Peter Tremayne - Act of Mercy

‘Well, Fidelma?’ Cian appeared at her side, interrupting her thoughts. His voice was mocking. ‘From the reputation you have gathered to yourself these last few years, I would have thought that the mystery of Sister Muirgel would have been solved by now.’

She found it hard to believe that she had once been so immature as to be in love with this man. Resisting the impulse to utter a sharp rebuke, she recalled that she still needed information from him — and here was an opportunity to obtain it. Instead of reacting, she asked coolly, ‘How long did your affair with Sister Muirgel last?’

Cian blinked rapidly. His supercilious smile broadened.

‘Are you checking up on my affairs now? Why do you want to know about Muirgel?’

‘I am simply pursuing my enquiries into her death.’

Cian studied her phlegmatic expression, then shrugged slightly.

‘If you must know, not very long. Are you sure that you have no personal interest in asking?’

Fidelma chuckled.

‘You flatter yourself, Cian — but then, you always did. Sister Muirgel was murdered by someone she knew. I told you at breakfast.’

‘Are you trying to implicate me?’ demanded Cian. ‘Has your hurt pride, after all these years, turned your mind so that you accuse me? That is utterly ridiculous!’

‘Why should it be ridiculous? Don’t lovers kill each other?’ she asked innocently.

‘My affair with Muirgel was over long before we set out on this journey.’

‘Long is an abstract term.’

‘Well, a week or so prior to the journey.’

‘Did you walk out on her without a word, or this time did you have sufficient courage to tell her face to face?’ she added brutally.

Cian coloured hotly.

‘As a matter of fact, it was she who walked out on me — and, yes, she did tell me. Incredible as it may seem, she told me that she was in love with someone else — that young idiot, Brother Guss.’

Here was confirmation that some of Guss’s story was truthful, in spite of Crella’s denial that her friend was having an affair with him.

‘Knowing you, it was not something you would meekly accept, Cian. You have too much vanity. You would have protested.’

Cian’s hearty chuckle took Fidelma by surprise.

‘If you must know, I was very relieved by her confession, because I was about to end the relationship myself.’

She did not believe him. ‘I find it hard to credit that you would let a young boy like Guss take over from you without your pride being wounded.’

‘If you want the gory details, Canair and I had been lovers for a short while. I was trying to ditch Muirgel. Thankfully, she made it easy for me.’ It was plain by his boastful attitude that Cian was not lying.

‘When did you become Canair’s lover?’

‘Oh, so you want details of that as well! Really, Fidelma, when did you become a voyeur?’

She had to restrain herself from slapping his sneering face.

‘Let me remind you,’ she said icily, ‘that I am a dalaigh investigating a murder.’

‘A dalaigh miles from our homeland, on board a pilgrim ship,’ Cian said mockingly. ‘You have no rights to pry into my life, dalaigh .’

‘I have every right. So you had affairs with Muirgel and Canair? I suppose, knowing your character, you dallied with most of the young women at Moville.’

‘Jealous, are we?’ Cian sneered. ‘You were always possessive and jealous, Fidelma of Cashel. Don’t disguise your prying as being part of your duty. I had enough of your sulky ways when you were younger.’

‘I am not interested in your foolish pride, Cian. I am only interested in knowledge. I need to find Muirgel’s killer.’

She had become aware that their voices were raised and they had been shouting at each other. Luckily the sound of the wind and sea seemed to have disguised their words, although Murchad, standing nearby at the steering oar, looked studiously out to sea as if embarrassed. He must have heard their exchange.

Fidelma suddenly noticed that the young, naive Sister Gorman had come unnoticed on deck and was standing nearby, watching them with an expression of intense curiosity. She was picking at a shawl that she had draped over her shoulders to protect her from the chilly winds. When Fidelma caught her eye, she giggled and began to chant.

‘My beloved is fair and ruddy

A paragon among ten thousand.

His head is gold, finest gold,

His locks are like palm fronds.

His eyes are like doves beside brooks of water,

Splashed by the milky water

As they sit where it is drawn …’

Cian uttered a suppressed exclamation of disgust and turned down the companionway, brushing by the girl as he left Fidelma. Sister Gorman uttered a shrill laugh.

Gorman was a strange little thing, Fidelma thought. She seemed able to quote entire sections of Holy Scripture effortlessly. What was it that she had been quoting just then, something from the Song of Solomon? Sister Gorman glanced up and her eyes met Fidelma’s once more. She smiled again — a curious smile that had no humour to it, only a movement of the facial muscles. Then she turned and moved away.

‘Sister Gorman!’ Fidelma had promised herself to spend some time with the young girl for she was clearly highly-strung and no one seemed to be concerned for her. The girl watched suspiciously as Fidelma came up. ‘I hope you are not still blaming yourself for what has happened to Sister Muirgel?’

The girl’s apprehensive expression deepened.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you did tell me, when we thought she had fallen overboard, that you felt guilty because you cursed her.’

‘That!’ Gorman pouted in a gesture of dismissal. ‘I was just being silly. Of course my curse did not kill her. That’s been proved by her death now. If my curse had killed her, she would not have been alive these past two days.’

Fidelma raised her eyes a little at the apparent callousness of the girl’s tone. But then Gorman displayed curious swings of temperament.

‘As you know,’ Fidelma passed on hurriedly, ‘I was asking where everyone was immediately before sitting down to breakfast. I think you said you were in your cabin?’

‘I was.’ The reply came curtly.

‘And you were there with Sister Ainder who shares that cabin?’

‘She went out for a while.’

‘Ah yes; so she said.’

‘Muirgel is dead. You are wasting your time asking these questions,’ snapped Gorman.

Fidelma blinked at her rude tone.

‘It is my duty to do so,’ she ventured, and then tried to change the conversation to put the young girl at her ease. ‘I notice you like chanting songs from the Scriptures.’

‘Everything is contained in the holy words,’ replied Gorman,almost arrogantly. ‘Everything.’ She suddenly stared unblinkingly into Fidelma’s eyes and her features formed once more into that eerie smile.

‘There can be no remedy for your sore,

The new skin cannot grow.

All your lovers have forgotten you;

They look for you no longer.

I have struck you down.’

Fidelma shivered in spite of herself.

‘I don’t understand …’

Gorman actually stamped a foot.

‘Jeremiah. Surely you know the Scriptures? It is a suitable epitaph for Muirgel.’

At that, she turned away and hurried past the tall figure of Sister Ainder. The latter moved towards her as if to speak with her, but the girl pushed by her, causing the sharp-faced woman to give an exclamation of annoyance as the girl almost made her lose her balance.

‘Is there anything wrong with Sister Gorman?’ she called to Fidelma.

‘I think she is in need of a friend to counsel her,’ replied Fidelma.