The Subtle Serpent by Peter Tremayne Page B

According to ancient superstition, which the Faith had not yet destroyed, the bier must be broken for, if this was not done, the evil spirits might use it to carry off the corpse in their night excursions. If the bier was destroyed the evil spirits had to let the corpse rest.
    An extremely young sister of pleasing appearance, approached carrying a huge bunch of green bushy branches. Fidelma recognised her as Sister Lerben, the young novice who had conducted her to the abbess’ chamber on the previous evening. The others formed a line before her at the graveside and as they passed the youthful-looking Sister Lerben, each took a small branch before pausing at the open grave and dropping it in. Fidelma and the disabled religieuse, helped by Sister Brónach, were standing last in line. With a gentle smile, Fidelma signalled Sister Brónach and the disabled sister to precede her before taking one of the remaining branches from Sister Lerben to deposit it in the grave and returning to her place. The birch branch was called ses sofais which not only gave the body a covering before the earth was shovelled in but was traditionally thought to protect the corpse from any malignant force.

    Abbess Draigen moved forward to deposit the last piece of birch in the open grave. As two sisters began to fill the grave with earth, the abbess began to intone the words of the Biait, the Irish name for Psalm 118, the word ‘blessed’ being taken from the first line which was considered the most powerful invocation for efficacy of the suffering soul. Yet Abbess Draigen did not recite the Biait in its entirety but was selective in her rendering.

    ‘I call upon the Lord in my distress; the Lord answered me, and set me free.
    ‘The Lord is on my side; I will not fear; what can man do to me?
    ‘The Lord is on my side and helps me against my enemies,
    ‘It is better to find refuge with the Lord than to trust men;
    ‘It is better to find sanctuary with the Lord than to trust princes.’

    Fidelma frowned at the vehemence of the abbess’s enunciation as if the words had some deeper significance for her.
    Then the task was over. The poor headless corpse had been interred and the appropriate prayers and blessings had been said in accordance with the rituals of the Faith.
    The sun was now well up and Fidelma could feel the faint warmth of its early morning, winter rays on her face. The woods had burst into life now, the tuneful sounds of birdsong and the soft whispering of the leaves and branches, shaking off their snow covering in the morning breeze, changed the solemnity of the proceedings to a joyous serenity.
    She was aware that the sisters of the community were wending their way slowly back towards the abbey buildings. Fidelma saw the disabled religieuse, behind the others, propelling her way along the path with her stick, accompanied by Sister Brónach. A hollow cough distracted her
attention and she turned to find the abbess approaching and with her was a young sister who had stood at the right hand of the abbess throughout the proceedings.
    ‘Good morning, sister,’ the abbess greeted.
    Fidelma returned the salutation.
    ‘What was the strange noise in the chapel?’ she asked immediately. ‘The community seem quite disturbed by it.’
    Abbess Draigen grimaced disdainfully.
    ‘They should know better. I have shown you our subterraneus.’
    ‘Yes, but any noise from that would not be heard in the chapel, surely? It does not extend under the duirthech.’
    ‘True enough. Yet, as I told you, there are supposed to be several caves over which the abbey was raised and we have been unable to find entrances to them apart from our store cave. Doubtless there is a cave under the chapel which probably floods and produced the sound we heard.’
    Fidelma conceded this was possible.
    ‘So you have heard this before?’
    Abbess Draigen seemed suddenly impatient.
    ‘Several times during winter months. It is an irrelevant matter.’ It was clear that