Free The Seventh Trumpet by Peter Tremayne Page B

one gulp.
    ‘So long as one of them is ready to perform the services for the burial of the unknown corpse by midnight,’ Saer reminded them.
    Eadulf had nearly forgotten that corpses were usually interred at midnight on the day of death.
    ‘I presume that Brother Ailgesach has not endeared himself to this community since he came here?’ Eadulf rose and went to join Fedach Glas.
    ‘We hardly know him,’ the man replied. ‘Though I suppose he has been a good customer in my tavern during these past two weeks. But he has never spoken properly to any of us. He mumbles curious phrases, that is all. As to his background, he is very secretive.’
    ‘But you, Saer, you have worked for him, during the time he has been here. I am sure that you must have picked up some knowledge about him.’
    Saer shrugged. ‘Only that he is very fearful of people, particularly of strangers. Perhaps fear has caused him to indulge too freely in drink. I can certainly add nothing more.’
    ‘Could you tell me what manner of man he is?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Is he well-read? Does he come from a noble family? Do you know anything at all?’
    ‘How could I tell who is well read or not?’ countered Saer. ‘He was always quoting some text or other, so I suppose he has read the Holy Book, but I had no understanding of it. He has said strange things; sometimes frightening things.’
    ‘Such as the words he cried before he fell into unconsciousness?’ Eadulf suggested. ‘Have you heard such words before?’
    ‘Similar words, I suppose,’ admitted the tavern-keeper.
    Eadulf was thoughtful for a moment, but before he had time to frame his next question, the door burst open.
    Brother Biasta stood on the threshold looking dishevelled, his pale face even whiter than it had been before. It seemed that he was unable to form any coherent sentence and for a moment or two he just stood with his mouth opening and closing like a fish newly caught.
    ‘My cousin –’ he began; then he paused and swallowed, peering round at them in a distraught manner. ‘My cousin … he is dead!’

CHAPTER SIX

    E veryone was moving towards the door when Fidelma’s sharp tone of command halted them.
    ‘Stay where you are, please. Eadulf and I will examine the body. Fedach Glas, you will come with us to show us where Brother Ailgesach is.’
    ‘But …’ began the tavern-keeper.
    ‘I am taking charge as a dálaigh ,’ Fidelma said with quiet authority. ‘Eadulf has been trained in the apothecary’s art. I shall need his advice. Gormán, you and Enda will remain here.’
    Outside, Fedach Glas conducted them towards one of the small log cabins which apparently provided overnight accommodation for the tavern guests. He pushed open the door and went inside with Fidelma and Eadulf following. The small dormitory room contained four wooden cots arranged along the walls on either side. They could see the rotund form of Brother Ailgesach stretched on the cot nearest the door.
    The tavern-keeper waited by the entrance while Eadulf went forward to examine the corpse.
    The body lay flat on its back, the hands slightly clenched as if they were trying to form fists, but both arms rested in a straight line on either side. Eadulf saw traces of vomit around the mouth and across the front of the robes. The eyes were closed although the mouth was slightly open. The body appeared to be in repose.
    Eadulf immediately searched for any signs of life, but the body was already growing cold, the skin slightly mottled. He noticed dried blood around the nostrils. Then Eadulf, wrinkling his nose in distaste, bent forward and tried to ease the mouth further open, peering inside. He sighed and rose, turning round to face them.
    ‘Brother Ailgesach is certainly dead,’ he announced.
    ‘And the cause?’ asked Fidelma quietly.
    ‘To all appearances, it would seem that he went to sleep in a drunken stupor and choked on his own vomit.’
    Fedach Glas, standing behind them, was looking