Peter Tremayne - Master of Souls

‘You and your companions have all done this work for some time?’

‘I started my training as soon as I came to the abbey, which was just after I reached the age of choice. Most of the others have worked about ten years or so at the art.’

Eadulf pointed to some implements on a bench.

‘Are those bows?’ he asked curiously. ‘In what manner would you use those?’

Sister Easdan smiled easily.

‘They are what we call bow lathes, Brother. We work the stone with them and drill holes in the stones with them so that we may string necklaces. It takes a long time to prepare a single necklace, including the cutting and polishing of the stones. Sometimes we have to use special liquids to lubricate the crystals for the grinding and polishing.’

Fidelma was silent for a while, looking at the range of work tools.

‘If the expertise of you and your companions was not known outside the abbey, how do you think it came to the ears of those who abducted you?’ asked Fidelma.

Sister Easdan considered the matter silently for a while and then she said: ‘I suppose the only answer is that the information came from inside the abbey. Or, of course, the merchant Mugron would have known.’

‘But the information would have had to be specific,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘Your abductors would have had to know that you were all travelling with Abbess Faife on your way to Breanainn’s mount, and to know exactly by what road and the day on which you would be passing the spot where you were attacked.’

‘Only a few people would have known that.’

‘Did Sister Sinnchene know it?’

‘There is no reason why she should.’

‘Did you know that she asked Abbess Faife if she could join you?’

As the girl was shaking her head, something caught Fidelma’s eye, flickering in the rays of the sun, something that sparkled and flashed in a thousand little points of light on the workbench.

She moved to it and ran a finger over it and then, with a pinching

‘What exactly is this?’ she asked.

Sister Easdan peered at the granular crystals and then grimaced.

‘It is only powdered stone.’

‘Corundum?’ Eadulf intervened.

‘Exactly so,’ Sister Easdan replied. ‘We use it in the grinding process of the precious stones. We choose a particular crystallised rock, crystal we know is especially hard. The crystals are almost opaque and we have to smash them until they fragment into little pieces, just as you see there. We sort them until we find splinters that we can use with the bow lathe to drill holes into those stones we wish to string together. Other particles, the finer ones, we use to grind against the stones to produce the shapes which are required. The process is called lec- geraigid.’

Fidelma’s eyes suddenly widened. A look of triumph began to spread across her features but she swiftly controlled it.

‘You said once that the Venerable Cinaed visited here?’

Sister Easdan made an affirmative gesture.

‘When was this?’

‘Some time ago.’

‘Months?’

‘About two months, only a short time before we left. Why?’

‘He came to this workshop and talked to you and your companions, you said. Remind me, about what?’

Sister Easdan shrugged.

‘Just generally about our work, the techniques. Although, now I think of it, he was especially interested in where the stones were found, their type and value… I think he was especially interested in their value.’

Fidelma smiled at Eadulf.

‘I think I am beginning to see the connection,’ she said with some relief in her tone. ‘I think I finally see where the Venerable Cinaed may be involved in all this.’

‘I don’t understand,’ replied Eadulf in bewilderment.

‘We were concerned with a book that the Venerable Cinaed had written. We were concentrating on his political work. Don’t you remember? We should have been thinking about his new work — De ars sordida gemmae, a critical tract on the local trade in these gemstones.’

‘Do you mean that he was murdered because of a book he wrote on our work?’ gasped Sister Easdan.

‘We must find out some more,’ Fidelma replied. ‘It is a pity that book was destroyed but I believe we can guess the reason now.’ She gave a last glance around the workshop and sighed. ‘I have seen all that I need to see.’

They moved through the door and paused while Sister Easdan turned to lock it.

It was a slight sound, a movement of air, which caused Eadulf to turn with a cry of alarm and throw himself at Fidelma, knocking her sideways from the step.

As they both fell sprawling, a heavy stone block smashed into the spot where Fidelma had been standing a moment before.

Sister Easdan turned with a scream, staring at the shattered stone. Eadulf was already on his feet, hauling Fidelma up but scanning the upper storey of the stone building. He saw at once the gap in the parapet from which the stone had fallen.

‘How do you get to the upper floor?’ he shouted to the still shocked Sister Easdan. ‘Quickly now!’

Unable to speak, she simply pointed to a side door.

It was unlocked. Eadulf was through it and racing up a narrow enclosed stone stairway that led along the side of the building, passing the second floor and up to the flat roof. There was no one there. He looked around. He made his way to the parapet where the stone block was missing. He bent to examine the markings where the block had stood.

There was a noise behind him.

He swung round in a defensive position and found Fidelma had arrived. ‘A loose block?’ she asked.

He pulled a face.

‘A loose block that was helped,’ he replied sharply, pointing to the scratch marks. ‘Someone has deliberately prised it loose. They meant to kill you, I think.’

Fidelma took the news in her stride.

‘That means that we are fairly close to a resolution,’ she said calmly. ‘But how did they get off this roof so quickly?’ she added, looking about.

The answer was obvious. The end of the building was close to the main dormitory block of the abbey. A leap of a metre would take one on to a flat narrow walkway designed for the maintenance of that building’s roof, and the walkway led to a small door.

‘Shall I follow?’ Eadulf asked.

Fidelma made a negative gesture.

‘They are long gone, I think. You will never be able to identify the culprit.’

There came the sound of footsteps below from the narrow passage that led between the two buildings at ground level. Sister Sinnchene was walking along with a basket of clothing in her arms, obviously carrying out the task of delivering the washing. Fidelma turned back to the stairway.

‘We should see that Sister Easdan is all right,’ she said. ‘She had a shock.’

As they rejoined Sister Easdan in the workshop, Brother Cu Mara entered.

‘There is some debris on the ground outside, a stone seems to have fallen,’ he announced worriedly.

‘We know,’ Fidelma smile thinly. ‘A loose stone has fallen by accident but no harm has been done.’

The steward hesitated a moment and cleared his throat.

‘I came to offer my apologies for my rudeness yesterday,’ he said stiffly.

‘As steward of this abbey, I should not give way to personal emotion. I am sorry.’

Eadulf examined the steward with narrowed eyes. ‘How did you know we were here?’ he asked abruptly.

Brother Cu Mara frowned. ‘Sister Sinnchene passed as I was speaking to Sister Uallann and Sister Buan and I asked her if she knew where you were.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Fidelma said solemnly. ‘Your apology is accepted, Brother Cu Mara, these are stressful days for us all. It might have helped if I had been told earlier that the missing members of the community were all stone cutters and polishers, though.’