Read Online A MASS FOR THE DEAD by Susan McDuffie - Free Book Online

here and was accusing me, right in front of all the workmen, bitter old man that he is.”
    “But then what of the scaffold that collapsed?” I asked. “Was not young Tormod sorely injured?”
    “Indeed, and a sad day that was. But I had cautioned the young amadan more than once to double-check his scaffolding before he goes up, and was he ever listening to me? He had his brother do it, and his brother is but a lad, just learning the trade, and not to be trusted. Headstrong Tormod is, and now he will be having the twisted hand to prove it. He may even walk with a limp, they were not sure of that last.”
    He looked at my leg, and caught himself. “Och, I am sorry Muirteach, I was not meaning anything by that.”
    “But could anyone have wished Tormod harm?” I asked, ignoring Calum’s last comment. “Was there anything about the scaffold that was at all suspicious?”
    “Nothing,” he assured me blandly, “for all that he is none so popular. But no mason would endanger another. You must know, Muirteach, accidents are no so uncommon in this trade.” And that, I supposed, was true enough.
    The sun was turning towards the west, the bells began to toll for Vespers, and of a sudden it became clear to me that I had spent enough time at the Priory for one day. I bid good-bye to Calum and prepared to leave, stopping by the chapel for a perfunctory prayer by my father’s bier and not waiting for the Mass, which was about to start. Gillecristus, busy with the service, could not detain me to learn what I had discovered, and shamefully I felt somewhat relieved at that. I had little of importance to tell him, and still less that I wanted him to know.
    My mind was a jumble of a few facts and many more suppositions and as I sailed the boat around the island back toward Scalasaig it was little enough I knew what to make of them all.
    As I beached the boat I saw Seamus waiting there, with Somerled beside him. He had probably been waiting there all day, I thought, a little guiltily. I had neglected the lad since our return from Islay, but perhaps Seamus himself had been needing some of that time to be feeling to rights again, after his overindulgence at His Lordship’s feast.
    My dog, however, raced back and forth, barking wildly as I approached in the boat, heralding my arrival to the entire port of Scalasaig. The fishermen unloading their boats showed little interest in Seamus, my dog or myself.
    “So and what were you discovering?” Seamus asked broadly, as I pulled the boat onto the shore.
    I scowled, and shrugged my shoulders. “Sure enough it seems my father was murdered by the sìthichean , for I am not knowing who did this. Come along then, and I shall tell you what I do know,” I added, seeing his disappointed face.
    I gathered up my satchel and we started to walk towards my house. Seamus knew both Tormod and his brother. Seamus’s mother, it turned out, was distantly related to Tormod’s mother, Chatriona. The boys had played together as children, although Tormod was some four or five years older. Seamus had not seen Tormod since his accident, and so it was easy enough to arrange to visit him along with Seamus tomorrow.
    We neared the collection of dwellings that comprised the village of Scalasaig. Seamus’s mother, Aorig, met us as we approached the door to my hut.
    “You should be feeding that dog, Muirteach. He was after my cheeses that I had just set out to cure in the sun.”
    “Seamus, did you not feed him?” I asked quickly, trying to shift the blame, but Aorig was not one to be fooled by that. She knew me too well.
    “You should not be expecting that Seamus will be feeding him without you leaving him something to give to the poor thing. He has his own chores to be doing, as he well knows, although he is happy enough to forget them when he can.”
    “Was he getting the cheeses, then?” I asked. Aorig was a good neighbor, and often asked me to share food with herself and her husband, and I was not