Free A MASS FOR THE DEAD by Susan McDuffie

could have hit her for anything that displeased him. She said he did not have any reason to beat her, but it was a feeling I was having, just, that she was not telling me all she knew of it.”
    The thought of it sickened me, but I knew my father well enough to know the truth of what Mariota said. My father had hit me, on occasion, as a child, when the temper was on him. Sheena could have done anything, or nothing at all.
    “So what is next?” Mariota asked, after a moment.
    “Seamus and I will visit Tormod.”
    “What of other people here on Colonsay?” she asked, after a moment. “Is there no one here who would have wanted the Prior dead? What of Tormod’s kin? Would they be blaming your father for his fall?”
    “Better to blame Calum Glas. And Calum is strong, but he would not be killing my father. He defended Calum, when Gillecristus wanted him taken off the job.”
    “What of someone from Islay? They could have beached a boat on the strand and waited for him, if they knew his habits.”
    “There is only my mother’s kin. And if they were going to kill him, they’d have been doing it eighteen years ago.” I thought a moment. “I shall have to return to the Priory.” The look on my face gave me away.
    “You are not liking it there,” Mariota observed. “Why?”
    “I spent my boyhood there,” I said. I could have said that I hated it there, and had hated my father the most of all, but I did not, and remained silent.
    “What of Gillecristus?” Mariota asked. “They argued. He benefits from your father’s death, does he not? Is he not likely to become the next Prior?”
    “I have never liked him,” I admitted. “He is ambitious. But he has known my father for many years; they founded the Priory together twenty years ago. They were close.”
    “Ambition could, perhaps, drive a man to murder,” mused Mariota.
    “I shall talk with him again, or perhaps Donal can find out something more.” So then there was no help but to tell her of Donal and how he was keeping his ears open for me, there.
    “Your Canon Donal seems a kind man,” she said. “So perhaps all was not bad at that place.”
    I did not answer. After awhile Mariota must have realized I was not going to say anything more, for she set her cup down on the floor, and stood up, brushing the dog hairs off her skirts. “I should be going,” she said. “My father will be waiting for me up at the Dun.”
    I stood awkwardly by the door as she left, that scent of elderflower wafting past me, then I went and filled my cup again with uisgebeatha .
    * * * * *
    The next morning Seamus and I set out early, to walk to Kilchattan where Tormod and his family lived. The morning was foggy. Somerled loped by my side, eager at the chance for the outing, leaving us every few minutes to chase a rabbit, then returning, after a minute or two, without catching any. He was, as I have already said, a lazy dog.
    We reached the little settlement of Kilchattan in good time. Tormod’s home lay somewhat before the old chapel, still used by the village. The homestead looked in good repair, well kept and tidy, with the thatching of the roof held down by rope netting weighted with rocks. We approached the door-flap and knocked on the stone walls of the house.
    An older woman answered our summons, short, round, and neat as her holding, with her hair tidily coifed and wrinkles of worry behind her blue eyes.
    “And whoever is it then?” she asked. “Och, it will be you, Seamus. It is good to be seeing you—how you have grown tall! And how is your mother faring?”
    Seamus replied Aorig was well, and gave Tormod’s mother the cheese that Aorig had sent. Chatriona told us her elder son was recovering, but still weak, and would be glad of our company for some short time as she ushered us inside.
    Some time was taken up with pleasantries while Chatriona settled us with some mead and bannocks by Tormod, and then took her spinning outside while we visited with her son. The