‘It is true,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘The crucifix was obtained in Bethlehem, for Sister Eisten went on a three-year pilgrimage to the Holy Birthplace of the Christ’
‘Exactly as she told me at the time, sister,’ agreed the captain. ‘I was told that everyone asks about it. I had asked Sister Eisten’s companion to introduce me to assure her that I could be trusted. Alas, the sister valued her cross too much to trade it.’
‘Who introduced you?’ frowned Fidelma. ‘You have implied that you knew this companion of Sister Eisten.’
Mugrón was without any guile.
‘Oh yes. Of course I knew her. I had met her when I visited Fearna in the service of the old king. And she recognised me right enough. I was astonished that a lady of Laigin was to be found at the fortress of the chieftain of the Corco Loígde especially when the lady was none other than the former wife of Dacán.’
Of all the surprises Fidelma had heard during her investigations at Ros Ailithir this statement came as the biggest shock of all.
‘The former wife of the Venerable Dacán?’ she repeated slowly, scarcely believing what he said. ‘Are you absolutely sure of this?’
‘Of course I am sure. I had known that Dacán had beenmarried. It was fourteen years ago but I remembered her. An attractive young girl. They were not long together before she divorced him in order to pursue her religious career. I thought she had gone to Cealla.’
‘And who was this former wife of Dacán?’ Fidelma asked quietly. ‘Does she have a name?’
‘Why, of course. Her name is Grella.’
Chapter Eleven
After Mugrón had duly identified the body of Sister Eisten as being that of the same religieuse whom he had seen at Salbach’s fortress, he had returned to his ship. Fidelma and Cass then made their way to the abbey kitchens in search of a meal for, having missed the evening meal, they were both ravenous. It took some insistence on Fidelma’s part, and an emphasis of her position and relationship with the abbot, to persuade the surly sister in charge to provide them with a pitcher of ale, some barley bread and cold cuts from a larac or leg of beef. A bowl of apples was also provided and they ate voraciously and in silence at a small table in the corner of the now deserted refectory.
Fidelma had not really expected that Mugrón would fail to recognise the body of Sister Eisten but she wanted to be sure beyond any doubt that Eisten had been at Salbach’s fortress. She was now faced with one more frustrating mystery, yet one which seemed to hold a slender link to the murder of Dacan. What caused her excitement was Mugrón’s identification of Dacán’s former wife. Why had Grella failed to mentioned that essential fact to Fidelma? The apparent answer was that Grella had been attempting to hide some guilt. Had her relationship provided grounds for Dacán’s murder?
But there was something else that worried Fidelma. What had Grella and Eisten been doing at Salbach’s fortress together? And why had Eisten attempted to book two passages on aship leaving for Gaul? With whom had she been planning to travel? Was it Grella? And who had tortured and killed Eisten?
Fidelma ruminated on the questions while acknowledging that it was little use asking questions when there was no hope of providing answers.
She glanced across the table to Cass and felt a sense of frustration that she could not even begin to discuss her anxieties with him. She found herself still longing for the presence of Brother Eadulf, wishing that she could thrust and parry with the quick sword of his alert mind; dissecting, analysing and, perhaps, gradually arriving at a truth. Then she immediately began to feel guilty again.
She suddenly realised that Cass was regarding her with a quizzical smile.
‘What next, sister?’ he asked, putting down his empty mug of ale and sitting back, obviously satisfied with his meal.
‘Next?’
‘Your mind has been working like the water-clock in the bell tower. I could almost hear the mechanism of your mind as it worked.’
Fidelma grimaced awkwardly.
‘There is one obvious person to see next — Sister Grella. We have to find out why she lied, or, rather, why she did not tell me the whole truth.’
She rose to her feet, followed by Cass.
‘I shall come with you,’ he said. ‘From what you told me there is more than a possibility that she could be the murderess. If so, you should not take chances.’
This time Fidelma made no objection.
They made their way through the gloomy abbey buildings to the dark, deserted library. There was no sign of anyone working in its cold, murky hall. The seats were forsaken, the books were neatly packed in their satchel bags and there were no candles burning.
Fidelma led the way into the small chamber where Sister Grella had taken her to talk, the room where Dacán had studied. She was surprised to see a fire smouldering in the corner fireplace. While Cass bent to light a candle, Fidelma walked quickly across to the fireplace. Something had caught her eye. She leant down to pick it up.
‘What do you make of this?’ she asked.
Cass shrugged as he gazed at the short length of burnt twig which she held out to him.
‘A stick. What else do you light fires with?’
She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
‘Not usually with such sticks. Examine it more closely.’
Cass did so and saw that it was a piece of aspen with some notches of Ogham inscribed on it.
‘What does it say?’ he asked.
‘Nothing that now makes sense. The extract here reads “the resolve of the honourable one determines the fosterage of my children”. That’s all.’
Fidelma placed the salvaged piece of Ogham wand in her marsupium and stared with interest at the remains of the fire.
‘It means that someone has decided to burn an entire book.’ She glanced at the holders that Grella had examined earlier in the day. It was as she suspected. ‘This was the Ogham book that Dacan had been studying. One wand of it, which I discovered, remained in his chamber after his death. I brought it here to show Sister Grella, who identified it as a poem.’
‘Didn’t you think it was part of a will?’
Fidelma pursed her lips in a noncommittal gesture.
‘Now why did someone think that it was so important that they needed to destroy it?’ she asked as if she did not expect Cass to reply.
With a sigh, Fidelma led the way back through the library and into the corridor outside.
A passing cenobite glanced curiously at them.
‘Do you seek Sister Grella?’ he inquired politely.
Fidelma affirmed that they did.
‘If she is not in the Tech Screptra, Sister Grella will be in her own chambers.’
‘Where will we find her chambers?’ Cass inquired a little impatiently.
The cenobite gave them detailed directions which were easy enough to follow.
The chamber of the librarian of Ros Ailithir, however, was deserted. Fidelma had knocked carefully on the door twice. She made sure the corridor was empty before turning the handle. As she fully expected, the door was not locked.
‘Inside, quickly, Cass,’ she instructed.
He followed her somewhat reluctantly and when he had passed into Sister Grella’s chamber she closed the door and fumbled for a candle.
‘This is surely wrong, sister,’ muttered Cass. ‘We should not be in this room uninvited.’
Lighting the candle and standing back, Fidelma regarded Cass scornfully.
‘As a dálaigh of the court I can demand the right to search a person or premises where I have a reasonable suspicion of misconduct.’
‘Then you do believe that Sister Grella killed her former husband and Sister Eisten?’
Fidelma motioned him to silence and began searching the room. For someone who had spent eight years in the abbey, Sister Grella’s chamber was exceedingly sparse in personal objects. A book of devotions was placed by the bed and a few toilet articles, combs and such matter. She examined a large pitcher which was full of liquid. Fidelma sniffed suspiciously at it and her lips narrowed into a cynical smile. It was cuirm, the strong mead fermented from malted barley. It seemed Sister Grella liked to drink in the solitude of her chamber.