Absolution by Murder Read Online Free PDF

seemed to emanate from them.
    ‘What is it, child?’ inquired the abbess.
    The young woman’s chin came up a trifle pugnaciously and she introduced herself in Irish.
    ‘I have just arrived at the abbey, Mother Abbess, and have been asked to report my presence to you and the Bishop Colmán. My name is Fidelma of Kildare.’
    Before Abbess Hilda had time to respond, questioning why a young Irish religieuse should be worthy to be asked to make her presence known to them, the Bishop Colmán had risen from his chair and had taken a stride towards the girl with an outstretched hand of welcome. Hilda stared at him, her mouth opening slightly in her astonishment. It was curiously unlike the haughty misogynism of Colmán to rise up to greet a young sister of the order.
    ‘Sister Fidelma!’ Colmán’s voice was animated. ‘Your reputation precedes you. I am Colmán.’

    The young religieuse took his hand and inclined her head slightly in deference to his rank. Hilda had long since become accustomed to the lack of servility that the Irish displayed towards their superiors, unlike the deep reverence Saxons displayed towards their betters.
    ‘You do me honour, your grace. I was not aware that I was possessed of a reputation.’
    The keen eyes of Abbess Hilda saw an amused smile play around the mouth of the younger woman. It was hard to tell whether the girl was being modest or merely mocking. Again the bright eyes – Hilda was sure they were green now – turned inquiringly in her direction.
    Colmán turned in some embarrassment at his neglect of the Mother Abbess.
    ‘This is the Abbess Hilda of Streoneshalh.’
    Sister Fidelma moved forward and reached to incline her head over the abbess’s ring.
    ‘You are most welcome here, Fidelma of Kildare,’ Hilda acknowledged, ‘though I confess that my lord the Bishop of Lindisfarne has placed me at a disadvantage. I stand in ignorance of your reputation.’
    Hilda glanced at the hawk-faced Colmán as if seeking comment.
    ‘Sister Fidelma is a dálaigh of the Brehon courts of Ireland,’ explained Colman.
    Abbess Hilda frowned.
    ‘I am not acquainted with this expression – daw-lee .’ She rendered the term as closely as she could in her own phonetics. She stared at the girl as if challenging her to an explanation.
    Sister Fidelma’s cheeks reddened slightly and her voice was slightly breathless as she sought to explain.

    ‘I am an advocate, qualified to plead before the law courts of my country, to prosecute or defend those summoned to answer to the law before our judges, the Brehons.’
    Colman nodded. ‘Sister Fidelma is qualified to the degree of anruth, only one degree below the highest qualification in our land. Already, even among the brethren in Lindisfarne, we have heard tales of how she was able to solve a mystery oppressing the High King at Tara.’
    Fidelma gave a deprecating shrug of her shoulders.
    ‘My lord bishop does me too much honour,’ she said. ‘Anyone could have resolved the mystery given time.’
    There was no false modesty in her voice, just a plain statement of her opinion.
    ‘So?’ Abbess Hilda stared curiously at her. ‘A qualified advocate, so young and a woman? Alas, in our culture women could not aspire to such a position, which is reserved only for men.’
    Sister Fidelma nodded slowly.
    ‘I have heard, Mother Abbess, that women among the Angles and Saxons suffer many disadvantages compared with their sisters in Ireland.’
    ‘That may be so, Fidelma,’ Colmán interrupted with an air of condescension. ‘But remember what the Good Book says: “What went you into the wilderness to see, a man clothed in fine garments?” ’
    Hilda cast a glance of annoyance at Colmán. His comparison of Northumbria to a wilderness was another demonstration of his superior attitudes, which had increasingly annoyed her over the last three years. She nearly made a rejoinder, but hesitated and turned back to Fidelma. She was disconcerted to find the