Page 115 of Luthias

He touched the broken collar bone. “The current in the river, ’tis strong.”

Emery came around the table and pulled back the corpse’s gown to reveal extensive bruising on the right shoulder and upper arm.

“See the bruises here? They’re turning yellow and brown, so this injury happened approximately five to ten days before she died.” She studied the pattern of the injury before she added, “It looks like she had a bad fall. If she landed hard enough it could have broken the collar bone. Was she right-handed?”

He thought for a moment. “Aye.”

“From what I saw, the writing in the suicide note Callum found was very neat and even,” she said. “Yet with a fractured collar bone it would have been incredibly painful for this woman to even move her arm.”

“Mayhap she used the other hand,” Reothadh said. “I scribe with both hands.”

“Good point.” She reached for the bodice laces, and then stopped herself. “I’m going to remove her clothing so I can examine the rest of her body. Will that upset you, Master?”

Reothadh shook his head, and then went to the end of the table to take off Athdara’s shoes.

Once the corpse was completely nude Emery stood beside him and surveyed the extensive damage done to the woman’s body from her breasts to her thighs. Although dealing with remains had always been an intellectual rather than emotional experience for Emery, she felt wretched and angry at seeing the evidence of how much Athdara had suffered before she had died.

“By the Gods,” the sage murmured, appalled. “She’s been stabbed a hundred times.”

“I don’t think so,” Emery told him. “The wounds would be deeper.”

She was pretty sure what had made the puncture marks––antlers––but telling the sage that Callum’s lover had been locked in a gibbeting cage on MacRoss land would only make the situation worse.

Emery glanced down at the wrists and ankles. “These abrasions here appear to be ligature marks from being restrained for long periods of time,” she said, pointing out the rings of bruised, lacerated flesh on the extremities. “There are no tears on her clothes, so she was naked or was wearing other garments when she was injured. Since there are no bloodstains on this clothing, it appears that someone washed her body and redressed her after death.”

He looked pale and sick now. “The river water, ’twould soak away the stains.”

“Have you ever tried to get blood out of linen and wool using only cold water?” she asked. “It’s very difficult.”

“Yet possible,” the sage countered. “Or her wounds came from a beast attack she survived, and then bathed herself and changed her clothing.”

“All right, let’s say she was attacked. She would raise her arms to protect herself, like this.” She demonstrated the move with her own arms for the sage, and then checked Athdara’s forearms. “I see no defensive wounds. I think her hands were bound behind her back when she received these injuries.”

“Why should a killer bathe and dress her?” Reothadh asked.

“To hide the evidence of torture. Would anyone have undressed her body before burning it?” After he shook his head she checked Athdara’s fingers. “It looks like there’s some debris under her nails. Do you have a knife with a small tip, and something to catch the scrapings?”

After a telling hesitation Reothadh gave her a short blade and a shallow cup, which she used as she carefully removed the debris under the fingernails. She then handed the blade back to the sage, and carried the cup over to the side table next to a lantern.

Emery turned the cup as she studied the tiny bits. “This looks like red dirt and straw to me.” She stepped back. “What do you think?”

“Aye, ’twould seem so.” The master sage peered closely at the scrapings before he straightened. “’Tisnae any red soil in this region.”

“May I have some water?” When he gave her a cup she added a few drops to the bowl, and they both watched it turn instantly red. “It’s not soil. I think it’s powdered madder root.”

“The Carack dinnae use red dye,” Reothadh said.

Emery already knew the MacRoss shearers did, but volunteering that information wouldn’t help save Luthias and the clan.

“Maybe she was killed somewhere close to a dye works.” She rubbed her forehead. “If she had been in the river for even a few minutes the dye powder would have dissolved. I don’t think she was ever in the water.”

“If she didnae drown, then how did she die?” he asked her.

“I believe she did drown, Master, just not in the river.” Emery lifted the damp, tangled hair and turned the head to the side. “Look at these marks on her neck.”

Reothadh peered at the wounds. “Bite wounds from the beast that dragged her from the water, then.”

“They’re not teeth marks. Look.” She cupped one hand over the neck, stretching her fingertips just above the marks. “Someone with bigger hands than mine held her by the neck while she struggled. As weak as she must have been, she still would have fought hard. The way you fight for your life when someone grabs you by the neck and holds your head in a barrel or trough of water.”