Peter Tremayne - Hemlock at Vespers

“Well, I was passing the chapel, as I said, and I saw the door open. Usually, at that time of night, the door is closed and the bolt in place. I thought this strange, so I went in. Then I noticed that the altar had been pushed aside. I went forward. I could see that the chest, in which the sword of office was kept, had been opened…”

He faltered and ended with a shrug.

“And then?” prompted Sister Fidelma.

“That is all. The guards came in at that moment. Then the Abbot appeared. I found myself accused of stealing the sword. Yet I did not.”

“Are you saying that this is all you know about the matter?”

“That is all I know. I am accused but innocent. My only misdemeanor is that I am my father’s son and presented a claim before the Great Assembly to succeed Blathmac and Diarmuid as High King. Although Sechnasach won the support of the Great Assembly for his claim, he has never forgiven me for challenging his succession. He is all the more ready to believe my guilt because of his hatred of me.”

“And have you forgiven Sechnasach for his success before the Great Assembly?” Sister Fidelma asked sharply.

Ailill grimaced in suppressed annoyance.

“Do you think me a mean person, Sister? I abide by the law. But, in honesty, I will tell you that I think the Great Assembly has made a wrong choice. Sechnasach is a traditionalist at a time when our country needs reforms. We need reforms in our secular law and in our Church.”

Sister Fldelma’s eyes narrowed.

“You would support the reforms being urged upon us by the Roman Church? To change our dating of Easter, our ritual and manner of land-holding?”

“I would. I have never disguised it. And there are many who would support me. My cousin Cernach, the son of Diarmuid, for example. He is a more vehement advocate of Rome than I am.”

“But you would admit that you have a strong motive in attempting to stop Sechnasach’s inauguration?”

“Yes. I admit that my policies would be different to those of Sechnasach. But above all things I believe that once the Great Assembly chooses a High King, then all must abide by their decision. Unless the High King fails to abide by the law and fulfill its obligations, he is still High King. No one can challenge the choice of the Great Assembly.”

Sister Fidelma gazed directly into Ailill’s smoldering brown eyes.

“And did you steal the sword?”

Ailill sought to control the rage which the question apparently aroused.

“By the powers, I did not! I have told you all I know.”

The warrior named Erc scuffed at the ground with his heel, and stirred uneasily.

“I am sure I cannot help you, Sister. I am a simple guardsman and there is little to add beyond the fact that I, with my companion Congal, found Ailill Flann Esa in the chapel standing before the chest from which the sacred sword had been stolen. There is nothing further I can add.”

Sister Fidelma compressed her lips. She gazed around at the curious faces of the other warriors who shared the dormitory of the High King’s bodyguard. The murky chamber, shared by a hundred warriors when they were resting from their guard duties, stank of spirits and body sweat which mixed into a bitter scent.

“Let me be the judge of that.” She turned towards the door. “Come, walk with me for a while in the fresh air, Erc. I would have you answer some questions.”

Reluctantly the burly warrior laid aside his shield and javelin and followed the religieuse from the dormitory, accompanied by a chorus of whispered comments and a few lewd jests from his comrades.

“I am told that you were guarding the chapel on the night the theft occurred,” Sister Fidelma said as soon as they were outside, walking in the crystal early morning sunlight. “Is that correct?”

“Congal and I were the guards that night, but our duties were merely to patrol the buildings of which the chapel is part. Usually from midnight until dawn the doors of the chapel of the Blessed Patrick are shut. The chapel contains many treasures and the Abbot has ordered that the door be bolted at night.”

“And what time did you arrive at your posts?”

“At midnight exactly, Sister. Our duties took us from the door of the royal stables, fifty yards from the chapel, to the door of the great refectory, a route which passes the chapel door.”

“Tell me what happened that night.”

“Congal and I took up our positions, as usual. We walked by the chapel door. It seemed shut as usual. We turned at the door of the great refectory from which point we followed a path which circumvents the buildings, so that our patrol follows a circular path.”

“How long does it take to circumnavigate the buildings?”

“No more than half an hour.”

“And how long would you be out of sight of the door of the chapel?”

“Perhaps twenty minutes.”

“Go on.”

“It was on our second patrol, as I say, a half-hour later, that we passed the door of the chapel. It was Congal who spotted that the door was opened. We moved forward and then I saw that the door had been forced. The wood was splintered around the bolt on the inside of the door. We entered and saw Ailill Flann Esa standing before the altar. The altar had been pushed back from the position where it covered the Stone of Destiny and the chest in which the sacred sword was kept had been opened.”

“What was Ailill doing? Did he look flustered or short of breath?”

“No. He was calm enough. Just staring down at the open chest.”

“Wasn’t it dark in the chapel? How did you see so clearly?”

“Some candles were lit within the chapel and provided light enough.”

“And then?”

“He saw our shadows and started, turning to us. At that point the Abbot came up behind us. He saw the sacrilege at once and pointed to the fact that the sword was gone.”

“Did he question Ailill?”

“Oh, surely he did. He said the sword had gone and asked what Ailill had to say.”

“And what did Ailill say?”

“He said that he had just arrived there.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said that was impossible because we were patroling outside and had the chapel door in sight for at least ten minutes from the royal stable doorway. Ailill must have been inside for that ten minutes at least.”

“But it was nighttime. It must have been dark outside. How could you be sure that Ailill had not just entered the chapel before you, covered by the darkness?”

“Because the torches are lit in the grounds of the royal palace every night. It is the law of Tara. Where there is light, there is no treachery. Ailill must have been in the chapel, as I have said, for at least ten minutes. That is a long time.”

“Yet even ten minutes does not seem time enough to open the chest, hide the sword and repose oneself before you entered.”

“Time enough, I’d say. For what else could be done with the sword but hide it?”

“And where is your companion, Congal? I would question him.”

Erc looked troubled and genuflected with a degree of haste.

“God between me and evil, Sister. He has fallen sick with the Yellow Plague. He lies close to death now and maybe I will be next to succumb to the scourge.”

Sister Fidelma bit her lip, then she shook her head and smiled reassuringly at Erc.

“Not necessarily so, Erc. Go to the apothecary. Ask that you be given an infusion of the leaves and flowers of the centaurium vulgare. It has a reputation for keeping the Yellow Plague at bay.”

“What is that?” demanded the warrior, frowning at the unfamiliar Latin words.

“ Dréimire buí,” she translated to the Irish name of the herb. “The apothecary will know it. To drink of the mixture is supposedly a good preventative tonic. By drinking each day, you may avoid the scourge. Now go in peace, Erc. I have done with you for the meanwhile.”