Peter Tremayne - Whispers of the Dead

“I suppose you are the dálaigh from Cashel?”

“You suppose correctly. I am Fidelma of Cashel.”

The man seemed to sigh and shiver slightly.

“I have heard of your reputation, Sister. You have a way of ferreting out information.”

Fidelma smiled broadly.

“I am not sure whether you mean that as a compliment, Brother. I will accept it as such.”

“I must tell you something before you discover it for yourself and place a wrong interpretation on it.” The monk seemed anxious. “Have you heard of Caisín of Inis Geimhleach?”

Fidelma frowned and shook her head.

“I know Inis Geimhleach, the imprisoned island, a small settlement in Loch Allua, a wild and beautiful spot.”

At her side, Brehon Tuama suddenly snapped his fingers with a triumphant exclamation.

“Caisín. . I have heard the story. Caisín was a warrior turned thief! It was ten years ago that he was found guilty of stealing from the church there. He claimed that he had repented and went into the service of the church and disappeared. .”

Brehon Tuama’s voice trailed off. His eyes narrowed on the religieux before him.

“Caisín of Inis Geimhleach? Are you saying that you are that man?” Fidelma articulated the conclusion of his thoughts.

The monk bowed his head and nodded.

Brehon Tuama turned to Fidelma with a glance of satisfaction: “Then, Sister, we. .”

Fidelma stilled him with a warning glance.

“So, Caisín, why do you confess this now?”

“I have paid penance for my crime and have continued to serve in the abbey of Cluain. You might discover this and leap to the wrong conclusion.”

“So why did you not reveal this before, when the Brehon questioned you?” she demanded.

Caisín flushed.

“One does not always do the correct thing at the correct time. This last day, I have had a chance to think more carefully. I realized it was foolish not to be completely honest even though it has nothing to do with the current matter.”

Fidelma sighed.

“Well, your honesty does you credit in the circumstances. Tell me, in your own words, what happened when you discovered the body of Muirenn, the wife of the smith.”

Caisín spread his arms in a sort of helpless gesture.

“There is nothing complicated about it. My abbot told me that some time ago he had commissioned a new silver cross for our high altar from Findach the Smith. I was instructed to come to Droim Sorn to collect it.”

“How was payment to be made to Findach?” asked Fidelma.

Caisín looked bewildered.

“The abbot made no reference to payment. He simply asked me to come and collect the cross. As it was for the high altar, I understood it to be heavy, and so I asked permission to take one of the mules from the abbey. I had been to Droim Sorn before and so I knew where to find Findach’s forge.”

Fidelma glanced quickly at him.

“You went to the forge directly?”

“Oh yes. Where else would I go to collect the cross?”

“Where, indeed? What then?”

“Findach was at the forge, and when I arrived he told me that the cross was at his house and I should precede him there. He would join me once he had doused his furnace.”

“Was anyone else at the forge when you arrived?”

“No. . well, I did see a man riding away.”

“I don’t suppose you knew who it was?”

Brother Caisín surprised her by an affirmative nod.

“I recognized him later as Odar, the chieftain. He had his hunting dogs with him. I left Findach and went to the house. I arrived at the door. It was slightly ajar. I caught sight of clothing on the floor. I pushed the door open and then I realized the clothing was a body. It was a woman. I was standing there when I heard a noise beyond an interior door. I opened it and found the youth, Braon, hiding there. He had blood on his clothes and instinct made me grasp hold of him. A moment later, Findach, who followed me from the forge, entered and cried out when he recognized the body of his wife. His cry brought someone else who ran to fetch Brehon Tuama. That is all I know.”

Outside, Brehon Tuama looked worried.

“Do you think he is being honest? Once a thief. .? Isn’t it said that opportunity makes the thief, and this man had opportunity.”

“Publilius Syrus once wrote that the stolen ox sometimes puts his head out of the stall,” smiled Fidelma, mysteriously.

Brehon Tuama looked bewildered. Fidelma went on without enlightening him: “I am going to ride to Cluain to see the abbot. When I return I hope to have resolved this mystery.”

Brehon Tuama’s eyes lightened.

“Then you think that Caisín is responsible?”

“I did not say that.”

Cluain, the meadow, was the site of an abbey and community founded by Colmán Mac Léníne some sixty years before. It was evening when she reached the abbey and demanded to be announced to the abbot immediately. The abbot received her without demur for he knew that Fidelma was also the sister of the young king of Cashel.

“You have come from Droim Sorn, lady?” asked the elderly abbot when they were seated. “I suppose that you wish to speak with me of Brother Caisín?”

“Why do you suppose that?”

“His background and the circumstances make him suspect in the murder and theft there. I have had word of the event from Brehon Tuama. Caisín is a good man in spite of his history. He came to this abbey ten years ago as a penitent thief. Like the penitent thief of the Bible, he was received with rejoicing and forgiveness and never once has he given us cause to question his redemption.”

“You trusted him to go to Droim Sorn to bring back a valuable cross of silver.”

“It was the new cross for our high altar.”

“But you did not trust him with the money to pay for it, I understand.”

The old man blinked rapidly.

“There was no payment to be made.”

“You mean that Findach undertook to make this cross out of charity for the abbey?” Fidelma was puzzled.

The old abbot laughed, a slightly high-pitched laugh.

“Findach never gave anything out of charity. I should know for I was uncle to his wife Muirenn. He is an impecunious man. He made the cross for us in repayment for this indebtedness to the abbey.”

Fidelma raised an eyebrow in query.

“Findach spent money like water. His wife owned the house in which he dwells and kept her own money as the law allows. In fact, all Findach owns is his forge and tools.”

Fidelma leant forward quickly.

“You mean that Findach will benefit from his wife’s wealth now that she is dead?”

The abbot smiled sadly and shook his head.

“He does not benefit at all. Half of her money is returned to her own family in accordance with the law. She was an aire-echta in her own right.”

Fidelma was surprised, for it was not often that a smith’s wife held an equal honor price to that of her husband.

The abbot continued: “She has bequeathed the residue of her property to this abbey in my name, for she knew how I had helped her husband over the years.”

Fidelma hid her disappointment at being first presented and then deprived of another motive for the murder of Muirenn.

“Findach had been asked to make some artifact for Imleach; and rather than admit to the abbot of Imleach that he had no money to purchase the silver needed to make it, he asked me for a loan. When he later confessed he could not repay it, I offered to provide him with enough silver so that he could construct a cross for our high altar. His craftsmanship was to be the repayment.”

“I am beginning to understand. I am told that Caisín had been to Droim Sorn before?”

“I sent him myself,” agreed the abbot.