Act of Mercy by Peter Tremayne

before.’
    ‘Who was it?’ Fidelma asked breathlessly. ‘How did it happen?’
    Murchad raised his shoulders and let them fall in an eloquent shrug, disclaiming knowledge.
    ‘How? That I don’t know. No one saw anything.’
    ‘Then how do you know that they were lost overboard?’
    ‘Brother Cian suggested it.’
    Fidelma drew her brows together.
    ‘What does he have to do with it?’
    ‘He came to see me just after dawn. Apparently he feels that he should be in charge of all the pilgrims on board this ship – be their spokesman.’
    Fidelma sniffed disparagingly.

    ‘You may rest assured that he has no authority to speak for me ,’ she said tightly.
    Murchad did not take any notice. He went on, ‘After the storm, he took it upon himself to go round and see if everyone was all right. He even went to your cabin.’
    ‘He did not check on me.’
    ‘Begging your pardon, lady,’ Murchad contradicted. ‘He said he looked into your cabin but saw that you were still asleep.’
    So that was what had awoken her! The soft sound of a door shutting. She felt anger and a sense of violation that Cian, of all people, had entered her cabin and looked on her while she slept.
    ‘Go on, then.’ She decided that she would make very sure that, in future, Cian did not have such easy access to her cabin again.
    ‘Well, he found that one of the party was nowhere to be seen. Their cabin was deserted. When he came to me and told me his fears, I ordered Gurvan to conduct a thorough search of the ship. He found nothing. I have how sent him to double-check.’
    So that explained Gurvan’s curious visit to her cabin a few moments ago. As if thinking of him had caused him to be drawn to them, Gurvan came swinging along the deck.
    Murchad gazed anxiously at him. The first mate shook his head at the captain’s unasked question.
    ‘Stem to stern, skipper. No sign.’ Gurvan was not a man who believed in wasting words.
    Murchad turned back to Fidelma with a mournful look.
    ‘That was our last chance. I had hoped that she might have become so scared of the storm that she had found some hole on board ship to hide in.’
    Fidelma felt somewhat deflated. It was not an auspicious beginning to the pilgrimage. The first night out from Ardmore and a pilgrim lost overboard.
    ‘Who was it?’ she asked. ‘Who is the missing person?’
    ‘It is Sister Muirgel. We’d better get below, for the others are breaking their fast. I’d best give them this sad news of their companion. I do not want to lose any more passengers on this voyage.’
    He dismissed Gurvan to look after the running of the ship while he went below. Fidelma was feeling shocked as she followed him down the companionway.
    Yesterday, Sister Muirgel could barely raise her head from her bunk; she had been so sick and ill. The idea that, in the middle of such a terrifying storm, the pale-faced young woman had been able to leave
her cabin, climb up on deck unnoticed and then get swept overboard was startling in the extreme.
    In the mess-deck cabin, young Wenbrit was serving a meal of bread, cold meats and fruit to the pilgrims who had gathered there. Fidelma immediately noticed that Brother Bairne had now joined the company. There was a muttered greeting, not hearty in the circumstances, as Fidelma took her seat and Murchad went to the head of the table. Everyone had obviously been told about the missing Sister Muirgel. Cian was the first to ask the news from Murchad. The captain addressed the entire assembly.
    ‘I am afraid that I have some very bad news for you,’ the captain began. ‘I can confirm that Sister Muirgel is no longer on board. A thorough search has been made of the vessel. No other explanation remains except that she was washed overboard in the night during the storm.’
    There was a grim silence among those at the table. Then one of the religieuses, Fidelma thought it was the broad-faced Sister Crella, made a sound like a suppressed sob.
    ‘I have never lost a