‘All is well, thank you,’ she replied without conviction.
‘Well, if you have need of a soul-friend, you have but to call upon me.’
In the Irish Church, unlike the Roman custom where all were ordered to make a confession of their sins to a priest, each person had an anamchara, or a soul-friend. The position of the soul-friend was one of trust. He or she was not a confessor but more of a confidant, a spiritual guide who acted according to the practices of the faith of the five kingdoms. Fidelma’ssoul-friend, since she had reached the age of choice, had been Liadin of the Ui Dróna, her girlfriend since childhood. But it did not necessarily follow that the soul-friend had to be of the same sex. Colmcille and others who were leaders of the Faith had chosen soul-friends of the opposite sex.
Eisten was shaking her head swiftly.
‘I already have a soul-friend in this abbey,’ she said uncompromisingly.
Fidelma sighed as she unwillingly turned to follow Sister Necht. Of course all was not well with Eisten. There was something continuing to trouble her. She was about to descend the stairs when Sister Eisten’s voice stayed her.
‘Tell me, sister …’
Fidelma turned inquiringly back to the morose young anchoress. She was still staring glumly out to sea.
‘Tell me, sister, can a soul-friend betray one’s confidence?’
‘If they do, then I fail to see how they can be a soul-friend,’ Fidelma replied at once. ‘It depends on the circumstances.’
‘Sister!’ It was Necht agitating from the foot of the stair.
‘Let us talk about this matter later,’ Fidelma suggested. There was no answer and after a moment she reluctantly went down the stairs after Necht.
In the room now designated for Fidelma to conduct her inquiries in, the portly figure of the fer-tighis, the steward of the abbey, was indeed waiting impatiently.
Fidelma slipped into her seat opposite Brother Rumann, noticing that Cass had already assumed his seat in the corner of the chamber. Fidelma turned to Sister Necht. She had given much thought to whether it was wise to continue to allow the young sister to sit in on all her interrogations. Perhaps she could be trusted to keep everything to herself; perhaps not. Fidelma had finally decided that it was better not to put temptation in her way.
‘I will not want your services for a while,’ she told thedisappointed-looking novice. ‘I am sure you have other duties to fulfil in the hostel.’
Brother Rumann looked approving.
‘Indeed, she has. There are chambers to be cleaned and tidied here.’
When Sister Necht had reluctantly left, Fidelma turned back to the steward.
‘How long have you been house steward of the abbey, Brother Rumann?’ she opened.
The pudgy features of the man creased in a frown.
‘Two years, sister. Why?’
‘Indulge me,’ Fidelma invited pleasantly. ‘I like to know as much background as possible.’
Rumann sniffed as if from boredom.
‘Then know that I have served in the abbey since I came here when I reached the age of choice — and that was thirty years ago.’
He recited his background in a wooden, petulant tone as if he felt that she had no right to ask.
‘So you are forty-seven years of age and steward for two years?’ Fidelma’s voice was sweetly dangerous as she encapsulated the facts he had given her.
‘Exactly.’
‘You must know everything there is to know about the foundation of Ros Ailithir?’
‘Everything.’ Rumann was nothing if not complacent.
‘That is good.’
Rumann frowned slightly, wondering whether she was quietly mocking him.
‘What do you want to know?’ he asked gruffly, when Fidelma asked nothing further for several moments.
‘Abbot Brocc requested that you conduct an investigation into the death of Dacán. What was its result?’
‘That he was murdered by an unknown assailant. That is all,’ confessed the steward.
‘Let us start then from the time the abbot told you the news of Dacán’s death.’
‘The abbot did not tell me. I was told by Brother Conghus.’
‘When was this?’
‘Shortly after he had told the abbot of his discovery. I met him on the way to inform Brother T61a, our assistant physician. Tóla examined the body.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I went to see the abbot to ask what I should do.’
‘You didn’t go to Dacán’s chamber first?’
Rumann shook his head.
‘What could I have done there before Tóla had examined Dacán? The abbot then asked me to take charge of the affair. It was after that when I went to Dacán’s chamber. Brother Tóla was there just finishing his examination of the body. He said that Dacán had been bound and stabbed several times in the chest. He and his assistant Martan took the body away for further examination.’
‘I understand that the room was not in any disarray and that a bedside oil lamp was still burning.’
Rumann gave a confirming nod of his head.
‘Tóla extinguished the lamp when he left,’ Fidelma said. ‘That implied that you had already left the room when the corpse was carried out.’
Rumann looked at Fidelma with some respect.
‘You have a sharp mind, sister. In fact, that is so. While Tóla was finishing his examination, I quickly looked around the room for a weapon or anything that might identify the assailant. I found nothing. So I left just before Tóla had the body carried out.’
‘You did not examine the room again?’
‘No. On the abbot’s orders, I had the chamber shut up exactly as it was. I had, however, seen nothing there to help in the discovery of a culprit. But the abbot thought that further investigation might be needed.’
‘You did not refill the oil in the bedside lamp at any stage?’
Ruman raised an eyebrow in surprise at the question.
‘Why would I refill it?’
‘No matter,’ smiled Fidelma quickly. ‘What then? How did you make your investigation?’
Rumann rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘Sister Necht and myself were sleeping in the hostel that night and we slept soundly until the morning bell summoned us. There was only one other guest and he neither heard nor saw anything.’
‘Who was the guest? Is he still at the monastery?’
‘No. He was no one really … Just a traveller. His name was Assid of the Uí Dego.’
‘Ah yes.’ She recalled that Brocc had mentioned the name. ‘Assíd of the Uí Dego. Tell me if I am wrong, Rumann, but the Uí Dego dwell just north of Fearna in Laigin, do they not?’
Rumann stirred uncomfortably.
‘I believe so,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps Brother Midach could tell you more on that subject.’
‘Why Brother Midach?’ Fidelma thought the point curious.
‘Well, he has travelled in those lands,’ Rumann said a trifle defensively. ‘I think he was born in or near that territory.’
Fidelma gave an exasperated sigh. Laigin seemed to loom down every gloomy path in this investigation.
‘Tell me more about this traveller, Assíd.’
‘Little to tell. He came off a coastal barc. I think he was a merchant, perhaps trading along the coast. He left with the afternoon tide on the day Dacán was killed. But only after I had questioned him thoroughly.’
Fidelma smiled cynically.
‘And after he had assured you that he had heard and seen nothing?’
‘Just so.’
‘The fact that Assíd was from Laigin, and that Laigin nowplays a prominent role in this matter, surely is enough to suggest that he should have been detained here for questioning further?’
Rumann shook his head.
‘How were we to know this then? On what grounds could we keep that man here? Are you suggesting that he is the murderer of his fellow countryman? Besides, like Midach, there are several brothers and sisters in this abbey whose birthplace was in Laigin.’