Peter Tremayne - Master of Souls

‘But when you married, when you became Cinaed’s cetmuintir, the abbot must have acknowledged you as such?’ Fidelma said, making it into a question.

Sister Buan made a sound that seemed to indicate derision.

‘Abbot Erc was so against our union that he refused to perform the ceremony. In fact, no one here would do it for fear of the abbot’s displeasure.’

Fidelma’s brows came together.

‘So Abbot Erc was not such a friend to Cinaed or you?’

‘No friend at all. Had it not been for the visit of an old acquaintance of Cinaed’s from the abbey of Colman, one who was ordained to confirm the marriage contract, we would have had no one to bless our union, for Cinaed was not able, in his frail years, to travel far.’

Fidelma rose slowly from her seat, followed by Eadulf.

‘Thank you, Sister Buan, you have been most helpful. What is your intention now? I presume that you will remain in the abbey?’

The woman looked almost helpless.

‘That I don’t know. No one has advised me on my position. I was cetmuintir to Cinaed. Am I allowed to stay in his chambers? Am I allowed to pursue compensation for his murder? Can I keep his possessions? I do not know my rights in this matter.’

‘No one has spoken to you?’

‘No one. There is no trained Brehon in the community. Only Brother Eolas has some knowledge of the law and he is hardly sympathetic to me.’

‘Then leave it to me, Sister Buan. I will see what the books of law have to say on this matter. But I am sure you have certain rights as his widow.’

Fidelma knew that all religious communities were still subject to the law of the Fenechus. Each abbey was part of the territory of the ruling clan and the clan assembly allotted the use of the lands on which the abbeys and churches stood to the clergy for their support on the condition that it was not regarded as private property. One of the assembly members, a lay person, acted as the liaison between the abbot and bishop and the local ruler who ensured the law was carried out. In this instance, Fidelma had already learnt that Conri was that person.

However, Sister Buan’s case lay in an area of law that Fidelma had not considered before and had little knowledge of. The relationship of individuals and their own property within the abbey needed to be checked. She would have to look up the exact position of Sister Buan within those laws. Was she considered to have the same rights as the wife of a layman? If so those rights were considerable. She was sure the abbey library, the tech-screptra, would have the necessary law books.

Sister Buan rose with a brightness in her eyes.

‘How can I thank you, Sister? You have been most kind to me…’

Fidelma felt a little uncomfortable as the woman grabbed her hands with enthusiasm.

‘No thanks are necessary for I have not yet done anything. But I will do so. I may be away from Ard Fheatra for a short time but have no fear. I shall return and resolve this matter of your status as well as that of the murder of your husband.’

Outside the chamber, Fidelma paused and looked at Eadulf who had grown fairly quiet towards the end of their interview.

‘You seem distracted.’

Eadulf, still deep in thought, raised his head.

‘Distracted? Oh, it’s just that I had a curious feeling of having met Sister Buan somewhere before. But I can’t recall where. It’s irritating, like an itch you want to scratch but can’t find the location of.’

Fidelma smiled indulgently.

‘Well, I find Sister Buan most interesting,’ she said.

Eadulf raised an eyebrow in query.

‘In what way “interesting”?’ he asked.

‘The amount of information that tripped from her lips compared to the stone wall that has been erected by everyone else, from the abbot to the physician, from the steward to the Venerable Mac Faosma. None of them have been as forthcoming as Sister Buan. And her reports of conversations, her interpretations of the burnt note… so exact. The question is “why?”. Why has everyone else sought to give us as little information as possible?’

‘Because they all have something to hide?’ hazarded Eadulf.

‘Or is it that Sister Buan is misdirecting us?’ suggested Fidelma pointedly.

‘I don’t think that she is intelligent enough to play such a deep game.’

‘Never underestimate a woman’s intelligence, Eadulf,’ Fidelma admonished.

Eadulf glanced slyly at her.

‘That is the last thing I would do. If I have learnt nothing else in my life these last few years, I have learnt that simple philosophy. On the other hand,’ Eadulf went on, ‘maybe there is some strange conspiracy here? What was it that Cinaed was fearful of?’

‘And if there was a conspiracy, why would the abbot, if he is part of it, allow Conr to ride to Cashel to bring us here to investigate the matter?’

‘You forget that he did not know who Conri would be bringing to the abbey,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘But I’ll agree that Abbot Erc did not really want us to investigate Cinaed’s death.’

‘It is bewildering,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘One thing is certain, we will have to question everyone again in the light of what Sister Buan has told us.’

‘Might that not endanger her?’

She ignored his question. ‘The person I am now looking forward to

‘Well, from what you have told me about the attitude of the Venerable Mac Faosma, he is certainly responsible for the burning of Cinaed’s book. Therefore, he could well have been responsible for his death. Even if he did not do it physically, he might well have ordered another to do it — that Brother Benen, for example. My suspect is the Venerable Mac Faosma.’

Fidelma smiled without humour.

‘You may well be right. There is a tangled skein here that needs to be unravelled. At least, thanks to Sister Buan, we have some ends of the skein to begin to pick at and hopefully disentangle.’

Conri had returned to inform Fidelma and Eadulf that Mugron, the merchant, was prepared to take them across the sound to the land of the Corco Duibhne in the morning providing the weather was reasonable. The dangers of the waters round the coast meant that he would not attempt the crossing if there was bad weather. However, the prospects were favourable, for the storms and high winds they had been experiencing should, by tradition, lead to dull, wet weather with softer winds and a warmer temperature.

‘It should be a fine morning,’ conceded Conri, ‘but I would not count on it.’

Eadulf frowned.

‘Why not?’ he demanded.

Conri indicated the sky with a gesture of his hand. The clouds that afternoon were very high and wispy in appearance. Fidelma explained their significance to Eadulf.

‘We sometimes call those clouds mares’ tails. They can foretell that bad weather is on the way. Never mind. We still have plenty of tasks to keep us occupied here.’

When Conri expressed surprise, Fidelma briefly recounted some of the information that Sister Buan had given them.

Conri made a soft whistling sound.

‘I cannot see what link there could be between my aunt’s murder and the killing of the Venerable Cinaed,’ he said. ‘Do you really think there is one?’

‘We cannot reject the idea,’ Fidelma replied. ‘All we can say is that while people are not exactly lying to us, they are not telling us the complete truth. We have to ask the question — why?’

Conri nodded agreement. ‘So what do you mean to do now?’

‘I mean to question Sister Sinnchene next.’

‘Should I accompany you?’

Fidelma hesitated, then shook her head firmly.

‘Perhaps it would be better if you and Eadulf did not come with me. This questioning may touch on matters that are delicate for her, which she may better deal with woman to woman than with a male present.’