Act of Mercy by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online Page B

a number of pegs on which they could be hung. Fidelma did not, like some women, carry treatments for her skin – red berry juice, for instance, to stain her lips – but she did have a cíorbholg – a comb bag containing her combs and mirrors. Fidelma usually carried two ornamented bone combs, not through personal vanity but because it was the custom among her people to keep one’s hair in good condition and untangled. A fine head of hair was much admired.
    Although Fidelma, like most women of her class, kept her fingernails carefully cut and rounded, for it was considered shameful to have ragged nails, she did not go so far as those who put crimson dye on them. Nor did she use, as some did, the juice of black or blue berries to darken her eyebrows or paint her eyelids. Nor did she heighten the natural colours of her cheeks by using dye extracted from the sprigs and berries of the elder tree to make an artificial blush. She was careful about her personal toiletry without disguising her natural features.
    She unpacked her cíorbholg and set it on the table. The most bulky part of her baggage was, in fact, two taigh liubhair , small satchel books. When the Irish religieux had begun their peregrinatio pro Christo during the previous centuries, the learned scribes of Ireland had realised that missionaries and pilgrims would need to take liturgical works and religious tracts to help them spread the word of the new Faith among the pagans, and that such books had to be small enough to carried by them. Fidelma had brought with her a Missal, measuring fourteen by eleven millimetres. Her brother, King Colgú, had given her a second volume of the same size to while away the time on her long journey. It was A Life of St Ailbe , the first Christian Bishop of Cashel and patron saint of Muman. She carefully hung these book satchels on the pegs with her clothes.
    Then she stood back, surveyed her unpacking, and smiled. There was nothing more to do before the midday meal. She could lie back on the bunk, head resting upon her clasped hands and, for the first time since she had closed Sister Muirgel’s door on his pleading features, allow herself a moment to think about the extraordinary coincidence of meeting Cian again.
    However, as she stretched out gratefully, there was a high-pitched squeal and something heavy and warm landed on Fidelma’s stomach.
She let out a shriek and something black and furry, emitting another strange cry, leapt from her stomach onto the ground.
    Shaken, Fidelma sat up. A thin black cat was sitting regarding her with bright green eyes, its sleek fur coat glistening in the rays of the sun which shone through the window. The animal uttered a low ‘miaow’ as it gazed inquisitively upon her and then calmly proceeded to lick its paw before rhythmically drawing it over its ear and eye.
    There was a scrabbling sound outside the cabin door, which opened to reveal Wenbrit, breathless and worried.
    ‘I heard your scream, lady,’ he panted. ‘What is it?’
    Fidelma was chagrined; she pointed at the source of her discomfiture.
    ‘The creature took me unawares. I didn’t realise that you had a cat on board.’
    Wenbrit relaxed; he smiled broadly.
    ‘That’s the ship’s cat, lady. On a vessel like this, a cat is needed to keep down the rats and mice.’
    Fidelma shivered slightly at the thought of rats.
    Wenbrit reassured her. ‘Don’t worry. They never venture up near people but get below in the bilge or sometimes in the stores. Mouse Lord here keeps them controlled.’
    The cat had now jumped back up onto Fidelma’s bunk, curled itself into a snug bundle and seemed to be fast asleep.
    ‘She seems at home here,’ Fidelma observed.
    The boy nodded.
    ‘It’s a male cat, lady,’ he corrected. ‘Yes, Mouse Lord likes to sleep in this cabin. I should have warned you about him. Don’t worry, I’ll remove him for you.’
    He started forward but Fidelma laid a restraining hand on his arm.
    ‘Leave him alone,