Fidelma swallowed sharply.
She was unsure whether the younger sister was innocently obstructive or merely wilful.
‘Then you have much to learn,’ Fidelma finally replied with bite. ‘You will pay me such fine as I judge worthy and, to ensure your compliance, this will be done before the Abbess Draigen. In the meantime, you will tell me how you came to be with Sister Brónach when the corpse was drawn from the well.’
Sister Síomha opened her mouth as if to dispute with Fidelma but she changed her mind. Instead, she moved to a chair and slumped in it. There was no indication in themovement of her body that her carriage was that of a religieuse. There was no calm poise, no modest folding of her hands, no contemplative submission. Her body spoke of aggression and arrogance.
It was the only seat in the room and there was nothing for Fidelma to do but to stand before the seated girl. Fidelma quickly cast a glance around. The room, like the others before, had four open windows but these were larger than those on the lower floors. There was a stack of small logs and twigs on one side of this room. On the other side was the stone fireplace whose smoke escaped through the western aperture, though, with the changing breeze, sometimes the smoke blew back into the room causing a pungent odour of woodsmoke. A small table, with writing tablets and a few graib, or metal writing stylus, on it, was the only other furniture in the room. However, before the north window, there stood a large copper gong and a stick.
A ladder in another corner gave access to the flat roof of the tower on which, she knew, stood the structure from which hung a large bronze bell. At the appropriate time of service and prayer, a sister would climb up to ring it.
All this, Fidelma took in during her brief glance. Then she turned her gaze back to the discourteously seated Sister Síomha.
‘You have not replied to my question,’ Fidelma said quietly.
‘Sister Brónach undoubtedly told you what happened,’ she answered stubbornly.
Fidelma’s expression held a dangerous fire.
‘And now you will tell me.’
The steward repressed a sigh. She made her voice wooden, like a child repeating a well-known lesson.
‘It was Sister Brónach’s task to draw water from the well. When the Abbess Draigen returned from the midday prayers in the church, Sister Brónach usually had the water waiting for her in her chamber. That day there was no sign of thewater or of Sister Brónach. I was with the abbess who asked me, as steward, to go in search of Brónach …’
‘Sister Brónach holds the title of doorkeeper of this abbey, doesn’t she?’ interrupted Fidelma, knowing full well the answer but seeking a means to disrupt the wooden delivery.
Síomha looked disconcerted for a moment and then gave a little motion of her head which implied confirmation.
‘She has been here many years. She is older than most people in the community, except our librarian who is the eldest. She bears the title, in respect of her age, rather than her ability.’
‘You do not like her, do you?’ Fidelma observed sharply.
‘Like?’ The young girl seemed surprised by the question. ‘Didn’t Aesop write that there can be little liking where there is no likeness? There is no affinity between Sister Brónach and myself.’
‘One does not have to be a soul friend to find affection for another.’
‘Pity is no basis for affection,’ replied the girl. ‘That would be the only emotion I could summon towards Sister Brónach.’
Fidelma realised that Sister Síomha was not without intelligence for all her vanity. She had a verbal dexterity which would conceal her innermost thoughts. But, at least, Fidelma had stopped her wooden-voiced obstruction. Much could be discerned when the voice was more animated. She decided to try another tack.
‘I am under the impression that there are not many in this community with whom you have a friendship. Is that not so?’
She had picked this idea up from Sister Brónach but was surprised when Síomha did not deny it.
‘As steward it is not my job to please everyone. I have to make many decisions. Not all my decisions please the community. But I am rechtaire and I hold a responsible position.’
‘But your decisions are made with the approval of the Abbess Draigen, of course?’
‘The abbess trusts me implicitly.’ There was a boastful note in the girl’s voice.
‘I see. Well, let us continue with the discovery of the body. So, at the mother abbess’s request, you went in search of Sister Brónach?’
‘She was at the well but having difficulty in drawing the rope up. I thought that she was trying to hide her tardiness.’
‘Ah yes. Why was that?’
‘I had drawn water but an hour or two before and there had been no difficulty.’
Fidelma leant forward quickly. ‘Do you recall at precisely what hour you had drawn water from that well?’
Sister Síomha placed her head to one side, appearing to reflect on the question.
‘No more than two hours before.’
‘And there was, of course, no sign of anything amiss at that time?’
‘If there had been,’ Sister Síomha replied with heavy irony, ‘I would have said something.’
‘Of course you would. But let me be clear, there was nothing unusual around the well? No sign of any disturbance, no stains of blood in the snow?’
‘None.’
‘Was anyone else with you?’
‘Why should there be?’
‘No matter. I merely wanted to ensure that we could narrow the time when the body was placed in the well. It would appear that the body was placed in the well a short time before it was found. That would mean, whoever placed it in the well did so in full daylight with the prospect of being seen by anyone from the abbey. Do you not find that strange?’
‘I could not say.’
‘Very well. Continue.’
‘We hauled the rope up, it took some effort and time. Then we found the corpse tied to it. We cut it down and sent for the abbess.’
The details fitted with those given by Sister Brónach.
‘Did you recognise the corpse?’
‘No. Why should I?’ Her voice was sharp.
‘Has anyone gone missing from this community?’
The large amber eyes widened perceptibly. For a moment Fidelma was sure that a glint of fear flitted in their unfathomable depths.
‘Someone did disappear, who was it?’ Fidelma demanded quickly, hoping to take advantage of the almost imperceptible reaction.
Sister Síomha blinked and then was back in control again.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ she replied. ‘No one has disappeared,’ Fidelma just managed to catch the soft inflection, ‘from our community. If you are trying to imply that the body was one of our sisters, then you are mistaken.’
‘Think again and remember the penalties for not telling the truth to an officer of the court.’
Sister Síomha rose to her feet with an expression of anger.
‘I have no need to lie. Of what do you accuse me?’ she demanded.
‘I accuse you of nothing … so far,’ replied Fidelma, unperturbed by the display of defiance. ‘So, you state that no one had disappeared from the community? All your sisters are accounted for?’
‘Yes.’
Fidelma could not help but notice the slight hesitation before Sister Síomha’s reply. It was, however, no use pressing the steward. She continued:
‘When you sent for the abbess, did she give any indication that she recognised the corpse?’
The steward stared at her for a moment as if trying to fathom out the motives behind the question.
‘Why should the abbess recognise the corpse? Anyway, it was without a head.’
‘So the Abbess Draigen was surprised and horrified by the sight of the corpse?’
‘As, indeed, we all were.’