‘So she did not take you with her into the mountains?’
Sister Buan shook her head.
‘I was sent to be fostered among the Corco Duibhne, by their chief, and told never to return to my father’s rath again nor seek help from my half-brothers. Nor did I. Thus when I left my foster parents, I decided to seek security in the religious life. Eventually, I came to the abbey and for two years I did all the chores that no one else wanted to do. Then the abbot found I had a talent for bargaining with merchants. So he allowed
‘So I also went to work for Cinaed. I enjoyed working for him, nursing him in sickness, helping him in health, and when he offered to legalise our relationship I could ask for no greater happiness.’
‘You knew that he was regarded as a great scholar?’ Fidelma asked.
‘I knew that he regarded himself as a tired and frail old man who sometimes needed his chest rubbed with oils to keep out the cold vapours of the night.’
‘But you know how highly his work was thought of?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘I know some in this abbey did not think so highly of it,’ she corrected.
‘You mean the Venerable Mac Faosma?’
‘And his followers.’
‘You felt their antagonism?’
‘Isn’t there an old saying — three things that come unbidden — love, jealousy and fear? All three have visited these chambers.’
‘Fear?’
‘The day before he died, poor Cinaed expressed his fear to me.’ Fidelma’s eyes widened.
‘He was fearful? Fearful of whom?’
Sister Buan sighed and shook her head.
‘That, alas, I do not know for sure.’
‘Can you recall what he said? How did he express this fear?’
Sister Buan spread her hands in a negative gesture.
‘He came back here in a state of anxiety after the evening meal in the refectory… It was one of the special feasts that he was obliged to attend. More often he would eat simply in these chambers with me, having dispensation to do so because of his age.’
‘But you imply that you did not attend that particular evening meal? Why?’
‘I was not well. A stomach sickness.’
‘I see. Go on.’
‘I remember that I went to get water for myself and passed that window…’ She pointed across the room to where a window opened on to a small quadrangle. Fidelma suddenly realised it was the same quadrangle that gave access to the Venerable Mac Faosma’s chambers through the door into his study. She rose quickly.
‘Your pardon, Sister Buan. Which is the door to the Venerable Mac Faosma’s chambers?’
‘It is that door directly across the quadrangle from us.’
‘Thank you. Continue. You passed by this window and…?’
‘It was dark, of course, but the quadrangle is lit with torches at night. I saw Cinaed enter the quadrangle from the archway entrance to the right… that leads to the refectory. He was walking slowly with someone and engaged in animated conversation.’ ‘Did you recognise who it was?’ queried Eadulf.
‘Sister Uallann.’
‘The physician?’
‘The same,’ she confirmed. ‘They appeared to be arguing but in low tones and Sister Uallann was throwing her hands in the air as if to make her points. She can be very dramatic at times. A strange woman, given to outbursts of temper. It seemed to me that Cinaed broke off the conversation for he turned and came to our door.’
‘What did he say?’ demanded Fidelma.
Sister Buan shrugged.
‘Nothing.’
Fidelma looked taken aback for a moment.
‘Nothing? You had just seen him in argument. You said he came back here fearful… of what? Of whom? Sister Uallann?’
‘I saw he was agitated. Naturally, I asked him what was amiss and told him what I had seen outside. He said that it was just a silly quarrel, that was all. Something about his work. But I knew Cinaed. Behind his light dismissal of the event, I knew that he was afraid.’
‘How was that fear expressed?’
Sister Buan shrugged again.
‘It is hard to explain. I grew up on the western peninsula. I was fostered by a chieftain there who believed that his fosterlings should learn animal husbandry. I came to know when the animals were fretting. Sheep would know when a wolf was near and you did not have to ask for an explanation. You could see it in their bodies, the movement of their heads. It is the same if you know someone intimately. You become used to their habits, their ways. It was like that with Cinaed. He did not have to say when he was thirsty or when he was tired. I knew. I knew from the way he behaved that evening that there was something on his mind and he was fearful of it.’
‘Did you ask him to tell you what was wrong?’
‘I did. He told me not to worry. He said, and these were his very words, that he would sort things out the next day. He would be going to see the abbot and resolve matters.’
Fidelma and Eadulf sat back for a moment.
‘Resolve matters? With the abbot? That is an interesting choice of words. And he made no further explanation?’
‘None. He said that he would see the abbot after the service — the service for the feast day of the Blessed Ite. He and the abbot usually went to the oratory to prepare it for the service together. I remember hearing him leave and thinking it was very early for him to do so. It was still very dark. I am not sure when it was but I thought it was not long after midnight. All I recall is that it was light when Brother Cu Mara came to me with the news that… that…’
Her features began to crumple and Fidelma reached forward to lay a hand on her arm.
‘And you know nothing more of the matter that he had promised to resolve with Abbot Erc?’ pressed Eadulf gently.
She shook her head, recovering her poise.
‘Have you told anyone else about this?’
‘I told the abbot, of course.’
‘You did? And what did he say?’
‘He said that he had no idea of any matter that needed resolution. He said that Cinaed was probably worried about some detail of his work. Oh, and, of course, I handed a piece of paper I found in the hearth to the abbot. It was not there when I went to bed but I saw it there the next day. Obviously, Cinaed must have burnt it during the night.’
Fidelma drew the paper carefully from her marsupium.
‘And this was the paper?’
Sister Buan looked at it with some surprise and then nodded.
‘The abbot passed it to me,’ explained Fidelma. ‘And what do you make of it?’
‘I think it is the note that enticed poor Cinaed to the chapel that night. See, the words are clear: “midnight” and “Orat…” burnt away could mean “oratory”, and “alone” could be an invitation to go there alone. The next word is part of a name — “Sin”.’
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied the woman’s face.
‘You appear to have an astute eye, Sister Buan.’
‘It is that I am suspicious. Cinaed loved his work and even when that arrogant man Mac Faosma challenged him to public debate, he was not disturbed by it. He was not concerned by the views of others because he had the strength of his convictions. But he was disturbed that night. I do not think it was a matter of a problem with his work. I believe that he was enticed to the oratory by his killer.’
Eadulf examined her keenly.
‘You talk of the debates. Did you attend Cinaed’s debates and could you understand the arguments? Could you understand them enough to realise whether Cinaed’s views were right or that Mac Faosma was simply arrogant?’
Sister Buan shook her head.
‘Of course I did not. I have told you, I could not understand any of the arguments,’ she said in reproof. ‘But I do understand when a man is arrogant in his behaviour. Cinaed treated Mac Faosma with humour. The worst I have ever heard him say of him is that he was trying to be a “master of souls”. That is a derogatory term among our people.’
‘And you say that Cinaed did not mind Mac Faosma’s criticisms?’