‘Not at once.’ She looked up to where Muirgen was playing with Alchú, and called to the nurse to go to the chamber where Sister Marga was held.
‘After her journey from Eatharlaí, I fear that she must be in need of a bath. Provide all her wants, perfumes and the like, so that she may bathe. Tell her that, should she require it, Brother Conchobhar has many scents for her bath and she may ask for anything she desires. When she has done, I will come and question her. Is that clear?’
Muirgen was a simple soul and did not question Fidelma’s instructions, but Eadulf was looking at her as if she had lost her reason. Fidelma merely returned his gaze with solemn features and did not answer his unasked question.
‘And send an attendant to take care of Alchú while you are gone,’ she added as Muirgen left.
‘Now we will have a word, at long last, with Brother Drón,’ she said when the attendant arrived. She explained how Caol and his warriors had picked up the surprised northern religious at the inn at Rath na Drínne on the previous evening and returned him to the fortress.
Brother Drón scowled as they entered the room where he was confined.
‘You are a fool, Sister Fidelma! I have been chasing Marga because I know that she killed Abbot Ultán, as doubtless she also killed Muirchertach when he found out what she had done.’
Fidelma took a chair and said: ‘You’d better tell me how you know that.’
Brother Drón scowled and looked as if he was about to argue, but Fidelma urged him to continue.
‘Sister Marga was a temptress, a siren conjured to seduce that God-fearing man. She forced an unnatural liaison with the abbot.’
Fidelma looked solemn. ‘Are you admitting that there was a sexual relationship between the abbot and Sister Marga?’
‘The fault lay entirely with Sister Marga,’ Brother Drón replied. ‘Why else would he have succumbed had she not tempted him?’
‘From what I have learned,’ said Fidelma pointedly, ‘I doubt whether he needed any temptation. Is your preamble necessary to the reason why you assert that Marga killed him?’
‘Marga came to hate him. Probably because he finally rejected her advances. That’s why she killed him.’
‘A lot of people hated Abbot Ultán with more reason.’
‘I was a witness that night. A witness to the killing.’
‘A witness?’ For the first time, Fidelma was genuinely surprised.
‘I went to Bishop Ultán’s chamber late that night. .’
‘For what reason?’ demanded Eadulf.
Brother Drón blinked at the interruption. ‘Why?’ He hesitated. ‘Because Abbot Ultán was preparing a protest against your wedding on the following day. He needed my advice.’
‘Go on,’ urged Fidelma.
‘He asked me to go to his room about midnight to run through some of the arguments that he was going to put forward. I had just left my room when I saw Abbot Ultán’s door open. His door faces the corridor where my room is. Then Sister Marga emerged. She did not see me and I pressed back into my room, for, at that time, I thought it unseemly that either Abbot Ultán or Sister Marga know that I shared their dark secret.’
‘You display a curious sense of proprieties, Brother Drón,’ Eadulf observed dryly. ‘You knew about his penchant for women, you knew even darker secrets such as his taste for sadism, the beating to death of his victims. . like the poor Saxon woman at Colmán’s island. You ignored that. Yet you ask us to believe that you were concerned for his sensitivities or Marga’s feelings? Come. What game were you playing?’
Brother Drón coloured hotly. ‘I was not playing a game. I. .’
‘Perhaps you were thinking of how best to extort something from the situation?’
The barb seemed to strike home for the man flushed and was at a loss to reply.
‘Carry on,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘You say that you saw Marga leave Ultán’s chamber. What happened then?’
‘I decided to remain where I was for a while in order to give Abbot Ultán a little time so that he could be assured that I had not seen anyone exit his room.’
‘For how long?’ At least, she thought, Drón’s story corroborated that of Fergus Fanat.
‘Not long. I doubt my candle had burned down by more than a gráinne.’ He indicated the smallest Irish measurement, meaning the length of a wheat grain.
‘And then you returned to Ultán’s chamber?’
‘The door was closed. I knocked. There was no answer. To my surprise, I found the door unbolted so I entered and saw Abbot Ultán lying on his back on the bed. It was clear what had happened. Sister Marga had stabbed him to death. I exited hastily from the room, closed the door, and started to hurry along the corridor after Sister Marga to confront her.’
‘In your haste you tripped and fell,’ put in Fidelma.
Drón looked at her in astonishment for a moment.
‘How did you know. .?’ he began. Then he nodded. ‘Ah, from Dúnchad Muirisci. I fell outside his door and he opened it to find me picking myself up. I explained that I had tripped. The fall brought me to my senses. It was little use accusing Marga of Abbot Ultán’s death. To what end?’
‘Justice?’ put in Eadulf cynically.
Brother Drón ignored him. ‘I realised that we had to get her back to Cill Ria where her fellows in the abbey could be told of what she had done and inflict the punishment in accordance with our rules rather than allow her to go free with a simple fine under the laws of the brehons. So I went back to my chamber to consider the situation.’
‘And when did you find out that Muirchertach Nár had been accused of Abbot Ultán’s murder? Why did you not come forward with your information?’
‘For the same reason. Sister Marga had to be taken back for punishment to Cill Ria.’
‘When did you hear that Muirchertach was accused?’
‘I heard a great fuss in the corridor and overheard a guard saying that Muirchertach Nár had been seen fleeing from Abbot Ultán’s chamber just before he had been found murdered. I realised what had happened. After I had returned, Muirchertach Nár had gone to see Ultán and probably entered as I had. He likely found Ultán dead, turned and fled, but just as Brehon Baithen and one of the palace guards had come along the corridor. They had jumped to the natural conclusion.’
‘So you could have proved Muirchertach Nár’s innocence immediately?’
‘Not without incriminating myself or revealing that Sister Marga was the killer.’
‘When did you tell Sister Sétach about this?’ asked Fidelma. ‘When did you ask her to search the abbot’s chamber?’
Once again, Brother Drón frowned at her apparent knowledge. Fidelma decided to explain.
‘As you know, Sister Sétach came to Ultán’s chamber the day after the murder was discovered. However, the guard refused her entry. She was so desperate in her search for something that she actually climbed on to the ledge that runs along the outside wall and made her way from the corridor window to the window in Ultán’s chamber. I can only surmise that you must have told her about Ultán’s death. What was she looking for?’
Brother Drón hesitated. ‘The next day everyone knew about the murder and that Muirchertach Nár was suspect. That morning in the chapel, I took Sister Sétach aside and told her what I knew — that Sister Marga had killed Abbot Ultán. I told her that my intention was to get her back to Cill Ria as soon as it was possible to leave. As I say, in her own community, among her fellow religious, we could punish her under the full rigours of the Penitentials.’
‘Leaving Muirchertach Nár to take the blame for the murder?’ Fidelma was aghast at the admission.
Brother Drón shrugged. ‘It was God’s justice on the man. He was no friend to Cill Ria or to what we stand for. I rejoice at his death.’
‘I find it hard to believe that you could ignore both the law and your self-proclaimed charity of the Faith. So what made Sister Sétach go to Abbot Ultán’s chamber that evening?’