Peter Tremayne - Hemlock at Vespers

Miseno nodded. “ Amantes sunt amentes,” he agreed. “Lovers are not sane.”

Fidelma shook her head sorrowfully.

“It was a sad and unnecessary death. More importantly, Abbot Miseno, it is, to my mind, a warning of the dangers of believing that what was meant as symbolism is, in fact, a reality.”

“There we will have to differ on our theology, Fidelma,” sighed Miseno. “But our Faith is broad enough to encompass differences. If it is not-then it will surely perish.”

“ Sol lucet omnibus,” Fidelma replied softly, with just a touch of cynicism. “The sun shines for everyone.”

“Sister Fidelma! How came you here?”

The Abbess Ballgel, standing at the gate of the Abbey of Nivelles, stared at the dusty figure of the young religieuse with open-mouthed surprise.

“I am returning home to Kildare, Ballgel,” replied the tall, slimly built figure, a broad smile of greeting on her travel-stained features. “I have been in Rome awhile and where else should I come when passing through the land of the Franks on my way to the coast?”

To the surprise of two elderly religieuse standing just behind the Abbess, the Abbess Ballgel and Sister Fidelma threw their arms around one another and hugged each other with unconcealed joy.

“It is a long time,” observed the Abbess Ballgel.

“Indeed, a long time. I have not seen you since you departed Kildare and left the shores of Éireann to come to this place. Now I am told that you are the Abbess.”

“The community elected me to that honor.”

Sister Fidelma became aware that the two sisters who accompanied the Abbess were fretting impatiently. She was surprised at their grim faces and anxiety. Abbess Ballgel caught her swift examination of her companions. The group had been leaving the abbey when Fidelma had come upon them.

“I am afraid that you have chosen a bad moment to arrive, Fi-delma. We are on our way to the Forest of Seneffe, a little way down the road there. You didn’t come by that route, did you?”

Fidelma shook her head.

“No. I came over the hills from Namur where I arrived by boat along the river.”

“Ah!” The Abbess looked serious and then she forced a smile. “Go in and accept our hospitality, Fidelma. I hope to be back before nightfall and then we will talk and catch up on each other’s news.”

Fidelma drew her brows together, sensing a preoccupation in the Abbess’s voice and manner.

“What is the matter?” she demanded. “There is something vexing you.”

Ballgel grimaced.

“You had ever a keen eye, Fidelma. A report has just arrived that one of our Sisters has been found murdered in the Forest of Seneffe and another member of our community is missing. We are hurrying there now to discover the truth of this report. So go and rest yourself from your travels and I will join you later.”

Fidelma shook her head quickly.

“Mother Abbess,” she said softly, “it has been a long time and perhaps you have forgotten. I had spent eight years studying law under the Brehon Morann. I have an aptitude for solving conundrums and investigating mysteries. Let me come with you and I will lend you what talent I have to resolve this matter.”

Fidelma and Ballgel had been novices together in the Abbey of Kildare.

“I remember your talent well, Fidelma. In fact, I have often heard your name spoken for we receive many travelers from Éire-ann here. By all means come with us.”

In fact, Ballgel looked slightly relieved.

“And you may explain the details of this matter as we go,” Fidelma said, putting down her traveling bag within the gate of the abbey before joining the others.

They set off, walking side by side, with the two other religieuse bringing up the rear.

“Who has been reported murdered?” Fidelma began.

“I do not know. I know that early this morning Sister Cessair and Sister Delia set off to the Abbey of Fosse. It is the seventeenth day of March and so they were taking the vial of the Holy Blood of Blessed Gertrude to the Brothers of Fosse for the annual blessing and…”

Fidelma laid a hand on her friend’s arm.

“You are raising more questions than I can keep pace with, Ballgel. Remember that I am a stranger here.”

The Abbess was apologetic.

“Let me start at the beginning then. Twenty-five years ago the ruler of this land, Peppin the Elder of Landen, died. His widow, Itta, decided to devote herself to a religious life and came here, to Nivelles, with her daughter, Gertrude. They built our abbey. When Itta died, the Blessed Gertrude became Abbess.

“About that time two brothers from Éireann, Foillan and Ultan, came wandering and preaching the word of God. They decided to stay and Gertrude granted them lands a few miles from here in Fosse, the other side of the forest of Seneffe. Foillan and Ultan gathered many Irish religious there and some were attracted to our abbey as well. It is said that the Blessed Foillan prophesied that Abbess Gertrude, because she so loved and encouraged the Irish missionaries, would die on the same day that the Blessed Patrick died. And it happened as it said it would seven years ago today.”

Abbess Ballgel grew silent for a while until Fidelma encouraged her to continue.

“So Foillan proved to be a prophet?”

“He did not live to see his prophecy fulfilled for he died four years before his beloved Gertrude. He and his three companions were traveling from his Abbey of Fosse through the very same forest that we are entering-the forest of Seneffe-when they were set upon by robbers and murdered. Their bodies were so well hidden in the forest that it took three months before anyone stumbled across them. Foillan’s brother Ultan then became the Abbot.

“When the Blessed Gertrude died it was agreed between the two abbeys that, as she was the benefactor of both, each anniversary of her death, a vial of her holy blood, taken from her at death to be held behind the high altar at our abbey, would be taken to the Abbey of Fosse and blessed by the abbot in service with his community and then returned here. This was the task which Sister Cessair and Sister Delia set out to fulfill this morning.”

“How did you hear that a Sister had been murdered in the forest?”

“When midday came, the time of the service at Fosse, and no members of our community had arrived with the holy blood, Brother Sinsear, a brother from the Fosse abbey, set out to see what delayed them. He found the dead body of one of the Sisters by the roadside. He came straightaway to us to tell us and then immediately returned to alert the community at Fosse.”

“But you do not know which of the poor Sisters was killed?”

The Abbess shook her head.

“Brother Sinsear was too agitated to say but merely told our gatekeeper the news before returning.”

By now they had entered the tall, dark, brooding forest of Se-neffe. The track was fairly straight though at times it twisted around rocky outcrops and avoided streams to find a ford in a more accessible place. The afternoon sun was obliterated by the heavy foliage and the day grew cold around them. Fidelma real-ized that the highway proved an ideal ambush spot for any robbers and it did not surprise her to hear that lives had been lost along this roadway.

Although Irish religious went out into the world unarmed to preach the Faith, most of them were taught the art of troid-sciathagid or battle through defense-a method of defending one-self without the use of weapons. Not many religious, thus prepared, fell to bands of marauding thieves and robbers. Clearly from their names, the two Sisters had been Irish and must have known some rudiments of the art for it was the custom to have such knowledge before being allowed to take the holy word from the shores of Éireann into the lands of the strangers.