The Subtle Serpent Read Online Free PDF

companionway.
    Either the wounded person, for she presumed the amount
of blood had come from someone who had been severely injured, had been gashed with a knife or a sharp instrument at the foot of the companionway or in one of the cabins. She turned into the first one, with Ross unwillingly trailing in her wake.
    She paused on the threshold and stood staring around trying to find some clue to the mystery.
    ‘Captain!’
    One of Ross’s men came clambering down behind them.
    ‘Captain, I’ve been sent by Odar to tell you that the wind is getting up again and the tide is bearing us towards the rocks.’
    Ross opened his mouth to curse but, as his eye caught Fidelma’s, he contented himself with a grunt.
    ‘Very well. Get a line on the bow of this vessel and tell Odar to stand by to steer her. I shall tow her into a safe anchorage.’
    The man scampered off and Ross turned back to Fidelma.
    ‘Best come off back to the barc, sister. It will not be easy to steer this vessel to shore. It will be safer on my ship.’
    Fidelma reluctantly turned after him and as she did so her eyes caught something which she had not perceived before. The open cabin door had shielded it from her as she had stood in the cabin. Now, as she turned to go, she saw something unusual hanging from a peg behind the door. Unusual because it was a tiag liubhair, a leather book satchel. Fidelma was astonished to see such an item in the cabin of a ship. It was true that the Irish kept their books, not on shelves, but in satchels hung on pegs or racks around the walls of their libraries, each satchel containing one or more manuscript volumes. And such satchels were also generally employed to carry books from place to place. It was always necessary for a missionary priest to have Gospels, offices and other books and so such satchels were also designed to transport them on their missions. The tiag liubhair which hung behind the cabin door was one that was commonly slung from the shoulder by a strap.

    Fidelma was unaware of Ross now pausing impatiently at the foot of the companionway.
    She unhooked the satchel and reached in. Inside there was a small vellum volume.
    Suddenly her heart was racing, her mouth dry, and she stood rooted to the spot. The blood pounded in her ears. For a moment or two she thought she was going to pass out. The volume was a small, innocuous looking manuscript book, its vellum leaves bound in heavy calf-leather and embossed with beautiful patterned whirls and circles. Fidelma had recognised that it would be a Missal even before she turned to the title page. She knew also what would be inscribed on that page.
    It was now over twelve months since Sister Fidelma had last held this book in her hands. Over twelve months ago, on a warm Roman summer evening, in the herb-scented garden of the Lateran Palace, she had stood holding this little book. It had been the evening before she had left Rome to return home to Ireland. She had handed the book to her friend and companion in adventure, Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, from the Saxon land of the South Folk. Brother Eadulf, who had helped her solve the mystery of Abbess Etain’s murder at Whitby and later of the murder of Wighard, the archbishop-elect of Canterbury in Rome.
    The book which she now held in her hands, in this mysterious abandoned ship, had been her farewell gift to her closest friend and companion. A gift that had meant so much to them in that emotional parting.
    Fidelma felt the cabin beginning to rock and turn around her. She tried to still her racing thoughts, to rationalise the awesome dread which she felt choking her lungs. She staggered dizzily backwards and collapsed abruptly onto the bunk.

Chapter Three
    ‘Sister Fidelma! Are you all right?’
    Ross’s anxious face was peering close to Fidelma’s as she opened her eyes. She blinked. She had not really passed out only … she blinked again and silently rebuked herself for showing weakness. However, the shock was