Peter Tremayne - Absolution by Murder

‘There is no sign of a struggle. Glance around the room. Nothing seems out of place. Nothing is in disarray. And, observe, the abbess’s headdress is still hung neatly from the peg for her clothes. As you know, among the sisters, it is a rule that the veil should not be discarded before strangers.’

Sister Fidelma had to admit to herself that Brother Eadulf was observant.

‘You argue that Abbess Étain had removed her headdress before or when the attacker came to her cell. You imply that she knew the attacker well enough not to replace the veil on her head?’

‘Just so.’

‘But what if the attacker entered the cell before she knew who it was and then she had no time to reach for her veil before she was assaulted?’

‘A possibility that I ruled out.’

‘How so?’

‘Because there still would have been signs of disturbance. If the abbess had been startled by the entrance of a stranger, she would have attempted firstly to reach her headdress or to struggle with the intruder. No, everything is neat and tidy, even the bed coverings are not disturbed. The only thing spoiling the tranquillity is the abbess lying across her bed with her throat cut.’

Sister Fidelma compressed her lips. Eadulf was right. He had a keen eye.

‘It seems logical,’ she admitted after some thought. ‘But not entirely conclusive. I think I would reserve my judgment on her knowledge of her attacker. But the odds are in your favour.’ She turned and gave Eadulf a sudden searching look. ‘You mentioned that you are a physician?’

Eadulf shook his head.

‘No. Though I have studied at the medical school of Tuaim Brecain, as I have said, and know much, I am not qualified in all the arts of a physician.’

‘I see. Then you will have no objection if we ask the Abbess Hilda to have Étain’s body removed to the mortuarium and examined by the physician of the abbey in case there are other injuries that we might have missed?’

‘I have no objection,’ confirmed Eadulf.

Fidelma nodded absently. ‘I doubt whether there is anything else we might learn from this pitiful cell—’

She suddenly paused and bent down to the floor, coming more slowly to her feet with something held in her hand. It was a tuft of golden strands of hair.

‘What is that?’ Eadulf asked.

‘The confirmation of your theory,’ replied Fidelma flatly.

‘You said that the attacker grabbed Étain’s hair from behind, to hold her neck back while stabbing her in the throat. Such a grip would tear some of the hair from her scalp. And here we have that hair, which the attacker dropped as he or she left the cell.’

Sister Fidelma stood still and gazed around the small chamber, her eyes moving carefully so that she might not miss anything of importance or meaning. She had a curious pricking at the back of her mind that she was overlooking something. She moved across to the side table and looked through the few toilet articles and personal possessions. A pocket missal lay among them. Étain’s crucifix was the only jewellery there. Fidelma had already noted that her ring of office was still on her finger. Why, then, did she feel that something was missing?

‘There is little in the way of any sign to suggest who our miscreant might be, sister.’ Eadulf interrupted her thoughts. ‘We can rule out robbery with greed as the motive,’ he added, indicating the crucifix and ring.

‘Robbery?’ She had to confess that it was the last motive in her thoughts. ‘We are in a house of God.’

‘Beggars and thieves have been known to break into abbeys and churches before,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘But not in this case. There is no sign at all.’

‘The scene of a misdeed is like a piece of parchment on which the transgressor must make some mark,’ Fidelma replied. ‘The mark is there, it is for us to spot it and interpret it.’

Eadulf shot a curious glance at her.

‘The only mark here is the body of the abbess,’ he said softly.

Fidelma turned a withering glance on him.

‘Then, by your own admission, it is still a mark and one to be interpreted.’

Brother Eadulf bit his lip as the rebuke hit home.

He wondered whether the Irish religieuse was always as sharp as this or whether it was some reaction to him.

Curiously, when he had accidentally knocked into her in the cloisters last evening, he could have sworn that some light of understanding, of empathy, had passed between them – some chemical reaction. Yet now it was as if that encounter had never happened and the woman was a hostile stranger.

Well, he ought not to wonder at such hostility. She was a supporter of Columba’s rule while he, by his very corona spinea, had declared for Rome. And the hostilities of those gathered at the abbey were obvious for even the most insensitive to interpret.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hollow rasping cough from the doorway of the cell. Both Fidelma and Eadulf turned together as an elderly religieuse paused on the portal.

‘Pax vobiscum,’ she greeted. ‘Are you Fidelma of Kildare?’

Fidelma acknowledged her identity.

‘I am Sister Athelswith, domina of the domus hospitale of Streoneshalh.’ She kept her eyes focused on Fidelma, making an obvious effort not to let them stray to the cot on which the body of Étain lay. ‘Abbess Hilda thought that you might wish to talk with me for I am in charge of all the arrangements for the accommodation of our brethren during the synod.’

‘Excellent,’ chimed in Brother Eadulf, incurring another glance of displeasure from Fidelma. ‘You are exactly the person to whom we should speak—’

‘But not immediately,’ snapped Fidelma irritably. ‘First, Sister Athelswith, we would like the physician of your abbey to examine the body of our poor sister as soon as possible. We would wish to speak with the physician as soon as the examination has been made.’

Sister Athelswith looked nervously from Fidelma to Brother Eadulf and back again.

‘Very well,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I will tell Brother Edgar, our physician, at once.’

‘Then we will meet you at the north door of the abbey shortly after we have finished here.’

Again the troubled eyes of the elderly sister roamed from Fidelma’s face to that of the young Saxon monk. Fidelma was annoyed by her hesitation.

‘Time is of importance, Sister Athelswith,’ she said sharply.

The mistress of the guests’ quarters bobbed her head uncertainly and hurried off about her errand.

Sister Fidelma turned to face Eadulf. Her features were controlled, but her green eyes sparkled with annoyance.

‘I am not used—’ she began, but Eadulf disarmed her with a grin.

‘—to working with someone else? Yes, I can understand that. No more am I. I think we should devise some plan in order that we might carry out our investigation without conflict. We should decide who is in charge of conducting the investigation.’

Fidelma stared at the Saxon in surprise. She sought for words for a moment or two to express her annoyance but they came so disjointedly into her mind that she did not utter them.

‘As we are in the land of the Saxons, maybe I should take charge,’ Eadulf went on, ignoring the storm that seemed about to erupt. ‘After all, I know the law and customs and language of this country.’

Fidelma’s lips had thinned as she controlled herself and found the words she wanted.

‘I concede that it is indisputable that you have such knowledge. Nevertheless, Oswy the king, with the support of the Abbess Hilda of this house and Colmán, Bishop of Northumbria, suggested that I undertake this investigation because of my experience in this field. You were appointed as a political expediency so that the investigation might be seen to be even-handed.’