Peter Tremayne - Whispers of the Dead

“You must send another messenger to Cashel immediately to find this man. He is one of the King’s messengers so his identity should be easy to discover. He must be brought here as an important witness.” She turned on her heel but at the door she paused and glanced back at the scowling Brehon and then looked at the unhappy steward.

“I shall expect my orders to be carried out, Brother Cass. I shall now speak with the abbot.”

Abbot Rígán was, at first meeting, a likable man; friendly, concerned, and bewildered at the situation in which he found himself. Only after talking to him for a time did Fidelma find that he was, indeed, rigid in his beliefs and a passionate supporter of the Roman Rule of the Faith.

“Did you kill Brother Eolang?” Fidelma demanded in opening the conversation after she had introduced herself.

“As God is my witness, I did not,” replied the abbot solemnly.

“Have you heard the nature of the evidence against you?”

“It is ridiculous! Surely no reasonable person would countenance such evidence as worth considering.”

“Brehon Gormán does. There is much to be explained in that evidence. Over a week ago Brother Eolang foretold that on such a day he would be killed by either drowning or poisoning. No one can deny that he did die in such circumstances.”

The abbot was silent.

“Brother Eolang said that if that circumstance happened, you would be responsible for his death.”

“But that is rubbish.”

“The Brehon says that if one part of the prediction is true, why not the other?”

“I refuse to answer the prattling of superstition.”

“I am told, Father Abbot, that you and Brother Eolang were not friends. That you criticized him because he practiced astrology. Superstition, as you have just called it.”

Abbot Rígán nodded emphatically.

“Doesn’t Deuteronomy say-‘Nor must you raise your eyes to the heavens and look up to the sun, the moon, and the stars, all the host of heaven, and be led on to bow down to them and worship them. .’?”

Fidelma inclined her head.

“I know the passage. Our astrologers would say that they do not worship the stars, but are guided by their patterns, for that very passage of Deuteronomy continues where you left off ‘. . the Lord your God created these for the various peoples under heaven.’ If He created them, why should we be afraid to follow their guidance?”

The abbot sniffed disparagingly.

“You have a quick tongue, Sister. But it is clear that God forbade star worship. Jeremiah says ‘do not be awed by signs in the heavens’. .”

“Our astrologers would say that they don’t worship the stars. They would point out that Jeremiah is actually admitting that there are, indeed, signs in the heavens, and he merely admonishes us not to be awed by them with the implication we should understand them and learn by them.”

“Not at all!” snapped the abbot. “Isaiah says:-

Let your astrologers, your star-gazers

who foretell your future month by month,

persist, and save you!

But look, they are gone like chaff;

fire burns them up. .”

“Isaiah was addressing the Babylonians during the exile of the Israelites in Babylon. Naturally, he would belittle their leaders. The point is, Abbot, whether you like it or not, astrology accuses you and astrology must, therefore, defend you.”

“I will not be defended by that which my faith denies.”

“Then you cannot be defended at all,” said Fidelma, rising. “If a man comes with a stick to beat you, would you say that I will not defend myself for that man has no right to use that stick as a weapon?”

She was at the door when the abbot coughed nervously. She turned back expectantly.

“In what way would you defend me?” he muttered.

“Where were you when Eolang was drowned?” she asked.

“That morning I was engaged in the accounts of the community. Our brethren make leather goods and sell them and thus we are able to sustain our little community.”

“Was anyone with you?”

Abbot Rígán shrugged.

“I was alone all morning until Brother Cass came to report the finding of Brother Eolang to me. I detected a strange atmosphere in the community for I was unaware of this nonsense about a prediction. I was therefore surprised when Brother Cass informed me that he had already sent for a Brehon based on information he had received. I was more surprised when the Brehon arrived and I found myself accused of killing Eolang.”

“The prediction is damning,” pointed out Fidelma.

“Could it be that Brother Eolang killed himself to spite me?”

“In my experience, suicides do not hit themselves over the head and drown nor is spite considered a sufficient motive for killing oneself.”

“It sounds as if you believe this prediction and therefore my guilt.”

“My task, Father Abbot, is to investigate the facts and if the facts show you to be guilty, then my oath as a dálaigh forbids me to hide your guilt from the court. My task would only be to explain any special circumstances which caused your guilt. A dálaigh cannot intentionally protect the guilty before the courts. But, I emphasize, judgment must be based on facts.”

When the abbot tried to speak again she raised her hand to silence him.

“At the moment, I have no judgment one way or the other. I have a suspicion of what happened but I cannot prove my suspicion before the Brehon. I am not, therefore, in full possession of the facts.”

Twenty-four hours had to pass before Brother Cass announced that his messengers were returning from Cashel.

Sister Fidelma went to the main gate to watch the boat crossing the lake towards the pier. Her sharp eyes immediately spotted the bent figure of the elderly Brother Conchobar in the stern of the boat. Her anxious eyes found a second figure, a young warrior, seated next to him.

“Brother Conchobar, I am glad that you have come,” she greeted as they stepped ashore.

The old man smiled, a slow, sad smile.

“I heard of your curious case from the messenger you sent. This is Ferchar, by the way.”

The young warrior bowed to Fidelma. He did not forget that Fidelma was sister to the King of Cashel.

“Lady, I heard that the man drowned. I am sorrowful that I was not able to do anything more than I did. Alas, it was too far for me to swim across the lake to his rescue.”

Fidelma glanced anxiously from Ferchar to Conchobar as a thought struck her.

“Have either of you discussed this matter with one another on your journey here?”

Brother Conchobar shook his head. It was Ferchar who answered.

“Lady, we know that the method of giving evidence says that no witnesses may confer with another about the event. We have kept our silence on this matter.”

One of the brethren, whom Brother Cass had sent to bring them to the abbey, came forward.

“I can swear to this before the Brehon if need be, Sister. These men have not spoken of the matter since we found them and brought them hither.”

“Excellent,” Fidelma was relieved. “Come with me.”

Fidelma led them to Brother Cass’s chamber where Brehon Gormán was waiting impatiently.

“This judgment on this matter has been delayed a full twenty-four hours. I hope this has not been a waste of time.”

“Justice, as you must know, Brehon Gormán, is never a waste of time. I have asked Brother Conchobar to wait outside while we now hear from an eyewitness.”

She motioned to Ferchar.

Brehon Gormán examined the young warrior.

“State your name and position.”

“I am Ferchar of the bodyguard of King Colgú and act as his messenger.”

“What is your evidence in the matter of the murder of Brother Eolang?”