Fidelma had not really expected that Mugrón would fail to recognize the body of Sister Eisten but she wanted to be sure beyond any doubt that Eisten had been at Salbach's fortress. She was now faced with one more frustrating mystery, yet one which seemed to hold a slender link to the murder of Dacán. What caused her excitement was Mugrón's identification of Dacán's former wife. Why had Grella failed to mention that essential fact to Fidelma? The apparent answer was that Grella had been attempting to hide some guilt. Had her relationship provided grounds for Dacán's murder?
But there was something else that worried Fidelma. What had Grella and Eisten been doing at Salbach's fortress together? And why had Eisten attempted to book two passages on a ship leaving for Gaul? With whom had she been planning to travel? Was it Grella? And who had tortured and killed Eisten?
Fidelma ruminated on the questions while acknowledging that it was little use asking questions when there was no hope of providing answers.
She glanced across the table to Cass and felt a sense of frustration that she could not even begin to discuss her anxieties with him. She found herself still longing for the presence of Brother Eadulf, wishing that she could thrust and parry with the quick sword of his alert mind; dissecting, analyzing and, perhaps, gradually arriving at a truth. Then she immediately began to feel guilty again.
She suddenly realized that Cass was regarding her with a quizzical smile.
"What next, sister?" he asked, putting down his empty mug of ale and sitting back, obviously satisfied with his meal.
"Next?"
"Your mind has been working like the water-clock in the bell tower. I could almost hear the mechanism of your mind as it worked."
Fidelma grimaced awkwardly.
"There is one obvious person to see next—Sister Grella. We have to find out why she lied, or, rather, why she did not tell me the whole truth."
She rose to her feet, followed by Cass.
"I shall come with you," he said. "From what you told me there is more than a possibility that she could be the murderess. If so, you should not take chances."
This time Fidelma made no objection.
They made their way through the gloomy abbey buildings to the dark, deserted library. There was no sign of anyone working in its cold, murky hall. The seats were forsaken, the books were neatly packed in their satchel bags and there were no candles burning.
Fidelma led the way into the small chamber where Sister Grella had taken her to talk, the room where Dacán had studied. She was surprised to see a fire smoldering in the corner fireplace. While Cass bent to light a candle, Fidelma walked quickly across to the fireplace. Something had caught her eye. She leant down to pick it up.
"What do you make of this?" she asked.
Cass shrugged as he gazed at the short length of burnt twig which she held out to him.
"A stick. What else do you light fires with?"
She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"Not usually with such sticks. Examine it more closely."
Cass did so and saw that it was a piece of aspen with some notches of Ogham inscribed on it.
"What does it say?" he asked.
"Nothing that now makes sense. The extract here reads 'the resolve of the honorable one determines the fosterage of my children.' That's all."
Fidelma placed the salvaged piece of Ogham wand in her marsupium and stared with interest at the remains of the fire.
"It means that someone has decided to burn an entire book." She glanced at the holders that Grella had examined earlier in the day. It was as she suspected. "This was the Ogham book that Dacán had been studying. One wand of it, which I discovered, remained in his chamber after his death. I brought it here to show Sister Grella, who identified it as a poem."
"Didn't you think it was part of a will?"
Fidelma pursed her lips in a noncommittal gesture.
"Now why did someone think that it was so important that they needed to destroy it?" she asked as if she did not expect Cass to reply.
With a sigh, Fidelma led the way back through the library and into the corridor outside.
A passing cenobite glanced curiously at them.
"Do you seek Sister Grella?" he inquired politely.
Fidelma affirmed that they did.
"If she is not in the Tech Screptra, Sister Grella will be in her own chambers."
"Where will we find her chambers?" Cass inquired a little impatiently.
The cenobite gave them detailed directions which were easy enough to follow.
The chamber of the librarian of Ros Ailithir, however, was deserted. Fidelma had knocked carefully on the door twice. She made sure the corridor was empty before turning the handle. As she fully expected, the door was not locked.
"Inside, quickly, Cass," she instructed.
He followed her somewhat reluctantly and when he had passed into Sister Grella's chamber she closed the door and fumbled for a candle.
"This is surely wrong, sister," muttered Cass. "We should not be in this room uninvited."
Lighting the candle and standing back, Fidelma regarded Cass scornfully.
"As a dálaigh of the court I can demand the right to search a person or premises where I have a reasonable suspicion of misconduct."
"Then you do believe that Sister Grella killed her former husband and Sister Eisten?"
Fidelma motioned him to silence and began searching the room. For someone who had spent eight years in the abbey, Sister Grella's chamber was exceedingly sparse in personal objects. A book of devotions was placed by the bed and a few toilet articles, combs and such matter. She examined a large pitcher which was full of liquid. Fidelma sniffed suspiciously at it and her lips narrowed into a cynical smile. It was cuirm, the strong mead fermented from malted barley. It seemed Sister Grella liked to drink in the solitude of her chamber.
She turned to some clothes hanging from a line of pegs but was not really interested in them. There was little here of interest. It was only half-heartedly that she turned to a satchel she had spotted hanging on a peg under some of the clothes and rummaged through merely to complete her search. At first, she thought that it contained only a few undergarments. She drew them out and examined them by the light of the candle. Then among them she noticed a linen skirt which caused her to gasp in sudden satisfaction.
"Cass, examine this," she whispered.
The warrior bent forward.
"A parti-colored linen skirt," he began, dismissively. "What… ?"
He paused and suddenly realized what it was.
"Blue and red. The color of the strips which bound Dacán."
Fidelma turned to the hem of the skirt. A long strip of material had, indeed, been torn away. She expelled the air from her lungs with a long, low whistling sound.
"Then Grella is the murderess!" announced Cass in excitement. "Here is the proof."
Fidelma was equally excited but her legal mind urged caution.
"It is only proof of where the material, which bound Dacán, came from. However, this dress does not look like anything that a librarian of an abbey would wear. But, truthfully, Sister Grella does not seem typical of a librarian. Nevertheless, Cass, you may be called upon to witness where I found this skirt."