Conrí was shaking his head. ‘We have only the girl’s word for these
rumours Cinaed is said to have heard about Uaman the Leper and his followers.’
Eadulf was in agreement. ‘As I recall, Uaman had only a few men with him and they were slain by Gormán. We let one of Uaman’s warriors go free for he surrendered and could do no harm to us. I saw the local people rise up and torch Uaman’s fortress. So Abbess Faife died within sight of that ruined pile. What does that prove? Certainly Uaman had followers but not many. None of them could be intent on leading a new plot to destroy Cashel.’
‘I think Brother Eadulf and I speak as one here, lady,’ Conrí. agreed. ‘There can be no more Uí Fidgente plots. We will argue our case against Cashel under law but not by force of arms. You have our chieftain’s word on that.’
‘Because you and 1 agree, Conrí,’ she replied, ‘because your leader Donennach and Colgú my brother have agreed a treaty, it does not mean to say that others agree. Peace is kept by vigilance. Do you know the aphorism of Vegetius —
si vis pacem para bellum
?’
‘If you want peace, prepare for war,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘It sometimes can be misinterpreted to justify a kingdom’s making itself powerful and then asserting its own terms of peace over its neighbours. The
Pax Romana,
for example, was nothing but the peace dictated by the strength of the Roman army.’
Fidelma was impatient. ‘Anyway, it is scarcely the time for philosophy and semantics. I merely say that one should not blind oneself to possibilities just because one wants to believe in the good of others. We must be watchful.’
‘Very well, but does that help us now? Remember it is my aunt of whom we speak. Abbess Faife was of the nobility of the Uí Fidgente opposed to the continuation of the conflict with Cashel.’
‘I am not forgetting that fact, Conrí.’
Conrí blinked at her sharp tone.
‘I have other business to conduct with the abbot so I will meet you at the evening meal,’ he said shortly and left.
After the door had closed on him, Eadulf glanced at Fidelma.
‘I think he is irritated,’ he ventured.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ replied Fidelma gravely but a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
Eadulf was puzzled for a moment.
‘You wanted him to leave?’ he said accusingly.
She leant forward. ‘Eadulf, I need to speak to certain people and I do not want Conrí. in attendance, especially if it turns out that there is some Uí Fidgente plot brewing again.’
‘But you have often pointed out that Conrí. is on our side,’ protested Eadulf.
‘And if that is true, don’t you think that he would be putting himself in danger if what I suspect is correct? Better that he keep out of the affair until I get more information.’
She rose and went to the door.
‘Where now?’ asked Eadulf wearily, as he joined her.
‘We shall have another word with the physician, Sister Uallann.’
They were passing the
tech-screptra
when a young religieux came running from it, his hair dishevelled, his breath coming in sobs. He nearly ran into them but Eadulf grasped him by the arm.
‘You are in a terrible hurry, Brother …’ he began.
The young man, who had his head down as he was hurrying, looked up. It was the young library assistant, Brother Faolchair. He was clearly upset.
‘Sorry. I … I …’ he began to stammer, not able to form words.
Fidelma gave the boy a look of encouragement.
‘What is it that makes you upset?’
He focused wide eyes on her with an expression of distress.
‘My work, Sister. My work — ruined.’
‘Your work?’
‘I have just returned to the library and found all my copying work ruined, the book I was copying from …’
Fidelma was suddenly very still.
‘You were copying a book by the Venerable Cinaed, weren’t you?’ she said sharply.
The boy nodded.
‘I was. The book has vanished. I went to the shelves to see if someone had replaced it. All the books of the Venerable Cinaed had been swept off the shelves. Sister, they have been burnt.’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and turned back to the boy.
‘All the books? Burnt? How do you know that?’
‘I saw that the fire was black and smoking and something drew me to it. I saw that books had been piled on the fire and had been destroyed but for a few pages.’
‘All the books of the Venerable Cináed?’ repeated Eadulf. ‘No other books?’
‘All those of the Venerable Cinaed only, the ones that we had in our library,’ confirmed the boy. ‘I am just going in search of Brother Eolas to tell him.’
‘Then there was no one else in the library?’
‘The library was closed for an afternoon service in the oratory. Brother Eolas and I had to attend. I did not return to the library until a short time ago.’
‘You are certain that no other works were destroyed apart from those of the Venerable Cinaed?’
The boy looked woeful.
‘None, Sister. Now there is no work of the Venerable Cinaed surviving in our library. It is disaster. Nothing left. We will have to seek copies from other libraries and then we cannot replace them all, for some were unique to this place.’ He hesitated.
‘Except?’ prompted Fidelma instinctively.
‘Nothing important. Just some notes he made which he inadvertently inserted in a copy of the
Uraicecht Bec
and left in it when he returned the text to the library. I only discovered them the other morning.’
Fidelma was thoughtful. The
Uraicecht Bec
was a law text said to have been written by the famous female judge Brig Briugaid on the rights of women. It reminded her of her promise to look up Sister Buan’s rights as a widow.
‘I would like to look at these notes later,’ she said, then seeing the boy was still distressed gave him a quick smile of encouragement. ‘Very well. You may find Brother Eolas later but let us examine the library first. Don’t worry. You shall not get into trouble.’
Led by the boy, Fidelma, followed by Eadulf, entered the still deserted library. There was certainly a smoky odour in the air and in the fireplace that heated the hall they found the evidence which Brother Faolchair had seen. Fidelma glanced at the shelves where the proud Brother Eolas had displayed the books of the Venerable Cinaed.
Eadulf rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the empty shelves.
‘Does this have something to do with his murder?’ he asked.
‘It probably has everything to do with it,’ Fidelma replied with a soft, thoughtful smile. ‘But there is nothing we can do here except make sure that Brother Eolas does not blame the poor boy. We have to continue our investigation. Let us see the physician again.’
Sister Uallann was clearly unhappy at being disturbed. She frowned as they entered the apothecary. She sat on a stool before her work bench mixing two curious-looking liquids in a bowl from bottles she held in her hands.
‘I am busy,’ she snapped as they entered.
‘So are we,’ Fidelma replied complacently. ‘As you may recall, we are here to investigate murder. I must ask you more questions.’
Sister Uallann put down the bottles and wiped her hands, staring at Fidelma with eyes that seemed menacing.
‘And if I do not you will remind me that you are a
dálaigh
and I am liable to penalty if I refuse?’ Her tone was sarcastic.
Fidelma smiled brightly.
‘Something like that, Sister Uallann,’ she agreed evenly.
‘Then ask away and then be gone. I have my work to do.’
Fidelma glanced at the mixture in the bowl. Sister Uallann followed her gaze.
‘It is a drink that I am preparing for someone who has a disorder of the bladder. The main ingredient is barley, to which I am adding some seaweed that I have gathered along the coast here. I have boiled them separately in water and am now mixing them together, making sure that there is more barley than seaweed in the mix. It should ease the disorder.’
Sister Uallann sounded patronising as she described her cure.
‘Tell me, Sister Uallann,’ Fidelma said without responding, ‘what was the cause of your argument with the Venerable Cináed on the night before he died?’
For a moment the physician looked confused.
‘Did I have an argument?’ she countered, trying to recover from her surprise.
‘Do you deny it?’
For a moment both Fidelma and Eadulf thought that she might well be on the verge of denying it. Then she shrugged.
‘It was a personal matter.’
‘Personal? A man has been murdered. Any information about why he was murdered cannot be classed as personal.’
Sister Uallann looked stubborn.
‘It is a matter that I have no wish to discuss.’
‘It is a matter that I intend you should discuss,’ snapped Fidelma.
For a moment Sister Uallann stared belligerently at her. Her chin came up in defiance.
‘Very well.’ Fidelma shrugged. ‘It is your choice. Do you wish to tell us what the cause of your altercation with the Venerable Cinaed was on that night? Or must I use the authority of the law?’
Sister Uallann pursed her lips for a moment. It made her face look ugly. Then, abruptly, she seemed to relent.
‘Venerable Cinaed was a sinner.’
Fidelma could not hide an amused look.
‘A sinner? We are all transgressors against someone or something.’
Sister Uallann was incensed.
‘As well as being a traitor to his people, he was also guilty of the sin of fornication. Of carnal lust.’
‘And therefore … ?’
‘You do not appear to be shocked?’
Fidelma’s gesture was dismissive.
‘I cannot afford to be shocked. Administration of the law allows for no emotions.’
‘The Venerable Cinaed was having an affair with one of the young religieuse of the Abbess Faife.’ Sister Uallann uttered the statement as if revealing some horrifying secret.
‘I am presuming that you are referring to Sister Sinnchéne?’
The physician’s expression changed rapidly from astonished to crestfallen.
‘You knew?’ She was disappointed at Fidelma’s reaction.
‘I knew.’
Sister Uallann’s mouth twisted in an ugly grimace.
‘Then you will know what my argument was about. I saw Cinaed coming from the
tech-nigid
. I knew whom he had been meeting there and why.’
‘And so you remonstrated with him?’
‘It was dark and well after the evening meal. As he came down the path, heading towards his own chambers, I accosted him. I pleaded with him to give up the affair otherwise I said I would be forced to inform the abbot.’
‘What did he say to that?’
‘He laughed at me … laughed!’
‘What did you expect Abbot Erc to do?’ asked Eadulf. ‘The Venerable
Cinaed was not a child to be disciplined for what he did in his private life.’
‘But Sister Sinnchéne is. I could have had her removed from this community.’
‘Ah, so you would have her expelled?’ Eadulf observed. ‘Isn’t that rather narrow-minded? Two people were involved in this affair. But because one is vulnerable you would place all the blame on her.’
Sister Uallann flashed him a look of anger.
‘I believe that this relationship brings down shame on the abbey.’ She turned to Fidelma. ‘Are you saying that you, a
dálaigh,
condone it? It is illicit in the eyes of the law as well as of God.’
Fidelma inclined her head in agreement.
‘It was not lawful,’ she agreed, correcting the tense of the physician’s comment. ‘Although I have to admit some grey areas in the law. But by and large, there were grounds enough to disapprove of the Venerable Cináed’s behaviour. So, as I said, you remonstrated with him?’
‘I did.’
‘And this was the sole cause of your argument that night?’
‘It was.’
‘And how did you and he leave one another?’
Sister Uallann frowned slightly. ‘How?’
‘Did you part in anger?’
‘We did. I accompanied him as far as his living quarters. He told me to attend to my apothecary and leave morals and philosophy to those better able to interpret them. Those were his words.’
‘When we first spoke, you made it clear that you were not exactly a friend of the Venerable Cinaed. But I did ask you specifically if you disagreed with him on matters of the Faith. I thought that you said you did not, only on his politics.’