Chalice of Blood (10 page)
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland
Brother Seachlann’s irritation increased. ‘And what would you know of such matters, Saxon?’ he snapped. ‘I am the expert here.’
‘Eadulf spent some time at our great medical school of Tuaim Brecain,’ replied Fidelma sharply, before Eadulf could respond. ‘It seems that his eye is much more discerning than your own, physician.’
The physician swallowed hard. Again, a tinge of red came to his cheeks.
‘I am fully qualified in all the healing arts and no one has questioned me before in this manner. I am qualified to the level of—’
‘I heard you the first time,’ interrupted Fidelma with emphasis. ‘Where were you qualified?’
‘I am of the … I studied at Sléibhte.’
‘Well, Seachlann of Sléibhte, I have never heard that the people of the Kingdom of Laighin were disrespectful to their Brehons.’
The physician glanced uneasily towards Brother Lugna as if expecting him to say something.
‘Brother Seachlann has only recently joined our community,’ the steward belatedly intervened. ‘We have found him an excellent physician.’
‘Then he should also know how to give evidence to a Brehon,’ replied Fidelma.
Brother Seachlann seemed flustered. He said nothing.
‘Tell me, physician,’ Fidelma spoke slowly and deliberately, ‘having seen the wounds that caused the death of Brother Donnchad, would you agree with my husband, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham? Do you concur that they were delivered by someone whose intention was to kill and were delivered with some foreknowledge of where to strike a death blow? Or do you argue that they were delivered in a frenzied attack born of anger or some other emotion?’
Brother Seachlann seemed to consider the matter and then he said sullenly, ‘I would say that the blows were struck with some foreknowledge. The person knew that striking upwards, under the ribcage or downwards into the neck, would produce the desired result.’
‘And being made in the back, this was done in stealth? The victim was unaware that he was about to be attacked?’
‘That is beyond my conjecture but it would seem to be the case,’ agreed the physician, ‘otherwise Brother Donnchad would have swung round to face his attacker in order to defend himself.’
‘Could the blows have been struck as he lay asleep, face down, on the bed?’
‘They could not.’
‘Why?’
‘I do not think there would be enough power behind either blow if the victim were prone. Not enough power to achieve the damage inflicted. He had to be standing upright, his back to his assailant. Further, I would say the blow to the neck was received while he was sinking to the floor, or else the assailant was a very tall person.’
‘Yet the body was found lying on its back on the bed.’
‘I was told that was how the abbot and Brother Lugna found it. They told me that they had not moved it.’
‘Except that I lifted the body a little to discover the wounds and blood,’ added Brother Lugna pedantically. ‘But I made sure the body went back into the position I found it in.’
‘Just so,’ said Fidelma. ‘So what did you make of that, Brother Seachlann?’
‘That Brother Donnchad, must have fallen to the floor, having received the wounds standing up. But given their nature, he could not have raised himself on to the bed of his own accord.’
‘People can do astonishing things in the moments before death, but I agree it seems unlikely he had such a capability,’ said Fidelma solemnly. ‘Once the knife had plunged downwards into his neck, he would probably have been dead before he reached the floor. Which means … ?’
‘That the killer must have then lifted the body on to the bed and placed it so that it was in a position of repose,’ finished Eadulf. ‘Would you agree, Brother Seachlann?’
‘That would be a logical deduction but, of course, I could not swear to it,’ replied the physician.
‘Of course not,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Nevertheless, as you say, from your medical knowledge, it is a logical deduction.’
‘It is.’
‘Then we have no need to detain you further, Brother Seachlann. You see, it was no hard task to answer the questions of a
dálaigh
, was it?’
dálaigh
, was it?’
The physician hesitated as if to say something but then decided against doing so and turned for the door.
When he had gone, Brother Lugna shifted his weight uncomfortably and appeared apologetic.
‘We have found our new physician a little …’ he paused, searching for the right word.
‘A little lacking in social graces?’ suggested Fidelma. ‘Well, his rudeness is a little mystifying – there must be a reason for it. Yet it is of no consequence for the moment. We will discover what ails the man later.’
‘Have you seen all you wanted?’ asked the steward, indicating the chamber.
After a quick glance at Eadulf, Fidelma nodded. ‘We have, but tell me, Brother Lugna, we are in the last room on this level, so who has the cell directly next to this?’
‘No one,’ replied the steward. ‘In fact, three of the cells on this floor are not even allocated as yet.’
‘And directly below?’
‘The Venerable Bróen. He was one of the original members of the abbey when the Blessed Carthach founded it. He is old and a little confused now and prone to seeing visions.’
‘Ah, the one who sees angels,’ said Eadulf. ‘Well, we won’t bother him. There are no secret trapdoors in the floor of this room, are there?’
Brother Lugna did not share his humour. ‘There is no way into this
cubiculum
other than through the door,’ he said drily.
cubiculum
other than through the door,’ he said drily.
‘Nevertheless, I would like to see the next one to this,’ replied Fidelma.
They went out into the passage and the steward opened the
door. Apart from the fact that there had been a lock fitted on Brother Donnchad’s door, the
cubiculum
was exactly the same. It had the same high window. What was missing was any form of furniture, there was no bed, chair or table. Fidelma entered and moved along the wall that divided the cell from the one Brother Donnchad had occupied. There was certainly no secret mechanism to open a way into the next cell so that an attacker could enter in stealth. She turned and smiled at the frowning steward.
door. Apart from the fact that there had been a lock fitted on Brother Donnchad’s door, the
cubiculum
was exactly the same. It had the same high window. What was missing was any form of furniture, there was no bed, chair or table. Fidelma entered and moved along the wall that divided the cell from the one Brother Donnchad had occupied. There was certainly no secret mechanism to open a way into the next cell so that an attacker could enter in stealth. She turned and smiled at the frowning steward.
‘You’ll probably want to see our smith next, Brother Giolla-na-Naomh, ’ Brother Lugna suggested, when she declared that she had seen enough. ‘Alas, I do not have time to show you the way. I have a meeting to attend with the master builder. But if you make your way to the stables, you will not be able to miss his forge.’
At the entrance to the building they watched Brother Lugna hurry off across the quadrangle. Then Fidelma caught Eadulf by the arm.
‘Before we find the smith, there is something else I wish to see.’
Puzzled, he followed her along the gap between the side of the building and the old wooden wall that surrounded the abbey. She halted at the back of the building, looking up at the windows. Fidelma paused when she judged them to be underneath the window of Brother Donnchad’s chamber three storeys up.
‘Careful,’ she said to Eadulf and stood still. Fidelma examined the ground carefully. Then she shook her head. ‘I can see no sign where anyone might have placed a ladder, nor can I see any other means of reaching the window above.’
‘Well, you were sure that the window was not a means of ingress anyway,’ Eadulf said.
‘These things have to be checked and checked again,’ returned
Fidelma. As she turned her eye caught a scrap of white almost buried in the mud. ‘What’s that?’
Fidelma. As she turned her eye caught a scrap of white almost buried in the mud. ‘What’s that?’
Eadulf was nearer to it and bent down, carefully extracting it from the mud. He wiped some of the clinging earth from it. Then he held up a tiny piece of torn parchment in his hand. It was crumpled as if it had been discarded.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said, looking at it. ‘It must have been out here for some time and it is damp.’
‘Be careful with it,’ she said. ‘There is still some writing on it.’
He gently stretched it out so that the few words were readable although the ink had started to run.
‘Anything of interest?’ asked Fidelma.
Eadulf shook his head. ‘I think this is a line from one of the gospels –
si vis transfer calicem istrum a me
. It is followed by three words, the same word written three times over –
Deicide! Deicide! Deicide!
There is nothing else on it.’
si vis transfer calicem istrum a me
. It is followed by three words, the same word written three times over –
Deicide! Deicide! Deicide!
There is nothing else on it.’
‘The last word means “god-killer” in Latin.’ Fidelma peered at the text over his shoulder. ‘To
Dei
, the word for god, is added
cide
from the verb
caedere
to cut down.’
Dei
, the word for god, is added
cide
from the verb
caedere
to cut down.’
‘Why would anyone write that out several times? Was someone trying to remember how to spell it? Maybe it was Brother Donnchad and having captured the word he threw the parchment out of the window.’
‘A scholar of Brother Donnchad’s ability could surely spell a simple Latin word.’
‘God-killer is what some of the early Christian Fathers claimed the Jews were because they demanded the crucifixion of Christ,’ Eadulf said. ‘But where does that first line come from? Something about “remove this chalice from me”.’
‘Chalice or cup. It depends on your translation,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I think it is from the gospel of Luke.’
She frowned, took the parchment from him and examined it
again before placing it in her
ciorbholg
, which she always carried attached to her
criss
, or belt. The
ciorbholg
, or comb-bag, was carried by all women and usually contained items such as a
scathán
, a mirror,
deimess
, scissors,
sleic
, soap, a
phal
containing a favourite fragrance – Fidelma preferred honeysuckle – a small linen cloth and other personal items.
again before placing it in her
ciorbholg
, which she always carried attached to her
criss
, or belt. The
ciorbholg
, or comb-bag, was carried by all women and usually contained items such as a
scathán
, a mirror,
deimess
, scissors,
sleic
, soap, a
phal
containing a favourite fragrance – Fidelma preferred honeysuckle – a small linen cloth and other personal items.
Eadulf was impatient. ‘Let us find the smith and see what he can tell us about the lock and maybe a second key.’
Usually, they could locate a forge by the sound of the hammer smashing down on the
inneoin
, or anvil, but with the sound of the building work it was impossible. Before they came to the forge they passed another tall building being erected with stone blocks and suddenly Eadulf nudged Fidelma.
inneoin
, or anvil, but with the sound of the building work it was impossible. Before they came to the forge they passed another tall building being erected with stone blocks and suddenly Eadulf nudged Fidelma.
‘There is a means of entrance to Brother Donnchad’s
cubiculum
and someone small enough to pass through the window.’
cubiculum
and someone small enough to pass through the window.’
A tall ladder was resting against the building to allow the masons to climb to the upper walls. Seated by it was a small boy who was busy sharpening a chisel with a honing stone.
Fidelma regarded the boy critically for a moment. ‘I’ll grant he’s probably small enough but he would need two conspirators to help lift the ladder in place.’ So saying, she strode across to the boy.
‘Hello,’ she greeted him. ‘I haven’t seen you before.’
The boy was no more than ten years old, with fair hair, a ruddy face and wiry limbs. He glanced up at her with a shy smile.
‘Nor I you, Sister,’ he replied pertly.
‘My name is Fidelma and he,’ indicating Eadulf, ‘is called Eadulf. What’s your name?’
‘Gúasach. Why does he have a funny name?’
Fidelma chuckled. ‘Because he comes from a place across the sea which is called the Kingdom of the East Angles. Are you working on this building?’
The boy smiled proudly. ‘I am. I am apprentice to the master builder.’
‘How long have you—’
Her question was interrupted by a loud shout from a rough-voiced man on the other side of the new wall.
‘Gúasach! The chisel immediately!’
The boy sprang up with the chisel, gave them a grin of apology and disappeared through a gap in the wall.
Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘I doubt we have found the killer in that lad.’
‘Conspiracy?’ mused Eadulf. ‘Several people carried the ladder to the wall, the boy went up, killed Brother Donnchad and took the papers and books they wanted …’ Eadulf halted with a wry chuckle. ‘You are right. It is not a likely story.’
The
cérdcha
, or forge, of Brother Giolla-na-Naomh was located near the main gate of the community but just beyond the stables. It was after several wrong turns that they finally found the way behind the stable block. A young man stripped to the waist was gripping a glowing piece of metal in a
tenn-chair
, a pair of tongs. He struck the metal with an
ord
, a heavy hammer, causing sparks to fly as each ringing blow descended. An older man, also bare to the waist, though with a buckskin apron covering his chest and front, was clearly overseeing the young man’s work. He caught sight of their approach and said something to his apprentice. The young man turned from the anvil and plunged the piece of metal he was working into a
telchuma
, or water trough, next to the anvil.
cérdcha
, or forge, of Brother Giolla-na-Naomh was located near the main gate of the community but just beyond the stables. It was after several wrong turns that they finally found the way behind the stable block. A young man stripped to the waist was gripping a glowing piece of metal in a
tenn-chair
, a pair of tongs. He struck the metal with an
ord
, a heavy hammer, causing sparks to fly as each ringing blow descended. An older man, also bare to the waist, though with a buckskin apron covering his chest and front, was clearly overseeing the young man’s work. He caught sight of their approach and said something to his apprentice. The young man turned from the anvil and plunged the piece of metal he was working into a
telchuma
, or water trough, next to the anvil.
‘Greetings, Sister Fidelma,’ the older man boomed. His voice was as deep and resonant as one might expect from his tall and muscular appearance. ‘I saw you and Brother Eadulf in the
refectorium
last evening. I am Brother Giolla-na-Naomh.’
refectorium
last evening. I am Brother Giolla-na-Naomh.’
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