went to the window? Was it open?"

  "No. It was closed."

  "And secured?"

  "Well, I had to smash the glass to open it and squeeze through."

  "Go on. What did you find inside?"

  "I had seen through the window that which caused me to see the smashing of the window as my own alternative. I saw the body of the Venerable Gelasius hanging from a beam."

  "Show me."

  Brother Gormgilla opened the door and conducted her into a spacious round chamber which had been the Venerable Gelasius's living quarters and study. He pointed up to the roof rafters. Great beams of wood at the height of eight feet from the ground crossed the room.

  "See that one, just near the bed? Old Gelasius was hanging from it. A rope was twisted round it and one end was tied in a noose around his neck. I think that he had been dead for some hours. I knew at once that I could do nothing for him and so I went to rouse Father Mailin."

  Fidelma rubbed her jaw thoughtfully.

  "Did you stop to search the room?"

  "My only thought was to tell the Father Superior the catastrophic news."

  "You have told me that the door was locked. Was the key on the inside?"

  "There was no sign of the key. That was why I had to squeeze back out of the window. Our smithy then came and picked the lock when Father Mailin arrived. It was the missing key that confirmed Father Mailin in his theory that thieves had done the deed, locking Gelasius in his own chamber after they had hanged him."

  Fidelma examined the lock and saw the scratch marks where it had been picked. There was little else to decipher from it, except that the lock had apparently not been forced at any other stage. Fidelma moved to the window, where she saw the clear signs of broken glass and some scratching on the frame which might have been made by a body pushing through the aperture. It was certainly consistent with Brother Gormgilla's story.

  She went to the bed and gazed up. There was some scoring on the beam.

  "Is the bed in the same position?" "It is?"

  Fidelma made some mental measurements and then nodded.

  "Let me get this perfectly clear, Brother Gormgilla. You say that the door was locked and there was no key in the lock on either side of the door? You also say that the window was secured and to gain access you had to break in from the outside?"

  "That is so."

  "Let me put this question to you, as I have also put it to your Father Superior: his theory is that the Venerable Gelasius was disturbed by marauders in the night. He went into the chapel to investigate. They overpowered him and brought him back here, hanged him and then robbed him. Does it occur to you that something is wrong with this explanation?"

  Brother Gormgilla looked uncomfortable.

  "I do not understand."

  Fidelma tapped her foot in annoyance.

  "Come now, Brother. For fifteen years you have been his helper; you helped him rise in the morning and had to accompany him to the chapel. Would such a frail old man suddenly start from his bed in the middle of the night and set off to face intruders? And why would these intruders bring him back here to hang him? Surely one sharp blow on the head would have been enough to render Gelasius dead or beyond hindrance to them?"

  "It is not for me to say, Sister. Father Mailin says . . ."

  "I know what Father Mailin says. What do you say?"

 
"It is not for me to question Father Mailin. He came to his conclusion after making strenuous inquiries."

  "Of whom, other than yourself, could he make such inquiries?"

  "It was Brother Firgil who told the Father Superior about the itinerants."

  "Then bring Brother Firgil to me."

  Brother Gormgilla scurried off.

  Sister Fidelma wandered around the chamber and examined the manuscripts and books that lined the walls. Gelasius had, as hearsay had it, been an extraordinary scholar. There were books on philosophy in Hebrew, Latin, Greek and even works in the old tongue of the Irish, written on wooden wands in Ogham, the earliest Irish alphabet.

  Everything was neatly placed along the shelves.

  Gelasius had clearly been a methodical and tidy man. She glanced at some of the works. They intrigued her for they concerned the ancient stories of her people: stories of the pagan gods, the children of the Mother Goddess Danu

  whose "divine waters" fertilized the Earth at the beginning of time itself. It was a strange library for a great philosopher and teacher of the Faith to have.

  At a little desk were vellum and quills where the Venerable Gelasius obviously sat composing his own works which were widely distributed among the teaching abbeys of Ireland. Now his voice would be heard no more. His death at the hands of mere thieves had robbed the Faith of one of its greatest protagonists. No wonder the Abbot had not been satisfied with Father Mailin's simple report and had asked Fidelma, as a trained dalaigh of the courts, to make an inquiry which could be presented to the King himself.

  Fidelma glanced down at the vellum. It was pristine. Whatever Gelasius had been working on, he must have finished before his death, for his writing materials were clean and set out neatly; everything placed carefully, ready and waiting . . .

  She frowned suddenly. Her wandering eye had caught something tucked inside a small calf-bound book on a nearby shelf. Why should she be attracted by a slip of parchment sticking out of a book? She was not sure until she realized everything else was so neat and tidy that the very fact that the paper was left so untidily was the reason which drew her attention to it.