It was covered in a thin layer of dust. Brother Conghus was apparently correct when he said no one had been in the chamber since the murder. Fidelma suddenly reached forward under the bed and drew out what appeared to be a short stick. It was an eighteen-inch wand of aspen wood cut with notches. It was so inconspicuous that it might easily be overlooked.
She heard a faint gasp at the door and turned to see Sister Necht staring from the doorway.
"Do you recognize this?" she demanded quickly of the young novice, holding it up in the light.
Necht shook her head immediately.
"It was… no, I thought it was something else. No, I was wrong. I have not seen it before."
Still holding her find, Fidelma's eye fell on the small table by the cot. The only thing on it was the small pottery oil lamp. She transferred the wooden stick to the hand with the lantern and reached down to lift up the lamp with her free hand. It was heavy and obviously filled with oil. She replaced it and transferred the stick back again to her other hand.
She walked back to the threshold, where the others were crowding, waiting expectantly as if she were about to make some profound announcement. She was still absently clutching the aspen wand.
Fidelma turned back into the chamber and stood holding up the lamp high in order to let its light fall on the greater part of the room. Her eyes moved slowly and carefully over the chamber trying not to miss anything.
It was a dark cell of a room. There was only a small window, high up on the wall above the bed, which would give precious little light. Not only was the window small but it was north facing. The light, she reasoned, would be a cold, gray one. A room like this, for someone to function in, would have to be permanently illuminated. She turned and examined the door. There was nothing unusual here. No lock nor bolt, just a normal latch.
"Is there anything more that you require of me, sister?" Brother Conghus asked after they had all stood in silence a while. "The hour approaches for me to ring the bell for the completa."
The completa or compline was the seventh and last religious service of the day.
Fidelma dragged her gaze reluctantly from the room.
"Sister?" Conghus pressed when she appeared to be still lost deep in thought.
With a small breath of a sigh she blinked and focused on him.
"Oh? Oh yes, but one more thing, Conghus. The strips of colored linen with which you say Dacán was bound— what happened to them?"
Conghus shrugged.
"I really cannot say. I presume that the physician would have removed them. Is that all?"
"You may go now," she agreed. "But I may wish to speak with you again later."
Conghus turned and hurried away.
Fidelma glanced towards the young sister.
"Now, Sister Necht, can you find me the physician, was Brother Tola his name?"
"The assistant physician? Of course," the novice replied immediately, and was turning eagerly to the task before Fidelma had even told her the nature of the errand.
"Wait!" Fidelma chuckled at her enthusiasm. "When you find him, bring him here to see me immediately. I will be waiting."
The young sister scampered away quickly.
Fidelma began to examine the notches on the aspen wand.
"What is it?" asked Cass in curiosity. "Can you read those ancient letters?"
"Yes. Can you understand Ogham?"
Cass shook his head regretfully.
"I have never been taught the art of the old alphabet, sister."
"This is one from a bundle of rods of the poets, as they are called. It appears to be a will of sorts. Yet it does not make sense. This one says 'let my sweet cousin care for my sons on the rock of Michael as my honorable cousin shall dictate.' Curious."
"What does it signify?" he asked in confusion.
"Remember what I said about gathering information? It is like gathering the ingredients for a dish. You may gather something here and something there and, when all is complete, you start to construct the meal. Alas, we don't have all the ingredients yet. But at least we know more than before. We know, importantly, that this was a carefully conceived murder."
Cass just stared at her.
"Carefully conceived? The frenzy of the attack makes it appear that the killer fell into a violent rage. That surely means that it was an act of angry impulse and not premeditated."
"Perhaps. But it was not a violent rage that caused the old man to be bound hand and foot without a struggle. That speaks of premeditation. And what produced such a rage in the killer? A stranger, a man or woman who slew at random, could surely not create the fury which caused such violence?"
She broke off and was silent as if something had just occurred to her.
"What is the matter?" Cass pressed when he saw that her mind seemed to have wandered off somewhere else. She kept looking into the chamber with a frown. Finally, she moved back into the room and placed the lantern on the writing table so that it illuminated the room to the best advantage.
"I wish I knew," she confessed hesitantly. "I feel that there is something not quite right about this chamber; something that I should be noticing."
Chapter Six
Brother Tola, the abbey's assistant physician, was a man with silvery gray hair and soft and pleasant features, continually smiling as though laughing at life. Fidelma reflected that most of the physicians whom she had encountered had been men and women with a joy for life and who regarded all its tragedies with a wry humor. Perhaps, she reasoned, this was a defense against their continual relationship with death or perhaps the very experience of death and human tragedy had conditioned them to accepting that while one had life, had reasonable health, then that life should be enjoyed as much as possible.
"There are just a few questions that I would like to ask," Fidelma began, after the introductions were over. They were still standing outside the door of the chamber which had once been occupied by Dacán.
"Anything that I can do, sister." Tola smiled, his eyes twinkling with laughter as he spoke. "I fear it will not be much, but ask your questions."
"I am told that shortly after Brother Conghus found the dead body of the Venerable Dacán, the Abbot Brocc summoned you to examine the body?"
"This is so."
"You are the assistant physician of the abbey?"
"That is so. Brother Midach is our chief physician."
"Forgive me, but why did the abbot summon you and not Brother Midach?"
She had already heard the answer but Fidelma wanted to make sure.
"Brother Midach was not in the abbey. He had left the previous evening on a journey and did not return for six days. As physicians, our services are often in demand in many neighboring villages."
"Very well. Can you tell me the details of your findings?"
"Of course. It was just after tierce and Brother Martan, who is the apothecary, had remarked that the bell had not rung the hour…"
Fidelma was interested.
"The bell had not rung? How then did the apothecary know it was after tierce?"
Tola chuckled dryly.
"No mystery there. Martan is not only the apothecary but he is interested in the measurement of time. We have, within the community, a clepsydra, a plan for which one of our brethren brought back from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land many years ago. A clepsydra is…"
Fidelma held up her hand in interruption.
"I know what it is. So the apothecary had checked this water-clock…?"
"Actually, no. Martan frequently compares the clepsydra—or water-clock, as you call it—against a more ancient engine of measurement in his dispensary. It is old-fashioned but workable. He has a mechanism which discharges sand from one part to another, the sand is measured so that it falls in a precise time."