Peter Tremayne - Hemlock at Vespers

“What is wrong with that surmise?”

Fidelma smiled thinly.

“Let us have Brother Adag back here again. You may stay, Father Febal.”

The ingenuous young monk stood looking from Fidelma to Father Febal with an unstudied innocence.

“I am told that it was you who saw Téite when she came to the community yesterday?”

The boy was thoughtful. “Yes. It is my task to gather the clothes that need washing or mending and prepare a bundle for Téite.”

“And this you did yesterday morning?”

“Yes.”

“Téite collected them? These were garments for sewing?”

“And two habits for washing. Father Febal and Brother Finnlug had given me… They had been torn and one bloodied in the search for Father Ibor.”

“Let me be sure of this,” interrupted Fidelma. “Téite collected them yesterday morning?”

Brother Adag looked across at Father Febal, dropped his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“Yes; yesterday morning.”

“You are sure that she collected them after the search had been made for Father Ibor then?”

“Yes; Father Ibor was found on the day before.”

“Think carefully,” snapped Father Febal irritated. “Think again.”

The young monk flushed and shrugged helplessly.

Father Febal sniffed in annoyance.

“There you are, Sister, you see that little credit may be placed on this simpleton memory. The clothes must have been taken before we found Father Ibor.”

The young monk whirled around. For a moment Fidelma thought that he was going to attack Father Febal for both hands came up, balled into clenched fists. But he kept them tight against his chest, in a defensive attitude. His face was red and there was anger in his eye.

“Simple I may be but at least I cared for Téite.” There was a sob in his voice.

Father Febal took an involuntary step backward.

“Who did not care for Téite?” Fidelma prompted gently. “Father Ibor?”

“Of course, he did not care. But she cared for him. She loved him. Not like-”

The youth was suddenly silent.

“I would take no notice of this boy’s foolishness, Sister,” Father Febal interposed blandly. “We all know what happened.”

“Do we? Since we are talking of people being attracted to this young girl, was Brother Finnlug attracted to her?”

“Finnlug?” Brother Adag grimaced dismissively. “He has no time for women.”

Father Febal looked pained.

“Brother Finnlug has several faults. Women were certainly not one of them.”

“Faults?” pressed Fidelma with interest. “What faults does he have then?”

“Alas, if only he had the gift of spirituality we would be compensated. He was of use to us only in his ability to hunt and gather food for our table. He is not suited for this religious life. Now, I think we have spoken enough. Let us call a halt to this unhappy affair before things are said that may be regretted.”

“We will end it only when we discover the truth of the matter,” replied Fidelma firmly. “Truth is never to be regretted.” She turned to the youth. “I know you liked the girl, Téite. Yet now she is dead and has been murdered. Father Febal’s rule does not apply now. You owe it to your feelings for her to tell us the truth.”

The boy stuck out his chin. “I am telling the truth.”

“Of course, you are. You say that Father Ibor did not like Téite?”

“He did not love her as I did.”

“And how did Téite feel toward Ibor?”

“She was blinded by Father Ibor’s cleverness. She thought that she loved him. I overheard them. He told her to stop… stop pestering, that was his word… stop pestering him. She thought that she loved him just as Father Febal thought that he loved her.”

The priest rose angrily.

“What are you saying, boy?” he thundered. “You are crazy!”

“You cannot deny that you told her that you loved her,” Brother Adag replied, not intimated by the priest’s anger. “I overheard you arguing with her on the day before Father Ibor died.”

Father Febal’s eyes narrowed.

“Ah, now you are not so stupid that you forget times and places and events. The boy cannot be trusted, Sister. I would discount his evidence.”

“I loved Téite and can be trusted!” cried Brother Adag.

“I did not love her…” Father Febal insisted. “I do not love anyone.”

“A priest should love all his flock,” smiled Fidelma in gentle rebuke.

“I refer to the licentious love of women. I merely looked after Téite when her mother died. Without me she would not have survived.”

“But you felt, perhaps, that she owed you something?”

Father Febal scowled at her. “We are not here to speak of Téite but the crime of Father Ibor.”

“Crime? No, I think that we are here to speak of a crime committed against him rather than by him.”

Father Febal paled. “What do you mean?”

“Téite was murdered. But she was not murdered by Father Ibor. Nor was she responsible for stealing the crucifix or the chalice, which was found so conveniently by her body.”

“How have you worked this out?”

“Send for Brother Finnlug. Then we may all discuss the resolution of this matter.”

They sat in the small vestry facing her: Father Febal, Brother Finnlug and Brother Adag. Their faces all wore expressions of curiosity.

“I grant that people behave curiously,” began Fidelma. “Even at the best of times their behavior can be strange; but I doubt that they would behave in the manner that is presented to me.”

She smiled, turning to them each in turn.

“What is your solution to this matter?” sneered the priest.

“Certainly it would not be one where the murder victim appears alive and well after the murderer has hanged himself.”

Father Febal blinked. “Adag must be mistaken.”

“No. Father Ibor and the artifacts vanished the day before yesterday? You immediately raised the alarm. Brother Finnlug tracked Ibor through the forest and you found him hanging from a tree. Isn’t that right?”

“Quite right.”

“Had he killed Téite, as is now being suggested, before he hanged himself, she could not have come to the community yesterday noon to pick up the garments that needed sewing.”

“Why do you discount the fact that Adag might be confused about the day?”

“Because he gave Téite two habits that had been torn and bloodied in the search for Father Ibor, those worn by you and Finnlug when you found him hanging on the tree. Doubtless they will be found in her cabin to prove the point.” Fidelma paused. “Am I to presume that no one thought to tell the girl that Ibor had just been discovered having hanged himself? She did think she was in love with him.”

“I did not see the girl,” Father Febal replied quickly. “Brother Adag did.”

“And Brother Adag admits that he loved Téite,” added Brother Finnlug cynically.

The young man raised his head defiantly.

“I do not deny it. But she didn’t return my love, she loved Father Ibor who rejected her.”

“And that made you angry?” asked Fidelma.

“Yes. Very angry!” replied Brother Adag vehemntly.

Brother Finnlug turned to gaze at his companion in suspicion.

“Angry enough to kill them both?” he whispered.

“No,” Fidelma replied before Brother Adag could put in his denial. “Ibor and Téite were not killed in anger, but in cold blood. Weren’t they, Brother Finnlug?”

Brother Finnlug turned sharply to her, his eyes were suddenly dead.

“Why would I know that, Sister Fidelma?”

“Because you killed them both,” she said quietly.

“That’s nonsense! Why would I do that?” exploded the monk, after a moment’s shocked silence.