‘As I said, I was trying to identify the sound. But before I could focus on anything, the push came and blackness.’
‘The candlelight would have fallen on your face. Perhaps you were not the person they wanted to kill,’ she speculated.
‘If it wasn’t me they wanted to kill, who was it?’
‘If we knew the answer to that question, we might have an answer to the whole conundrum.’
‘Perhaps it was Glassán and his foster-son who pushed me?’
‘I doubt the boy is strong enough to either push you over or move the lintel. We can rule them out, I think. Or the boy, at least.’
Eadulf realised she was right.
‘Maybe we should have a talk with the child?’ he suggested. ‘He might know something even if he isn’t directly involved.’
‘I agree that he might be able to tell us something more. However, I would rather do it when he is on his own. We especially don’t want Glassán or Brother Lugna about.’
‘There is one question I would like answered,’ said Eadulf. ‘What was the physician doing on the building site last night? How did he come to see me lying there and carry me back to his hospital?’
‘That is more than one question,’ Fidelma pointed out with humour. ‘But you are right. They are questions that need to be answered. I think I shall go and ask them now.’ She rose. ‘Is everything all right with you? Do you want for anything? You are taking the potion that Brother Seachlann gave you?’
Eadulf nodded at the jug by his bedside. ‘Brother Seachlannhas provided me with a noxious brew and a salve. I just hope they work.’
Fidelma picked up the jug and sniffed cautiously. ‘I smell mint. Do you know what is in it?’
‘Don’t worry. I do not think he is trying to poison me,’ replied Eadulf. ‘From what I know of the contents, it is the sort of mixture that most apothecaries would mix up in the circumstances. I’ll try to sleep off this headache, though. I know there is much to do.’
‘I’ll ask Gormán to stay near in case you want anything.’
When she glanced back from the door, Eadulf was already lying back, exhausted, his eyes closed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fidelma found Brother Seachlann in the bróinbherg treating a member of the brethren who glanced up shame-faced as she entered.
‘Am I disturbing you, Brother Seachlann?’
The physician shrugged. ‘I am just finished with this one,’ he replied. Turning to the obviously embarrassed man, he gave him a small earthenware jug. ‘Take this mixture and drink a small cupful at frequent intervals and if there is no relief you must come back to me.’
The man nodded quickly, rose and left the chamber.
Brother Seachlann grimaced. ‘A case of food poisoning, I think. He is suffering the buinnech. When he first came yesterday I treated him with meadowsweet but it was not strong enough, so I have made an infusion of agrimony which is stronger and should work within three days.’
‘Buinnech?’ Fidelma queried. ‘That’s … flux.’
‘Diarrhoea,’ agreed the physician. ‘Since no one else has succumbed, I suspect the Brother has been eating something that he should not have been. Some of the brethren do tend to cheat on the meals as laid down in the rules drawn up by our resolute steward Brother Lugna. He believes in frugality.’
‘Agrimony has a bitter taste,’ commented Fidelma. ‘I much prefer boiled sorrel with red wine.’
‘Fine for those who can afford red wine,’ the physician retorted. ‘Now what can I do for you? I hope Brother Eadulf has not taken a turn for the worse.’
Fidelma offered him a reassuring smile. ‘I came to thank you for all that you have done for Eadulf.’
‘It was no more than my profession calls on me to do.’
‘But it was lucky that you were passing by where he lay.’ When he did not respond, she went on, ‘How did you come to be there so late at night?’
The physician frowned and began to clear away the dishes in which he had been mixing his last patience’s medication.
‘I always like to take a walk before preparing myself for repose,’ he said. ‘It helps to clear the mind.’
‘But so late?’
‘I am no slave to the motions of the sun and moon,’ he replied shortly. ‘If I were, then I would not be a physician because sickness and injury do not take account of night or day.’
‘That is true. What made you become a physician? Are you descended from one of those families of hereditary healers?’
Brother Seachlann flushed. She saw a glimpse of some emotion she could not recognise cross his features.
‘I went to study the healing arts when I saw there was a need of them among my people.’
‘That is very laudable, Brother Seachlann. It is this abbey’s good fortune that you decided to leave your people and come here.’
‘The physician should serve all people, irrespective of who they are.’
‘So you saw there was a need among your people but, having qualified, you decided that others had greater need of your talents?’
‘That much is obvious as I am here,’ he replied waspishly.
Fidelma merely smiled and waited.
‘I qualified among the religious and thereafter I considered them my people,’ he tried to justify himself.
‘Indeed, so you came here to my brother’s kingdom,’ she said, reminding him that she held power in the land. ‘In this kingdom,’ she went on, ‘as I think that you learnt from our first meeting, a dálaigh has particular authority, especially when that authority is backed by the rank of birth. Usually, rank of birth does not enter into matters until someone attempts to usurp the authority of the law.’
There was a moment’s silence and then he dropped his gaze to the floor.
‘I beg your forgiveness, lady,’ he said thickly. ‘When you first came here, I was told that I should be careful about what I said to you. I was told neither your rank nor your position.’
‘And it was Brother Lugna, of course, who said that to you.’
He seemed nervous at the suggestion.
‘Do not worry, Brother Seachlann. I presume that you were not in the refectorium for the evening meal last night?’
He frowned and shook his head.
‘Can I ask you where you were? Even a physician has to eat.’
‘I was called earlier that evening to attend to a patient. I did not return to the abbey until after dark.’
‘Who was the patient?’
‘A warrior at a nearby fortress.’
‘Which fortress?’
‘Lady Eithne’s.’
‘What was wrong with the warrior?’
‘An ulcerated wound. It was easily treated and there was no cause for me to be called to her fortress. A herbalist, or evenLady Eithne herself, could have done as much as I did. I saw she was quite knowledgeable about healing herbs and anatomy. However, she believed it beneath her dignity to treat one of her own warriors.’
‘You say that it was an ulcerated wound.’
‘I was told that the man had been practising with his sword and sustained a cut on his arm which he simply washed. I mixed some sorrel and apple juice and applied it to the wound with the white of a hen’s egg. If he keeps the wound clean, then there should be no problems.’
‘So you were kept at the fortress and returned here after dark.’
‘That is so.’ He hesitated and asked, ‘And if I had been here for the evening meal what then?’
‘Then you would have witnessed the steward of this abbey having to acknowledge my authority. I had already learnt that he had given some bad advice to you and others.’
‘I suppose I should have known better.’ The physician sighed.
‘You should,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But as you have been here only a few weeks …’ She shrugged. ‘What made you choose to come here?’
Once again a guarded look spread across his features. ‘Much praise has been given to Lios Mór for its scholars and learning. It is good to be associated with such a community.’