‘Was any one of them close to the rope?’
‘I am not sure. Any one of them could have been. I came back as soon as I felt the wind coming up. Then I saw that the rope had been cut. I called to a couple of crew; we seized another rope and the rest you know.’
Fidelma stood in silent thought.
‘Lady.’ It was young Wenbrit. ‘It is best for you to get out of those wet things.’
Fidelma smiled down at him. She realised that the sodden silk was clinging to her body like a second skin. She pulled her robe more closely around her shoulders.
‘A drink of corma will not go amiss, Wenbrit,’ she hinted. ‘I’ll be in my cabin.’
She hurried across the deck as crew and passengers broke into groups, talking with one another in passionate but quiet voices.
It was half an hour before Fidelma, warmed inside by the fiery spirits of the corma as well as outside by a vigorous rub and some dry clothes, came aft to join Murchad in his cabin. The captain was still looking disturbed by the event, realising just how close the sister of his King, Colgu of Cashel, had come to her death.
‘Are you all right now, lady?’ he greeted her as she entered the cabin.
‘I am feeling like a fool, that is all, Murchad. I forgot that a person who kills can sometimes acquire a taste for killing.’
Murchad was startled.
‘Are you saying that we have a homicidal maniac on board?’
‘To actually set out to kill someone is always the sign of a disturbed mind, Murchad.’
‘Do you still suspect Brother Cian? After all, no one else could gain by the killing of Toca Nia. Therefore, he must have killed Sister Muirgel and then attempted to silence you.’
Fidelma gestured negatively as she sat down facing him.
‘I do not think the logic follows. It might be that the person who killed Toca Nia is not the same person who killed Muirgel. There is also the murder of Sister Canair to bear in mind, but to which we only have the word of Brother Guss. I am afraid that now Guss is dead, hisword as sole witness is worthless. The same criterion which prevents the arrest and prosecution of Cian applies to the matter of Canair … where is the witness? However, the law aside, I am prepared to believe that Guss was speaking the truth.’
‘Do you mean that you believe that Sister Crella is the guilty party?’
‘She may well be. The inconsistencies in her story certainly point to it. But why tell me something that would be contradicted immediately? Was she lying, or did she believe it to be true? The one problem that I cannot resolve is the motive.’
‘How could this thing happen?’ Murchad wondered. ‘A life at sea makes one always close to death, but never death in this fashion. Maybe this voyage is a doomed one. I heard that young religieux, Brother Dathal, saying as much. That this is like the voyage of Donn, god of death …’
Fidelma smiled thinly.
‘Superstition, Murchad; it imprisons the world with fears. Reason is that which opens the cage. There is a logical answer to every mystery, and we will find it. Eventually.’ She paused and then said: ‘Did you remain on deck all the while I was bathing?’
‘I did. I saw Gurvan tie the rope around you and then around the rail. I watched you dive into the sea. Don’t think that I have not tried to rack my memory to recall if I saw anyone go near the rope.’
‘Gurvan came and spoke with you at some point?’
‘Exactly as he said. He waited a while at the rail. I saw him raise his hand. Then Tola, who was walking on deck, engaged him in conversation. The wind began to freshen and he came to discuss it with me. I warned him to pull you in for I knew we would soon have steerage way.’
‘You did not notice anyone else on the deck near the rope?’
‘A couple of the crew were in the yards. I have already spoken to them while you were changing. They saw nothing. As we were expecting a wind, they were there to adjust the sail when it arose. There was someone else though …’ He frowned, ruffling the hair on the back of his head with his right hand. ‘I cannot say who it was.’
‘Surely you can describe the person?’
‘That I cannot say, for they were well for’ard and they had their hood-thing, you know …’
‘The cowl?’
‘Whatever you call it; the hood covered their head.’
‘So it was one of the pilgrims? Can you say whether it was a man or a woman?’
‘I couldn’t even say that, lady.’
‘Did you notice them go near the rail?’
‘They might have done so. There was no one else there at the time. The wind caught and I called on the crew. Gurvan went back to the rope at that time and realised something was wrong. The figure of the religieux had disappeared and I assumed that whoever it was had gone below.’
Murchad suddenly looked at her as though he had remembered something important.
‘I know they did not come back through the stern companionway.’
Fidelma was puzzled.
‘Where could they have gone then?’
‘Probably went through the for’ard hatch.’
‘But surely there is no access to the lower decks that way, is there?’
‘There is a small hatchway just outside your cabin door, but no one uses it. At least, none of the passengers would as it only leads down to the storage areas through which they would then have to make their way into the other areas of the ship.’
‘But there is a way of going below decks there and reaching the passengers’ cabins?’ When he confirmed it, she rose and said: ‘Let us examine it.’
They needed a light, for the small passage that separated Fidelma’s and Gurvan’s cabins on either side, and the head at the end of it, was dark. Fidelma went into her cabin to fetch a lamp. The furry black bundle of Mouse Lord, the cat, was curled up asleep at the foot of her bunk. Fidelma lit the lamp and joined Murchad who was levering up a small hatch from the floor. She had certainly not noticed it before. It was only big enough for one person to ease down at a time.
‘You say that this is not used often?’
‘Not often.’
‘And we can move from here the length and breadth of the ship?’ Murchad uttered an affirmative.
They halted at the bottom of the wooden steps in a small storage space. There was scarcely room to stand up. Fidelma raised the lamp and peered round.
‘Plenty of dust,’ she muttered. ‘I presume this is not often used as a cabin or even storage?’
‘Hardly ever,’ Murchad said. ‘The next cabin is where we keep our main stores.’
Fidelma pointed to a series of footprints on the floor.
‘Doubtless, Gurvan searched the space when he was looking forSister Muirgel on the second day out.’ When Murchad agreed, she added: ‘Then he would check after the storm in case of damage to the hull?’
‘Of course.’
She held the lamp close to the steps down which they had descended and bent down to examine them.
There were some brown stains on the boards and below the bottom step on the deck itself was a clear imprint of a foot.
‘What does it mean?’ asked Murchad.
‘I expect that you and Gurvan are the same size and build, aren’t you?’ Fidelma asked.
‘I suppose so. Why?’
‘Place your foot beside that print, Murchad. Beside it, mind you, not on it.’
Murchad did so. His boot was large by comparison.
‘That shows me that the print does not belong to Gurvan made at the time he discovered the body of Toca Nia.’
‘So?’
‘This is where the killer of Toca Nia came during the night. They moved silently through the ship and came up these steps. They disturbed me and I awoke, thinking, stupidly, it was rats or mice and pushed Mouse Lord out. But it was Toca Nia’s killer who went into his cabin and stabbed him in a frenzy of hate. So much so that blood spilt onto the cabin floor and their foot was covered in it. I noticed the footmarks and saw they led out into the passage, trying to separate Gurvan’s prints from them. They seemed to end and I thought the murderer must have wiped off the blood, not knowing of your hidden hatch. I now realise that it was by this route that they returned to their part of the ship.’