‘But we know that the religieuse from Ard Fhearta were abducted
because they were experts at cutting and polishing precious stones …’ Conrí began.
‘And why were we not informed of their expertise at the abbey?’ Fidelma demanded.
‘That is a question I cannot answer,’ replied Conrí. ‘Anyway, we know who killed Abbess Faife and abducted them. This man Olcán.’
‘But who is Olcán and whom does he work for?’
‘We must accept that Uaman the Leper is alive. He is this mysterious “master”. Also Slébéne is in his pay.’
‘Uaman has miraculously returned from the dead?’ smiled Fidelma. ‘Remember that no one has yet positively identified the man except Ganicca. I have enough trust in Eadulf to accept that when he claims to have seen something, he has seen it. No one has gazed upon the man’s face clearly enough to identify him. They have seen a shadow and that is all.’
She looked from one to another.
‘Certainly, whoever is behind all this, they have found rich seams of the
lec-lógmar
, and have abducted those who know how to work the stone to make it saleable to merchants. We know this man Olcán is ruthless. So is the person he works for - whoever he is. I agree that they probably pay a bribe to Slébéne in order that he will not interfere in what they are doing. But there is another question that preoccupies me. Why did Sister Sinnchéne want to accompany Abbess Faife and the others when she was not a stone cutter and polisher? And was that why Abbess Faife refused to take her?’
They waited in uncomfortable silence for her to continue.
‘What can we do now, lady?’ muttered Conrí.
Fidelma glanced towards the sky. The short winter day was darkening yet again.
‘Little enough today.’ She sighed. ‘We will have to impose on Gáeth and Gáimredan for another night of hospitality. But at first light, we must set out for Ard Fhearta again. I believe that it is there that these strands will intertwine.’
Conrí could not control his expression of surprise.
‘Why at Ard Fhearta?’ he demanded.
She shook her head sorrowfully at him.
‘Have you forgotten about the murder of the Venerable Cinaed?’
There was a soft gasp of horror from Sister Easdan who had not, of course, heard the news.
Fidelma turned to her with a quick look of apology.
‘Ah, I had forgotten that you did not know of his death. Did you know him well?’
The girl shook her head sorrowfully.
‘Not well. He was a friend of our mentor, Abbess Faife. Some time ago he spent a little while in our workshop talking about what we did. He was writing some tract about it.’
‘About the working of stones?’
‘About the
lec-lógmar
,’ confirmed the girl. ‘He was a nice old man. A wise old man. He was not arrogant, like the Venerable Mac Faosma. He would speak to anyone on equal terms no matter what rank they were. How was he murdered, Sister?’
Briefly, Fidelma told her the facts.
‘Who could have done such a thing?’
‘I cannot tell you yet. But I think, finally, I might see a light on the path ahead.’
Conrí. gave her a curious look.
‘So we start back to the abbey tomorrow?’ he asked after a moment or two.
‘Indeed we do,’ she replied. ‘But you, Conrí, do not. Eadulf and I will go to the abbey with Sister Easdan and our friend Esumaro here. You, Conrí, will have to raise a band of warriors and warships to go back to Seanach’s Island and rescue the others there. Try to take the man called Olcán captive; take him alive. We need him to unravel the thread that will lead us to this man “the master”.’
‘And then? If we succeed?’
‘You will succeed,’ she said with emphasis. ‘You will bring all the prisoners back to the abbey. By which time I hope I shall have sorted out this conundrum.’
‘What about Uaman?’ demanded Conrí. ‘If it is Uaman he will have gone back to his fortress on the south side of the peninsula. Even if he has not, then he will be in hiding somewhere. We need to search for him.’
Fidelma smiled with calm assurance.
‘You will be wasting your time, Conrí. All the strands of this mystery will entwine with one another at the abbey of Ard Fhearta.’
T
he journey back to Ard Fhearta took the best part of a day but seemed very rapid. The day was still cold and the pale sun hung in a limpid blue sky but the winds had apparently died away. Fidelma, Eadulf and their companions took the coast road. Sister Easdan and Esumaro were mounted behind Socht and the other warrior as Gáeth was unable to supply them with extra horses. They came to the end of the Corco Duibhne peninsula in hardly any time at all before turning north to take the ford across the River Lithe. Then it was a short ride north-west towards Ard Fhearta. Within sight of the abbey buildings, with the sun resting on the western horizon far out to sea, Conrí. and one of his warriors parted company from the rest. It had been agreed that Fidelma and Eadulf would take Esumaro and Sister Easdan back to Ard Fhearta and Conrí. insisted that they be accompanied by his warrior Socht.
‘I shall go on to Tadcán’s fortress at the north end of the bay,’ Conrí. said. ‘Tadcán is loyal to me, one of our best chieftains, and he has three good warships. We could sail tonight and be able to raid Seanach’s Island at dawn tomorrow. You can expect word of the outcome by tomorrow evening at the earliest. We could sail directly back to An Bhearbha.’
‘May God go with you, Conrí,’ Fidelma replied softly. ‘Remember, we need Olcán to be captured alive.’
‘If I fail it will not be for want of trying,’ returned the warlord of the Uí Fidgente with a grim smile.
He raised his hand in farewell and disappeared swiftly, with his companion, along the road that led northwards. Fidelma led the rest of the party towards the abbey on the hilltop.
Someone must have seen their approach long before they arrived for
the young
rechtaire
, Brother Cú Mara, was at the open gates and waiting impatiently to greet them.
He immediately recognised Sister Easdan, staring at her in amazement before his eyes swept round the rest of the company.
‘What has happened?’ he demanded excitedly. ‘Where is the lord Conrí? Is he dead? How did you find Sister Easdan? Are the others dead?’
His questions came out in a nervous tumble.
Fidelma slid from her horse and bade him calm himself.
‘There will be plenty of time for explanations later.’
Undeterred, Brother Cú Mara turned to Sister Easdan.
‘You must tell me what happened, Sister,’ he demanded. ‘The abbot will want to know at once. Come, I shall take you to him.’
Fidelma frowned at his attempt to override her instructions.
‘You have not listened to me. The abbot will know everything in good time. Sister Easdan and Esumaro are here as witnesses and will not be questioned until I say so. They are now under a prohibition forbidding them to speak about what has happened these past few weeks. I will give them such permission when I am ready to do so.’
Fidelma used the old word of
urgarad
to explain the importance of the prohibition, which meant they were forbidden under ancient law to disobey her on pain of dire misfortune. They knew it was very dangerous to break such a prohibition. The High King Conarí, who reigned in the first century of the Christian era, had broken such a prohibition and his peaceful reign descended into violence, plunder and rapine before culminating in his assassination.
Brother Cú Mara grew angry. His face reddened.
‘This is a very high-handed way of going about things,’ he said stiffly. ‘I am steward of this abbey and it is my right to know what has happened to the members of its community.’
He paused, finding himself staring into the narrowed, glinting eyes of Fidelma.
‘You know who I am,
rechtaire
?’ Her voice was soft but sharp as a needlepoint. ‘I do not have to remind you. Therefore, do not speak to me again of your office and its rights. I know them well enough. Just as you know mine.’
Brother Cú Mara’s face was bright scarlet. He hesitated and then gave a sour grimace.
‘Abbot Erc will want to see you immediately,’ he persisted stubbornly.
Fidelma glanced at the darkening sky.
‘We will see him later. I want hot baths to be prepared for all of us. Then we shall eat. After that Brother Eadulf and I will attend the abbot. Do I make myself clear,
rechtaire
?’
Brother Cú Mara was about to say something more when he appeared to have second thoughts. He seemed to realise that he had come up against an immovable object.
‘Abbot Erc will be displeased,’ he muttered audibly as he turned away.
‘And his displeasure will be matched and made insignificant by my own annoyance if we are kept arguing at the gate in this fashion,’ Fidelma snapped after him.
Brother Cú Mara turned back.
‘It shall be done as you say, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He placed heavy emphasis on her title. ‘I will order Sister Sinnchéne to prepare baths for you and Brother Eadulf and … and this man.’ He nodded towards Esumaro. ‘Sister Easdan can join her sisters at their evening ablutions and—’
‘Sister Easdan will remain with us for the time being in the guests’ hostel,’ Fidelma replied firmly. ‘That goes for Conrí’s man as well.’
The steward’s jaw dropped a little in his astonishment. He seemed about to protest again and then he swallowed.
‘So be it,’ he said tightly.
‘Good.’ Fidelma suddenly smiled in satisfaction. ‘Get someone to see to our horses. We have ridden long and hard today. Make sure that they are well looked after and fed. They belong to Mugrón the trader.’
They paused only to remove their saddle bags before Fidelma led the way to the
hospitium
.
Brother Cú Mara had already set matters in motion and members of the community appeared to be running here and there at his orders.
When they reached the guests’ hostel, Eadulf looked censoriously at Fidelma.
‘You were rather hard on the steward,’ he said.
‘No more than he deserved. There is much to be done and a killer to be caught.’
She turned to the rest of them, to Sister Easdan, Esumaro and the warrior Socht, an old name which suited the man’s temperament well for it meant ‘silence’.
‘You heard me tell the steward that you were all under an
urgarad
, that
is a prohibition forbidding you to say anything until I tell you to. You realise that is a solemn undertaking?’
Sister Easdan and Socht nodded immediately, but she had to explain to Esumaro, who as a Gaul was unaware of what this prohibition meant.
‘You see, I want no word of what you have experienced reaching anyone until I hear that Conrí and his men have been successful in rescuing the other prisoners on Seanach’s Island and capturing Olcán and his men.’
That they could all understand.
‘Then we are agreed?’ When they confirmed it, she turned to the impassive warrior. ‘One thing, Socht. Although we are within the walls of the abbey, it does not mean we are safe here. I believe that there is an evil here as great as any we faced on Seanach’s Island. So keep your arms ready at all times and do not sleep too deeply.’
‘I understand, lady,’ grunted the warrior.
‘That goes for all of you,’ she added, glancing at them. ‘Be watchful.’
As she finished speaking Sister Sinnchéne entered the hostel. She seemed sullen and a faint look of disapproval crossed her features as her eyes fell on Sister Easdan. It was obvious that she had already received orders from the steward.
‘The baths are already prepared for you and Sister Easdan, lady,’ she announced. ‘The Saxon brother, the stranger and the warrior will have to wait their turn.’
Fidelma returned her sour look with a smile.
‘I know, Sister Sinnchéne. The facilities of this
hospitium
are primitive and you have no separate arrangements for men and women to bathe at the same time.’
Only Eadulf noticed that she was being humorous.
The custodian of the
hospitium
stood stiffly, doubtless recalling the nature of their last meeting.
‘Very well,’ Fidelma said, rising to follow. ‘Sister Easdan and I will bathe first.’
‘I will take the opportunity to nap,’ Eadulf said, sinking on to one of the beds with a groan. ‘I have promised myself two things on this trip - one, never to get on a small boat ever again, certainly not at sea, and two, to avoid getting on a horse when I can use my two legs to walk.’
Socht regarded him with astonishment but diplomatically made no comment.
Some time later, when everyone had bathed and eaten and was feeling relaxed, Fidelma and Eadulf made their way through the abbey complex to Abbot Erc’s chambers. They had left the others in the
hospitium
and Fidelma had warned them once again not to say anything if anyone seized the opportunity to try to get information from them.
Abbot Erc was sitting staring moodily into the fire crackling in the hearth in his chamber. Behind his chair stood Brother Cú Mara, a study in peevishness.
The abbot raised a stern face and bade them enter and seat themselves.
‘My steward has reported your arrival with that of one of our missing sisters and a stranger. Yet the lord Conrí has not returned with you. Why is that?’
‘All will become clear soon,’ Fidelma replied easily.
The abbot’s frown deepened.
‘My steward also tells me that you refused to answer any of his questions and seemed to be making a secret of your journey and its results. Is that so? For I would look upon that as an insult to this holy establishment.’
Fidelma returned his angry look with a diplomatic smile.
‘No insult is intended to you or your house, Abbot Erc. Let me explain, if I may, for I am sure you will understand my reasoning on this matter.’
The abbot gestured impatiently and she interpreted it as a sign to continue.
‘Sometimes the rule of an abbey must give way to the rule of law,’ she began.
Brother Cú Mara started to sneer from behind the abbot’s chair. ‘The rule of God comes above all things,’ he interrupted.
‘There is no rule of God that is contravened here,’ replied Fidelma evenly. ‘Tell me where it is written in scripture that I must answer the questions of a young
rechtaire
?’
Abbot Erc raised a hand as if to dissipate their exchange.
‘You were invited to this abbey to resolve a murder and the abduction of some of our members,’ he pointed out. ‘Obviously you have news of this and so we would expect you to inform us what that news is.’
‘There can be no restrictions placed on a
dálaigh
qualified to the level of
anruth
, as I am, other than by the Chief Brehon of the kingdom.’ Fidelma kept her voice even. ‘However, I expect to be able to tell you everything within the next day or two at the most. My intention is to
expose the guilty and not allow them time to escape. Therefore, no word of what has happened must be known within this abbey.’
Abbot Erc looked shocked.
‘Are you implying that the guilty are here in this abbey?’
‘I told the Venerable Mac Faosma once that I never imply things. You may take it as a fair interpretation,’ returned Fidelma calmly.
‘Then I demand that you tell me what you know,’ snapped the abbot.
Fidelma’s brows came together.
‘Demand?’ Her voice was cold. ‘You demand of a
dálaigh
?’
Abbot Erc blinked at her tone. But Brother Cú Mara, young and now a little headstrong, replied somewhat sarcastically.
‘You had best remember that times are changing, Fidelma of Cashel. Your laws are becoming outdated. The new Penitentials of Rome are replacing them and the law and its administration will soon be in the hands of abbots and bishops.’
Fidelma regarded him with a cold and piercing stare.
‘God save us from that catastrophe,’ she said reverently, as if in prayer.
‘When, in ancient times, the High King Ollamh Fodhla ordered the laws of the Brehons to be gathered so that they could be applied evenly over the five kingdoms, it was guaranteed that no king nor priest stood above the law and every judge had to justify his judgements. All were equal before the law. Abbots as well as kings. When that system is overthrown then our people will truly be in bondage, whether it be to your Roman Penitentials or to some other power.’
Brother Cú Mara flushed angrily.
‘Bondage?’ he snapped. ‘That is something you Eoghanacht of Cashel need give us no lessons in. You keep the Uí Fidgente in bondage!’
Fidelma had to control her own growing anger.
‘Indeed? So you would disagree with the policy of your chieftain, Donennach, that peace with Cashel is better than constant rebellion against the king?’
Brother Cú Mara seemed to forget himself and took a threatening step forward.