The Devil's Seal (34 page)

There was silence for a while and then Fidelma told them to return to their interrupted sleep.

‘That confirms that Sister Dianaimh did not leave by the main gate.’ She added: ‘So now we have to find out how she did so.’

‘There is no way, unless she flew,’ Eadulf replied in a dour tone. ‘I cannot see her climbing the walls and scrambling down the rocky slopes. I would not like to try that even in the daylight, let alone the dark.’

‘The fact is that she did so,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘But how? The answer will come to us eventually.’

Gormán was listening to them with a frown. ‘I don’t know if it is worthy of repeating, but I did hear some words that passed between her and that Saxon – your pardon, friend Eadulf – Brother Bosa.’

‘Let us judge whether the words are worth repeating,’ Fidelma said quickly.

‘Well, I was passing by them last night at the meal. It was when the guests were mingling with one another. I was pausing to look round to make sure all was in order and did not hear the opening of the conversation. But I will try to reconstruct it exactly as I heard it.’

He then closed his eyes and recited the following dialogue.

Brother Bosa said: ‘But your abbot is not interested?’

‘He is not my abbot any more,’ Sister Dianaimh replied sharply.

‘But you continue to visit the abbey.’

To which she answered: ‘I have often carried messages for Abbot Aéd, that is true. But I can assure you that Aéd has already pledged his loyalty to Abbot Ségéne of Ard Macha.’

‘Wouldn’t that be contrary to the wishes of King Fianamail, who supports Cill Dara as the prime church of this island?’ asked Brother Bosa.

‘Aéd is of the Uí Barraiche. Fianamail is of the Uí Cennselaigh.’

Gormán added that Brother Bosa did not understand the enmity between the rival families of Laighin nor, it seemed, did Sister Dianaimh take the trouble to enlighten him.

‘So,’ went on Brother Bosa, ‘it is not true that Aéd would not be interested in the market?’

Gormán said that at this point, the girl turned away and left the scribe.

‘Not interested in the market?’ Fidelma exchanged a thoughtful glance with Eadulf. ‘So Brother Bosa was aware that Sister Dianaimh had recently been at Sléibhte. We’d best visit her room in the guest quarters.’

The girl had shared a room with Abbess Líoch. The abbess was now sitting on her bed, head in hands in a state of distress. The news of Sister Dianaimh’s murder had spread swiftly.

‘I don’t understand it!’ she cried, raising a tear-stained face to them as they entered. ‘Who would want to kill that innocent girl, Fidelma?’

‘While she was undoubtedly innocent of many things, she must also have been guilty of something,’ Fidelma replied grimly. ‘What she was guilty
of
is for me to find out. I would like to have a look at her personal belongings, if you have no objection? I presume that no one else has searched through her possessions since her death?’

‘Who would want to?’ the abbess rejoined sadly. ‘She had little enough.’ She nodded to the spare bed with a single woollen cloak spread across the bottom of it. There was a
srathar
or saddlebag hung nearby, and a
ciorbhog
hanging up behind the bed. This was the inevitable comb bag, which women of all ranks and offices carried. There was the usual change of clothes in the saddlebag. Fidelma took down the comb bag, sat on the edge of the cot and searched through it. She then set it aside with a sigh. There was little of value in it; it contained only the usual items. She shifted her weight to replace it and caught her breath as she felt something hard beneath her thigh.

She stood up and lifted the straw-filled mattress. A leather bag was concealed underneath. Fidelma lifted it up.

‘Heavy,’ she muttered.

With the mattress back in place, she reseated herself, put the bag beside her and untied the leather thongs that held it together. Then she widened the neck of the bag to look at the contents.

Eadulf, who had come to peer over her shoulder, exhaled through his teeth, a curious whistling sound to denote his astonishment.

‘What is it?’ demanded Abbess Líoch, rising from her bed and moving towards them.

‘Did you know Sister Dianaimh was carrying these coins?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Coins? What coins?’ Abbess Líoch saw – and gasped.

The bag was filled with gold and silver coins – a mixture of Roman, Gaulish and coins of the early Britons among them.

‘Why, there must be . . .’ Eadulf was trying to calculate the value.

‘Enough to pay the honour price of any one of the Kings of the Five Kingdoms,’ Fidelma concluded.

‘Enough to buy a herd of nearly fifty milch cows,’ breathed Abbess Líoch, having seated herself again. She was in a state of shock.

Fidelma retied the bag, saying to the abbess, ‘I presume that you had no idea your steward carried such a sum?’

The abbess shook her head slowly. ‘None at all. But why?’

‘We must take this into safekeeping until the matter can be resolved,’ Fidelma declared. ‘Meanwhile, you must not breathe a word to anyone about this.’

Abbess Líoch, beyond speech, could only give an assenting gesture.

‘Do you think we have found the motive for her murder?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Perhaps the murderer knew she would be carrying the sum and killed her for it?’

‘I would have thought even someone with impaired vision would see that she was not carrying the coins on her. If they knew she was the bearer of such wealth, they would be aware that she would never carry it on her person but would place it somewhere for safety – somewhere like this hiding-place we have found. So if she was killed for this, why did they not enter here and search for it?’

Abbess Líoch glanced nervously at her. ‘But I was asleep here all night, and only this morning did I find Sister Dianaimh missing.’

Fidelma made no reply but stood and picked up the bag, handing it to Eadulf. It was quite heavy.

‘Where to now?’ he asked.

‘Now we shall place the money in the safekeeping of my brother,’ Fidelma said. ‘I have an idea.’

‘I am getting more confused as time goes by,’ Eadulf sighed as they went towards Colgú’s apartments. ‘We start with the murder of a Saxon cleric. Then there is an attack on my brother and his companion on the river. We think they are attacked by robbers from the Déisi. The robbers are captured and killed, except for their leader. He is brought here because he says he has something which he will use as a bargain to save himself from punishment.
He
is then murdered. We are told a deputation from Canterbury is coming here. Then someone tries to kill us. Then we are told my brother’s companion is no religious but a thief. And now Abbess Líoch’s
bann-mhaor
, her young steward, is murdered. She has been carrying a fortune with her. What can we make of all this?’

‘A tangled skein can be untangled if one has patience,’ observed Fidelma.

‘But if it is true that this Venerable Victricius was a thief, what was he doing on his way here? Is that why he did not tell my brother what his purpose was?’

‘After we have deposited these coins with Colgú, we will search out Brother Bosa and see if he can add anything more to this matter.’

Brother Bosa was on the walkway of the fortress walls when they found him, leaning against the parapet and gazing towards the distant mountains in the north-west.

‘Not my sort of country,’ he greeted them as they approached. ‘There are mountains in every direction. Give me the low hills or flatlands, the sky and the sea.’

‘I have been once in the Kingdom of Kent,’ Fidelma offered. ‘We were in Canterbury for a short time before going to Aldred’s Abbey. I do remember the low hills and rivers and no sign of any mountains. I suppose each to their own. We have a saying here, there is no hearth like your own hearth.’

Brother Bosa sighed and seemed almost vulnerable compared to the arrogance he usually displayed.

‘We wanted to ask a few questions,’ Eadulf volunteered.

In a moment the man’s affable expression became guarded. ‘About what?’

‘You will have heard that Sister Dianaimh has been murdered?’

‘I am told that she was found in a tavern. It’s hardly a place for a moral religieuse.’

‘Being murdered, she might not have been able to protest about where her body was placed after her death,’ Eadulf replied sharply.

‘You will understand my position as a
dálaigh
,’ Fidelma went on smoothly, giving Eadulf a reproving glance. ‘I need to ask some questions.’

‘Why of me?’ asked the scribe.

‘You were talking to her during the meal last night. I just wondered if she said anything that might have indicated whether she was afraid of anyone?’

Brother Bosa shrugged carelessly. ‘I did not speak to her for long.’

‘What did you talk about?’

The scribe said reluctantly, ‘You know by now that our mission here is to gather information about claims for a primacy in this island.’

‘And that is what you were asking her about?’

‘My understanding was that she had been trained at an abbey called Sléibhte which was already in existence when Patricius came to administer to the faithful here. While we were in Laighin, we heard a rumour that they might contend for the primacy against Ard Macha. King Fianamail of Laighin supported another abbey called Cill Dara, which would certainly not be considered by the Holy Father because its abbot was subservient to an abbess.’

‘So you were asking Sister Dianaimh if the Abbot of Sléibhte, Abbot Aéd, was pressing his own case to be regarded as a primacy?’ clarified Fidelma.

‘The Venerable Verax wanted an assurance, so I thought that I would ask her.’

‘And did you get the information you wished?’

‘Not really.’

‘So why did you think that Sister Dianaimh, who was
bann-mhaor
to Abbess Líoch of Cill Náile, would have any particular information about Sléibhte?’ Fidelma asked.

‘As I said, I was told she had links with the Abbey of Sléibhte,’ muttered Brother Bosa.

‘Could it have been that she had recently been observed at Sléibhte by Brother Cerdic? And would
that
have been the reason why she was invited especially to Cashel to meet with your deputation?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘We have been trying to understand why Abbess Líoch and her steward Sister Dianaimh had been invited by Brother Cerdic to attend here. It was pointed out to the abbess that it was in her interest to do so. If the purpose of your deputation was merely to gather such information – as could have been obtained by other simple means – why invite the abbess of a new and small community that would not rank in such research?’

‘We did not know Brother Cerdic had extended such an invitation,’ protested the scribe.

‘But he did. Apparently he went to Sléibhte and saw Sister Dianaimh there. It occurs to me that he, or your deputation, needed Sister Dianaimh at this meeting in Cashel. He could not openly invite her as an individual, but if he invited Abbess Líoch, then she would naturally bring her steward.’

Brother Bosa was looking blank. ‘You have lost me, lady,’ he said.

‘The mystery is,’ Fidelma was reflective, ‘why go to all that trouble, simply to get such information? Had your deputation gone to the High King’s palace at Tara and sat with Cenn Faelad and his Brehon Sedna, you would have learned all this, without the necessity of a journey to each kingdom. It makes me wonder if there is some other, hidden purpose to your deputation.’

Brother Bosa flushed. ‘What other purpose could there be?’ he blustered.

‘Are you selling anything?’ Eadulf blurted out, even surprising Fidelma.

‘Selling . . .? What do you mean?’ demanded the scribe, startled.

‘I had the impression last evening that I was being asked if Abbot Ségdae would give something – presumably pay out for some sort of approval if he made a claim for the primacy. I am told you appeared to be asking the same question of Sister Dianaimh about Abbot Aéd.’

‘King Fianamail had already told us that Abbot Aéd was supporting the claims of Abbot Ségéne of Ard Macha,’ replied Brother Bosa angrily, then realised he had confirmed his interest.

‘So is
that
why you are here?’ smiled Eadulf. ‘You are here to find the highest bidder among the abbots of these kingdoms for the recognition of the primacy by Rome?’

The muscles in Brother Bosa’s face had tightened. ‘What nonsense is this?’ he spluttered. ‘Do you really think the Holy Father would countenance the buying and selling of such office?’

‘Why not?’ replied Eadulf easily. ‘Buying favours seems a natural human failing.’

‘Absolute nonsense,’ snapped Brother Bosa. ‘Now, if you will excuse me!’ He pushed roughly past them and headed to the steps leading down into the courtyard.

‘Well, well,’ breathed Eadulf after he had gone. ‘That seemed to upset him. But I cannot understand why Abbot Aéd would support Ard Macha, if his abbey has a prior claim of seniority.’

‘Simple enough,’ returned Fidelma. ‘It is a matter of politics rather than religion. The first Bishop and Abbot of Sléibhte, Fiacc, was a prince of the Uí Bairrche. They were once the ruling clan of Laighin. But Fiacc’s brother, Prince Oénghus, slew Crimmthan, a prince of the Uí Cennselaigh. And so the Uí Cennselaigh have gradually erased the power of the Uí Bairrche from all their strongholds in Laighin in retribution. Abbot Aéd is of the Uí Bairrche and he knows that ecclesiastical and political overlord-ship work in tandem. He doubtless fears that the Uí Cennselaigh will take over his great abbey. If he has agreed to recognise Ard Macha as having primacy over his abbey, and thereby receive its protection, then he has obviously been moved by the politics of power.’

For a moment or two, Eadulf stood digesting this information.

‘But that doesn’t seem to fit with what the warrior, Muiredach, told us he saw at Sléibhte. What was it that Sister Dianaimh was meant to acquire – and was her bag of valuable coins to be used to purchase it?’

Fidelma leaned against the wall, her hands clasped before her as she gazed out at the green swathe below. Eadulf waited nervously, in case he had said the wrong thing.