Peter Tremayne - Absolution by Murder

‘That certainly agrees with the time that the messenger arrived in the assembly hall and informed the Abbess Hilda,’ Eadulf confirmed.

‘I was there also,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘And you, Sister Athelswith, you disturbed nothing? All was left exactly as you found it in Étain’s cell?’

The domina of the domus hospitale nodded emphatically.

‘I disturbed nothing.’

Sister Fidelma bit her lip thoughtfully.

‘Well, the shadows are lengthening. I think we should retrace our footsteps to the abbey,’ she said, after a moment’s pause. ‘We should continue by seeking out this priest, Agatho, and seeing what he has to say.’

A figure was hurrying towards them through the gloom from the direction of the abbey gates. It was one of the brethren, a thick-set, moon-faced young man.

‘Ah, brother, sisters. The Abbess Hilda has sent me in great haste to search for you.’

He paused a moment to recover his wheezy breath.

‘Well?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘I have to tell you that the murderer of the Abbess Étain has been discovered and is even now under lock and key within the abbey.’

Chapter Eight

Fidelma entered Abbess Hilda’s chamber, closely followed by Eadulf. The abbess was seated while before her stood a tall young man with blond hair and a scar on his face. Fidelma recognized him immediately as the man Brother Taran had identified in the sacrarium as Oswy’s eldest son, Alhfrith. She had an immediate impression, observing him close up, that the scar suited him well, for his features, though handsome, gave an indefinable impression of cruelty – perhaps because the lips were thin and sneering and the eyes ice-blue, cold and lifeless as if they were the eyes of a corpse.

‘This is Alhfrith of Deira,’ announced the abbess.

Brother Eadulf immediately bowed low in the manner of the Saxons when greeting their princes, but Fidelma remained upright, merely giving a hint of a nod of respectful acknowledgment. She would do no more than that even when meeting a provincial king of Ireland, for her rank entitled her to speak on a level with kings, even the High King himself.

Alhfrith, son of Oswy, glanced briefly at Sister Fidelma in disinterest and then proceeded to address himself to Brother Eadulf in Saxon. Fidelma had some knowledge of the language, but the delivery was too fast and accented for her to understand a word. She raised a hand and interrupted the heir-apparent of Northumbria.

‘It would be better,’ she said in Latin, ‘if we observed a language common to all. I have no Saxon. If we do not have a common language then, Eadulf, it behoves you to translate.’

Alhfrith paused in his delivery and made a noise conveying annoyance at being interrupted.

The Abbess Hilda suppressed a smile.

‘As Alhfrith speaks no Latin, I suggest we continue to use Irish as a language we can all understand,’ she said in that language.

Alhfrith turned to Fidelma, his brows drawn together.

‘I have a little Irish, taught by the monks of Columba when they brought Christianity to this land. If you have no Saxon, then I shall speak this language.’ The words were slow and thickly accented, but his knowledge was adequate.

Fidelma made a gesture with her hand, inviting him to continue. To her irritation he turned back to Eadulf and continued to address his remarks to him.

‘There is little need to continue your investigation. We have the culprit locked away.’

Brother Eadulf was about to reply when Sister Fidelma interrupted.

‘Are we to be informed who the culprit is?’

Alhfrith blinked in surprise. Saxon women knew their place. But he had some experience of the boldness of Irish women and had learnt from his step-mother, Fín, something of their arrogance in considering themselves equal to men. He swallowed the sharp reply that rose in his mouth and his eyes narrowed as he gazed at Fidelma.

‘Surely. A beggar from Ireland. One called Canna, the son of Canna.’

Fidelma raised a quizzical eyebrow.

‘How was he discovered?’

Brother Eadulf felt uncomfortable about the challenging note in his colleague’s voice. He was accustomed to the manner and customs of Irish women in their own land but uneasy about such attitudes among his own people.

‘The discovery was made easily enough,’ replied Alhfrith coldly. ‘The man went round foretelling the day and time of the Abbess Étain’s death. He is either a great sorcerer or he is the murderer. As a Christian king adhering to Rome,’ he said emphatically, ‘I do not believe in sorcery. Therefore, the only way the man could foretell the day and time of the abbess’s death is if he were the perpetrator of the crime.’

Eadulf was nodding slowly at the logic, but Fidelma smiled sceptically at the Saxon prince.

‘Are there witnesses to the fact that he foretold the exact hour and manner of Abbess Étain’s death?’

Alhfrith gestured, a trifle dramatically, to Abbess Hilda.

‘There is a witness and one beyond reproach.’

Sister Fidelma turned questioningly to the abbess.

Hilda seem caught off guard and a little flustered.

‘It is true that yesterday morning this beggar was brought to me and foretold that blood would be spilt on this day.’

‘He was precise?’

Alhfrith hissed in irritation as Hilda shook her head.

‘In truth, all he told me was that blood would be spilt on the day the sun was blotted from the sky. A learned brother from Iona told me that this event did occur this very afternoon when the moon passed between us and the sun.’

Fidelma’s expression grew even more sceptical.

‘But did he name the Abbess Étain and the precise hour?’ she insisted.

‘Not to me—’ began Hilda.

‘But there are other witnesses who will swear he told them,’ interrupted Alhfrith. ‘Why do we waste time? Do you question my word?’

Sister Fidelma turned to the Saxon with a disarming smile. Only a close examination would have told how false the smile was.

‘Your word is not evidence in the legal sense, Alhfrith of Deira. Even under Saxon law, there must be direct evidence of the wrongdoing and not merely hearsay or conjecture. As I understand it, you are merely reporting what someone else has told you. You have not heard this man’s words directly.’

Alhfrith’s face reddened in mortification.

Brother Eadulf suddenly spoke for the first time.

‘Sister Fidelma is right. Your word is not in question, because you are not a witness and cannot testify to what this man said.’

Fidelma hid her surprise at being supported by the Saxon brother. She turned back to the Abbess Hilda.

‘Nothing alters our commission to investigate this matter, Mother Abbess, only that we now have a suspect. Is that correct?’

The Abbess Hilda agreed, though seemingly nervous at being seen to go against her young kinsman.

Alhfrith exhaled in annoyance.

‘This is time-wasting. The Irish woman was killed by one of her own countrymen. The sooner that news is announced the better. At least it will stop the rumours and unjust accusations that she was killed to prevent her speaking at the debate by one of the pro-Roman faction.’

‘If that is the truth, then it shall be announced,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘We have yet to discern whether it is the truth.’

‘Perhaps,’ Brother Eadulf said hurriedly as the Saxon prince’s brows furrowed, ‘you would tell us who the witnesses are against this man and how he came to be arrested?’

Alhfrith hesitated.

‘One of my thanes, Wulfric, overheard the man boasting in the market that he had foretold the death of Étain. He found three people who will swear they heard the beggar announce this before the death of the abbess was discovered. He is guarding the prisoner even now, preparatory to our burning him at the stake for daring to mock the laws of God by claiming omniscient precognition.’