Peter Tremayne - Hemlock at Vespers

“Why should I speak with this Ainder?”

“It is not my place to anticipate what she will say to you,” the young man replied spiritedly, attempting to copy Fidelma’s style.

Fidelma stared at Ninnedo’s stubborn features and sighed.

“Where will I find this Ainder?”

“The bothán of Illand is at the bottom of the hill,” interrupted the Father Superior. “Seek her there, Sister Fidelma.”

She decided to ask Brother Aedo to accompany her in order to show her the spot where Moenach was killed and to confirm his story of the finding of the body. He was a simple ingenuous youth and had nothing else to add. He confirmed that he had been so distressed on his return to the community that he could do no more than report the matter to the Father Superior before becoming incapacitated by a surfeit of emotion. Father Allan and three other Brothers had left immediately to find Moenach and search for the woman Muirenn. Fidelma, looking round the small clearing, did not expect to find anything to assist her at the site. Nevertheless, it helped to fix the location of the crime in her mind. Without Brother Aedo’s help, it would have been impossible to pinpoint the exact spot for there were many such little clearings amidst the great forest. She bade Aedo return to the hilltop community and continued on down the hill.

There was a small cabin at the bottom of the hill as Father Allan had said. A line of freshly laundered clerical robes were hanging to dry on a rope line strung between two trees. An elderly but sturdily built man was picking apples from one of the trees. He turned and watched suspiciously as Fidelma approached.

“Is this the home of Ainder, daughter of Illand?”

“I am Illand,” replied the man. “My daughter is inside.”

“I am Fidelma of Kildare. I wish to speak with your daughter.”

The man hesitated before gesturing toward the cabin.

“You are welcome, Fidelma. But my daughter is not well…”

“But well enough to see the Sister,” interrupted a soft soprano voice.

A young girl, fair-haired and slim, and no more than fourteen years of age, stood framed in the doorway of the cabin.

“Please, Father,” the girl said with hurried insistence before he could argue. “I am at the age of choice.”

Fidelma glanced carefully at her, wondering why the girl had to point out her right to make her own decision.

Illand shrugged expressively.

“I have things to attend to,” he muttered in a surly tone and, picking up his basket of apples, moved off.

The girl turned to Fidelma with a pale face but determined chin.

“You must be the dálaigh whom Father Allan was waiting for,” she said. “Why do you seek me out?”

“I am told you are laundress for the community,” returned Fi-delma. “Do you live here with your mother and father?”

A scowl flitted across the girl’s face.

“My mother is many years in the place of truth,” she replied, using the Irish euphemism meaning that her mother was dead.

“I am sorry.”

“No need for sorrow,” said the girl.

Without another word, Ainder turned and went into the bothán, beckoning Fidelma to follow. She sat in the chair which Ainder indicated. The young girl sat opposite her and examined her carefully.

“I am glad that you are a woman and a young one.”

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Why so?”

“I think you are here to ask me about Nath.”

“What do you know of Brother Nath?”

“He wishes to marry me.”

Fidelma blinked and sighed.

“I see.” Members of religious communities could and did get married under the laws of the Fénechus. “So Nath is in love with you?”

“He is.”

There was a slight emphasis in her voice which contained a hidden “but.”

“But your father disapproves?” hazarded Fidelma.

“Oh no!” The words were ejaculated hurriedly. “He does not know.”

“You knew that Nath has disappeared?”

Ainder nodded, eyes on the ground.

“You knew that Brother Moenach was murdered and that Brother Nath disappeared on that same day? Things look bad for him.”

Ainder seemed bewildered.

“But didn’t the old woman, Muirenn, kill Moenach?” she demanded.

“That is what I am here to find out. What do you know of Nath’s disappearance?”

The girl hesitated and then sighed deeply.

“Nath was frightened when Moenach was killed. You see, no one believes how evil Moenach really was. He had caused Brother Follamon to be expelled by his deception.”

“How did you know of this?”

“I grew up here, under the shadow of Father Allan’s community. My father tends their garden and, after my mother died, I am laundress for the community. I knew most of the brothers. Follamon, Nath, Ninnedo and Moenach were all fostered together and when they reached the age of choice last year they all decided to stay on in the community of Father Allan. They all knew each other well enough. Follamon, Nath and Ninnedo became my friends.”

“But not Moenach?”

The girl shuddered.

“No!” Her voice was emphatic. Too emphatic.

“Why did you dislike Moenach?”

The girl raised her eyes to Fidelma. Two bright red spots colored her cheeks. Then she lowered her gaze and spoke with studied care.

“I will not keep the truth from you, Sister. The day before Moen-ach was killed, he attacked me.”

Fidelma started.

“He attacked you?”

“He raped me.”

Fidelma noticed that she used the word forcor which indicated a forcible rape, a physical attack, distinguished in law from sleth, which covered all other forms of sexual intercourse with a woman without her consent.

“Explain to me the circumstances, Ainder. And let me warn you that this is a serious allegation.”

Ainder’s face hardened.

“It is serious for me, for who now will pay my coibche?”

A husband gave a coibche or “bride-price” which was shared between a bride and her guardian in law, usually her father. The bridoprice was related to the virginity of the bride and if the bride was not a virgin then humiliation and financial loss resulted.

“Very well. Tell me your story,” invited Fidelma.

“I was taking a basket of laundry up to the community. Moen-ach came upon me. He hated me because he knew Nath loved me. He insulted me and then knocked me to the ground and raped me. Afterward… he said if I spoke of the matter no one would believe me for it was well known in the community that he was trusted of abbots and kings.”

“Was it an actual physical assault?” Fidelma pressed. “You realize the differences between forcor and sleth?”

“Moenach was strong. I could not prevail against him. It was a physical attack.”

“And you told Nath about this?”

The girl paused a moment, examining Fidelma’s face from under lowered eyelids, and then nodded quickly.

“I see. And Nath was angry, of course?”

“I have never seen him so angry.”

“When was this? How long before Moenach was killed?”

“He did not kill Moenach.”

Fidelma smiled thinly.

“I did not make such an accusation. But what makes you so emphatic?”

“He would not. It is not in Nath’s nature.”

“It is in the nature of all men given the right motive. Answer my question, then: how long before Moenach was killed did you tell Nath of this attack?”

“It was on the same afternoon that Moenach died. Scarcely an hour before.”

“When did you learn of Moenach’s death?” Fidelma asked.

“Why…” the girl frowned, “it was when Father Allan and some others of the community came searching for the old woman Mui-renn. But Father Allan said that Muirenn had been seen with the murder weapon in her hand.”