Peter Tremayne - Master of Souls

Fidelma was reminded that ‘little vixen’ was the meaning of the name Sinnchene.

‘Why should she want to do so? To lure Cinaed away from you, I mean?’

‘She must answer that question.’

‘What did your husband say?’

‘He said he thought she was a silly child enamoured only of his reputation and prestige. He thought that she wanted to use his position to make a place for herself.’

‘But you and Cinaed were married,’ Eadulf pointed out.

‘In some places second marriages are not proscribed,’ Sister Buan replied. ‘A man or woman can marry a second spouse while still married to the first.’

Fidelma knew that some of the old laws of polygamy had survived from the time before the New Faith. But the New Faith frowned on having more than one wife or husband.

‘Do you mean that she attempted to get Cinaed to take her as a dormun?’ she asked. The term was the old one for other female marital partners or concubines.

‘I believe so.’

‘Did you ever challenge Sister Sinnchene about it?’ queried Eadulf.

‘I once told her to leave him alone. But she was insulting and openly defiant. She replied with the old saying that the man with one cow will sometimes want milk.’

‘Were you angry at that?’

‘I knew Cinaed,’ she said emphatically. ‘He had no interest in her. Besides, do not the country folk have another saying — an old bird is not caught with chaff?’

‘Did you ask anyone to advise Sister Sinnchene that the practice is frowned upon by the New Faith?’

‘As a matter of fact, I did. Brother Eolas has some knowledge of the law but when I went to see him he seemed to support the old ways. He quoted some book to me that said there was a dispute in the law on the matter, and concluded that as the Chosen People of God lived in polygamy, so it was much easier to praise the custom than to condemn it.’

Fidelma sighed. She knew the passage from the Bretha Crolige in which the Brehon showed from the ancient texts that the Hebrews dwelt in a plurality of unions. She tried to return to the immediate matter.

‘So you heard Sister Sinnchene and Brother Cu Mara speaking together?’ she said. ‘You did not make your presence known because you thought you might hear what Sister Sinnchene had to say about your husband? Something important?’

‘Once I heard Cinaed’s name spoken, I paused outside the door. Sinnchene had said something about Cinaed and then the rechtaire said, “We cannot be over cautious.” Sinnchene replied, “Surely there is no way that Cinaed would have revealed that secret to the Abbess Faife?” The rechtaire responded, “Yet the abbess’s body was found near that very spot. That must mean there was some connection.” There was a pause and, thinking that I had been discovered, I fell to making a noise as I came in with the clothing for the wash.’

‘You have a good memory, Sister,’ observed Fidelma. ‘Was anything said to you?’

Sister Buan shook her head.

‘Brother Cu Mara pretended that he, too, had brought washing in and made a point of thanking Sister Sinnchene for taking it as he left.’

‘Did Sister Sinnchene say anything else to you?’

‘She scowled at me, which is her usual way, and took the clothing from me in an ungracious manner, so I left.’

‘Did you deduce anything from this exchange?’

Sister Buan shrugged.

‘That this secret, this fear, that Cinaed had on the night before his death, might have been a fear that he had shared with the Abbess Faife.’

‘But how?’

Sister Buan looked puzzled at Fidelma’s question. It was Eadulf who interpreted it for her.

‘Abbess Faife must have been dead over ten days when Cinaed was killed, and she was found a long way away from the abbey. How then could he have shared this secret, or fear, as you put it?’

She appeared not to have considered the point before.

‘I have no way of knowing. The day before Abbess Faife and her followers left for the abbey of Colman, I set out to trade for silver on behalf of our craftsmen. When I returned to the abbey, Cinaed told me the news that Mugron had arrived with word of Abbess Faife’s death. Apparently her companions had disappeared. Cinaed did not tell me of any secret he shared with her but sometimes they would work together in his study, and they combined on writing one or two of his works.’

‘Indeed?’ Fidelma raised an eyebrow.

‘She was a kind woman. Abbess Faife had known Cinaed for many years. She was one of the aire — the nobles of the Ui Fidgente. She was aunt to Conri the warlord who brought you hither.’

‘And you did not mind her working with Cinaed?’ Eadulf suddenly asked.

She looked at him in bewilderment.

‘Why should I do so?’

‘Well, I presume that you would object to Sister Sinnchene working in his study?’ replied Eadulf. ‘Don’t you have a saying here that it is easy to knead when meal is at hand?’

Sister Buan looked as if she was about to smile, then she shook her head.

‘You have a wicked sense of humour, Brother. And I will confess this: Cinaed was not capable of rising to such an occasion.’

‘So Cinaed’s relationship with the abbess was purely to work with her, or she with him, on some of the scholastic projects?’ clarified Eadulf. ‘Do you know which works she co-operated on?’

Sister Buan raised a shoulder and let it fall.

‘I know there was a recent one that had just been completed before the abbess left for Breanainn’s mount. Cinaed had passed it to Brother Eolas the librarian who, having read it, came to see Cinaed in a state of great excitement.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I do not know. Cinaed took him into his study but I heard their voices raised.’

‘Do you know why? Didn’t Cinaed make any comment?’ asked Fidelma. Sister Buan simply made another negative gesture.

‘All I know is that, as he was leaving, I heard Brother Eolas say that the Venerable Mac Faosma would fall in such a rage when he read this work. Ah, yes, I recall… He said that “even with Eoganan two years dead, this will cause division and anger”. Even as he left, I think he was trying to persuade Cinaed not to insist on placing it in the library.’

‘Do you recognise the title Scripta quae ad rempublicum geredam pertinet?’ asked Fidelma.

The woman gestured helplessly. ‘I have told you that I have no knowledge of any other language saving my everyday speech.’

Fidelma sighed. ‘I will ask Brother Eolas about this. I suspect, however,

‘It may be so,’ agreed Sister Buan. ‘He was a great one for preaching how this or that ruler should behave towards their neighbours.’

‘Did Cinaed do all his own calligraphy?’

Sister Buan looked bewildered.

Sister Fidelma was patient. ‘When he wrote his work and made the final draft, did he write it all himself?’

The slight woman brightened. ‘Oh yes. He was proud of his hand. But he did use Brother Faolchair as a copyist. Faolchair made copies of most of Cinaed’s works.’

‘Of course,’ Eadulf said in an aside, ‘Brother Eolas told us that Faolchair was copying that book on precious stones, what was it — De ars sordida gemmae?’

‘A last question,’ Fidelma said, after a moment or two’s thought. ‘How did Cinaed and you get along with Abbot Erc?’

‘Abbot Erc?’ Sister Buan pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘He left us alone. To me he was always remote.’

‘Remote?’

‘I came to this abbey because I had no family to support me. No status except that I was young, strong and ready to work. So I came here and joined the brethren.’ She sniffed. ‘And for the first years I found that life was just as hard. The abbot gave me the chance to trade for the abbey but he disapproved of my marriage to Cinaed.’