The abbot stood hesitantly. ‘You will keep me informed as soon as you know anything positive?’
‘You will be informed,’ she assured him solemnly.
As they watched Abbot Iarnla walk across the courtyard to the main abbey buildings, Gormán heaved a deep sigh.
‘I would say that he is a worried person, lady,’ he remarked softly.
‘I would agree, Gormán,’ she replied. ‘I think there is much to be worried about in this abbey. Keep your eyes open, Gormán. It might be helpful if you can pick up any gossip from the builders’ encampment. I am going into the
scriptorium
as I have a mind to ask a few more questions of Brother Donnán.’
She walked towards the abbey library. Behind her the work on the new buildings had recommenced. The crash of hammers against stone, the sawing of wood and the shouts of men filled the air. Inside the wooden
scriptorium
the noise was barely muffled and the
scriptor
Brother Donnán was wringing his hands in despair. He came forward quickly as the door opened but the hope on his face faded a little when Fidelma entered.
‘I was expecting Brother Lugna so that he could order the workmen to stop awhile. My copyists and scholars cannot concentrate at all. I have had to send them all away.’
Fidelma gazed around the empty library room. ‘So I see, Brother Donnán.’
Brother Donnán seemed almost about to burst into tears. ‘This is frustrating. Brother Lugna has made it a rule that no book or manuscript should be removed from the library so that I cannot ask my copyists to carry on the work elsewhere.’
‘But finding you here alone is good for me.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘I wanted a further word with you on your own.’
‘Is everything well?’ The
scriptor
’s tone was suddenly anxious. ‘Brother Máel Eoin came by and told me the news of Brother Eadulf. I hope he is not badly hurt.’
‘He is resting. He has a bad gash and bruises, but that is all.’
‘Well, that is bad enough but thanks be that he is no worse. It will be good for all of us when this building work is finished. It is so dangerous. But you wanted to speak with me?’ He gestured to a nearby chair and took another facing her.
‘Dangerous?’ asked Fidelma, sitting down. ‘In what way?’
‘During recent weeks there have been several accidents on the site. Indeed, I heard that Brother Lugna had to remonstrate with Glassán to take more care that no harm came to any of the brethren.’
Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘What sort of accidents?’ she asked.
‘Falling timbers. Timbers that were not secured. Oh, and a stone fell from a wall and nearly hit Glassán himself. He was very angry.’
‘He was not hurt?’
‘No, but the stone narrowly missed him.’
‘How many such accidents have there been?’
Brother Donnán thought for a moment and then shrugged.
‘Four, as I recall, during the last few weeks. Five with Brother Eadulf’s accident.’
Fidelma raised her eyebrows. ‘Five? Has anyone else been injured?’
‘Two of the workmen. A grazed arm and cuts, that’s all.’
‘Has anyone been found responsible?’
Brother Donnán looked surprised. ‘Responsible?’
‘Have any workmen been censured for negligence?’
‘No one. Glassán put it down to shoddy workmanship. Oh, yes, now I come to think of it, he did fine one of his men for slackness.’
‘That is helpful, Brother Donnán.’ Fidelma was solemn. ‘But that was not what I wanted to speak to you about.’
‘I am at your service, as always.’
‘Indeed. You and I are old friends, Brother Donnán.’
The
scriptor
preened himself a little. ‘There were some tough cases to be heard by you that day you sat in judgement here as a Brehon. The witnesses needed to be sorted out. Do you remember the case of the son of Suanach, and Muadnat of the Black Marsh? That was a very complicated case. I was amazed how you worked it out.’
‘I could not have accomplished half of those judgements without someone to keep the witnesses and the court in proper order.’ Fidelma leant forward confidentially. ‘That is why I turn to you now, to ask your help. Information is what I need.’
‘If I have that information, it is yours.’
‘When did Brother Seachlann join the abbey?’
‘Brother Seachlann? The physician? He came here about a month ago.’
‘Only a month?’
Brother Donnán nodded.
‘Do you know anything of his background?’
‘He is a physician from Sléibhte. I know little else about him.’
‘Is it known why he came to join this abbey? Has there been any speculation?’
The rotund librarian shook his head slowly. ‘I certainly never gave it a thought. Our abbey is beginning to have a reputation for learning and I suppose that was what attracted him.’
‘What happened to the abbey’s previous physician? I presume that you had one.’
‘We did not have one for several months after poor Brother Siadhail died of some coughing paroxysm. He was elderly. Brother Seachlann came along at the right time.’
‘Is he considered a good physician? Is he well liked among the brethren?’
‘I have heard no complaints,’ Brother Donnán replied. ‘But as for being well liked, well, he keeps himself much to himself and does not venture friendship with anyone.’
‘So he is not close to anyone among the brethren?’
‘Perhaps that is the way a good physician should be,’ ventured the
scriptor
. ‘Then he can treat everyone equally and without favour.’
She smiled and nodded assent. ‘That’s probably how things should be.’ She paused and added, ‘You will remember that we were talking about Celsus the other day and Origenes’ answer to him.’
The
scriptor
frowned. ‘An interesting work. Origenes’ work, that is.’
‘It sounds a very fascinating work,’ Fidelma said. ‘I wonder why Brother Donnchad was so interested in it.’
‘I can tell you no more than I said before. He was a great scholar. And he often argued that one must understand the origins of the Faith. That was in the old days, of course, before he set off on his pilgrimage.’
Fidelma sighed. ‘I was hoping that you might know something of the work or someone who might have read it.’ She rose
from the chair. ‘But you have helped a lot, for which I thank you.’
Brother Donnán seemed disconcerted for a moment. Then the door opened and a strange warrior stood hesitantly in the doorway. He cast a glance at Fidelma and then turned to Brother Donnán.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, Brother Donnán, but Lady Eithne has sent me for the books she requested.’
The librarian actually flushed and cast a nervous look at Fidelma. Then he hurried to a side cupboard and took out two leather book satchels and handed them to the warrior without a further word. The man thanked him and left immediately.
‘I thought you said Brother Lugna had a rule against books being taken from the library,’ Fidelma remarked as the door shut.
‘In the case of Lady Eithne an exception is made,’ Brother Donnán replied quickly. ‘She is, after all, the patroness of the abbey.’
‘What books has she requested?’
‘She is very supportive of the Faith,’ countered the librarian.
‘I do not doubt it.’
‘She has been reading some of the epistles of the Blessed Paul of Tarsus.’
‘Really? The original texts in Greek?’
‘Some Latin translations.’
‘Ah, of course. She said she did not know Greek, although I thought she had only a little knowledge of Latin. Well, no matter.’
She bade farewell to the librarian. Outside, the sun stood high in a cloudless sky and it was very warm, almost oppressive. Her forehead was moist. She felt uncomfortable in her woollen robes. She decided to return to the guesthouse to splash her face and wash her hands before the midday meal. As she
entered, she found the hosteller, Brother Máel Eoin, cleaning the entrance hall.
‘How is Brother Eadulf, lady?’ he asked, pausing in his sweeping.
She gave him the now standard reply.
‘I saw one of Lady Eithne’s men coming from the
scriptorium
,’ he went on. ‘Ah, that lady must love books.’
Fidelma, who had been about to pass on, paused. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘The number of times she has either sent her men for books or asked the steward or librarian to take them to her at her fortress.’
‘Really? It is a frequent occurrence then?’
‘Brother Lugna and Brother Donnán often go to her fortress at her bidding. Brother Lugna, in particular, seems to be a close adviser to her.’
‘Has she been interested in reading for long?’
The hosteller thought for a moment. ‘I suppose it was after her son, Brother Donnchad, returned from the pilgrimage. That must have been what stirred her interest in such matters.’
‘Such matters?’
‘I have heard that she is particularly interested in what manuscripts and books are kept in our library relating to the principles of the Faith.’
‘And so she has come to an accommodation with the abbot to borrow such works from the library from time to time.’
‘The abbot?’ Brother Máel Eoin smiled thinly. ‘I don’t think he knows about the arrangement. No, it was probably made with Brother Lugna. She even had Brother Donnán running after her when she could have taken the books herself.’
‘What do you mean?’ Fidelma was curious.
‘After she spoke to Brother Donnchad on the evening before he was found dead, she had poor Brother Donnán taking manuscripts to her.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I heard it from Brother Gáeth. He was working in the fields by the roadside and saw the Lady Eithne riding back to her fortress. Then, not long afterwards, he saw Brother Donnán trotting down the road bearing some manuscripts from the library for her. I suppose it is her right as lady of this territory but I feel sorry for the librarian having to act in the manner of a messenger.’
A bell chimed. It was the summons for the
etar-shod
, the midday meal.
Fidelma joined Gormán in the
refectorium
. Glássan and Saor were obviously taking their meal with the workers again, so only the two of them were seated at the guests’ table. Fidelma was in no mood to talk. After the meal, she made her way to the
bróinbherg
and found only Brother Seachlann there. The bed on which Eadulf had been sleeping was empty.
‘I could not stop him,’ Brother Seachlann told her. ‘He has a strong will. When he awoke, he determined to go back to the
tech-oíged
. I insisted that he have some soup and bread to sustain him. At least he had that before he went. I prepared a salve for his forehead and a jug of an infusion that should ease any residual headache. Try to ensure that he uses both. He should have remained here the rest of the day.’
Fidelma thanked the physician quickly and hurried across to the guesthouse and Eadulf’s
cubiculum
.
Eadulf was lying on his bed but in a semi-upright position.
‘Can you tell me what happened to you?’ Fidelma asked after he had assured her he felt well enough to talk.
‘Not really,’ Eadulf grimaced wanly, ‘apart from getting knocked out. I seemed to be making a habit of it.’
She smiled at his reference to the falling masonry that had nearly killed them both at the old abbey of Autun earlier in the summer. That masonry had been deliberately set to kill them both.
‘Come on, Eadulf,’ she prompted. ‘Give me the details. What were you doing on the building site at night? You know it is dangerous.’
‘If you must know, I was following up an idea.’
‘Go on.’
‘I was lying here thinking about the long ladders that were being used on the building site. I wanted to check to see if any had the length to reach up to Brother Donnchad’s window.’
‘Didn’t we discount that?’
‘You said only a midget would be able to get through the window.’
Fidelma sighed. ‘You think that small child Gúasach could have entered through the window and killed Donnchad?’
‘I did so and then …’ He stopped and shrugged. ‘I thought about Glassán’s story. What if Brother Donnchad had discovered Glassán’s background secret and threatened to tell the abbot? Glassán would have a good motive—’
Fidelma stopped him with a shake of her head. ‘I don’t think it is much of a secret. I am sure Brother Lugna knows about it, judging by his reaction when I mentioned Laighin the other evening. I’ll grant you that the abbot has not been kept fully informed but I don’t think Brother Donnchad would be bothered about the master builder. His behaviour suggests that he had something else on his mind.’