‘The prior is not in his chamber …’ prevaricated the steward.
‘I presume, however, that the staff is?’ cut in Fidelma.
The steward reluctantly led the way across the passage and opened the door. The room was sparsely furnished: a desk, with a candle and a tinder box on it and a vellum-bound parchment book. To Eadulf, it appeared to be a book of liturgical matter. There was a wooden chair, a bed and a cupboard which revealed only a change of robes and a pair of sandals.
‘Prior Cuan certainly believes in frugality,’ murmured Eadulf as he examined the belongings of the absent occupant.
A staff with a polished silver crucifix of intricate design was leaning prominently in one corner. It was shining and clean. Fidelma had vague memories of seeing Abbot Segdae with it, but she had never taken much notice of it before. It was Eadulf who went over and picked it up. As he did so, a shorter stick next to it, a chestnut walking stick, was dislodged and clattered to the floor.
‘It is the prior’s walking stick,’ the steward said, bending down to retrieve it and place it back against the wall.
Eadulf was turning the staff of office over in his hands and examining it carefully. Then he shrugged and put it back.
‘You are right, Brother Tuaman,’ he said. ‘It has been well cleaned and polished. Did it have much blood on it?’
Brother Tuaman looked startled. ‘Doubtless the physician would have such details.’
Fidelma tried to prevent a look of surprise from crossing her features. A physician? There had been no previous mention of any physician attending the scene. She felt annoyed with herself. Of course, she should have remembered that the attendance of a physician would be obligatory, given the death of an illustrious guest. Also, someone must have attended Gorman as his defence rested on a claim of having been rendered unconscious.
‘Who was this physician?’ she asked.
Brother Tuaman shrugged. ‘I can’t remember the name. They did not appear at the hearing.’
‘The lady Airmid is the only physician in the fortress,’ Conri said. ‘I’ll take you to her apothecary, if you wish.’
‘Before that, there is one thing I am curious about,’ Eadulf said. ‘It appears that the prior and Brother Mac Raith and Brother Mael Anfaid were not here when Abbot Segdae was killed. Where were they?’
‘I think Prior Cuan had gone to see Brehon Faolchair, but Brother Mac Raith and Brother Mael Anfaid were attending some service in the chapel in the Abbey of Nechta. They have a relative who serves in the community there.’
‘A relative?’ Eadulf was surprised. ‘Are you saying that they are of the Ui Fidgente?’
‘I thought they were of the Muscraige Mittine,’ the steward replied, mentioning a clan who dwelled south of the Abhainn Mhor, the big river that almost divided the kingdom. ‘But they did mention a relative who serves at the abbey.’
‘You don’t know who?’ Eadulf asked.
‘It is not my position to question the personal lives of the brethren,’ the steward said repressively.
‘Very well.’ Fidelma sighed. ‘You have heard Gorman’s claim that he was talking to the abbot when he was struck unconscious while standing with his back to the door. What do you have to say to that?’
‘That the man is a fool and a liar.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘He was alone with the abbot in his chamber. The door was locked. At first I assumed that Abbot Segdae might have locked it, but now I think it more likely that the warrior locked it so that he would not be disturbed in his plan to kill him. The notion that someone could have entered, knocked him out, killed the abbot, arranged the bodies, and then left, locking the door from the inside before disappearing, is nonsensical. Don’t forget, I heard the voices raised, the thud of the falling bodies and was at that locked door within moments. No one could have entered or left the room. So the man is a fool to present so ridiculous an excuse and an obvious liar to boot.’
‘That is the conundrum,’ Eadulf observed aloud. ‘Gorman is no fool – so why would he tell such a story if it did not happen as he said?’
‘There was no third person,’ the steward firmly assured them. ‘You have examined the chamber. There is nowhere to hide without either the abbot or the warrior seeing them. And there is nowhere to enter or leave except through this solid oak door. Perhaps you would like to examine the window more carefully …’
‘We have seen the iron bars,’ Eadulf cut in. ‘Anyway, it would have been difficult enough for someone to climb up or to climb down the outside wall – even if they could get in or out through the window.’
‘Then you will agree with me.’ Brother Tuaman’s tone was again arrogant. ‘The idea that anyone else could have killed the abbot is preposterous. Even Brehon Faolchair pointed out that the abbot was standing in front of the warrior. Had someone crept up behind Gorman to deliver the blow, the abbot would surely have seen and given warning of the attacker. Unless,’ the steward said insolently, ‘you will argue that the abbot connived in his own murder by having the warrior knocked out first?’
After they left Brother Tuaman, Conri conducted them to a group of single-storey stone buildings to the far side of the fortress and took them into the centre of a well-cultivated herb garden.
‘You’ll find the lady Airmid there,’ he said, pointing to one of the buildings. ‘It is where she prepares her concoctions. She is usually there at this hour. I’ll leave you here as I have business at the laochtech. Should you need me, any warrior will know where to find me.’
The woman who greeted Fidelma and Eadulf as they entered the small apothecary was tall – as tall as Fidelma. Her fair hair had a reddish tinge, making it almost copper. She regarded Fidelma and Eadulf with curiosity. Her features were pleasant, while her shapely mouth had a humorous quality to it. The couple paused a moment on the threshold to allow their senses to adjust to the pungent smells of the spices and herbs of the apothecary. Eadulf was immediately reminded of Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary in Cashel, except here a little grey terrier ran up to them and sniffed excitedly at the new scents they had brought with them. The woman had to shout an order and the dog immediately desisted and went off to examine other things.
‘Come in, I have been expecting you.’ Her voice had an attractive musical quality. ‘I heard that you had arrived in the fortress last evening but I was unable to attend.’
Fidelma stared at the familiar face of the woman for a moment.
‘Have we met before?’ she asked.
The woman chuckled. ‘We have not, but people often see in me a reflection of my brother, Donennach.’
Eadulf recalled that Donennach had mentioned his sister. ‘Then you are also his tanaise, his heir-apparent?’
‘I am Airmid. I prefer to be known simply as the physician to this household.’
‘It is an appropriate name for one of your calling.’ Fidelma returned the woman’s smile. Airmid was the legendary daughter of Diancecht, the old pagan God of Medicine. Her father had been a jealous god. He had killed his own son Miach, who had begun to outshine his father’s healing knowledge. Airmid had then collected all the 365 healing herbs that had grown from the grave of her brother, and arranged them so that everyone would have knowledge of their use. However, Diancecht, in a temper, then destroyed the arrangement of her collection so that the secrets would become lost for ever.
The physician grimaced. ‘Much sport was made of my name when I was studying at Inis Faithlcann. I rather think my professor hoped I would fail to qualify because of my name. However, I should apologise to you, lady.’
‘For what reason?’ Fidelma frowned.
‘I could not attend the feast to welcome you last night for I was called to attend an injured man in the Abbey of Nechta. One of the brethren had contrived to break his arm and it needed to be set. Thankfully, it will heal well,’ she added. ‘Now, how may I serve you? I know you are investigating the circumstances of Abbot Segdae’s murder.’