Peter Tremayne - Act of Mercy

‘And you did so?’

‘Of course. I went to my bunk. But something worried me.’

‘Such as?’

‘I think that Sister Muirgel was frightened.’

‘What, you mean frightened of the storm?’

‘No not the storm. You see, when I went to find out if she needed anything, she had her cabin door locked. I had to call out and reassure her who I was before she would open it for me.’

Fidelma turned to the door-latch.

‘I did not think these doors could be secured,’ she said.

The boy took the lantern and raised it so that she could see.

‘Look at the scratchmarks. All it needs is a piece of wood, even the end of one of those crucifixes that you religieux wear, lodged here so that the latch cannot be raised, and there you have a lock.’

Fidelma stood back.

‘And Sister Muirgel had secured her door in this manner?’

‘She had. She was ill and she was frightened. It is impossible that she would have gone wandering out on deck in such a terrible storm in that state.’

‘Did you see her afterwards?’

‘No. I went to my bunk and fell asleep. I never stirred again until dawn.’

‘You were not on deck during the storm?’

‘It was not my duty to be, unless the captain specifically sent for me.’

‘So you did not see any more of Sister Muirgel after you left her?’

‘No. I was awakened by one of the religieux searching the ship just after dawn. I heard him talking to the others, saying that Sister Muirgel was missing. It was the man with whom you were speaking just now. Then I heard Murchad saying that if she was not on the ship she must have gone over the side during the night. The captain thought it was the only possible explanation.’

‘So, Wenbrit,’ Fidelma asked reflectively, ‘what do you make of it? Do you have another explanation?’

‘I say that Sister Muirgel was in no condition to go up on deck, especially not with the sea running as it was during the night.’

‘Desperation makes people do desperate things,’ observed Fidelma.

‘Not that one,’ pointed out Wenbrit.

‘So what do you say?’

‘I say that she was too sick to move on her own. The robe she was wearing has a jagged hole in it and bloodstains all over it. If she went overboard, it was not by accident.’

‘So what do you think happened?’

‘I think she was killed and then thrown overboard!’

A short silence fell between them as Fidelma considered the implications of the discovery.

‘Have you told the captain about this yet?’ she finally asked.

Wenbrit shook his head.

‘After I heard that you knew about the law, I thought that I should speak with you first. I have not said a word to anyone else.’

‘Then I shall speak to Murchad. It might be a wise thing not to say anything to the others. Let everyone continue to think that Sister Muirgel was swept overboard.’ Fidelma picked up the robe and examined it again. ‘I will take this,’ she decided.

There was one immediate aspect which puzzled her. The tattered state of the robe suggested that Sister Muirgel had been violently attacked and killed with a knife. Yet there was comparatively little blood on it. There was some — but not the quantity she would have expected to see from the grievous wounds suggested by the cuts in the material. And, if the killer had then thrown Sister Muirgel’s s body overboard, why bother to remove the robe from the body before doing so? Why place it under the bunk where it must surely be discovered?

Fidelma found Murchad in his own cabin. She quickly told him of Wenbrit’s discovery.

‘What do you suggest we do, lady?’ Murchad was anxious. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened on board my ship before.’

‘As I explained earlier, you are the captain and under the Muirbretha you have the rights of a King and Chief Brehon while the ship is sailing the seas.’

Murchad gave a lopsided grin.

‘Me? King and Chief Brehon? Hardly. But even though this ship is mine to control, I wouldn’t know how to set about finding who is responsible for this deed.’

‘You are the representative of law and order on this vessel,’ she insisted.

Murchad spread his hands.

‘What could I do? Demand that the guilty person come forward from the passengers?’

‘Are we even sure that the guilty one would be found among the passengers?’

Murchad raised his eyebrows.

‘My crew,’ he boomed indignantly, ‘have been with me for years. No, this evil came aboard with those pilgrims, I’ll guarantee it. You must advise me, lady.’

He appeared so bewildered and undecided that Fidelma felt sympathy for the captain in his predicament.

‘You could request me to make some enquiries; give me authority to do so on your behalf.’

‘But if, as you say, someone killed this woman and threw her overboard during the storm, it will surely be impossible to discover the truth.’

‘We don’t know that until we start making those enquiries.’

‘You may put your own life in jeopardy, lady. A ship is a confined space where it is hard to hide. And once the killer knows you are on their track …’

‘It might act two ways. The ship is equally confined and impossible for a murderer to hide in.’

‘I would not like my King’s sister to be placed in such peril.’

Fidelma was reassuring.

‘I have been at risk several times before, Murchad. So, do I have your authority?’

He rubbed his jaw reflectively.

‘If you are certain that this is the right way to proceed, then, of course, you have my authority.’

‘Excellent. I will start an investigation but we will keep our suspicion of murder secret for the time being. We will not tell anyone about the discovery of the robe. You understand? I shall merely say that I am conducting an enquiry on your behalf because, under the laws of the Muirbretha, you must make a report to the legal authorities as to why a passenger has been lost overboard.’

The idea that he should do so had not even occurred to Murchad.

‘Is that true? Is that what I must do?’

‘The family or kin of a passenger lost at sea can claim negligence against you and demand compensation unless it can be shown that it was an accident. That is the situation under law,’ she explained.

Murchad looked dismayed.

‘I had not thought of that.’

‘To be honest, that is the least of your problems. The moreserious situation would be if she was murdered and the culprit is not discovered. The family could demand you pay her full honour price — and didn’t Sister Crella claim that she was of a noble family of the North? Ah, I wish I had my textbooks with me. I have not had many dealings with the Muirbretha. I recall the basic laws but I wish my knowledge were more exact. I will do my best to safeguard for any eventuality, Murchad.’

The captain was despondent as he reflected on the enormity of the task.

‘May the saints grant you success in your enquiries,’ he said fervently.

Fidelma thought for a moment and then gave a little sardonic grimace.

‘How shall we judge success? To discover that Muirgel has been murdered? Or that she simply fell overboard?’

Murchad seemed so forlorn and Fidelma felt sorry for her cynicism.

‘We will take it that success merely means discovering the truth,’ she said solemnly. ‘I’ll start immediately.’

As she went out onto the main deck she spied the shadowy but unmistakable figure of Sister Ainder leaning against the wooden rail gazing into the menacing sea mist which still enveloped the ship. She decided she would start with the sharp-faced Sister.

Sister Ainder straightened as Fidelma greeted her. Fidelma, who was by no means short in stature, found herself having to look up at the tall woman. Sister Ainder was a woman of mature years, and still impressively handsome, although a smile did not sit easily on her immobile, mask-like features. Her striking eyes were set deep in a sallow symmetrical face. They were dark eyes which seldom blinked, focusing on Fidelma’s own in a searching gaze which gave the younger woman the uncomfortable feeling that they were seeing beyond the tangible and into the very depths of her soul. Sister Ainder exuded a calm, lofty demeanour, almost not of this world. Her voice was strong, smoothly modulated and controlled.