Rumann blinked. "How? Why the abbot has spoken of nothing else for days."
After Brother Rumann had left, Fidelma sat for a while in silence. Then she realized that Cass was still seated waiting for her to speak. She turned and gave him a tired smile.
"Call Sister Necht, Cass."
A moment later the enthusiastic young sister entered in answer to the ringing of the handbell. It was clear that she had been in the process of scrubbing the floors of the hostel but welcomed the interruption.
"I hear that you went in apprehension of the Venerable Dacán," Fidelma stated without preamble.
The blood seemed to drain momentarily from Necht's face. She shivered.
"I did," she admitted.
"Why?"
"My duties as a novice in the abbey are to tend to the guests' hostel and take care of the wants of the guests. The Venerable Dacán treated me like a bondservant. I even asked Brother Rumann if I could be removed from the duties at the hostel for the period that Dacán was staying here."
"Then you must have disliked him intensely."
Sister Necht hung her head.
"It is against the Faith but, the truth is, I did not like him. I did not like him at all."
"Yet you were not removed from your duties?"
Necht shook her head.
"Brother Rumann said that I must accept it as the will of God and through this adversity I would gain in strength to do the Lord's work."
"You say that as if you do not believe it," remarked Fidelma gently.
"I did not gain any strength. It only intensified my dislike. It was a hateful time. The Venerable Dacán would criticize my tidying of his chamber. In the end, I did not bother tidying at all. Then he would send me on errands at all times of the day and night as his fancy took him. I was a slave."
"So when he died, you shed no tears?"
"Not I!" declared the sister vehemently. Then, realizing what she had said, she flushed. "I meant…"
"I think I know what you meant," Fidelma responded. "Tell me, on the night Dacán was killed, were you on duty in the hostel?"
"I was on duty every night. Brother Rumann will have told you. It was my special duty."
"Did you see Dacán that night?"
"Of course. He and the merchant Assi'd were the only guests here."
"I have been told that they knew each other?" Fidelma made the observation into a question.
Sister Necht nodded.
"I do not think that they were friends though. I heard Assi'd quarrelling with Dacán after the evening meal."
"Quarrelling?"
"Yes. Dacán had retired to his chamber. He usually took some books to study before the completa, the final service of the day. I was passing by his chamber door when I heard voices in argument."
"Are you sure it was Assi'd?"
"Who else could it have been?" countered the girl. "There was no one else staying here."
"So they were quarrelling? About what?"
"I do not know. Their voices were not raised but intense. Angry sounding."
"And what was Dacán studying that night?" Fidelma frowned. "I have been told that nothing has been taken from his chamber. Yet there were no books there nor any writing by Dacán in the room."
Sister Necht shrugged and made no reply.
"When did you last see Dacán?"
"I had just returned from the service for the completa when Dacán summoned me and told me to fetch him a pitcher of cold water."
"Did you visit his chamber after that?"
"No. I avoided him as much as I could. Forgive me this sin, sister, but I hated him and cannot say otherwise."
Sister Fidelma sat back and examined the young novice carefully for a moment.
"You have other duties, Sister Necht, I shall not detain you from them. I will call you when I have further need of you."
The young novice rose looking chagrined.
"You will not tell Brother Rumann of my sin of hatred?" she asked eagerly.
"No. You feared Dacán. Hate is merely the consequence of that fear; we have to fear something to hate it. It is the cloak of protection used by those who are intimidated. But, sister, remember this, that feelings of hate often lead to the suppression of justice. Try to forgive Dacán in death for his autocracy and understand your own fears. You may go now."
"Are you sure there is nothing else I can do?" Necht asked, as she hesitated in the doorway. She looked eager again as if the confession of her hatred of Dacán had cheered her spirits.
Fidelma shook her head.
"I will call you when there is," she assured her.
As she went out, Cass rose and came to sit in the chair vacated by Necht. He regarded Fidelma with sympathy.
"It is not going well, is it? I see only confusion."
Fidelma pulled a face at the young warrior.
"Come let us walk by the seashore for a moment, Cass. I need the breeze to clear my head."
They walked through the complex of the abbey buildings and found a gate in the wall which led onto a narrow path winding down to the sandy strand. The day was still fine, still a little blustery, with the ships rocking at anchor. Fidelma drew in a deep breath of salt sea air and exhaled it loudly with a resounding gasp of satisfaction.
Cass watched her in quiet amusement.
"That is better," she said, and glanced quickly at him. "It clears the head. I have to admit that this is the hardest inquiry that I have undertaken. In other investigations that I have worked on, all the witnesses remained in the one place. All the suspects were gathered. And I was at the scene of the crime within hours, if not minutes, of the deed being done so that the evidence could not evaporate into thin air."
Cass measured his pace to match her shorter stride as they walked slowly along the sea's edge.
"I begin to see some of the difficulties of a dalaigh now, sister. In truth, I had little idea before. I thought that all they had to know about was the law."
Fidelma did not bother to answer.
They passed fishermen on the shore, unloading their morning's catch from the small canoe-like vessels, locally called naomhog, boats of wickerwork frames, covered in codal, a hide tanned in oak bark, and stitched together with thongs of leather. They were easy and light to carry and three men could manage the largest of them. They rode high in the water, dancing swiftly over the fiercest of waves.
Fidelma paused watching as two of these craft came ashore towing the carcass of a great beast of the sea behind them.
She had seen a basking shark brought ashore only once before and presumed that the beast was such a creature.
Cass had never seen anything like it and he moved eagerly forward to examine it.
"I had heard a story that the Blessed Brendan, during his great voyage, once landed on the back of such a monster thinking it was an island. Yet this beast, big as it is, does not look like an island," he called across his shoulder to her.
Fidelma responded to his excitement.
"The fish Brendan is reported to have landed on was said to be far bigger. When Brendan and his companions sat down and made a fire to cook their meal, the fish, feeling the heat, sank into the sea and they barely escaped with their lives into their boat."
An aged fisherman, overhearing her, nodded sagely.
"And that's a true story, sister. But did you ever hear of the great fish, Rosault, which lived in the time of Colmcille?"
Fidelma shook her head, smiling, for she knew old fishermen carried good tales which could often be retold around a fire at night.
"I used to fish up Connacht way when I was a lad," the old man went on, hardly needing an invitation. "The Connacht men told me that there was a holy mountain inland which they called Croagh Patrick, after the blessed saint. At the foot of the mountain was a plain which was called Muir-iasc, which means 'sea-fish.' Do you know how it received its name?"