Master of Souls sf-16 Read online

  ‘The coirceogach is easy to find,’ added Conri.

  ‘What was your first impression?’ queried Fidelma. ‘Were there any signs of disturbance around that you noticed?’

  The merchant shook his head.

  ‘Don’t forget, lady, the snow was coming thick and fast. I saw nothing but a white blanket across the ground. I tried to pull my horse into the shelter of some trees and made towards the entrance of the coirceogach. I was aware that I had trodden on something that did not feel right. I don’t know how else to explain it. But it was not hard like ground or rock and when I looked down I saw there was something dark beneath the snow. I scraped away and realised it was a body.’

  He paused and passed a hand over his forehead as if to wipe it

  ‘My first thought was to rebury it but… but then I realised that it

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘My idea was to preserve the body as best I could. If I left it where it was, someone else might find it. My thought was then to hurry on to Ard Fhearta to report the matter for, as I say, it was clear that she had been murdered.’

  ‘And you saw nothing else which would give any indication as to why she came by her death? No sign of what might have happened to her companions?’

  Mugron shook his head firmly.

  ‘I was halfway to the abbey of Colman when I realised about her companions,’ he confessed. ‘But there had been no sign of anyone else. As I have said, the snow lay thick on the ground. It had been snowing on and off for several days.’

  ‘So there were no other bodies?’

  ‘Not where I found that of the abbess.’

  She looked at him sharply. ‘Does that imply there were other bodies in the vicinity?’

  Mugron nodded. ‘There must have been some wreck along the coast. There was fresh wreckage nearby, floating along the shore, and among it were one or two bodies. There was nothing I could do about them. Remember, I was alone.’

  Fidelma sat back and was silent for a few moments. Then she asked: ‘Your first intention was to enter the coirceogach and get dry. Did you go in at all?’

  The merchant hesitated.

  ‘I did, but only for a moment.’

  ‘And there was nothing inside that presented you with any information as to what might have happened?’

  ‘I saw that the fire had recently been used.’ He frowned. ‘There was some discarded clothing in a corner.’

  Conri nodded in agreement.

  ‘The rags were still there when we returned. There was also a water-soaked boot by them.’

  Fidelma raised an inquisitive face to the warlord of the Ui Fidgente.

  ‘A boot?’

  Instead of using the word cuaran for an ordinary shoe he had used the word coisbert for something larger.

  ‘It was the sort of boot that a seaman might wear,’ the merchant chimed in. ‘But it was of foreign origin.’

  Fidelma regarded him with interest.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Mugron smiled complacently.

  ‘It is my trade, lady. If I did not know a native boot from a foreign one, I would be a poor merchant. This boot was one that I would expect to see in Gaul. In fact, I would say it was a type that many of the seamen of Armorica wear.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘When I returned with lord Conri, we examined the clothes and the boot.’

  ‘What did you do with them?’

  ‘We left them in the hut.’

  There was a silence as Fidelma considered the information. After a while, she said: ‘There is nothing else that you can tell me?’

  ‘Nothing, lady.’

  ‘Nothing that struck your mind about the scene that caused you any thought? Even if it was unrelated to the death of the abbess?’

  The merchant was about to shake his head when he caught himself.

  ‘There was something?’ Fidelma pressed.

  Mugron shrugged. ‘It was absolutely unrelated. I mentioned the wreckage of the ship and the bodies. A lot of ships have foundered around that coast. I just noticed that it looked very recent. The timbers that lay along the shore had not been discoloured. It was just a passing thought, no more. Then I went on.’

  ‘I see,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘So it might be that your Gaulish boot might have come from a survivor of that wreck. A ship from Gaul.’

  Mugron responded only with a faint shrug.

  ‘And all this occurred about ten days ago?’ she asked.

  ‘More like fifteen days now.’

  Fidelma gave a soft sigh and sat back.

  ‘Well, Mugron, I will not detain you further. If I want to talk to you again how shall I find you? At this harbour of yours? An Bhearbha?’

  ‘Ask anyone and they will direct you to me. But within a day or so, I have a cargo to run to Breanainn’s Bay.’

  ‘Ah, then it may well be that I might need to book a passage on your vessel for my companions and myself.’

  ‘You would be most welcome, lady.’

  The burly merchant rose from the seat and bowed stiffly towards her. As he was turning to leave, Fidelma called softly: ‘Oh, and Mugron… my thanks for reminding me of a pleasant period in my life. My childhood on the banks of the River Siur. They were good times.’

  The merchant answered with a smile and raised a hand in salutation before leaving the herb garden.

  For some time Fidelma sat in silence, turning over in her mind the information that she had garnered.

  Finally, an anxious clearing of his throat by Brother Cu Mara attracted her attention. She looked up and realised the steward and Conr were waiting for her to speak.

  ‘What now, lady?’ Brother Cu Mara asked anxiously.

  ‘What now, Brother?’ She stood up. ‘Now we shall go in search of Brother Eadulf and discover what he has found out about the bloodstained clothing.’

  She quickly explained to Conri about Eadulf’s find in the washing house.

  Brother Cu Mara led the way to the tech-nigid, a wooden structure conveniently sited next to a stream which gushed from a spring and made its way across the hillside on which the abbey buildings were distributed. As they approached, Eadulf was emerging with the bloodstained clothing in his arms.

  ‘I have the names of the owners,’ he said in triumph, as he saw them.

  ‘Then let us have a word with them,’ Fidelma replied.

  ‘The first is Brother Feolaigid,’ Eadulf said.

  Brother Cu Mara guffawed immediately.

  They turned on him with some astonishment.

  ‘You seem amused, Brother,’ Fidelma observed coldly. ‘Is there some joke that can be shared with us?’

  The young rechtaire did not lose his expression of amusement.

  ‘I will take you to where Brother Feolaigid is working,’ he said in a

  Brother Cu Mara led the way to a far corner of the abbey complex, to a building also alongside another of the numerous little streams that were to be found in this countryside. In construction it was rather like the tech-nigid. The doors stood wide open and as they approached Eadulf became aware of an odour he could not quite identify. There was a sound, too. It was halfway between someone chopping wood and the smack of something heavy on flesh.

  ‘This is where Brother Feolaigid works,’ the young steward said, this time scarcely able to conceal the mirth in his voice.

  At the door, peering into the interior of the building, they saw a burly man with an axe, hewing at a carcass. Blood was everywhere. The carcass was that of a pig. The man was expertly reducing it to joints of meat. Around him, hanging on metal hooks, hung large joints and whole carcasses of more pigs and lambs.

  ‘Brother Feolaigid is our butcher.’ There was no disguising the amusement in Brother Cu Mara’s voice. ‘If there was no blood on his robes, it would be more of a mystery than otherwise.’

  Fidelma turned with irritation on her face and was about to launch into a homily on the wasting of a dalaigh ’s time. Then she
glanced at Eadulf and the look on his face made her suddenly chuckle.

  ‘Well, Brother,’ she turned back to the rechtaire, ‘you have had your little joke on us. But there is still another bloodstained robe to be accounted for.’

  Eadulf was clearly irritated.

  ‘Your brethren would seem to over-indulge in eating the flesh of animals,’ he observed testily to the steward. ‘Such indulgence in meat eating is frowned upon in Rome.’

  The young rechtaire ’s expression was smug.

  ‘I have heard the Venerable Mac Faosma quote from an ancient book upon which our religion is founded and which the Greeks called “the beginning” — Genesis. In this holy book God tells Noah, “Every creature that lives and moves shall be food for you.”’

  Conr, not really understanding the cause of Eadulf’s ill-humour and believing him not to know the widespread practice of eating various meats in the country, added: ‘The abbey has many people to sustain, Brother Eadulf. It has its own flocks of sheep, even cows to provide milk and indrechtan and marog.’

  Eadulf, who was just being surly and certainly had no real objection to meat eating, did not understand the words that Conri used and said so.

  It was Fidelma who explained.

  ‘They are meat dishes in which the intestines of a pig, cow or sheep are stuffed with minced meat to which is added grain or diced apple. Then they are boiled and put aside until wanted. They are regarded as great delicacies in many parts of the country. Now let us not waste time. To whom does the other bloodstained robe belong?’

  ‘Sister Uallann,’ Eadulf replied.

  Brother Cu Mara turned away and coughed several times as if to hide some urge to laugh. Fidelma waited impatiently while he recovered.

  ‘Now take us to where this Sister Uallann works,’ she snapped.

  It was Conr who answered.

  ‘There will probably be as good a reason for Sister Uallann’s robes to be bloodstained as there was for the robes of Brother Feolaigid,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Indeed?’ said Fidelma defensively. ‘Do you know this Sister Uallann?’ The warlord of the Ui Fidgente nodded.

  ‘She is the physician of the abbey, lady. It was she who examined and prepared the corpse of my aunt, the Abbess Faife, when we brought it here for burial.’

  Fidelma let out a long, low exasperated sigh.

  ‘And doubtless did the same for the Venerable Cinaed?’

  Brother Cu Mara had regained his composure.

  ‘Indeed, she did, lady. I am afraid the bloodstained clothing that Brother Eadulf has found will lead you nowhere.’

  Eadulf was trying to hide his embarrassment.

  ‘Does this abbey have a woman physician?’

  ‘Do you not have women physicians among your own people?’ demanded Conr in amusement at the other’s discomfiture. ‘In ancient times, there was a cult of women who followed the teachings of Airmed, daughter of the old god of healing. She was said to be the first to identify all the healing herbs. We have always had female physicians.’

  Eadulf, who had studied the apothecary’s art for a time at Tuam Brecain, knew the fact well enough. His cheeks were crimson with mortification and he was merely doing his best to avoid Fidelma’s censure. He should

  ‘You better return the clothing to Sister Sinnchene,’ she told him. ‘But I want to see this physician anyway, so we will speak to her now.’

  Eadulf’s mouth became a thin slit of anger as he departed back along the path to the tech-nigid.

  Sober-faced now, Brother Cu Mara led the way along the path towards the main abbey buildings.

  ‘Those are the quarters for the bachelors.’ The rechtaire indicated one building with a gesture of his head. ‘The married rooms are behind there and beyond are the quarters for the unmarried sisters.’

  ‘Are there many people in this abbey?’ inquired Fidelma.

  ‘Scarcely more than five hundred souls,’ Brother Cu Mara replied.

  ‘It is surely enough,’ Fidelma observed with surprise.

  ‘We have heard that the great abbey at Ard Macha boasts the attendance of seven thousand students and then there are members of the Faith who instruct them.’

  Fidelma had passed through Ard Macha, which lay in the northern kingdom of the Ui Neill. She had been sent there to get instructions from Bishop Ultan on her way to the great council in Northumbria, and had found Ard Macha too crowded, too city-like and ostentatious for her. And, she had to confess, she was not impressed with Ultan, who seemed the product of his environment for he, too, was ostentatious and full of his own importance. As his abbey had been founded by the Blessed Patrick, who was now being claimed as the first preacher of the word of Christ in the five kingdoms, Ultan was seeking recognition as the Primate, the head of all the churches in the kingdoms. Violent arguments were springing up, especially from Imleach which the bishop and abbot pointed out had been founded by Ailbe, who had preached Christianity in the five kingdoms before Patrick, as had many others.

  ‘Ard Macha should not be judged by the numbers of people who live there but by what it achieves in the manner of the lives of those it influences,’ Fidelma said now.

  Brother Cu Mara had paused before a stone building set slightly apart from the main structures of the abbey and indicated a door.

  ‘This is the apothecary of Sister Uallann, lady.’

  He tapped gently at the door.

  A voice curtly bade them enter.

  Inside the large room, the pungent scents of a hundred hanging herbs and plants was overwhelming, mixed as they were with an odour rising from a cauldron in which a strange-looking liquid was bubbling over a fire. Benches filled with amphorae, jugs and pots stretched round the room. Above one bench was a shelf containing several ageing manuscript books. At one end was a table made of a thick block of wood that was almost large enough for two people to lie down upon. Its stained and grooved surface showed to what use an apothecary could put it.

  Nearby, at a smaller table, sat a woman with mortar and pestle, pounding something in the bowl.

  She was almost masculine in facial appearance, with wispy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and ruddy skin. She had a large nose and a hint of moustache-like dark downy hair over her upper lip. It was hard to guess her age.

  ‘Well?’ she cried, her voice shrill, as she glanced up at them. ‘I am busy. State your illness. I have little time.’

  The young steward glanced apologetically at Fidelma.

  ‘This is Sister Uallann, lady.’ He turned to the physician. ‘Sister Uallann, this is Fidelma of Cashel. She is the dalaigh come to investigate the deaths of the Abbess Faife and of the Venerable Cinaed.’

  Sister Uallann remained seated.

  ‘Of Cashel? Of Cashel? Does she not know that the Ui Fidgente have no business with Cashel? We owe allegiance to Eoganan. We have no need for a Cashel dalaigh.’

  Conr coughed with embarrassment and moved forward.

  ‘Sister Uallann, do you remember me? I am Conr

  – ’

  The woman sighed pointedly and laid aside her mortar and pestle with a resounding thump on the table.

  ‘Of course I know you, lord Conr. Do you consider that I am senile?’ Conr was embarrassed.

  ‘Eoganan was killed at Cnoc Aine two years ago. The Ui Fidgente have pledged allegiance to Cashel now. Sister Fidelma is blood sister to Colgu, legitimate king of all Muman. She is the dalaigh we have asked to come to investigate the violent deaths of the Abbess Faife and the Venerable Cinaed.’

  Sister Uallann frowned and sat for a moment as if considering this.

  ‘My husband is also dead. Dead by the design of Cashel. The Ui Fidgente are now at peace. Yet still there are violent deaths in the land.’

  Fidelma moved forward and as she did so her feet crunched on something on the floor. She looked down to see several granular crystals on the floor.

  ‘You seem to have spilt something, Sister Uallann.’

  The physician glanced down and ap
peared embarrassed for a moment.

  ‘It is nothing. I spilt a preparation.’

  Fidelma noticed the crystals clung to the woollen arm of Sister Uallan’s robe and reached out to pluck off a few. She kept them in her hand, wondering what they were.

  ‘I hope that whoever uses the preparation does not have to ingest it. These are as hard as little rocks.’

  ‘What exactly is it that you want?’ snapped Sister Uallann impatiently.

  Fidelma sat down directly opposite the physician, dropping the granules on the floor.

  ‘There are a few questions that I must ask you, Sister Uallann.’

  The physician blinked and focused her pale eyes on Fidelma.

  ‘I understand that you examined the body of Abbess Faife when it was returned here to Ard Fhearta.’

  ‘That is so, that is so.’

  ‘And then you prepared her body for burial?’

  ‘Of course, of course.’

  ‘Can you tell me anything about the manner of her death?’

  The physician sniffed irritably.

  ‘A wound made by a blade. Simple. Sharp. I would say such a wound would cause death instantaneously. Instantaneously.’

  ‘You cannot say what caused the wound other than a blade?’

  ‘I will say that it was either a sword or a broad dagger. It would be the weapon of a warrior.’

  Fidelma raised her eyebrows slightly.

  ‘Why do you specify a warrior?’

  ‘Because of the sharpness of the blade and its cleanness. Only a warrior tends to keep his blade sharp and clean. That it was sharp and clean is certain from the nature of the wound it inflicted.’

  ‘It is a logical conclusion,’ agreed Fidelma.

  ‘The body had begun to decay but not much because of the cold. It had been lying in snow and ice, I think, and that had slowed the decaying process. So the marks of the wound were clear and the thrust was delivered downwards. Yes, downwards.’

  Again, Fidelma was amazed at this senescent physician’s ability to be certain.

  ‘How do you deduce that?’