Peter Tremayne - Absolution by Murder

The body of Seaxwulf lay on its back, eyes glazed and staring upwards. Fidelma flinched. The body had received a battering from the rocks and sea since she had last seen it in the wine cask. The clothes of the monk were almost shredded and weed clung to them.

Brother Eadulf was having a swift exchange with several of the bystanders who, by their looks, appeared to be fishermen.

‘One of them saw the body floating some way out to sea while he was coming in after fishing in his boat. He pulled it alongside and dragged it ashore.’

Fidelma nodded slowly in satisfaction.

‘Well, the fisherman you asked last night said it could come from that spot within six to twelve hours. He was right. And you can see that Seaxwulf did not drown in the sea but in the wine cask of the abbey, look at his mouth.’

She leant over and forced open the mouth of the corpse.

Eadulf let out a sharp exhalation.

‘It is stained reddish – only faintly, but you can see the colour around the lips and in the mouth itself. But then I never doubted your word.’

‘Red wine,’ Fidelma said, ignoring his compliment. ‘He was drowned in red wine, as I said.’

She began to remove the clothing around Seaxwulf’s neck. Then she paused.

‘Look at this. What do you make of it?’ she asked.

Eadulf’s eyes narrowed as he bent forward.

‘Abrasions, some faint bruising fading rapidly, probably due to the immersion in the water. Powerful fingers. A strong man held him down by the shoulders.’

‘Strong hands, indeed. He was held down in the wine cask until he drowned in the wine. I must have come along at that moment. Not until I slipped from the stool and was unconscious, or perhaps until you removed me to my cubiculum, did the murderer drag the body from the cask and then pull it along the tunnel and cast him into the sea. The poor devil.’

‘If only we knew what it was that he had wanted to tell you,’ muttered Eadulf.

‘I think I know,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘Look to see if he has a purse.’

Eadulf was fumbling with the monk’s clothing, which was a mangled mess of sea-sodden wool. There was no sign of the traditional pera or crumena that monks usually carried. But Eadulf gave a grunt of astonishment. Inside the clothing he found a small linen sacculus which was sewn to the inner side of the garment. In old times the religious of both sexes would carry only a crumena, a small sack or purse which hung over their shoulders in which they carried coin or personal items. Some, like Athelnoth, carried a pera . But a new fashion was emerging and that was for religious to have a sacculus of linen sewn into the folds of their garments as a means of greater protection for their private belongings. The fashion originated in Frankia where they called it a little pouch or pocket.

‘What do you make of this, Fidelma?’ asked Eadulf wonderingly.

Pinned in a fold of the cloth was a piece of torn vellum, fixed by a small round brooch, worked in bronze with red enamel and curious designs.

She stared at it for a moment and uttered an exclamation of elation.

‘That was exactly what I was seeking.’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘I don’t see how it helps us. Seaxwulf was a Saxon. And I can tell you that the work is Saxon. The motif is ancient, pre-Christian, a symbol representing the ancient goddess Frig—’

Fidelma interrupted. ‘I think it helps a great deal. And I mean the vellum as well as the brooch.’

Eadulf stared in disgust.

‘Another piece of Greek.’

Fidelma nodded contentedly.

‘It reads: “Love the loosener of limbs shakes me again, an inescapable bittersweet creature”.’

Eadulf pursed his lips in annoyance.

‘Did Athelnoth write this as well?’ The monk suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘You have implied that Étain’s death had nothing to do with the plot to overthrow Oswy. That Taran and Wulfric had nothing to do with her death. I have it! Athelnoth killed Etain after all. But he was caught up in the matter of the king’s assassination, revealing it to Oswy, and was killed by Wulfric or Alhfrith. His slaughter was merely a matter of coincidence.’

Fidelma smiled softly, shaking her head.

‘A good explanation, Eadulf, but not the correct one.’

‘Who else had opportunity and motive?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘Well, you forget Abbe for one.’

Eadulf groaned, touching his forehead with the palm of his hand.

‘I had forgotten her.’ Then his face lightened. ‘But she would not have the necessary strength to kill any of the victims, would she?’

‘I am not saying it is her. But the person we are dealing with is of cunning disposition, a mind whose thinking is like a path through a labyrinth that one tries to follow at one’s peril.’

Fidelma was quiet for a few minutes as she knelt by the body of Seaxwulf. Finally she stood up.

‘Order these men to remove the body to the abbey,’ she instructed. ‘Tell them to take it to Brother Edgar.’

She turned and began to walk slowly up the path towards the abbey buildings, hands folded in front of her, clasping the brooch and the vellum, her head slightly bent.

Eadulf quickly issued the orders and followed after her. He waited patiently, watching as she walked deep in thought. Suddenly she turned towards him and he had never seen such a smile of triumph on her face before.

‘I think it all fits together now. But first I must visit the librarium and find that copy of the lyric poems of the Hellenistic world that Seaxwulf was reading.’

Eadulf exhaled helplessly.

‘You have lost me. What has the librarium to do with it? What do you mean?’

Sister Fidelma gave a triumphant laugh.

‘I know who our murderer is, that is what I mean.’

Chapter Nineteen

Sister Fidelma paused before the door of Abbess Hilda’s chambers, glanced at Brother Eadulf and pulled a face.

‘Are you nervous, Fidelma?’ Eadulf whispered in concern.

‘Who would not be nervous in such circumstances?’ she replied quietly. ‘We are dealing with someone strong and cunning. And the evidence I have is somewhat circumstantial. There is only one point of weakness, as I have mentioned, by which I hope to draw a response from the killer. If that fails …’ She shrugged. ‘Our murderer may well escape us.’

‘I am there to back you.’

Eadulf’s reassurance was no boast, just a simple and comforting statement.

For a moment she regarded him with a genuine smile of affection and reached out a hand to touch his. Eadulf placed his hand over Fidelma’s as their gaze held. Then Fidelma lowered her eyes before knocking sharply on the door.

They were all there as she had requested – Abbess Hilda, Bishop Colman, Oswy the king, Abbess Abbe, Sister Athelswith, Agatho the priest, Sister Gwid and Wighard, secretary to the now dead Archbishop of Canterbury. Oswy was sprawled moodily in the chair before the fire usually reserved for Colman. The bishop himself had taken Hilda’s chair behind her table. The rest of the company were standing around the room.

They turned with inquisitive looks as Fidelma and Eadulf entered.

Fidelma inclined her head to the king and looked towards the Abbess Hilda.

‘With your permission, Mother Abbess?’

‘You may proceed at once, sister. We are anxious enough to hear you and I am sure we will all be relieved when this is over.’

‘Very well.’ Fidelma coughed nervously, glanced to Eadulf for support and then began.

‘What has dominated our investigation into the death of the Abbess Etain was the thought, which has become a conviction in the minds of many, that the killing was political.’