While Conri took the alcohol to his men further down in the well of the boat, Mugron spoke to Fidelma.
‘How goes your investigation at the abbey? I heard that you were also trying to resolve the death of the Venerable Cinaed? Some said that you felt it was linked with the death of Abbess Faife.’
Fidelma swung round in her seat so that she could face the weather-beaten merchant, who was standing with his feet apart, hand resting lightly on the tiller of the ship.
‘I am proceeding apace,’ she replied. ‘I suppose you knew the Venerable Cinaed well?’
Mugron gave a disarming shrug.
‘Not well. Not really well. Occasionally, I have conducted business with his companion, Sister Buan. I have tracked down good quality vellum, some coloured inks that she has bought for him. Of course, he was a respected scholar and I just a merchant. But Sister Buan, well — I knew her better.’
‘How so?’
‘She sold the gold and silverwork that the abbey smiths produce. Some of it she offered to me and she would always drive a hard bargain too. She was a good trader and went far and wide to get the best deals for the abbey.’
‘You know these lands and people well, Mugron. Do you have any thoughts about these murders?’
Mugron’s face was expressionless.
‘All one hears is gossip, lady. Gossip is of no importance.’
‘There is a time for rebuke and a time for gossiping,’ replied Fidelma, resorting to an old proverb.
Mugron grinned.
‘It is a saying that may well be right. So far as the Venerable Cinaed was concerned, saying for saying — be the spring never so clean, some dirt will stick to it.’
‘And what dirt stuck to Cinaed?’ asked Fidelma innocently.
‘There was talk about the old man and one of the young girls at the abbey.’
Fidelma was disappointed. She was hoping that Mugron had some other story to tell.
‘Do you know any of the details?’
‘Just that the old man was having an affair with Sister Sinnchene. Well, who can blame him? She is attractive enough, although I would have thought she was the last person to form an attachment to him. But, as the saying goes, do not take as gold everything that shines like gold. It was Sister Buan I felt sorry for.’
‘You know Sister Sinnchene, then?’ Fidelma was interested.
‘Oh, yes. She is a local girl. I knew her mother slightly.’
‘I understand that after the father left her mother died during the Yellow Plague. That is why she went into the abbey. Is that so?’
‘A sad tale. The mother was carried off by the pestilence but, luckily for the girl, Abbess Faife decided to look after her and took her to the abbey. It changed her life. The father had left them some years before that.’
‘I wonder she did not change her name. Was it a nickname she was given?’
Mugron frowned for a moment and then his features lightened in a smile.
‘Ah, you mean the name Sinnchene — little vixen? Oh no, that was no nickname. It was the only thing that ever linked her with her father.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Her father’s name, that is. He was a wandering warrior in the service of Eoganan of the Ui Fidgente. His name was Wolf, or a name like wolf, I can’t remember which…’
Eadulf sniffed in disapproval.
‘Surely there is only one word meaning a wolf.’
Mugron smiled wryly.
‘You speak our language almost fluently, Brother. However, we have many names that imply a wolf. Names such as Conan, Cuan, Congal, Cu Chaille… why, you even travel with Conri there, whose name is “king of the wolves”. I cannot remember which name Sinnchene’s father carried. I recall that her mother called him ceann an chineoil shionnchamhail — which is “chief of the wolf clan”. Sinnchene’s mother named her daughter to remember him.’
‘You were saying that you were sympathetic to Sister Buan and not Sinnchene,’ Fidelma pointed out.
‘The gossip was that the girl pursued the old man.’
‘Which then might mean that she was attempting to replace her lost father?’ suggested Fidelma.
‘Perhaps. She always struck me as someone who knows what she wants and goes after it and never mind the feelings of others. Perhaps there was some jealousy, some conflict among the women…’
‘Are you suggesting that had something to do with Cinaed’s violent death?’
‘Who knows?’ The merchant shrugged. ‘Where there is conflict among women, jealousy and hatred simmer and such hatred can often lead to violence.’
‘But that is merely some gossip that you have heard.’
‘Gossip spreads faster than fire. There was much talk about the conflicts at the abbey before I left on my last trip.’
Fidelma frowned. ‘You mean that there was gossip about Cinaed before the body of the Abbess Faife was discovered by you?’
He nodded. ‘Before I left I had heard that Abbot Erc was upset and Abbess Faife had cause to defend the girl before him about this very affair. I think Sister Uallann had told Abbot Erc that she knew about it.’
Fidelma’s jaw firmed. So the physician had not told her the complete truth. She had reported the matter.
‘So Abbess Faife defended Sinnchene?’
Mugron thought for a moment and then shook his head.
‘I have misled you. I should say that she defended old Cinaed rather than the girl.’
‘So did the abbess disapprove of the affair?’
‘She did. Or so I am told. So much so that she refused to take Sister Sinnchene with the rest of her religieuse on that pilgrimage. The girl asked her, apparently. In a way, that turned out well for otherwise Sinnchene would be missing now along with the others… missing or dead.’
Fidelma glanced across to Eadulf and was about to say something, but he seemed to be concentrating on the horizon, his cheeks pale. She had forgotten that he was not a good sailor. She turned back to Mugron.
‘Are you sure that you heard that Abbess Faife was angry about the affair? Why would she defend Cinaed but condemn Sinnchene?’
‘Perhaps she knew where blame lay?’ the merchant hazarded.
‘It seems,’ Eadulf suddenly said, shifting his gaze from the horizon for a moment, ‘we are concentrating a lot on this domestic strife between Sinnchene and Buan. Yet if, as is claimed, they were both enamoured of the Venerable Cinaed, both in love with him, why would they kill him? Surely in that situation they would be more inclined to kill one another?’
‘There speaks the pragmatist in you, Eadulf. But you are right. That would be the logical outcome of such a situation. Yet when have killers ever sat down and worked things out logically? Even in the most cold-blooded killing, there must be a little of illogic for the culprit to ever think that killing someone was the solution to any problem. It merely adds to the problem and ends any hope of resolution.’
Eadulf was now fixing his gaze on the nearing islands.
Mugron took a hand from the tiller to indicate the approaching land.
‘That’s Rough Point… that headland there. We’ll take a wide sweep around it. The tides can be fierce even on a day like this.’
Eadulf could clearly see a number of islands to the north and some ahead of them. He was aware of a subtle change in the rocking motion of the boat and glanced curiously at Mugron standing feet apart, his stocky frame confident, hands firmly back on the tiller. The merchant caught his glance and gave him a reassuring smile.
‘This is why it is called Rough Point. But do not be alarmed, the tide is running smoothly. It only becomes very rough with a westerly wind or big swells against the ebb tide. Then the tide sweeps strongly through the north of those islands.’ He jerked his head towards the distant mounds. ‘I’ll bring the boat well north of that headland there and into calm waters.’
Conri had made his way back to the stern where they were sitting and was returning the pitcher to the wooden box. As he stood up, he paused and his eyes narrowed.
‘There’s a sail bearing down on us, Mugron,’ he called quietly.