Absolution by Murder by Peter Tremayne Page B

princes, but Fidelma remained upright, merely giving a hint of a nod of respectful acknowledgment. She would do no more than that even when meeting a provincial king of Ireland, for her rank entitled her to speak on a level with kings, even the High King himself.
    Alhfrith, son of Oswy, glanced briefly at Sister Fidelma in disinterest and then proceeded to address himself to Brother Eadulf in Saxon. Fidelma had some knowledge of the language, but the delivery was too fast and accented for her to understand a word. She raised a hand and interrupted the heir-apparent of Northumbria.
    ‘It would be better,’ she said in Latin, ‘if we observed a
language common to all. I have no Saxon. If we do not have a common language then, Eadulf, it behoves you to translate.’
    Alhfrith paused in his delivery and made a noise conveying annoyance at being interrupted.
    The Abbess Hilda suppressed a smile.
    ‘As Alhfrith speaks no Latin, I suggest we continue to use Irish as a language we can all understand,’ she said in that language.
    Alhfrith turned to Fidelma, his brows drawn together.
    ‘I have a little Irish, taught by the monks of Columba when they brought Christianity to this land. If you have no Saxon, then I shall speak this language.’ The words were slow and thickly accented, but his knowledge was adequate.
    Fidelma made a gesture with her hand, inviting him to continue. To her irritation he turned back to Eadulf and continued to address his remarks to him.
    ‘There is little need to continue your investigation. We have the culprit locked away.’
    Brother Eadulf was about to reply when Sister Fidelma interrupted.
    ‘Are we to be informed who the culprit is?’
    Alhfrith blinked in surprise. Saxon women knew their place. But he had some experience of the boldness of Irish women and had learnt from his step-mother, Fín, something of their arrogance in considering themselves equal to men. He swallowed the sharp reply that rose in his mouth and his eyes narrowed as he gazed at Fidelma.
    ‘Surely. A beggar from Ireland. One called Canna, the son of Canna.’
    Fidelma raised a quizzical eyebrow.
    ‘How was he discovered?’

    Brother Eadulf felt uncomfortable about the challenging note in his colleague’s voice. He was accustomed to the manner and customs of Irish women in their own land but uneasy about such attitudes among his own people.
    ‘The discovery was made easily enough,’ replied Alhfrith coldly. ‘The man went round foretelling the day and time of the Abbess Étain’s death. He is either a great sorcerer or he is the murderer. As a Christian king adhering to Rome,’ he said emphatically, ‘I do not believe in sorcery. Therefore, the only way the man could foretell the day and time of the abbess’s death is if he were the perpetrator of the crime.’
    Eadulf was nodding slowly at the logic, but Fidelma smiled sceptically at the Saxon prince.
    ‘Are there witnesses to the fact that he foretold the exact hour and manner of Abbess Étain’s death?’
    Alhfrith gestured, a trifle dramatically, to Abbess Hilda.
    ‘There is a witness and one beyond reproach.’
    Sister Fidelma turned questioningly to the abbess.
    Hilda seem caught off guard and a little flustered.
    ‘It is true that yesterday morning this beggar was brought to me and foretold that blood would be spilt on this day.’
    ‘He was precise?’
    Alhfrith hissed in irritation as Hilda shook her head.
    ‘In truth, all he told me was that blood would be spilt on the day the sun was blotted from the sky. A learned brother from Iona told me that this event did occur this very afternoon when the moon passed between us and the sun.’
    Fidelma’s expression grew even more sceptical.
    ‘But did he name the Abbess Étain and the precise hour?’ she insisted.
    ‘Not to me—’ began Hilda.

    ‘But there are other witnesses who will swear he told them,’ interrupted Alhfrith. ‘Why do we waste time? Do you question my word?’
    Sister Fidelma