Hemlock At Vespers (11 page)

Illand shrugged expressively.

“I have things to attend to,” he muttered in a surly tone and, picking up his basket of apples, moved off.

The girl turned to Fidelma with a pale face but determined chin.

“You must be the
dálaigh
whom Father Allán was waiting for,” she said. “Why do you seek me out?”

“I am told you are laundress for the community,” returned Fidelma. “Do you live here with your mother and father?”

A scowl flitted across the girl’s face.

“My mother is many years in the place of truth,” she replied, using the Irish euphemism meaning that her mother was dead.

“I am sorry.”

“No need for sorrow,” said the girl.

Without another word, Ainder turned and went into the
bothán,
beckoning Fidelma to follow. She sat in the chair which Ainder indicated. The young girl sat opposite her and examined her carefully.

“I am glad that you are a woman and a young one.”

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Why so
^?
”

“I think you are here to ask me about Nath.”

“What do you know of Brother Nath?”

“He wishes to marry me.”

Fidelma blinked and sighed.

“I see.” Members of religious communities could and did get married under the laws of the Fénechus. “So Nath is in love with you?”

“He is.”

There was a slight emphasis in her voice which contained a hidden “but.”

“But your father disapproves?” hazarded Fidelma.

“Oh no!” The words were ejaculated hurriedly. “He does not know.”

“You knew that Nath has disappeared?”

Ainder nodded, eyes on the ground.

“You knew that Brother Moenach was murdered and that Brother Nath disappeared on that same day? Things look bad for him.”

Ainder seemed bewildered.

“But didn’t the old woman, Muirenn, kill Moenach?” she demanded.

“That is what I am here to find out. What do you know of Nath’s disappearance?”

The girl hesitated and then sighed deeply.

“Nath was frightened when Moenach was killed. You see, no one believes how evil Moenach really was. He had caused Brother Follamon to be expelled by his deception.”

“How did you know of this?”

“I grew up here, under the shadow of Father Allán’s community. My father tends their garden and, after my mother died, I am laundress for the community. I knew most of the brothers. Follamon, Nath, Ninnedo and Moenach were all fostered together and when they reached the age of choice last year they all decided to stay on in the community of Father Allán. They all knew each other well enough. Follamon, Nath and Ninnedo became my friends.”

“But not Moenach?”

The girl shuddered.

“No!” Her voice was emphatic. Too emphatic.

“Why did you dislike Moenach?”

The girl raised her eyes to Fidelma. Two bright red spots colored her cheeks. Then she lowered her gaze and spoke with studied care.

“I will not keep the truth from you, Sister. The day before Moenach was killed, he attacked me.”

Fidelma started.

“He attacked you?”

“He raped me.”

Fidelma noticed that she used the word
forcor
which indicated a forcible rape, a physical attack, distinguished in law from
sleth,
which covered all other forms of sexual intercourse with a woman without her consent.

“Explain to me the circumstances, Ainder. And let me warn you that this is a serious allegation.”

Ainder’s face hardened.

“It is serious for me, for who now will pay my
coibche?”

A husband gave a
coibche
or “bride-price” which was shared between a bride and her guardian in law, usually her father. The bride-price was related to the virginity of the bride and if the bride was not a virgin then humiliation and financial loss resulted.

“Very well. Tell me your story,” invited Fidelma.

“I was taking a basket of laundry up to the community. Moenach came upon me. He hated me because he knew Nath loved me. He insulted me and then knocked me to the ground and raped me. Afterward… he said if I spoke of the matter no one would believe me for it was well known in the community that he was trusted of abbots and kings.”

“Was it an actual physical assault?” Fidelma pressed. “You realize the differences between
forcor
and
sleth?”

“Moenach was strong. I could not prevail against him. It was a physical attack.”

“And you told Nath about this?”

The girl paused a moment, examining Fidelma’s face from under lowered eyelids, and then nodded quickly.

“I see. And Nath was angry, of course?”

“I have never seen him so angry.”

“When was this? How long before Moenach was killed?”

“He did not kill Moenach.”

Fidelma smiled thinly.

“I did not make such an accusation. But what makes you so emphatic?”

“He would not. It is not in Nath’s nature.”

“It is in the nature of all men given the right motive. Answer my question, then: how long before Moenach was killed did you tell Nath of this attack?”

“It was on the same afternoon that Moenach died. Scarcely an hour before.”

“When did you learn of Moenach’s death?” Fidelma asked.

“Why…” the girl frowned, “it was when Father Allán and some others of the community came searching for the old woman Muirenn. But Father Allán said that Muirenn had been seen with the murder weapon in her hand.”

“Did you see Nath afterward?”

Ainder appeared reluctant to speak and so Fidelma pressed the question again.

“That very evening,” the girl replied unwillingly. “He came to me and was frightened. He had heard the news but was afraid for himself.”

“He must have known Muirenn was suspected. What made him run away?”

“Because he thought that he would be suspected. His dislike of Moenach was well known. And Nath believed that should the news of Moenach’s attack on me come out, whether it was believed or not, he would be singled out as a suspect in the murder.”

Fidelma looked at the girl sadly.

“Certainly, Nath is now more suspected than the old woman, Muirenn. Which makes me ask, why have you told me this story so readily, Ainder, when it makes things look so bad for Nath?”

The girl looked aggrieved at the question.

“I tell it because it is the truth and are we not taught that the truth stands against all things? Nath cannot continue to hide forever. I cannot marry with an outlaw forever hiding the fastnesses and shadows of this land. I have urged Nath to surrender himself many times and rely on truth as his shield.”

Fidelma sat back and regarded the girl thoughtfully.

“You realize just how bad the situation is for Nath if he does not return to be heard before me?”

“I do. I believe that he should do so and that the truth will free him.”

“If that is so, will you tell me where Nath is hiding?”

The girl dropped her eyes to the ground. She did not speak for a long while. Then she sighed, as if making up her mind.

“Can I bring Nath to you?”

“It is all the same to me,” Fidelma replied indifferently. “Just so long as he presents himself before me.”

“Then I will bring him to Muirenn’s
bothán
at dusk.”

Fidelma did not really expect Brother Nath to turn up that evening. Somehow she did not really trust the credulous attitude of Ainder. She had been waiting in Muirenn’s cabin for half an hour before she heard Ainder’s voice call softly.

Fidelma was seated in a chair beside the grey remnants of the dead turf fire.

Ainder’s shadowy figure stood for a while framed in the doorway.

Fidelma rose and lit a candle.

It was then she saw the pale young man in the robes of a religieux standing nervously behind the young woman.

“And so you are Nath?” she asked.

Ainder drew the young man into the cabin by her hand and quickly closed the door.

“I have told him not to fear you, Sister Fidelma, but only to speak the truth.”

Fidelma studied the young man. He was fresh-faced, tousle-haired and had a look of bemusement as if he were caught in a stream of events over which he had no control. Something maternal stirred in Fidelma for the youth had the vacant expression of a little boy lost and alone in a frightening forest. She shook herself to rid her mind of the emotion.

She gestured for him to sit down.

“Tell me your story, Nath,” she invited, also seating herself.

“Little to tell,” the boy said quietly. “I love Ainder and wish to marry her. Moenach was always an enemy to me, to me and to my other brethren. He was a bully always, as a child and as a youth. He delighted in actions that harmed us but like most bullies he knew how to ingratiate himself to his betters. Father Allán would not hear a word against him. Moenach engineered the expulsion of Follamon…”

“I know about this. I have talked with Brother Ninnedo.”

Nath gave her an intense look.

“Then you know what Moenach was really like?”

“I know what I have been told. So when Ainder came to you and told you what had happened, you were in a great rage?”

Nath lowered his head and sighed.

“I rage still. Sister, I do not regret Moenach’s death. We are taught to forgive our enemies, them that do us ill. I cannot find it in my heart to do so. I rejoice in his death. I approve his ultimate punishment. My heart is exuberant. My mind tells me, however, that this is not the law nor the path of the Living God.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No!” The word was ejaculated like a rasping breath.

“Then why did you run away? Muirenn had been taken prisoner and the rest of the community thought the guilt lay at her door. Why bring suspicion down on your head?”

Nath looked bewildered.

“There were many who did not believe in Muirenn’s guilt and believed that Father Allán was using her as an easy scapegoat to protect Moenach’s reputation.”

“If they knew Muirenn to be innocent, they must have known someone to be guilty. By running, you provided a suspect.”

Nath shook his head. “Knowing that it is impossible for someone to kill does not mean that one must have knowledge of who committed the deed.”

“That is true,” conceded Fidelma. “You, for instance, knew Muirenn not to be guilty of the deed. You claim that you, too, are innocent. Why should you be believed any more than Muirenn?”

“Father Allán said… I thought it for the best until I could make myself heard before a Brehon.”

“What did Father Allán say?” demanded Fidelma sharply.

Nath hesitated.

“When Ainder told me her story, I went straightaway to tell Father Allán. As before, he did not believe me. He fell into a terrible rage and it was some time before he calmed himself. He would not believe anything against his favorite. He told me to go away and never speak of it again. Later, when I heard Moenach was dead, I feared Father Allán would blame me.”

“So Father Allán knew that Ainder accused Moenach of rape?” mused Fidelma. “And you, Nath, you blindly ran into hiding even though you must have realized that, in the meantime, your running away would compound any suspicions of your own guilt?”

“But there was no suspicion,” interposed Ainder, “for everyone thought that Muirenn had committed the deed.”

Fidelma nodded thoughtfully.

“That is what puzzles me. On Brother Aedo’s word, Father Allán had Muirenn imprisoned until my coming. You say that many did not believe her guilty but the entire community seemed apparently satisfied to have the old woman locked up and the assumption of her guilt left until my arrival. I still find it hard to understand why, knowing this, you, Nath, did not return to your community and await my arrival like the rest? Why draw attention to yourself by running away… unless you had something to hide?”

Nath looked blank while Ainder was agitated and defiant.

“The truth, Nath!” snapped Fidelma when neither of them spoke. “I no longer want to indulge in your games.”

The young man raised his shoulders in a shrug of helplessness.

“We thought it for the best…”

Fidelma glanced at Ainder. Her lips were compressed and she was staring at the ground. Abruptly, a thought dawned in Fidelma’s mind.

“Ainder told you to go into hiding, didn’t she?” She asked the question sharply, without warning.

Nath started nervously and raised his head to look at Ainder.

“Look at me, Nath!” Fidelma said sharply. “Tell me the truth and you will have nothing to fear.”

The young religieux hung his head.

“Yes. Ainder advised it was for the best.”

“Why?”

“It was Ainder who came to me with the news that Moenach had been slain. When I told her that I had already told Father Allán about Moenach’s attack on her, she felt that no one would ever believe her any more than they believed me when I told people that Moenach was the culprit who stole Father Allán’s cup. But she feared that suspicion might fall on me for the killing because of what I had told Father Allán. He knew I hated Moenach. I agreed that I should hide until the whole affair was over or until a learned Brehon arrived who might view my case with sympathy.”

“That was stupid. If Muirenn had been found guilty, that would have weighed heavily on your conscience.”

“I would not have let that happen. I would have returned,” protested Nath.

“Returned? And what excuse would you have offered for your absence? You would have willingly returned to exchange places with Muirenn? That I find hard to believe.”

“Believe it or not, it is the truth.” The young cenobite looked defiant.

Fidelma turned reprovingly to Ainder.

“That was foolish advice which you gave to Nath.”

The young girl raised her chin pugnaciously.

“I thought it best at the time,” she answered.

Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at the girl.

“I believe you did.”

She rose and turned toward the door.

“I am returning to see Father Allán now. You should return to the community, Nath. You have told me the truth.”

Father Allán rose awkwardly as Sister Fidelma entered his
cubiculum.