Hemlock At Vespers
“The vesper-bell had already ceased proclaiming the arrival of the sixth canonical hour, the time set aside for prayers, long before she reached the dusk-shrouded gates of the grey stone abbey building. The services were over and the community had already filed into the refectory for the evening meal as she, having cursorily brushed the dust of travel from her, entered and hurried toward her place with arms folded into her habit, her head bent in submissive attitude.While her head was lowered, t...he keen observer might have noticed that there was little else that was submissive about Sister Fidelma’s bearing. Her tall, well-proportioned figure, scarcely disguised by her flowing robe, carried the attitude of a joy in living, a worship of activity, rather than being cowed by the somber dignity associated with a religieuse. As if to add to this impression, rebellious strands of red hair broke from beneath her head-dress adding to the youthful coloring of her pale, fresh face and piercing green eyes which hardly concealed a bubbling vitality and sense of humor.The refectory hall was lit by numerous spluttering oil lamps whose pungent smell mingled with the heavy aroma of the smoky turf fire which smoldered in the great hearth set at the head of the chamber.MoreLess
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