Sunk in thought, Fidelma decided not to go straight back to the hostel but followed the path, which Brother Ségán had shown her, leading towards the herb garden. Fidelma wanted to be alone to meditate and the fragrant little garden seemed an ideal place.
It was the faint cry from the shrubbery garden ahead which alerted her to tread softly.
There were two shadows in the arboretum by the head of the well. A slight figure was being held by a stocky, more masculine-looking shadow. It seemed to Fidelma that there was something familiar about that slight figure.
‘You arrogant young …’
The voice she recognised as belonging to Brother Midach. It was now sharp and angry.
Even as Fidelma watched, the chief physician raised an open hand and brought it down against the back of the head of the slighter figure.
There was a grunt of pain.
‘How dare you lay hands on me!’ came a husky voice which Fidelma thought she should know.
Fidelma was about to stride forward and demand to know what was happening when she heard Brother Midach’s voice reprimanding the figure.
‘You’ll do as I tell you. Such an outburst will be the destruction of us all! The sepulchre carries echoes. If we are discovered then there is an end of our hopes for Osraige.’
The shadows moved in the darkness and she lost sight of them. There was no movement in the arboretum.
Fidelma listened and could hear nothing.
She moved forward cautiously. It was as if the ground had suddenly opened and swallowed them. She was perplexed for there was no gate out of the walled garden other than the one by which she had entered.
She examined the area as carefully as she could but could see no trace of Midach or his companion, no passage or doorway through which they might have vanished. She even peered down into the darkness of the well, the holy well of the Blessed Fachtna, but she had seen it in daylight and knew that it descended into almost bottomless darkness.
It was not for half an hour that she gave up the puzzle andretraced her steps reluctantly back to the hostel. Cass was waiting for her with ill-concealed impatience.
‘I was almost going to send out an alarm for you, sister,’ he chided. ‘What with all these people vanishing, I thought you might have gone the same way.’
‘What was so urgent?’ she replied, wondering whether to tell him that she had witnessed yet another astonishing disappearance. ‘Is there alarm among the brothers because of the voice of the child during the service?’
Cass looked dour.
‘Not so much alarm as fear. Even your cousin seems to think it was some ghostly echo of a lost soul.’
Fidelma raised a cynical smile.
‘Surely there are more intelligent opinions among the scholars?’
‘Well, the only one that I have heard is from Brother Rumann, who believes it is some distortion of the sound of water in the well beneath the abbey.’
‘Ah,’ sighed Fidelma. ‘I think I shall leave them to their ignorance for a while yet. But, surely, this was not so urgent as to cause you alarm?’
Cass shook his head.
‘After the service, I was on my way back here when I fell into conversation with Brother Martan. He is …’
‘The same who has the passion for relics and who, thanks be to God, kept the pieces of linen which bound Dacan. We saw him on the shore earlier with Midach examining Sister Eisten’s body.’
‘Exactly so.’
‘What then?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Brother Martan and I were discussing why anyone should want to kill Dacán. Martan repeated that Dacan was not a likable character.’
‘That much, at least, we can be sure of,’ she said wearily.
‘He told me that Midach once said that there were severalwhom he would prefer dead, and named Dacán as one of them.’
Fidelma raised her head a little.
‘Midach said that? Why did he say this?’
‘Apparently, Martan was witness to one great argument that Midach had with Dacán.’
‘The argument about Laigin? I have heard all about that. Midach insulted Laigin, that was all.’
‘According to Martan, this was something else.’ Cass looked embarrassed. ‘Apparently, it was a row about Sister Necht.’
‘Necht? What was it about?’ Fidelma was suddenly interested.
‘It seems that Dacán accused Midach of having a liaison … you know …’
Fidelma set her jaw firmly when he hesitated as if embarrassed.
‘I am aware of what is implied,’ she said tersely. ‘Dacán accused Midach of having an affair with young Sister Necht? Are you sure? No,’ she went on hurriedly, ‘better that I make sure. I think I should speak with Brother Martan.’
Cass gave a smile of self-satisfaction.
‘That is why I have detained him here. He is in the chamber upstairs awaiting you.’
Brother Martan, now that she saw him under a better light, was rather weak looking, A middle-aged man, with pale skin, bad teeth and the cough of a consumptive which caused his speech to be delivered in short, breathless pants. He rose as Fidelma entered the chamber but she waved him to be seated.
‘I would firstly like to thank you, Martan, for keeping the strips of linen. They have served us well.’
The man’s dull-eyed features did not change.
‘You have told my colleague here,’ she gestured to Cass, ‘that Midach had an argument with Dacán.’
She saw a look of alarm spread across Martan’s features.
‘I did not mean to level any accusation …’ he began. ‘The chief physician has been kind to me and I would not want to place him in harm’s way.’
Fidelma raised a hand to quell his alarm.
‘So far as I know you have merely reported some facts. Did he have such an argument? The truth, Martan, is always the easiest path.’ She added this because she saw that he had suddenly realised the implication of what he had said.
‘I do not want Brother Midach to get into trouble,’ he said sullenly.
‘Did he have an argument or not?’ Fidelma demanded sharply.
Martan nodded reluctantly.
‘Tell me about it,’ invited Fidelma.
‘It was the day before Dacán was found. I happened to be walking along the corridor to the library. I was going to collect a copy of the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, which the abbey possesses.’ He spoke with pride. ‘As I passed down the corridor, I heard voices coming from a small side room, the chamber in which Sister Grella has her officium. It is a room off the main library hall which has an entrance leading into the corridor.’
Fidelma waited patiently while the brother paused to collect his thoughts.
‘I heard Brother Midach’s voice raised in anger and so I stopped outside the door. I was surprised to find him at the library. Also it was unusual that anything would cause anger to Brother Midach because he is usually a most happy and mirthful man.’
He paused, looking awkward.
‘Go on,’ invited Fidelma. ‘You halted outside the open door? What then?’
‘It was only that it was unusual to hear Midach so angry,’ began Martan repetitiously, as if to exonerate himself fromthe guilt of eavesdropping. He halted as he saw the annoyance spread on Fidelma’s face. ‘I realised that the person he was arguing with was none other than the Venerable Dacán.’
‘And the cause of the argument?’
‘It seems that Dacán was accusing Midach of going through his writings, of reading material that he had no right to. Midach hotly denied it, of course. Dacán was so beside himself in rage that he threatened to report Midach to the abbot.
‘Midach replied that he would report Dacán for treating the staff at the hostel as slaves, especially young Sister Necht. At that, Dacán was so angry that he accused Midach of having a relationship with Sister Necht. Midach seemed to take this seriously and replied that he simply had acted as foster-father to Necht. And his relationship was only paternal. Anyway, Midach added, it was none of Dacán’s business.’