Peter Tremayne - A Prayer for the Damned

‘I’ve seen you before. .’ gasped Eadulf, recovering his breath.

‘This is Sister Sétach,’ Enda said. ‘I denied her entry here only a short time ago.’

Fidelma came forward. ‘She does not seem to have obeyed you, Enda,’ she said softly.

Enda glanced at her. ‘Lady, I swear she did not get by me. I told her that she was not allowed here and have been outside ever since.’

‘I believe you,’ Fidelma assured him. She turned to the girl, who was now on her feet, looking shaken but defiant. ‘How did you get in here?’

The girl did not reply but raised her chin pugnaciously.

Fidelma glanced towards the window. She knew that there was a small ledge that ran round the fortress walls just under the windows of these chambers, no more than a footstep in width and with a drop of fifty metres below. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

‘You are either very brave or very foolish,’ she commented as she pointed to a chair. ‘Sit down.’ She glanced at Enda. ‘Leave the lantern with us and remain outside.’

Reluctantly, Enda sheathed his sword and put down the lantern. He took a candle and lit it from the lantern flame, and then, with an irritated glance at the now seated girl, he withdrew.

Eadulf went to stand by the window, pushing back the curtain and glancing out. Even though the darkness obscured most of the fall, he shuddered. He would not have ventured on to the little ledge unless forced.

Fidelma had taken a seat on the edge of the bed, facing the girl, and now examined her features closely. Initially, she thought that it was the same young girl she had seen at the game of immán , the one who had seemed so fascinated by the play. But this religieuse was less slightly built, with darker hair and features and perhaps some years older. There was an odour of scent about her, some fragrance that Fidelma was not familiar with.

‘So, Sister Sétach, what was so important here that you must risk your life in such a perilous manner?’

The girl shrugged. ‘You would not understand.’

‘I cannot understand unless you attempt to tell me.’

This was met with silence.

‘Would you like to tell me where you climbed out on to the ledge to make your way here so that the guard did not see you?’

‘There is a window at the end of the corridor.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened a little. ‘You crawled along that ledge for a distance of ten metres?’

‘There was room enough to move along the ledge without crawling, as you put it.’

‘So, again I ask you, what was so valuable that you must gain access to this chamber by such a means?’

The girl was silent for a moment and Fidelma was about to press her authority on her when she said: ‘I wanted to make sure that Abbot Ultán’s possessions had not been taken.’

Fidelma was puzzled. ‘Why would they be?’

The girl was silent again. Fidelma was exasperated.

‘Do you know that I am a dálaigh , a representative of the courts, and that you have to answer my questions?’

The girl’s chin rose defiantly. ‘I know well who you are. You are Fidelma of Cashel, masquerading as a religieuse. You are defending the murderer who slaughtered Abbot Ultán.’

Fidelma heard the hostility in the girl’s voice. ‘You have been identified as Sister Sétach. Is that so?’ she asked mildly.

The girl nodded.

‘You have a companion who also served the late Abbot Ultán. What is her name?’

‘Sister Marga.’ The girl sounded reluctant in her response.

‘Very well, Sister Sétach. I am, indeed, Fidelma of Cashel, and I am also dálaigh . Whatever else you think I am, remember that I am a representative of the law and as such you are duty bound to answer my questions. Do you understand?’

Once more there was silence.

‘Do you know the phrase qui tacet consentit — those who remain silent consent? I will take it that your silence means that you do understand. Now, I understand that you came here in the company of Ultán.’

‘Of Ultán, abbot of Cill Ria,’ snapped the girl.

Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘Exactly so. What was your task in that company?’

‘I was a record keeper, as was my sister in Christ, Sister Marga.’

‘You both served in the abbey of Cill Ria?’

The girl hesitated. ‘The abbey is divided into two separate communities, one for males and the other for females.’

‘So I understand,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘What sort of records were you keeping?’

The girl shifted uneasily on her seat. ‘Brother Drón was the scribe to Abbot Ultán. He was our immediate superior.’

‘We have spoken with Brother Drón. I would like to know from you about your own work.’

‘Then you will know that Abbot Ultán was sent as envoy from the archiepiscopus of Ard Macha to bring order into the churches of the five kingdoms and secure the Blessed Patrick’s church as the primacy. We were travelling through the kingdoms and discussing these matters with the bishops and abbots. It was my task — and that of Sister Marga — to make the records of these meetings so that we might, on our return to Ard Macha, present a full account of matters to the Comarb of Patrick.’

‘I understand. And how did you regard Abbot Ultán?’

A frown crossed Sister Sétach’s forehead. ‘What do you mean?’ she said defensively.

‘You are from Cill Ria and you have travelled many miles with Abbot Ultán. Did you like him? What did you think of him?’

Sister Sétach hesitated. ‘He was a wonderful and pious man,’ she replied, but there was a hesitation in her voice which was not lost on either Fidelma or Eadulf.

‘How long had you known him?’

‘Since I entered the community of Cill Ria.’

‘And when was that?’

‘Three years ago.’

‘Were you chosen by the abbot for this task, this keeping of records?’

Sister Sétach shook her head.

‘So how did you join this embassy? Through Brother Drón?’

‘It was Sister Marga who asked me to join her as her companion. The abbot had asked her to come along to keep the records and said she could choose a companion to help her. She asked me.’

‘I see. But you were happy to come?’

The girl nodded emphatically. ‘It was a wonderful way to see the world beyond the Sperrins.’

‘The what?’

‘They are mountains in the country of Cill Ria. I had never been south before.’

‘And did you get on well with Abbot Ultán?’

Again there came the slight frown. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Fidelma sighed impatiently. ‘Was Ultán a pleasant person to work for? Were you at ease in his company? Was he a demanding taskmaster?’

‘He was demanding. . yes,’ said Sister Sétach. ‘He was especially so with Brother Drón, who was his close adviser in the discussions. Sister Marga and I merely made the records of our travels.’

‘In the time that you spent at Cill Ria did you ever hear any stories about Ultán, about the time before he entered the religious life?’

Again came that defensive lifting of the chin. ‘There were stories,’ the girl Fínally admitted.

‘What did you think of them?’

‘They were of no concern to me. What a person has done in the past remains in the past so long as, if they have done wrong, they have truly repented and sought forgiveness. Is that not the essence of the Faith, Fidelma of Cashel?’

‘So you were happy with Ultán?’

‘That is not the way I would view it. I served the Faith in Cill Ria and Abbot Ultán was the superior there. He was regarded by all as a man of piety and strength, a great leader and reformer, who, in his martyrdom, will soon become venerated throughout the five kingdoms.’