Peter Tremayne - Hemlock at Vespers

“So that when you came to examine the body, the arrow was in two pieces? One in the body, the other… where was that exactly?”

Sister Eblenn looked suddenly startled and peered around as if seeking the answer.

“I do not know. I presume it is somewhere about.”

Fidelma bit her lip. Extracting information from Sister Eblenn was like fishing for trout. One had to cast about blindly.

For a moment or two she stood looking down at the arrow. She became aware that Sister Eblenn was speaking.

“What?”

“I said, I must return to my apothecary’s tent. I have already had one theft this morning and do not want to chance another.”

Fidelma swung round with sudden interest.

“What was taken from your tent?”

“Some herbs, that is all. But herbs cost money.”

“And these herbs-were they mandrake root, wolfsbane and crushed ivy?”

“Ah, you have spoken to the Lady Dagháin?”

Fidelma’s eyes rounded slightly. “What has the Lady Dagháin to do with this matter?”

“Nothing. She was passing my tent just after I discovered the theft. I asked her to inform her husband as the Tanist has charge of the royal guards.”

“When exactly was this?”

“Just after the breakfast hour. Early this morning. Queen Muad-nat had come by requesting a balm for a headache. It was soon after that I noticed the herbs were gone. Then, as I was going to breakfast, I saw the Lady Dagháin and told her.”

After Sister Eblenn had left, still showing some bewilderment, Laisran grimaced.

“So now we know where the killer obtained the poison.”

Fidel nodded absently. While Laisran watched silently, Fidelma lowered herself to her knees and began to examine the body. Then she motioned Laisran to join her.

“Look at the wound, Laisran,” she said. “It seems our Sister Eblenn is not as perceptive as she should be.”

Laisran peered closely to where Fidelma indicated.

“No pointed arrowhead made that wound,” he agreed after a moment. “It is more of a gash, such as a broad-bladed knife would have made.”

“Exactly so,” agreed Fidelma.

For a while she searched all around the body in ever-increasing circles to cover the whole floor of the tent. There was nothing on the floor except for a leather cena, a medium-sized bag, which she placed on a tabletop. She could not find what she was expecting to discover and climbed back to her feet. She took up the splintered arrow again and stared at it as if perplexed. Then she thrust it into the marsupium or purse which she always carried.

She gazed down to study Illan’s features for a final time. Laisran was right; he had been a handsome young man. But his face was a little too handsome to attract her. She could imagine the self-satisfaction of his expression while he was in life.

Abbot Laisran coughed, as if to remind her of his presence.

“Do you have any ideas?” he asked.

She smiled at her old mentor.

“None that makes sense at this moment.”

“While you have been examining the corpse, I have examined this cena which you found in a corner of the tent. I think that you’d better look in it.”

Frowning, Fidelma did so. There was a mixture of herbs inside. She picked out a handful and sniffed suspiciously. Then she turned to Laisran with wide eyes.

“Are they what I suspect them to be?” she asked.

“Yes,” confirmed Laisran. “Mandrake root, wolf’s bane and ivy leaves. Moreover, there is a small insignia on the cena and it is not the same one as I noticed on Sister Eblenn’s apothecary’s bag.”

Fidelma pursed her lips as though to whistle but did not do so.

“This is a mystery that goes deep, Laisran,” she reflected slowly. “We must discover the owner of the insignia.”

Énna suddenly entered the tent.

“Ah, there you are, Sister. Have you seen enough here?”

“I have seen all that I can see,” Fidelma replied.

She gestured down at Illan’s body. “A sad end for one who was so young and talented in his profession.”

Énna sniffed deprecatingly.

“Many a husband would not agree with you, Sister.”

“Ah? You mean the queen?” Laisran smiled.

Énna blinked rapidly and looked embarrassed. Many knew of the gossip of Muadnat’s affairs but none in the court circle would openly discuss them.

“Doubtless,” he turned to Fidelma, “you will want to see Bishop Bressal now? He is upset that you have not gone directly to see him.”

Fidelma suppressed a sigh.

“Before we do so, Énna, perhaps you can help. I believe, as Tanist, that you have a knowledge of insignia, don’t you?”

Énna made an affirmative gesture.

“What insignia is this?” Fidelma showed him the cena Laisran had discovered.

Énna didn’t hesitate.

“That is the insignia of Bishop Bressal’s household.”

Fidelma’s lips thinned while Laisran could not hold back an audible gasp.

“I would not wish to keep the good Bishop waiting longer than is necessary,” Fidelma said, with soft irony in her voice. “We will see him now.”

“Well, Bressal, tell me your story,” invited Fidelma as she seated herself before the agitated portly figure of the king of Laighin’s bishop. Bressal was a large, heavily built man, with pale, babylike features and a balding head. One of the first things she noticed was that Bressal had a red welt on his left cheek.

Bressal frowned at the young religieuse before glancing across to acknowledge Abbot Laisran who had followed her into the tent and taken a stand with folded arms by the tent flap. The only other occupant of the tent was a tall warrior of Bressal’s personal household for the Bishop’s rank and position entitled him to a bodyguard.

“You have seated yourself in my presence without permission, Sister,” Bressal thundered ominously.

Fidelma regarded him calmly.

“I may be seated in the presence of any provincial king without permission,” she informed him icily. “I am a dálaigh, an advocate of the courts, qualified to the level of Anruth. Therefore, I can sit even in the presence of the High King, though with his permission. lam-”

Bressal waved a hand in annoyance. He was well informed on the rules of the rank and privileges of the Brehons.

“Very well Anruth. Why were you not here sooner? The sooner I am heard, the sooner I can be released from this outrageous imprisonment.”

Fidelma eyed the bishop with distaste. Bressal was certainly a haughty man. She could well believe the stories that she had heard about him and this vanity of racing against the king of Laighin’s horse.

“If you wish speed and urgency in this matter, it would be better to answer my questions without interpolating any of your own. Now, to this matter…”

“It is not clear?” demanded the bishop with outrage in his voice. “Fáelán is trying to blame me for something that I have not done. That much is simple. He has probably done this evil deed himself to discredit me, knowing my horse would have beaten his.”

Fidelma sat back with raised eyebrows.

“Counter accusations come better when you can demonstrate your own innocence. Tell me of your movements this morning.”

Bressal bit his lip and was about to argue and then he shrugged and flung himself onto a chair.

“I came to the race track with my personal guard, Sílán.” He gestured to the silent warrior. “We came straightaway to see Ochain, my horse.”

“Who had brought Ochain here?”

“Why, Angaire, my trainer, and Murchad, my rider.”

“At what time was this? Tell me in relationship to the finding of Illan’s body?”

“I do not know when it was discovered but I was here about an hour before that oaf Fáelán had me arrested.”