The Keening by Anne Emery

Author:Anne Emery [Emery, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2021-09-21T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Thank God and his Blessed Mother that Shane was at the castle last night, Brigid thought as she followed the others outside and across to the infirmary. She asked herself whether she had any right to be there, but this was a man who had been part of a conspiracy to blame Shane for a secret and unlawful killing. Whether Colm had come into the scheme wittingly or unwittingly, she had no idea, but if he was in a fit-enough condition to be questioned, the castle watchman would be questioned by the chieftain’s brother. And Brigid was anxious to hear what the man had to say.

When they arrived at the infirmary building, Brother Dominic, the abbey physician, was tending to the injured man. Windows lined the infirmary walls, and a table and shelves at one end held various instruments and vials of medicine. There were several beds but, on this day, only one was occupied. A half-dozen monks were gathered in prayer a short distance from Colm the lookout. Brigid recognized him; she had seen him at the castle.

An old phrase came into her mind: “exempt fists.” Some men employed by a king or lord were exempt from liability if they committed acts of violence whilst carrying out their duties. A lookout was one; a charioteer was another. Who else? For some reason she thought, Buffoon. Could one of the buffoons be among the “exempt fists”? Surely not. She chided herself for allowing her mind to wander while a man might be in his last moments of earthly life. The ends of Colm’s ginger moustache rested on a face as white as milk, and his small brown eyes stared up at the ceiling. Brigid would not have known whether he was alive or dead. But the physician was pressing his hands on the bleeding wound in the man’s side, so it seemed he was still of this world.

Cúchonnacht Maguire moved in close to the doctor and said, “Colm, may God bless you and keep you at His right hand.”

Colm’s body seemed to jolt at the sound of the voice, and his eyes fastened on Maguire. There was no mistaking the fear in those eyes. And little wonder, he was losing blood from the wound in his side.

“Colm, who did this?”

No answer, nothing but terror. Did he feel that death was imminent? Or was it fear of Maguire? Fear that he, Colm, would have to identify his attacker and be in jeopardy of further violence for revealing the man’s name? For Brigid, it was almost as if she could feel the fear herself. She looked at him lying there on the bed, him not knowing whether he would live to walk out on his own two feet. And would he still be in danger if he did? Who was out there, killing and wounding all these people in Fermanagh? Who might be next?

The abbot spoke up then. He turned to the gathered monks and instructed them to bring a vial of holy oil for the sacrament of Extreme Unction, the last rites for the dying.

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