Fidelma smiled as if pacifying a child. ‘What links would there be?’ she countered.
Abbot Iarnla took this as a negative and, nodding slightly, he turned and hurried off.
Fidelma looked at Eadulf. ‘What?’ she demanded.
‘He was murdered,’ Eadulf replied simply.
‘How did you make that out?’
Eadulf raised a fist and opened it. On his palm lay a number of bloodstained slivers of wood. ‘No one seemed to notice that I picked these from the wound at the back of his skull. From these splinters I would say the wood was blackthorn, which is pretty hard.’
Fidelma looked closely at the splinters.
‘Well done, Eadulf,’ she murmured, appreciatively. ‘How do you interpret the event?’
‘I believe that someone came up behind him and hit him with a stick. He has been dead some time.’
Fidelma knew that Eadulf did not just make guesses on such matters.
‘Because?’
‘The body was stiff and cold.’
‘So he came here in the dark?’
‘Certainly some time before first light.’
As he spoke, Eadulf was looking around the area where the master builder had fallen. His brow was creased in a frown of concentration.
‘What are you looking for?’ Fidelma asked patiently.
‘That!’ said Eadulf in triumph, pointing.
Just behind where she was standing was a piece of half-burnt candle and a battered holder. Eadulf looked back to where the body had been lying with its feet towards the candle.
‘I think he came here after dark,’ he said slowly. ‘Why? I suspect he came to meet someone. Whoever was waiting for him could not replicate what happened to me — it had been tried once, and Glassán might well have been on his guard. So they hit him over the head — so hard their blackthorn cudgel splintered around the skull. But I would have expected the candle he was carrying to have been flung forward by the impact of the blow, not behind him.’
Fidelma regarded him with approval. ‘Well spotted, Eadulf. How do you explain it?’
‘Having knocked him out, they pulled the body to the place where he was found. This was to ensure he was under a half-finished wall. They smeared one of the stones with his blood so that it looked as if the stone had fallen and killed him. But they forgot the candle.’
‘How can you be sure they moved the body?’
He examined the area just behind her and pointed without comment.
Fidelma saw that there were little spots of blood on the debris there and one tiny almost dried-up pool.
‘In the dark, the killer did not manage to clean up all the evidence.’ Eadulf paused. ‘It seems clear that the attack on me was intended for Glassán. But when I held up the candleand was recognised, one of the killers pushed me out of the way of the falling stone.’
Fidelma nodded in agreement. ‘There had to be two killers to accomplish that.’
‘There were probably two attackers this time as well.’
‘And don’t forget that we have heard of other so-called accidents. These must all have been attempts to kill Glassán. After the last one, where you were nearly killed, the attackers probably gave up the idea of trying to make it look like an accident. They must have made sure he was killed first and then fixed things later to seem like an accident.’ She looked around and then said, ‘Let us have a word with the boy.’
‘I can’t see the connection between Glassán and Donnchad,’ Eadulf said as he fell in step with her.
‘Perhaps there isn’t,’ Fidelma replied.
‘But it would surely be a curious coincidence.’
‘Coincidence defeats a well-laid plan, Eadulf,’ Fidelma remarked.
Eadulf thrust out his lower lip as he pondered this.
‘I am inclined to think that the reason might lie in the master builder’s reputation. Wherever a man goes, his character goes with him.’
Fidelma smiled at him but said nothing.
Brother Donnán met them at the door of the scriptorium with a sad face.
‘Have you come to see the boy?’ he asked, as they came up the steps into the building.
‘Is he able to answer some questions?’ asked Fidelma.
‘He is young but he is strong. However, it was a shock for him and he is far from home.’
‘Thank you for looking after him, Brother Donnán,’ she answered. ‘Where is he?’
The scriptor indicated a spot at the far end of the librarywhere the boy was seated, staring before him. He held a mug in his hand, which he was regarding morosely.
‘I thought, in the circumstances, a little wine might help to ease his distress,’ muttered Brother Donnán.
Fidelma walked to where Gúasach sat. Eadulf followed with Brother Donnán.
‘Hello, Gúasach,’ she said as the boy looked up at her approach.
‘Hello, Sister,’ he replied, his voice firm.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I do not know. I have been in fosterage to Glassán for three years. He was not a nice person. He did not treat me well but he was my legal fosterer and instructor. What am I to do now?’
Fidelma drew up a small stool and sat by the boy.
‘Before you tell me all you know of this morning, let me assure you that you must not worry about that. You will be looked after. Now, what can you tell me about finding Glassán?’
‘Not much to tell,’ replied the boy. ‘I rose at the usual time, at first light. I came to the abbey to make sure all was prepared for the day’s work. That is what I usually did.’
‘You live in the workers’ cabins outside the abbey walls, don’t you?’
‘By the riverside,’ he confirmed.
‘And Glassán lived in the guesthouse in the abbey. So you would not have seen him until you came to the site. Isn’t that unusual for a foster-child?’
The boy shrugged. ‘I would not know. It was the way things were. Glassán always treated me as one of his workers and told me what work I should do. It was the others who taught me their skills when they had time.’
The corner of Fidelma’s mouth turned down in disapproval. It was not the custom of fosterage. The foster-child usually became part of the fosterer’s family, lived, ate and slept withthem as one of them and was given their education with them. It seemed Glassán simply treated the boy as one of his workforce from whom he expected a day’s work as well as the fee from the boy’s father for his training.
‘So you came to the abbey at first light. Did you see anyone about?’
‘Brother Echen was up and cleaning the stables,’ the boy said. ‘He is usually up first and he opens the gates of the abbey. The ugly brother was coming through the gates at the same time.’
‘The ugly brother?’ queried Fidelma.
‘He has a name like “wind” or something similar.’
She frowned.
‘He means Brother Gáeth,’ interpreted Brother Donnán. Fidelma smiled as she suddenly realised the connection. The name Gáeth actually meant ‘clever’ or ‘wise’, where as gáith meant ‘wind’.
‘Was anyone else about?’
‘The steward was crossing the quadrangle.’
‘Brother Lugna?’
‘I do not like him,’ the boy confessed. ‘I don’t think he likes me.’
Fidelma nearly agreed aloud but she remained silent.
‘Did he say anything to you?’
‘He never speaks to me.’
‘So what happened next?’
‘I came up to the building that we were working on to make sure the tools were all ready for when the men came to work. It was there that I saw the body. You couldn’t miss it once you came into the building. I saw he was dead at once. The back of his head-’
‘We know,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Do not think about that. What did you do then?’
‘I knew where the physician worked, not far away. I ran there immediately. He asked me what was wrong and I told him.’
‘Brother Seachlann was already at work?’