‘Of course,’ Fidelma said soothingly. ‘I would not suggest that you did anything without permission. However, when you were tidying the room and cleaning up, did you notice a particular object? It would have been circular in shape and about a troighid in diameter. Also, it would have been made of heavy metal.’
Brónach glanced nervously at the abbot before shaking her head.
‘I would not have removed anything without permission,’ she stated.
‘I did not suggest otherwise. I said, did you observe such an object?’
‘I do not recall seeing any such object like that,’ the woman replied quietly.
Abbot Colmán was frowning. ‘Was it something of importance?’ he asked.
‘Probably not,’ Fidelma said. ‘Just something I wanted to have clear in my mind.’ She turned back to Brónach. ‘What items did you remove from the High King’s chambers?’
‘Only the clothes and linen from the bed.’
‘The bedlinen?’
‘Indeed. That needed to be taken to be laundered for there was blood on it.’
‘Of course. But I understand there would have been too much blood for the bedlinen to simply be laundered.’
Brónach shook her head. ‘Not so much blood that the bedlinen couldnot be used again. But Brother Rogallach, who is the head of the household, said it was unlucky for the sheets to be used again in the royal household.’
‘So what happened to them?’
‘After I washed them? Well, on Brother Rogallach’s instructions, I took them to the market and sold them.’
‘And there was not so much blood on them that they could not be re-used?’ queried Fidelma thoughtfully.
‘I have said as much.’
‘And you are sure that there was nothing else, no object of a circular nature, anywhere in the apartment?’
‘I have said as much,’ repeated the woman stubbornly.
‘Have you served here for many years?’
‘I came here three years ago, lady. When my husband was killed.’
‘Your husband?’
‘He was Curnán, son of Aed, of the Fianna, lady. He was killed in an attack by the Dál Riada. Sechnussach offered me a place in his house as the chief of his female servants. I have been here since.’
Fidelma glanced around the empty room. ‘That will be all, Brónach. Thank you.’
As the woman left them, Abbot Colmán said: ‘I came looking for you as I heard you had finished questioning Irél.’
‘We were looking for Muirgel, the daughter of Sechnussach.’
The abbot was apologetic. ‘I thought I had mentioned that Sechnussach’s family dwell in their own house just outside the royal enclosure.’
‘You had, and I had forgotten,’ Fidelma admitted.
‘So,’ Eadulf put in, ‘do we understand that the High King’s wife and daughters dwelled separately from him?’
‘Separately, yes,’ confirmed the abbot. ‘They live in Tech Laoghaire, a short distance to the south.’
Eadulf was about to comment when he caught Fidelma’s eye and he said nothing.
‘Then you lead the way, Abbot Colmán,’ Fidelma said. ‘Let us see if we can find the lady Muirgel.’
CHAPTER NINE
There were two things that Eadulf noticed about Muirgel, daughter of the late High King. The first was that she was a very attractive girl. She had fair skin with a hint of freckles, black hair and dark eyes. The aimsir togú, or ‘age of choice’ in the five kingdoms was fourteen years old, when girls became women. Muirgel was seventeen and therefore of marriageable age. Eadulf imagined that she would have many suitors. However, the second thing he noticed about her was her arrogance. It was there in the way she held her head, the disdainful curve of her lip.
She reclined in her chair among an array of cushions as they entered and regarded them with an expression that made it clear that she did not welcome their presence. The young servant girl who had opened the chamber door to them and conducted them to her mistress hesitated as if waiting for further instructions before being dismissed with a haughty wave of her employer’s hand.
Muirgel looked at the elderly abbot with disdain. She did not even bother to look at Fidelma or Eadulf.
‘Well, Abbot Colmán, why is it that you must disturb my peace this afternoon? I have a headache and would prefer to rest alone, and yet I am told you must bring a dálaigh to plague me with questions.’ The girl’s voice was a low, drawling tone that seemed to express total boredom.
There was something apologetic in the manner in which Abbot Colmán stepped forward and began to clear his throat. Eadulf saw the look of annoyance on Fidelma’s face and she interrupted.
‘Your servant is not trained well, Muirgel,’ she snapped.
The girl stared at her in surprise at the unexpected interjection. ‘What?’ The word seemed reluctantly jerked from her.
‘At the door, we told the girl who we were. Are you saying that she did not tell you?’
Muirgel swallowed and tried to regain her composure as she heard the sarcasm in Fidelma’s voice.
‘She told me,’ she snapped back. ‘And one would expect those in the company of Abbot Colmán to know some court etiquette. You are addressing the daughter of the High King … ’
Fidelma made a slight cutting motion of her hand as if to silence her.
‘I know well whom I address. Just as your servant should have given you my name and, knowing it, there should be no excuse not to know who I am and my reason for coming here!’
The girl blinked at the sharpness in her tone. ‘She told me that a Sister Fidelma …’
‘I am here as a dálaigh qualified to the role of anruth. I presume that you are acquainted with this rank?’
‘Of course,’ Muirgel answered through a tight mouth, sitting up on her couch in a straighter position.
‘And then you know well that it is I, Fidelma of Cashel, who comes to question you over the death of your father,’ went on Fidelma with a hard and remorseless tone. ‘So let us have no more acting the mórluachach.’
It was a word that Eadulf had seldom heard before, but he guessed that it meant someone who pretended to be high and mighty, who put on airs and graces. He knew that one thing Fidelma detested was arrogance in others — and it was only when such false pride was displayed that she reminded people of her own royal birth as one of the princely family of the Eóghanacht of Muman who once contended for the High Kingship itself.
Muirgel had turned pale and Abbot Colmán, in contrast, was red with embarrassment. In the silence Fidelma added an old axiom: ‘Nobility has no pride.’ She glanced around the room and pointed to some chairs. ‘Eadulf, as no one has offered, will you bring chairs that we may sit and discuss our business in comfort.’
Smiling to himself, Eadulf moved quickly to bring the chairs while Muirgel sat in a stunned silence. Her expression became malignant as she fixed her eyes on Fidelma. Unconcerned, Fidelma stretched back in a relaxed attitude and then turned to Abbot Colmán.
‘You are not sitting, Colmán,’ she reproved.
‘I have not the need, lady,’ the abbot muttered, still embarrassed, for it was protocol for him to wait to be invited to sit by Muirgel.
‘No matter,’ Fidelma replied, turning her attention to Muirgel.
The girl had now gathered herself together.
‘I am told the Eóghanacht of Cashel are ill-mannered,’ she hissed.
Fidelma was not put out. ‘It is a sign of nobility to be courteous to guests whatever their rank,’ she admonished.
‘The Uí Néill are to be treated with respect for we are a great house,’ the girl said petulantly.