Peter Tremayne - The Leper's bell

‘You have been asking yourself this very question for many days. How do I know the exact time when your question was born?’

Fidelma shrugged in a gesture of resignation.

‘I feel so frustrated just waiting and not being in control.’

Conchobar nodded sympathetically.

‘You have always been impatient, Fidelma.’ He smiled softly. ‘You were impatient to be out of the womb. I was in attendance at your birth and you came before the due time, screaming and bawling for attention. You were impatient to come into life, impatient to learn what you wanted to learn, impatient with all those you considered fools who were not as quick as you were.’

‘Don’t we have a saying that patience is the virtue of donkeys?’ snapped Fidelma.

Conchobar’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘I remember a great Brehon once said that whoever had no patience had no wisdom. That Brehon was-’

Fidelma grimaced as she interrupted.

‘I know. It was my own mentor, Brehon Morann. He did not have to wait, feeling useless, while his child was prey to God only knows what dangers.’

‘Fidelma, it is a saying that if you have patience, the bee will provide you with honey. Today is a day when you should undertake no precipitous action. For this is the time when An Bech dominates the sky.’

Fidelma knew that what the Irish called the Bee was the constellation known to the Romans as Scorpio — the Scorpion.

‘Why?’ she demanded.

‘Because not only does the sun stand in Scorpio but so does Mars, the ruler of Scorpio, as do Venus and Jupiter. All at this same time. I see that this might result in a restriction of expression for you, Fidelma. You might, with strong character, make decisions that could be for the good but might also be for the bad. Also, and be prepared, Scorpio is the zodiacal house of death.’

Fidelma paled a little. Then she grimaced.

‘You are supposed to be bringing cheer into my life, Conchobar.’

‘I am supposed to be helping you tread the path that you must tread, Fidelma. Instead of sitting here playing brandubh with an old man like me you ought be with your husband.’

Fidelma sniffed deprecatingly. Again Brother Conchobar looked thoughtfully at her.

‘Is there something wrong between you and our Saxon friend?’

‘There is much wrong, Conchobar.’

‘I am not your anam chara , but-’

‘I don’t have an anam chara. Not since Liadin.’

Then if you have need of a soul friend, I am willing to listen to your inmost thoughts and give my opinion.’

Fidelma lowered her gaze to the brandubh board. This game is child’s play to the thoughts that race around my head and I can find no sanctuary in the squares that make up the board game of my life.’

Conchobar stared at her for a moment.

‘It is hard for Brother Eadulf not only to be in a foreign country but also to be married to an Eóghanacht princess.’

‘It was his choice,’ she replied defensively.

Conchobar smiled thinly. ‘And you had nothing to do with it?’

She coloured quickly at his gentle sarcasm.

‘I tried to dissuade him, tried to…’

Conchobar’s smiled broadened.

‘I see. You were unwillingly overwhelmed and there was nothing that you could do?’

The year and a day of my marriage contract is almost up. It falls within the next week.’

‘And you plan to formally reject him? Awkward in the current circumstances, is it not?’

Fidelma compressed her lips and said nothing. Conchobar was being as devastatingly logical as she would be in his place.

‘Apart from Eadulf’s sensibilities in adapting to this lifestyle, what are your feelings? Do not tell me that you are an unwilling partner in this. I know you too well. You have never done anything in life, Fidelma, that you did not want to do. You went into this partnership because you wanted to, not because Eadulf wanted it.’

Fidelma opened her mouth to protest and then snapped it shut. She frowned, trying to think how best she should answer the question.

At that moment the door burst open and one of the religieux came in, not even noticing Fidelma but looking straight at Brother Conchobar.

‘Come quickly, Brother Apothecary,’ he called. ‘You are needed at once.’

Fidelma rose quickly.

‘What is it?’ she demanded, her heart beginning to race.

The religieux turned, as if seeing her for the first time.

‘Sister Fidelma! It is the Bishop Petrán. I think he is near to death … if not dead.’

Bishop Petrán was dead. He lay on his bed, his skin pale, like tightly stretched parchment, but with a curious blue tinge on his lips. There was nothing that Brother Conchobar could do except pronounce him dead.

Two of Bishop Petrán’s attendants, young brothers of the Faith, were present in the chamber, obviously anguished by the death of their elderly mentor. Fidelma had accompanied Brother Conchobar to the bishop’s room primarily out of curiosity. The previous day the bishop had seemed in remarkably good health and his argument with Eadulf had demonstrated his mental agility. She was about to ask Brother Conchobar what he thought the cause of death was, but as she framed the question the door suddenly opened and Brehon Dathal, the chief judge of Muman, came in followed by Finguine, the tanist.

Brehon Dathal glanced about him in an officious manner, frowning in annoyance when he saw Fidelma.

‘I shall take over the investigation of this matter, Fidelma,’ he said sharply, as if she would argue with him.

She smiled thinly. ‘You are welcome to do so, Dathal, although there is no investigation as yet. I merely came along with Brother Conchobar for I was playing brandubh with him when he was called to attend the bishop by these young brothers.’

Brehon Dathal turned to Brother Conchobar. ‘I see that Bishop Petrán is dead. What was the cause of death?’

Brother Conchobar simply shrugged. That I cannot tell you for certain at this moment. I have not begun a thorough examination.’

Brehon Dathal glanced down at the corpse.

‘Blue lips, blue lips,’ he muttered. ‘Surely a sign of poison?’

‘Not necessarily,’ the old apothecary protested.

‘Always in my experience,’ Brehon Dathal replied testily.

‘I had not realised that you are a qualified physician,’ replied Brother Conchobar blandly.

Brehon Dathal was bending over the corpse and did not appear to hear him. Brother Conchobar coughed loudly to attract his attention.

‘I need to do some further tests in my workroom.’

Brehon Dathal turned away from the bed and sniffed.

‘Superfluous. Clearly poison but, if you want to waste time, I have no objection. I am proceeding with the fact that he was poisoned and that this is a case of murder.’

Astonished, Fidelma gazed at him. ‘Isn’t that a little … a little precipitate?’ she said quietly.

Brehon Dathal stared at her in irritation.

‘I thought you were not involved in this matter?’

‘Neither am I.’

‘Then I need not detain you.’ He turned sharply to the two young religieux. ‘When did you discover the bishop?’

‘We came a short while ago to escort him to luncheon. We found him thus. I went to fetch Brother Conchobar while my companion stayed with him.’

‘When did you last see him alive?’

‘Shortly after he had performed the morning’s dismissal. He said he was feeling tired for it was only the day before yesterday that we had returned from the west coast.’

‘Apart from fatigue after his journey, he was in good health?’

‘Bishop Petrán was always in good health. He was never tired and this morning was the first time I had ever heard him admit to fatigue.’