Abbess Draigen reach forward and rang the bell on the table before her.
‘Then you may ask her yourself, sister.’
Once more Sister Lerben, the attractive, young novice, opened the door almost immediately.
‘Lerben,’ ordered the abbess, ‘fetch Sister Berrach here.’
The novice bobbed her head and disappeared. It was only a few moments later that there was a timid knock at the door and, at the abbess’s response, the wary features of Sister Berrach peered around the portal.
‘Come in, sister,’ Draigen spoke to her almost consolingly. ‘Do not be alarmed. You know Sister Fidelma? Yes, of course you do.’
‘H … h … how can I se … serve?’ stuttered the sister, propelling herself forward into the chamber with her heavy blackthorn stick.
‘Easy enough,’ Sister Síomha intervened. ‘I had the responsibility of examining the well of the Blessed Necht after the headless corpse was removed. You will recall, Berrach, that I asked for your assistance in this, didn’t I?’
The disabled religieuse nodded, as if eager to please.
‘You asked me to go down the well, to be lowered on a rope with a lantern. I was to wash down the walls of the well and cleanse it with water that had been blessed by our mother abbess.’
She phrased her sentences like an oft repeated lesson. Fidelma noticed that her stammer vanished in the recital of this. She found herself wondering whether poor Sister Berrach was simple, a grown woman with a deformed body and the mind of a child.
‘That is so,’ Sister Síomha said approvingly. ‘What was it like in the well?’
Sister Berrach seemed to consider for a moment and then smiled as the answer came to her.
‘D … d … dark. Yes, it was very d … dark d … down there.’
‘But you had a means of lighting that darkness,’ Fidelma spoke encouragingly and moved forward towards the girl. She laid a friendly hand on her arm and felt its strength and sinew under the sleeve of the robe. ‘You had a lantern, didn’t you?’
The girl glanced up at her nervously and then returned Fidelma’s smile.
‘Oh yes,’ she smiled. ‘I was given a la … lantern and with th … th … that I c … could see well enough. But it was n … n … not really light d … d … down there.’
‘Yes. I understand what you mean, Sister Berrach,’ Fidelma said. ‘And when you reached the bottom of the well, did you see anything that … well … anything that should not have been down there?’
The girl put her head on one side and thought carefully.
‘S … sh … shouldn’t be d … down there?’ she repeated slowly.
Sister Síomha made her exasperation clear.
‘The head of the corpse,’ she explained bluntly.
Sister Berrach shivered violently.
‘There was no … nothing else d … down there but the dark and the water. I saw n … n … nothing.’
‘Very well,’ Fidelma smiled. ‘You may go now.’
After Sister Berrach had left the abbess sat back and studied Fidelma speculatively.
‘What now, Sister Fidelma? Do you still hold to your belief that this body is that of Sister Almu?’
‘I did not say it was,’ countered Fidelma. ‘At this stage of my investigation, I must speculate. I must hypothesise. The fact that Sister Comnat and Sister Almu are overdue in returning to this abbey may simply be a matter of coincidence. Nevertheless, I must be in possession of all the factsif I am to progress. There must be no further playing of games. When I ask questions, I shall expect appropriate answers.’
She glanced to Sister Síomha but directed her remarks to Abbess Draigen. She saw an angry look remould the features of the rechtaire of the community of The Salmon of the Three Wells.
‘That much is clear, sister,’ replied the abbess tautly. ‘And perhaps now that all our bruised dignities and self-esteems have been massaged, we may return to our respective businesses?’
‘Willingly,’ agreed Sister Fidelma. ‘But one thing more …’
Abbess Draigen waited with raised eyebrows.
‘I am told that there are some copper mines in this vicinity?’
The question was not expected by the abbess and Draigen looked surprised.
‘Copper mines?’
‘Yes. Is this not so?’
‘It is so. Yes; there are many such mines on this peninsula.’
‘Where are they in relationship to this abbey?’
‘The nearest ones are on the far side of the mountains to the south-west.’
‘And to whom do they belong?’
‘They are the domain of Gulban the Hawk-Eyed,’ replied Draigen.
Fidelma had expected some such answer and she nodded thoughtfully.
‘Thank you. I will detain you no longer.’
As she turned from the abbess’s chamber she saw Sister Síomha regarding her with an intense expression. If looks could kill, Fidelma found herself thinking wryly, then she would have been dead on the spot.
Chapter Eight
In returning to Adnár’s fortress that afternoon, Fidelma decided not to give any advance warning to the chieftain by crossing directly over the strip of water separating the community of The Salmon of the Three Wells from the fortress of Dún Boí, but to traverse the path through the forest, and come upon the fortress from the landward side. The journey was further, but she had been so long on shipboard that she desired a leisurely walk through the forest in order to clear her mind. The forest presented just the sort of countryside she enjoyed walking in. Its great oaks spread along the shoreline and across the skirts of the high mountain behind.
She had informed Sister Brónach of her intentions and left the abbey mid-afternoon. It was still a pleasant day, the mild sun warming to the skin when it flickered through the mainly bare branches of the trees. High up, beyond the snow-dusted forest canopy, the sky was a soft blue with strands of white, fleecy clouds straggling along in the soft winds. The ground was hard with a winter frost toughening what would otherwise have been soft mud underfoot. The sun had not yet penetrated it and the crisp leaves, shed weeks ago, crackled under her tread.
From the abbey gates a track drove through the forest around the bay but at a distance so that the sea’s great inlet was mainly obscured from the gaze of any traveller taking this route. Only now and again, through the bare trees, could a glimpse of flashing blue, caused by the sun’s reflection, bediscerned. Not even the sounds of the sea could be heard, so good a barrier were the tall oak trees, interspersed with protesting clumps of hazel trying to survive among their mighty and ancient brothers. There were whole clumps of strawberry trees with their toothed evergreen leaves, their short trunks and twisting branches rising twenty feet and more in height.
Through the trees, now and then, Fidelma could pick up the rustle of undergrowth as a larger denizen of the forest made its cautious passage in search of food. The startled snap of twigs and branches as a deer leapt away at the sound of her approach, the swish of dried, rotting leaves as an inquisitive red squirrel tried to remember where it had left a food hoard. The sounds were numerous but identifiable to anyone attuned to the natural world.
As she walked along, Fidelmá came to an adjoining road that led in the direction of the distant mountains and she saw that there were signs that horses had recently passed this way. While the ground was hard, there were traces of horses’ droppings. She remembered having seen, that morning, the procession of horses, riders and running attendants, moving down from the mountain and realised that this was the point where they must have joined the road.
For some reason she found that she had abruptly started to think about Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham again and wondered why he had sprung into her thoughts. She wondered if Ross would find any clue to the origins of the abandoned ship. It was much to ask of him. There was a whole ocean and hundreds of miles of coastline in which to hide any clue to what had happened on that vessel.