‘He can be sent for,’ said Brother Cu Mara. ‘He can be here tomorrow, after the morning meal.’
‘That will be convenient,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘I feel that there is no more to be learnt until I see him. We will leave that matter aside. However, there is now the killing of the Venerable Cinaed to be discussed.’
Abbot Erc raised his head in surprise.
‘Are you claiming authority to conduct an investigation into Cinaed’s death as well as the death of Abbess Faife?’ he demanded. It was clear from his tone that he objected to the very idea.
‘I am a dalaigh,’ responded Fidelma quietly. ‘It is unusual for two prominent members of the same community to be murdered. We must ask if there is some connection between these two events.’
‘I don’t see how there could be,’ the abbot retorted in displeasure. ‘Abbess Faife could only have been killed by bandits. I presume that her companions have been abducted as slaves. However, Cinaed was bludgeoned to death in the oratory here. That could only be a result of malice. There seems no connection.’
‘I will make some inquiries all the same,’ Fidelma said firmly.
The old abbot gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, realising that behind her quiet tone was a strong will. He shrugged as if he were no longer interested in what she did.
‘What do you wish to know?’
‘Let us begin with the finding of Cinaed’s body. I understand it was you who discovered it? And this was three days ago?’
‘I did. I went to the oratory to prepare for the annual ceremony to commemorate the feast day of te, who taught our beloved Brennain. Usually it was the Venerable Cinaed and myself who prepared the chapel for the ceremony. The place was in darkness and, at first, I did not think he was there. Then I found his body, behind the altar, with his skull smashed in.’
‘Show me where the wound was,’ said Fidelma.
The old abbot touched the back of his skull.
‘The corpse was lying face down…?’
Abbot Erc shook his head. ‘It was not. He lay upon his back.’
Fidelma pursed her lips but said nothing.
‘Was there any sign of a weapon?’ asked Eadulf.
‘None that we found.’
‘Yet it must have been a heavy weapon to deliver such a blow,’ Eadulf
Fidelma cast an appreciative glance at Eadulf and turned to the abbot.
‘Was anyone seen with blood on his or her clothing? Was a search made for any such clothing?’
It was clear that such a thought had not occurred to him. He glanced at his steward.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Was such a search made?’
The young steward spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
‘I will do so now,’ he said defensively.
Fidelma grimaced disapprovingly. ‘A little late, perhaps. But it will do no harm. I presume that there is a communal laundry for the brethren?’
‘There is, indeed, a tech-nigid, a washhouse,’ confirmed the steward.
‘And when is the washing done?’
‘Every week on Cet-ain, the day of the first fast.’
Eadulf’s face brightened. ‘That is tomorrow. So the laundry has not been done since the murder?’
‘I suppose not,’ replied Brother Cu Mara.
‘Who is in charge of the tech-nigid? ’ asked Fidelma.
It was Abbot Erc who responded.
‘At the moment it is Sister Sinnchene. Each month the task of being in charge of the washing is changed. It is Sinnchene’s turn this month.’
‘Sinnchene the young sister who looks after the hospitium?’ Fidelma turned to the steward, who nodded confirmation. ‘Ensure that nothing is touched. Nothing is to be washed until all the clothes are examined, which we will do tomorrow morning.’ She glanced at Eadulf. ‘I am afraid that will be your task while I am questioning the merchant Mugron. Conri’s two warriors will doubtless help you.’
Eadulf accepted the task without enthusiasm.
Fidelma turned back to Abbot Erc.
‘So much for the manner of his death. What of the manner of his life? His work was well known. Had he enemies who would want to take such extreme vengeance on him?’
Abbot Erc appeared shocked at the suggestion.
‘The Venerable Cinaed led a blameless life. Everyone loved him. He had no enemies.’
Fidelma smiled sceptically. ‘One thing I have learnt is that you do not
Abbot Erc was indignant. ‘The Venerable Cinaed was a great scholar.’
‘The greater the scholar, the more people grow envious,’ pointed out Eadulf.
Abbot Erc made a dismissing gesture with a frail hand.
‘Scholastic debate is encouraged here but that does not mean that those who disputed with the Venerable Cinaed would murder him because they did not like what he said. Even I did not agree with everything he taught.’
Fidelma pursed her lips cynically.
‘I have come across many such cases where a dispute of ideas leads to a clash of personalities and the growth of hate. Who disputed with him? Let us start somewhere in unravelling this mystery.’
Abbot Erc was shaking his head.
‘Surely you know his scholastic reputation, Sister? No one would… I refuse to believe in such a possibility.’
Fidelma spoke with suppressed irritation.
‘I am not asking questions to while away the time,’ she said pointedly. ‘I know very well the reputation of the Venerable Cinaed. I have read his discourse on the Computus Cummianus and De Trinatate Interpretatio Perversa. While the old saying goes that fame is more lasting than life, nevertheless, he is dead. He has been murdered and the culprit must be found to make amends according to our law, of which I am a representative.’
There was a silence. A young Sister of the Faith had not spoken to the old abbot in such a tone before. He flushed in anger.
Brother Cu Mara, the steward, moved forward nervously.
‘The Venerable Cinaed encouraged lively debate and questioning, lady.’ The steward stressed the title in recognition of her secular authority with a glance at the abbot. ‘He liked to be questioned sharply and was just as sharp in his replies.’
Abbot Erc, reminded of Fidelma’s authority, recovered his equilibrium. ‘My rechtaire is correct. Some of our most renowned debates have seen many scholars gather here; scholars from many colleges in the land — even from the great college of Mungret.’
Fidelma had always wanted to visit Mungret, which lay in the heart of Ui Fidgente territory. It had been founded by Nessan, a disciple of Patrick
The challengers came upon the ‘washerwomen’ at work by the stream. When the challengers found out that the ‘washerwomen’ could speak excellent Latin and Greek and could debate easily with them, they decided they should withdraw. If the washerwomen of Mungret were so learned, what hope had they of debating with the scholars of Mungret?
‘Something amuses you, Sister?’ snapped Abbot Erc.
Fidelma drew herself back to the present.
‘Just a story I had heard,’ she replied.
‘These debates provoked no animosity?’ queried Eadulf.
‘None at all,’ said the abbot. ‘The Venerable Mac Faosma attended many. You may ask him.’
Fidelma raised her head sharply.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma of Magh Bhile? What do you mean? Does he dwell in this abbey?’
‘Indeed he does. Do you know him?’ replied the abbot in surprise.
‘I know of him. He was spoken of with the same reverence as the Venerable Cinaed. It is astonishing that you have… had,’ she corrected herself, ‘two great philosophers at your abbey.’
The old abbot gestured as if dismissing the point.
‘Ard Fhearta is the home of many good scholars,’ he said shortly.
‘Of course,’ Fidelma replied with a smile. ‘But what is a man of Ulaidh doing here in the country of the Ui Fidgente?’
Once more, to cover the old abbot’s i
ll composure, it was Brother Cu Mara who answered her.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma came here three years ago. This was the country in which he had been born. He trained here and then the peregrinatio pro Christo took him to study at Finnian’s great school at Magh
‘So he is not teaching here?’
‘Indeed, he does so now and then. As the abbot says, he took part and even presided in many of our scholastic debates.’
‘How was his relationship with the Venerable Cinaed?’
Brother Cu Mara suddenly looked uncomfortable and glanced at Abbot Erc.
‘He did not agree with everything that the Venerable Cinaed taught.’
Fidelma actually smiled mischievously at the formula of the words.
‘As, indeed, your abbot confesses was his attitude. Well, I do not doubt it. I cannot see room for agreement here with the Venerable Cinaed’s argument for monotheism and his dismissal of the triune godship. That would have been anathema to the Venerable Mac Faosma.’
Abbot Erc seemed surprised by her knowledge but allowed his steward to reply.
‘There were some lively arguments…’ the young steward acknowledged. He caught sight of the abbot’s frown and added: ‘I mean, lively discussions between the two of them.’
Eadulf hid a smile. ‘So not everyone saw this Venerable Cinaed in terms of sweetness and light?’
Abbot Erc cast an irritable look at him. ‘What are you implying, Brother? That the Venerable Mac Faosma killed him because of a disagreement on the subject of the Holy Trinity?’
‘The choice of the term Holy Trinity implies that you, too, did not favour the Venerable Cinaed’s argument for monotheism?’ Fidelma could not resist the mischievous impulse to tease the stern-faced abbot.
Abbot Erc looked startled. ‘What are you saying? The Venerable Cinaed was my friend. Surely we can all hold different opinions without resorting to physical anger?’
‘That, indeed, is the objective we should strive for,’ agreed Fidelma calmly. ‘Alas, mankind often finds it easier to settle disagreements by showing who is physically stronger. Do we not have a saying that might will prevail over right?’
Abbot Erc sniffed. ‘So you think that the Venerable Cinaed was murdered because someone disagreed with his teachings?’
‘I did not say that,’ Fidelma replied. ‘On the other hand, such a theory cannot yet be discounted. Not until we have all the facts gathered in can
The young rechtaire said quickly: ‘Everyone was friendly with the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘He was a very popular man and the sort of man who, in spite of his scholastic status, was humble and approachable by everyone, from the cowherd to his fellow scholars,’ affirmed the abbot.
Fidelma sighed with impatience.
‘I am, of course, talking about particular friends,’ she said pointedly.
The abbot shrugged. ‘I was his friend, of course. We two have been longest in this abbey.’
‘Anyone else? Particular friends, that is?’
‘I knew him well in my capacity as rechtaire,’ offered Brother Cu Mara, ‘but I cannot say I was a close friend. And, of course, Sister Buan. She attended his wants for he was slightly frail. She cleaned and ran messages for him.’
Fidelma nodded. ‘Anyone else?’
‘I take it the Venerable Mac Faosma was not considered a friend?’ observed Eadulf.
Abbot Erc sighed impatiently. ‘Let it be said that Cinaed and Mac Faosma were like chalk and cheese. Cinaed was grounded in his philosophy while Mac Faosma preferred law and history. They both had views on each other’s subjects and argued them. They did not mix much within the abbey except at times of discussion and debate.’
‘Anyone else?’ repeated Fidelma.
‘Brother Eolas, naturally.’
‘Who is Brother Eolas? And why “naturally”?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘He is our librarian, the keeper of all the books we hold here.’
‘You mentioned a Sister Buan who attended to his wants. Who is she?’
A looked of disapproval formed on the face of the abbot and it was the rechtaire who replied.
‘One of our community.’ He seemed to hesitate, unwilling to expand further under the annoyed gaze of his abbot. ‘She… she is… was… a companion of the Venerable Cinaed,’ he ended lamely. ‘As well as helping him, she often travels the surrounding countryside to trade the goods made at the abbey.’
‘Isn’t that your business as steward?’
‘My business is to attend to the smooth running of the abbey. We
Abbot Erc continued to look uncomfortable and suddenly rose from his seat.
‘Since we have raised the subject, I am reminded that Sister Buan found something in the grate of the Venerable Cinaed on the day after the murder. It was a piece of burnt paper and she thought it might be a clue.’ He bent to a chest and took something from it. ‘I kept it just in case,’ he said.
The paper was scorched and torn. He handed it to Fidelma.
The only readable matter she could make out was ‘… midnight. Orat
… alone… Sin…’.
Eadulf peered at it over her shoulder and shook his head.
‘It makes no sense. It could mean anything. Why would this Sister Buan think it was significant?’
‘She said that the Venerable Cinaed must have burnt it on the night he went to the oratory.’
‘Well, we will doubtless have a word with this Sister Buan,’ Fidelma said. ‘Have we now identified all Cinaed’s friends? Is there anyone else… any particular friend of Cinaed?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Abbot Erc replied and made to take back the piece of burnt paper, but Fidelma shook her head with a smile.
‘We’ll hold on to this for the time being,’ she said, putting it carefully in her marsupium.
Slightly put out, the abbot reseated himself.
Conri, who had been silent during most of the discussion, coughed slightly to draw attention to himself and said: ‘My aunt, the Abbess Faife, was a close friend of the Venerable Cinaed. You have forgotten her. She often helped Cinaed in the library, for his eyesight was not of the best as he grew older.’
Abbot Erc flushed.
‘Of course,’ he said stiffly. ‘There was the Abbess Faife, but as she is… no longer with us, I did not think her name need be mentioned.’
Eadulf’s lips twitched in a grimace.
‘On the contrary, it is useful to know there was such a link between the two victims of violent death.’
‘Do you think that there was some connection between the deaths then, Brother Eadulf?’ the steward demanded.
‘Perhaps. We need…’ he avoided Fidelma’s eyes, ‘we need facts before we can speculate.’
‘Your primary task was to find out why the Abbess Faife was killed and where her charges are,’ the abbot exclaimed in disapproval. ‘This cannot be accomplished in this abbey. You should go to the lands of the Corco Duibhne and make inquiries there.’
Fidelma rose abruptly from her seat.
‘You are quite right, Abbot Erc. I do mean to proceed very shortly. But not until I have made those inquiries here that I think necessary. However, as it grows late, and we have had a long ride today, we shall retire now and continue in the morning.’
The abbot also rose, looking confused. He had apparently expected some argument or some further discussion.
The young rechtaire, taking a lantern, conducted them from the abbot’s chamber through the grounds of the abbey to the guests’ quarters.
‘If there is anything you wish, call upon me or Sister Sinnchene.’
He was turning to go when Fidelma stayed him.
‘You will remember that Brother Eadulf will be conducting a search of the clothing in the washroom tomorrow?’
‘I have not forgotten.’
‘Nor that I shall be expecting the merchant, Mugron, at the abbey tomorrow in the morning.’
‘Neither have I forgotten that, lady.’
&n
bsp; ‘Excellent.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Then first thing in the morning, I would like to talk to you while we await Mugron’s arrival.’
Brother Cu Mara looked surprised.
‘Me, lady?’
‘I need your advice as the rechtaire.’
‘Of course.’ The young man was puzzled but acknowledged her request. ‘I shall be at your service.’
The morning service was over. The bell denoting the end of prayers had scarcely ceased to toll before the community of the entire abbey became a hive of activity as the religious dispersed to their individual tasks. Some had gone to tend the herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, others to the herb gardens or to the fields, although there was little to do in the freezing
Brother Eadulf, with the two warriors who had accompanied Conri, had set off to the tech-nigid. Conri, wanting to be active, had volunteered to ride south along the road to meet Mugron the merchant and escort him to the abbey.
Seizing the quiet time that ensued, Fidelma accompanied Brother Cu Mara to a corner of the herb garden where they could speak without being overheard.
‘Last night you said that you needed my advice, lady,’ the young man said, as they seated themselves on a wooden bench in a sheltered corner.
‘I did,’ agreed Fidelma. She paused to make herself comfortable. ‘I think that you wanted to tell me something about Sister Buan but were dissuaded by the presence of the abbot. Is it not so?’
The young steward flushed and seemed to hesitate. ‘I suppose I was about to say that Sister Buan was more than the Venerable Cinaed’s companion.’
Fidelma gazed at him with interest. ‘In what sense are you speaking?’
‘As in male and female,’ he said as if in embarrassment.
‘Does that cause some concern? Is that not a normal relationship for men and women to follow?’
‘Oh, truly.’
‘Is not this abbey a conhospitae, a mixed house in which male and female live together working for the glory of God and where their children are raised to that ideal? Mind you, I have not seen many children here.’
‘It is so. We are a conhospitae. However, children are not encouraged here and there are some who…’ Brother Cu Mara hesitated.
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