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Grella bit her lip. She finished her dressing and setting her hair to rights. She stood in front of Fidelma, hands on hips.

‘I don’t need to excuse myself. There is little of mine at the abbey and what I need Salbach can supply. As for returning, perhaps I would have returned after I had become Salbach’s wife. None would then dare to level any accusations against me. I would have Salbach’s protection.’

‘Salbach is equally answerable to the law as you are, Grella. There are some questions you need to answer and at once. You knew that your former husband, Dacan, had come to Ros Ailithir for a special purpose?’

‘How much do you know?’ demanded Grella. In spite of her glare of anger there was some alarm in her eyes.

‘I know that you were once married to Dacán.’

‘Mugrón must have told you. A stupid coincidence that he saw me at Cuan Dóir.’

‘He saw you there with Sister Eisten,’ Fidelma said quietly. Grella did not rise to her bait.

‘So what does it matter? I have told you my relationship with Salbach.’

‘Why did you take Sister Eisten to Salbach’s fortress?’

Grella frowned a moment.

‘Salbach asked me. He had heard that Eisten was running an orphanage at Rae na Scríne. He wanted to meet her and the children. He knew that I was friendly with the young woman.’

‘And did she take the children there?’ Fidelma was nonplussed.

But Grella shook her head.

‘She accompanied me to Cuan Dóir but refused to take the children. She did not want them to travel because of the Yellow Plague.’

‘Was Salbach annoyed when she did not take them?’

Grella peered curiously at her.

‘Why would he be annoyed?’

Fidelma sat back and did not reply for the moment.

‘Did you know that Eisten has been murdered?’

Grella’s face was suddenly a tight mask. It was clear that she had heard the news and behind the mask Fidelma saw that the librarian was clearly upset.

‘I heard only a few days ago.’

‘Not before?’

She shook her head and somehow Fidelma knew she was telling the truth.

‘You seem upset about it. You tell me that you were friendly with her. How friendly?’

‘Since Eisten studied in the library with me earlier this year we have been soul-friends.’

Soul-friends! Yes, Eisten had told Fidelma that she had a soul-friend in the abbey. What was it Eisten had asked on the last time Fidelma had seen here? Can a soul-friend betray a confidence?

‘So you had few secrets from each other?’

‘You know the role of the anamchara,’ snapped Grella. Her expression told Fidelma that she was unlikely to speak further about the matter.

‘You have already told me that you knew what work Dacán was engaged upon,’ said Fidelma, changing tack.

‘I told you so when you came to see me at the library.’

‘But you did not add the specific that he was actually seeking the descendants of the native ruling house of Osraige.’

Grella shot a nervous look at Fidelma.

‘How do you know that?’ she countered.

‘I read Dacán’s writings.’

Grella’s hand reached up as if to clutch at her own throat.

‘You … you saw them?’

Fidelma examined her carefully.

‘I searched your chamber, Grella. It was silly of you to think that you could hide that material. Or that you could misinterpret the Ogham wands to me.’

To her astonishment, for she thought the woman would vigorously deny any knowledge, Grella shrugged.

‘I thought that no one would find them. I thought that I had hidden them safely. I meant to destroy them.’

‘You did not know that I removed them a week ago?’

‘I have already told you that I have not been back to the abbey since then.’

‘No?’ Fidelma let the matter pass for the moment. ‘Well, you knew that Dacán was searching for the heir of Illan, who claimed to be the rightful aspirant for the petty kingship of Osraige?’

‘I have already admitted it,’ conceded Grella.

‘And you told Salbach about it?’

The woman shrugged diffidently but did not reply.

‘Salbach’s cousin is Scandlán, the current king of Osraige, isn’t he? So Salbach would have an interest in ensuring that the son of Illan was not discovered.’

‘I simply thought Salbach ought to know that someone was looking for Illan’s offspring,’ replied Grella. ‘I sought to prevent any future wars in Osraige. Illan was the cause of a great deal of bloodshed when he attempted to overthrow Scandlán.’

‘So you told Salbach about Dacán. Salbach realised that Laigin wanted to reassert its power over Osraige, perhaps establish a client king who would answer to Laigin rather than to Muman.’

Grella stood indifferently.

‘If you say so.’

‘Dacán was therefore a danger to Salbach’s family in Osraige. Was that the reason you killed your former husband?’

For a moment Grella’s shock seemed genuine.

‘Who accuses me of killing him?’ she demanded.

‘The bonds with which he was tied were strips of linen; red and blue in colour. Do you own a red and blue linen skirt?’

‘Of course not.’ There was no conviction in her quick denial.

‘So if I tell you that, while searching your chamber, I discovered such a skirt from which part had been torn off and that the part matched the bonds with which Dacán had been tied before he was killed, would you still deny ownership?’

Grella flushed and looked less confident.

‘Do you own such a dress?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘Better to tell the truth if you have nothing to hide.’

Grella’s shoulders hunched in resignation.

‘That is my dress right enough, but I have not worn it since I came to Ros Ailithir. I had meant to give it away to the poor but …’ She stared earnestly into Fidelma’s eyes. ‘I may have betrayed old Dacán’s confidence and told Salbach what he was doing, and I believe I was justified in doing so, but I did not kill him. After all, why kill Dacán? He would have led Salbach to Illan’s heir. That was what Salbach wanted.’

Fidelma paused as she saw the logic of her argument but she continued: ‘And do you deny that, within these last few days, you returned to the abbey and entered the abbot’s chamber to remove some of the evidence from his personal cabinet?’

Grella simply stared in incomprehension.

Fidelma knew that the woman was telling the truth. She had banked everything on her intuition that if Grella was not the culprit, then she knew enough to reveal who it was and possibly, confronted by the accusation backed by the evidence which Fidelma had, that she would confess.

‘You knew there was a bag of evidence left by me in the abbot’s cabinet?’ she pressed desperately.

‘Certainly not,’ Grella responded. ‘How could I when I had not realised that you had removed anything from my chamber? I told you that I have not been back to the abbey during this last week.’

‘You chose an odd time to leave the abbey. It is suspicious. Wouldn’t you say so?’

‘It was Salbach’s suggestion that I came with him that night. For too long I have been hiding my affection for Salbach. It was time that we came into the open about our love.’

‘You’ll forgive me when I repeat that your timing was a matter of great coincidence.’

‘I did not murder Dacán,’ replied Grella firmly.

Fidelma suppressed a gentle sigh.

‘Tell me then, why did you hide Dacán’s papers?’

‘That’s not hard to tell. I did not want anyone else to know what Dacán had been engaged in. It were better that Laigin did not find the son of Illan. If they did not, then they would not be able to use Illan’s heir to overthrow Salbach’s cousin.’

‘And Salbach would be grateful to you for this information?’

‘I love Salbach.’

‘And so all this you did out of your … love … for Salbach?’