Peter Tremayne - Absolution by Murder

Fidelma turned back to Eadulf.

‘Did you look into the cask? The one I fell from?’

‘No. I don’t understand.’

‘Then go and do so. Someone has killed Seaxwulf. He was dumped in the cask.’

Without another word, Eadulf rose and left. Fidelma irritably waved the fussing Sister Athelswith away. She rose and went to the table on which a bowl and jug of water stood. She splashed it on her face. Her head was throbbing.

‘You need not wait, sister,’ she said, on finding that Sister Athelswith still stood silently by the door. ‘No word of this must be mentioned until we say so. I will give you further news later.’

With a sniff of hurt pride, Sister Athelswith departed.

Fidelma stood a moment, feeling everything swimming out of focus. She sat down again abruptly and began to massage her temples with her fingertips.

Eadulf returned a moment later. He was breathless from hurrying.

‘Well?’ asked Fidelma before he could speak. ‘Did you see the body?’

‘No.’ Eadulf shook his head. ‘There was no body in the cask.’

Fidelma jerked her head up and stared at the monk.

‘What?’

‘I looked in all the casks. There was no body in any of them.’

Fidelma came to her feet, her mouth tight and her dizziness gone.

‘I saw it there. I think Seaxwulf had been drowned in the wine. I saw it!’

Eadulf smiled reassuringly.

‘I believe you, sister. And since we brought you here someone must have removed it.’

Fidelma sighed. ‘Yes. That must be it.’

‘You had best tell me exactly what happened.’

Fidelma sat back on the bed, rubbing her pulsating forehead with her hands as the ache came back.

‘I told you to take things easy,’ reproved Eadulf. ‘Does your head ache?’

‘Yes,’ she groaned irritably. ‘What do you think, after receiving a crack like that?’

He smiled sympathetically.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll go and have the kitchen prepare a drink that will help you.’

‘A drink? Another of the poisons you claim to have learnt in Tuaim Brecain?’ she moaned.

‘A herbal remedy,’ Eadulf assured her with a grin. ‘A mixture of sage and red clover. Drink it and it will ease the ache in your head. Though I doubt your condition is so serious if you can protest as you do.’ He disappeared but was back almost before she realised it.

‘The remedy will be along shortly. Now tell me what happened,’ he invited.

She told him, simply and without embroidering the story.

‘You should have told me about this assignation before you went off gallivanting in those vaults,’ he admonished.

There was a tap on the door and a sister entered with a steaming pottery mug.

‘Ah, the infusion,’ grinned Eadulf. ‘It may not taste sweetly, sister, but it will cure your head. I guarantee it.’

Fidelma sipped at the noxious brew, screwing her face up.

‘Best to swallow it as fast as possible,’ advised Eadulf.

Fidelma pulled a face at him but took his advice, shutting her eyes and swallowing the warm drink as fast as possible.

‘That was truly horrible,’ she said, as she put down the mug. ‘You seem to be constantly making me imbibe your noxious concoctions. I think you take a pleasure in it.’

‘There is a saying in your language, Fidelma, that the bitterer the medicine the better the cure,’ replied Eadulf complacently. ‘Now where were we … ?’

‘Seaxwulf. You say his body has gone? But why? And why kill Seaxwulf and then go to such pains to hide the body?’

‘He was killed to prevent him from speaking with you. That much is obvious.’

‘But what had Seaxwulf to tell me? What was so important that he had to make a secret rendezvous and then get killed for it?’

‘Perhaps Seaxwulf had learnt the identity of our murderer?’

Fidelma sat down on the cot and clenched her teeth angrily.

‘Three murders, three and we are not even close to a discovery yet.’

Eadulf shook his head.

‘I disagree. We are too close, sister,’ he said with emphasis.

Fidelma glanced up in surprise.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that if we were not close then there would have been only one murder committed. The other two were committed to prevent us gaining the knowledge that those murdered had. We came too close and the murderer was forced to act before we realised that fact.’

Fidelma thought for a moment.

‘You are right. I am not thinking straight. You are absolutely right, Eadulf.’

Eadulf smiled ruefully.

‘I have also discovered that Athelnoth was not entirely lying to us about the brooch.’

‘How?’

Eadulf held out his hand. In his palm was a small silver brooch. Its workmanship was exquisite and its whorls and circular patterns were emphasised by enamel work and semiprecious stones.

Fidelma took it and held it up, turning it over in her fingers.

‘There is little doubt that this is of Irish workmanship,’ she said. ‘Where did you find it?’

‘When Brother Edgar, the physician, stripped the body of Athelnoth for the post-mortem examination we found that he had a small purse tied against the flesh of his body on a leather thong. There was nothing in the purse save this brooch. Oh, and a small scrap of vellum with some Greek writing.’

‘Show me.’

Eadulf handed it to her a little uncomfortably.

‘My Greek is not good enough to understand it fully.’

Fidelma’s eyes were sparkling. ‘A love poem. “Love shook my heart, like a mountain wind that falls upon oak trees.” Short and simple.’ She sighed softly. ‘Each time we think we have solved a mystery, the mystery only deepens.’

‘I don’t understand. Surely this is an easy riddle? This must be the brooch that Étain dropped and that Athelnoth said he was going to return – the brooch he mislaid when he took us to his cubiculum to show us? And it was obvious that he was writing some love poem to Étain, an attempt to win her favour just as Sister Gwid indicated.’

Fidelma turned worried eyes on Eadulf.

‘If this was the brooch Étain dropped, and Athelnoth were going to return it, why would he keep it in a small purse next to his skin? And with a love poem? Surely the brooch was there at the very time he was pretending to search for it in front of us? If so, Athelnoth was lying again. But for what purpose?’

Eadulf smiled: ‘Because he did have an infatuation for Étain. He wrote the love poem to her. Perhaps he wanted the brooch as a keepsake. People do become enamoured of objects belonging to people they have a passion for. They sometime vent their passion on the object.’

Fidelma’s eyes brightened.

‘A keepsake! What a fool I am. I think you have taken us a step nearer to the truth.’

Eadulf cast her a bewildered glance, not sure whether she was being sarcastic or not.

‘Seaxwulf was reading Greek love poems in the librarium the other evening. And he asked us if lovers exchanged gifts. Don’t you see?’

Eadulf looked totally bemused.

‘I don’t see how this helps us. Are you saying that Seaxwulf killed Athelnoth?’

‘And then drowned himself in a cask of wine? Think again, Eadulf!’

With an exclamation of exasperation she stood up abruptly, swaying a little. Eadulf caught her arm anxiously and they stood for a moment as she recovered from the fit of giddiness. Then she broke away in agitation.

‘Let us go down to the apotheca again and examine the cask from which our third corpse has gone missing. There is something I think Seaxwulf had which we must find.’

‘Are you fit enough?’ he demanded anxiously.

‘Of course,’ snapped Fidelma. Then she paused and a smile passed over her features. ‘Yes, I am,’ she said more softly. ‘You were right. It was a bitter medicine but my headache has gone. You have a talent there, Eadulf. You would make a fine apothecary.’