“Why would he be resentful? Father Febal was the senior of your community. Father Ibor should have recognized his authority without question.”
The monk shrugged.
“All I can say is that he was hostile to Father Febal’s authority.”
“Why do you think that he stole the items from the church?”
Fidelma asked the question sharply.
Brother Finnlug’s expression did not alter.
He simply spread his arms.
“Who can say what motivates a person to such actions? Who can know the deep secrets of men’s hearts?”
“That is what I am here to discover.” Fidelma replied dryly. “Surely, you must have an idea? Even to hazard a guess?”
“What does Father Febal say?”
“Does it matter what he says?”
“I would have thought that he was closer to Father Ibor than either Brother Adag or myself.”
“Closer? Yet you said there was hostility between them.”
“I did not mean close in the manner of friends. But they were priests together. Of similar social backgrounds, unlike Adag and I. As brothers of this community, our task was more like servants in this church rather than the equals of Fathers Febal and Ibor.”
“I see.” Fidelma frowned thoughtfully. “I am sure the Abbot will be distressed to learn that this is the way your community is governed. We are all servants of God and all one under His Supreme Power.”
“That is not exactly the Faith which Father Febal espouses.” There was clearly bitterness in his voice.
“So you do not know why Ibor might have stolen the items?”
“They were items of great value. They would never be poor on the proceeds of that wealth.”
“They?”
“I mean, whoever stole the items.”
“You have a doubt that Father Ibor stole them, then?”
“You are sharp, Sister. Alas, I do not have the precise way with words that you do.”
“Why do you think Father Ibor hanged himself having fled with these valuable items?”
“To avoid capture?”
“Your reply is in the form of a question. You mean that you are not sure of this fact either?”
Brother Finnlug shrugged.
“It is difficult for me to say. I cannot understand why a priest should take his life in any event. Surely no priest would commit such a sin?”
“Would you say that you cannot be sure that Father Ibor took his life?”
Brother Finnlug was startled.
“Did I say that?”
“You implied it. Tell me, in your own words what happened during the last two days. Had there been any tension between Ibor and Febal or any one else?”
Finnlug set his jaw firmly and stared at her for a moment.
“I did hear Father Ibor arguing the night before he disappeared.”
Fidelma leant forward, encouragingly.
“Arguing? With Father Febal?”
Brother Finnlug shook his head.
“I cannot be sure. I passed his cell and heard his voice raised. The other voice was quiet and muffled. It was as if Father Ibor had lost his temper but the person he was arguing with was in control.”
“You have no idea who this other person was?”
“None.”
“And you heard nothing of the substance of the argument?”
“I caught only a few words here and there.”
“And what were these words?”
“Nothing that makes sense. Ibor said, ‘It is the only way.’ Then he paused and after the other person said something, he replied. ‘No, no, no. If it has to end, I shall not be the one to end it.’ That was all I heard.”
Fidelma was quiet as she considered the matter.
“Did you interpret anything from these words, especially in the light of what subsequently happened?”
Brother Finnlug shook his head.
The door of the vestry suddenly opened and Father Febal stood on the threshold, his features wearing a peculiar look of satisfaction. He was clearly a man who had heard some news which pleased him.
“We have found the thief who took the crucifix and chalice from Father Ibor,” he announced.
Brother Finnlug rose swiftly to his feet. His eyes flickered from Farther Febal to Sister Fidelma. Fidelma saw something in his eyes and could not quite interpret the expression. Was it fear?
“Bring the thief forth,” she instructed calmly, remaining seated.
Father Febal shook his head.
“That would be impossible.”
“Impossible?” asked Fidelma with a dangerous note to her voice.
“The thief is dead.”
“You’d best explain,” Fidelma invited. “In detail. Does this thief have a name?”
Father Febal nodded.
“Téite was her name.”
There was a deep intake of breath from Brother Finnlug.
“I take it that you knew her, Brother Finnlug?” Fidelma turned her head inquiringly.
“We all did,” replied Father Febal shortly.
“Who was she?”
“A young girl who lived not far from our community in the forest. She was a seamstress. She sewed garments for our community. She also laundered clothes for us.”
“Where was she found and how was she identified as the thief?”
“Her cabin is within a short distance of where we found Father Ibor,” explained the priest. “I understand from Brother Adag that she had picked up some garments from the community and when she did not return with them, as she had arranged, this morning, Brother Adag went to her cabin and found her-”
Fidelma raised a hand to silence him.
“Let Brother Adag come forth and tell me his story in his own words. It is proper that I hear this matter at first hand. You and Brother Finnlug may wait outside.”
Father Febal looked uncomfortable.
“I think that you had better be warned, Sister.”
“Warned?” Fidelma’s head came up quickly to stare at the priest.
“Brother Adag is slightly simple in nature. In many ways his mind has not matured into adulthood. His role in our community is to do simple manual tasks. He … how shall I explain it?… has a child’s mind.”
“It might be refreshing to speak with one who has remained a child and not developed the contrived attitudes of an adult,” Fidelma smiled thinly. “Bring him hither.”
Brother Adag was a handsome youth but clearly one who was used to taking orders rather than thinking for himself. His eyes were rounded and seem to hold an expression of permanent innocence; of inoffensive naivete. His hands were calloused and showed that he was also a man used to manual work.
“You found the body of the woman, Téite, in her cabin, so I am told?”
The young man drew his brows together as if giving earnest consideration to the question before answering.
“Yes, Sister. When she did not arrive here at midday, with some garments which she had collected the day before and promised to deliver, Father Febal sent me to fetch them. I went to her cabin and she was lying stretched on the floor. There was blood on her clothing. She had been stabbed several times.”
“Ah? So Father Febal sent you to her cabin?”
The youth nodded slowly.
“How old was this woman, Téite? Did you know her?”
“Everyone knew her, Sister, and she was eighteen years and three months of age.”
“You are very exact.” Fidelma smiled at his meticulous diction, as if he considered each word almost before he uttered it.
“Téite told me her age and, as you ask me for it, I told you.” It was a simple statement of fact.
“Was she pretty?”
The youth blushed a little. He dropped his eyes.
“Very pretty, Sister.”
“You liked her?” pressed Fidelma.
The young man seemed agitated.
“No. No, I didn’t.” He protested. His face was now crimson.
“Why ever not?”
“It is the Father’s rule.”
“Father Febal’s rule?”
Brother Adag hung his head and did not reply.
“Rule or not, you still liked her. You may tell me.”
“She was kind to me. She did not make fun like the others.”