Peter Tremayne - Act of Mercy

‘Remain on watch here, Drogon, and do not let anyone in without my permission or that of Murchad,’ she instructed him. She turned to the captain. ‘Is everyone still gathered at breakfast?’

He nodded affirmatively.

‘What will you say to them?’ he asked.

‘I shall tell them the truth. Our murderer knows the truth, so why not the others? The sooner all is revealed, the sooner the murderer may make a slip.’

Murchad followed Fidelma into the mess deck where Wenbrit was clearing the breakfast remains. The pilgrims sat in silence. Brother Tola had rejoined them and though he refused to tell them what was amiss, they all realised that something had happened. When Fidelma entered and strode to the head of the table, only Cian attempted to acknowledge her. She did not respond. Everyone fixed their eyes on her, trying to guess what news she was bringing them.

Even young Wenbrit realised something was afoot and halted, hands still filled with dirty plates.

‘We have found the body of Sister Muirgel,’ announced Fidelma.

There were several reactions as they digested the statement.

Sister Crella half-rose and then sat down again with a low moan of anguish. Sister Gorman sniggered agitatedly.

It was Brother Tola, now able to speak having had to contain himself until she arrived, who asked the first question.

‘Are you telling us that she was on board all this time? That she had not fallen overboard?’

‘I am.’

‘I don’t understand. How could she have drowned without falling overboard?’ demanded Sister Ainder.

Fidelma fixed her with a cold smile.

‘That is simple: she did not drown. She had her throat cut within the last half an hour.’

Sister Crella’s moan rose to a sharp wail.

Fidelma quickly glanced round the table. Sister Crella seemed to be the one most visibly shaken, although everyone else seemed to register some emotion.

‘Are you sure?’ It was Cian who asked the question.

‘Sure about what?’ she demanded.

Cian shifted uneasily under her sharp gaze.

‘Sure that it is Sister Muirgel of whom we speak,’ he explained lamely. ‘First we are told she is dead, then alive and now dead. Is it she or not?’

Fidelma looked across the cabin to Brother Tola.

‘It is Sister Muirgel,’ Tola confirmed quietly. ‘I identified the body. So did Brother Guss …’ He glanced round, realising for the first time that Guss had not returned.

Fidelma guessed the question he was about to form.

‘Brother Guss has gone to his cabin to lie down,’ she told them all. ‘He was very shocked as well.’

There was no sound from those at the table except Sister Crella’s sobbing.

‘Sister Muirgel met her killer within the last hour,’ Fidelma resumed. ‘Can you all account for your movements during that time?’

‘What?’ Sister Gorman was all a-flutter.

‘Are you claiming it is one of us?’

Fidelma looked at them each in turn.

‘It is certainly not one of the crew!’ She smiled thinly. ‘Sister Muirgel knew her killer. In fact, she had engineered her disappearance in order to avoid her killer. She hid during the day and emerged to eat and exercise during the night or early morning.’ As she spoke, Fidelma suddenly remembered something. ‘In fact, the morning after she was supposed to have been swept overboard, when that thick mist enveloped the ship, I encountered her on deck and did not recognise her. We may assume, Wenbrit, that your missing food was consumed by her.’

The boy was looking at her in amazement.

‘You are saying that Sister Muirgel arranged for us to think that she had fallen overboard?’ Sister Ainder was still having problems coming to terms with what she had been told. ‘Why?’

‘She wanted to mislead her killer.’

Brother Tola made a sardonic barking laugh, expressing his disbelief.

‘Where, in God’s name, could she have hidden on this ship? There is nowhere.’

‘You’ll forgive me if I disagree with you.’ Fidelma felt tempted to tell him that Muirgel had spent the first night within a yard or so of him while he slept. ‘The more important matter is that Sister Muirgel’s murderer is a member of your company. Where were each of you during this last hour?’

They looked at each other suspiciously.

Brother Tola acted as their spokesman.

‘We sat down to breakfast all at the same time. That was about an hour ago.’

It turned out that everyone claimed to be in their cabins before that, with the exception of Sister Ainder, who accounted for her absence by stating she was in the defectora , and Cian, who said he was exercising on deck.

‘Were you in your cabin, Brother Bairne?’ enquired Fidelma.

‘I was.’

‘It is next to Muirgel’s cabin. Did you hear anything?’

‘Are you accusing me?’ stormed the young man, his face reddening. ‘You might have to prove such an accusation.’

‘If I made such an accusation I would do so when I am sure of proving it,’ replied Fidelma confidently. ‘I shall want to speak with each of you individually again.’

‘By what right?’ snapped Sister Ainder indignantly. ‘This matter is ridiculous. People being washed overboard when they are not. Accidents that turn to murders. Corpses that are not corpses!’

‘You already know my right and authority for this investigation,’ Fidelma interrupted her tirade.

Brother Tola glanced at Murchad.

‘I presume that Fidelma still acts with your approval, Captain?’

‘I have appointed Fidelma of Cashel in full charge of the matter,’ Murchad said heavily. ‘That is final.’

They had sighted the western coast of Armorica — that land which was now being called ‘Little Britain’.

Murchad announced, ‘Within a few hours we shall be sighting the island of Ushant, which is at its western extremity.’

Fidelma had never been to Armorica but knew that within the last two centuries, tens of thousands of Britons had been driven out of their lands by the expansion of the Angles and Saxons, and most had found a new home among the Armoricans. Many others had found refuge in the north-west of Iberia which had come to be named Galicia, the land to which they were sailing; others still had settled in the Five Kingdoms of Eireann, although not in such large numbers as elsewhere. But it was in Armorica, among people who shared a similar language and culture, that the refugees from Britain had begun to change the political map of the country so that the land was renamed ‘Little Britain’.

‘We’ll take on water at Ushant and some fresh food,’ continued Murchad. ‘We are under the halfway mark on our journey but, after this, there will be no other opportunity for you to stretch your legs on firm ground and to have a hot meal and a bath.’

Fidelma had acknowledged the information absently. She was watching her fellow pilgrims taking their ease on the main deck. She felt confused. One of them was a murderer and she had no idea which one she should even start suspecting! She had not revealed Brother Guss’s secret, that Sister Canair was also dead. She hoped, by withholding the information, that someone would eventually reveal knowledge which might indicate that they also knew — and that knowledge would identify them as the murderer. The accusation against Sister Crella certainly could not be substantiated as yet.

Brother Tola had taken up his usual position on deck, seated with his back against the water butt near the main mast reading his Missal. Brothers Dathal and Adamrae were arm in arm, strolling along the deck incongruously, or so it seemed to Fidelma, laughing together at a shared joke. The tall figure of Sister Ainder was seated on the starboard side lecturing Brother Bairne. Sister Crella was pacing thedeck, arms folded around her, still agitated and muttering to herself. Fidelma looked round for Brother Guss but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Sister Gorman.