To the left was a seat with Murgal sprawled on it. He looked as bad as Eadulf felt with red-rimmed eyes and pale face. There was still an angry red mark on his cheek. Behind him was a small table at which the elderly scribe, Mel, with whom Eadulf had spoken the previous evening, sat ready with his stylus and clay writing tablets.
Fidelma was shown to a chair in the centre of the semi-circle. A chair had also been placed for Eadulf, just to one side of Fidelma’s seat. Behind, Brother Solin and Brother Dianach were seated. The other chairs were filled with the lesser dignitaries of Gleann Geis while behind them, pressing around, some of the people of thevalley were crowded to hear what their chieftain would negotiate with the representative of the distant king of Cashel. The hubbub was loud and it was not until the horn blasted again that the noise eventually died away.
Murgal rose slowly to his feet.
‘The council is now in session and, as Druid and Brehon to my chieftain, it is my right to speak first.’
Eadulf started in surprise at the man’s discourtesy when he declared that he should speak before his chieftain. Fidelma, seeing Eadulf s concern, leant towards him and whispered: ‘It is his right under the law, Eadulf. A Druid may speak before a king.’
Murgal apparently did not notice this exchange for he moved to the side of Laisre’s chair of office.
‘You will know that I am opposed to this negotiation. Let my objection be recorded.’
He glanced to Laisre who nodded and added for the benefit of Mel, the scribe: ‘So it is said, so let it be written.’ He turned back to Murgal and indicated that he should continue.
‘Laisre’s ancestors ruled us well. They kept us from outside harm over the years, refusing to have anything to do with those who looked enviously at our pleasant valley. It is a rich fertile valley. Uncorrupted. Why? Because we have forbidden this valley to those who would bring changes from outside. Three years have passed since we accepted Laisre as our chieftain, for his derbfhine elected him in due manner to be the head of his household and made him lord over us.
‘But now my chieftain has seen fit to send to Cashel and ask for an embassy for the purpose of discussing the establishment of an alien religion in our land.’
In spite of his feeling of indisposition, Eadulf felt he could not let the matter pass without protest.
‘A religion that all the kings of Éireann have accepted and which has been freely practised for over two centuries in the five kingdoms.’ He was sarcastic, unable to keep his annoyance under control. ‘Foreign religion, indeed!’
There was a gasp of horror from the assembly and even Fidelma looked uncomfortable. Murgal had turned in annoyance to Laisre. He was about to open his mouth but the chieftain stayed him with an upraised hand. Laisre leaned forward in his chair and addressed himself to Eadulf directly.
‘I shall overlook your outburst this time, Saxon, because you are a stranger in this land and do not know its ways sufficiently to curb your tongue. You do not have the right to speak at this council. Itis only that you travel as a companion with Fidelma of Cashel that you are even allowed to sit in this chamber. Even if you had the right to speak you may not interrupt the opening addresses. Only when the opening arguments have been placed will the accredited delegates debate their worthiness.’
Eadulf flushed with mortification and sank down into his chair. Fidelma was glaring at him in disapproval.
Murgal smiled triumphantly and continued.
‘We have seen what this alien religion brings. Strangers from over the water who do not know our ways or customs and who would dictate to us. Strangers who insult our procedures so that they have to be rebuked.’
Eadulf ground his teeth at the way Murgal had seized on his lack of knowledge about protocol to strengthen his argument.
‘Our brethren outside of the protection of these mountains may well have succumbed to the foreign teachings. It does not make it right nor is it an argument that we must also accept this religion. I say it must be rejected and our mountain barriers used to exclude its pernicious teachings. That is my position as Druid, Brehon and advisor to the chieftain of Gleann Geis.’
Murgal sat down amidst the many mutterings of approval from the people in the chamber.
Laisre nodded to the horn player who let out another blast to silence the chamber.
‘Murgal has a right to speak before all others. It is my right to speak next. I am, like Murgal, an adherent of the true deities of our people, the gods and goddesses whom our forefathers worshipped and who have protected us since time began. But my duty as chieftain is to extend the hand of protection to all the people of this clan. Before I sent to the bishop of Imleach to suggest that we could negotiate a settlement for those of this clan who have adopted the ways of the new Faith, I pondered the matter carefully. I decided that he could send someone to discuss how best we could reach such an agreement. Imleach has long wanted to build a Christian church and a school in our valley.
‘But I am a pragmatist. Because many of our people have married outside of this valley, we have to accept some of us now believe in this new Faith. Some have tried to hide that fact because they think it will displease me. In truth, it does make me unhappy. I will not deny it. Suppress the new Faith was one argument that I was counselled. But the people of Gleann Geis are my children.’
Murgal looked defiantly at him but he kept silent. Laisre paused a moment to reflect and then continued.
‘That would have been a short-sighted policy, for what one prohibits becomes something that is eagerly sought after. So rather than give sustenance to those who would worship the new Faith, I now say give it freedom and let it wither naturally.’
Another outburst of low muttering followed Laisre’s speech.
Fidelma, looking slightly puzzled, stood up.
‘I am here not to argue for the new Faith or against the old Faith. I am here as an envoy of Cashel to negotiate with you on matters which I had been informed your mind was already agreed upon.’
To Eadulf’s surprise, she sat down. The brevity of her statement even surprised Laisre who looked disconcerted.
‘Surely you would want to make some argument for your Faith?’ he faltered.
Even Murgal was looking nonplussed.
‘Perhaps she has no arguments?’ he sneered.
Eadulf leaned forward.
‘You can’t let these pagans denigrate the Faith,’ he whispered. He used the Irish term pagánach.
Murgal had good hearing.
‘Did I hear the Christian Saxon call us pagans?’ he cried out in a loud voice.
Eadulf was about to reply when he remembered the proscription against speaking. He said nothing.
‘Let him confirm that he called us pagan, lord,’ urged Murgal.
‘Your hearing is as good as anyone’s,’ Laisre replied. ‘It is the term that those of the new Faith often call us.’
‘I know it,’ affirmed Murgal. ‘And the very word pagánach is not even a word in the language of the children of Eireann. What better proof of their alien philosophy is this use of that word?’
‘We do not seek to argue that pagánach is a word now adopted into our language,’ intervened Brother Solin wheezily. ‘It is from the Latin paganus.’
Murgal was smiling broadly.
‘Exactly! Even in Latin it describes correctly what I am — a person of the country, pagus — as opposed to the milites or the soldiers who march through the country devastating it. You Christians are proud to call yourselves milites, enrolled soldiers of Christ, and look down on the civilians or paganus who you would trample on. I am proud to be called pagan! It is an honourable estate.’
Fidelma had known that Murgal was a clever man but she wassurprised that he had such a knowledge of Latin. She rose to her feet once more.
‘I repeat, I am not here to discuss theology. I am here only to discuss how best we might agree a practical matter.’
Orla rose abruptly from behind Colla’s empty chair. She was clea
rly enjoying the argument.
‘If my husband were here, he would challenge this representative of Cashel. But I have a right to speak at this council not only in my husband’s stead but as the sister of the chieftain.’
‘Let Orla speak!’ came a cry which gathered momentum from the seated dignitaries and those standing behind them.
Laisre motioned his sister, Orla, forward.
‘There is no secret that I and Colla, my husband, have disagreed with Laisre, my brother. He has refused Imleach’s attempt to bring Christianity to this valley for years and now he has invited members of the Faith to bring their alien teachings here. My brother, Laisre, is foolish if he thinks that allowing this new Faith to be practised here would see a swift destruction of it. Look at the position of this Faith throughout the five kingdoms. Two centuries ago Laoghaire of Tara took such a view that there was always room for another religion in the land and that suppressing it would merely make it breed faster. He allowed the followers of the Briton, Patrick, to have freedom to worship their God. Two centuries later there are only a few tiny outposts in the five kingdoms where we still follow the gods of our ancestors. The new religion dominates everywhere. Give it breathing space and it will choke the rest of us.’
There was a banging of feet and applause as Orla resumed her seat.
To Fidelma’s irritation, Brother Solin had risen to his feet.
‘Since Fidelma of Cashel will not debate with you, I, as representative of the Comarb of Patrick, who sits in Armagh, feel that I should take up the challenge she discards so lightly. I ask your indulgence to address this council.’
Fidelma’s face had taken on a stony look and she was staring straight ahead. Her mind was working rapidly. This was not the negotiation that she had been expecting. No one had given her any indication that this was to be a debate on theology in which her task was to seek proselytes. She felt that she was being manoeuvred into a debate as a distraction. But why?
Laisre asked Brother Solin to stand forward and invited him to speak.
Brother Solin shot a glance of triumph at Fidelma.
‘What is it that you fear about the religion of Christ?’ he demanded looking at Murgal.
‘Simply, that it destroys the old.’
‘And is that a bad thing?’
Murgal smiled threateningly.
‘We worship the ancient gods and goddesses who are the Ever Lasting Ones. Your Christ was executed and died. Was he therefore a powerful warrior? Did he have thousands defending him? No, he was a lowly carpenter who, irony of ironies, died on a tree!’
Murgal looked around him with a self-satisfied grin and added: ‘You see, I have studied some of this religion of Christ.’
Brother Solin had reddened at the gibe.
‘It was so ordained that the Christ, who was the Son of God, should die to bring peace to the world. God so loves this world, we are told, that he gave his only son to die for it.’
‘Such a god,’ sneered Murgal. ‘He had to kill his own son to show love! Was he jealous of his son? Your God’s son is as poor as his father!’
Brother Solin began to choke angrily.
‘How dare you …?’
‘Loss of temper is no argument.’ Clearly, Murgal was enjoying himself. ‘Tell us what your God taught? We would like to hear. Was he a strong god? Did he teach resistance to those who would enslave people? Did he teach self-reliance or the practice of what is good and just? Did he teach resistance to those who do wrong? No, for I have heard it with my own ears. He taught poverty of spirit. It is written in your sacred texts — “Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”. Your God’s heaven is not the Otherworld where justice, morality and manly self-reliance are rewarded in the hall of the heroes who sit with the Ever Living Ones.
‘Indeed, your God taught that if someone struck a man on one cheek, that person should offer the other cheek to be struck, thus courting further injury and oppression and inviting wrong doing. Surely the Brehons teach that those who court oppression share the crime? When men are poor in spirit then the proud and haughty in spirit oppress them. When men are true in spirit and determined to prevent wrong then the people benefit. Do you not agree with that, Brother Solin?’
Brother Solin was furious. His anger made him look pitiful and inarticulate in front of the assembly. Fidelma had already assessed that it needed a finer intellect than Brother Solin to do battle with glib-tongued Murgal. She shook her head slightly and whispered across to Eadulf: ‘The triads of Éireann say three laughing stocksof the world — a jealous man, a parsimonious man and an angry man. Brother Solin has walked directly into the trap that Murgal has prepared.’
Brother Solin was continuing on, unaware of the impression he was giving.
‘The Christ said — “Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh. Blessed are you that mourn, for you shall be comforted and Blessed be you poor for yours is the kingdom of heaven.”’
‘Nice promises but only to be fulfilled in the Otherworld,’ sneered Murgal. ‘But it is poor teaching for this world. Poverty of person leads on from poverty of spirit. This religion was obviously conceived by a tyrant who wanted to see the poor continue in their poverty while he grew rich and fat on their misery.’
‘Not so, not so …’ cried Brother Solin losing all attempt at composure.
Fidelma stood up abruptly.
She said not a word but the very fact of her rising and her silence caused every voice to fade so that silence gradually permeated the room. She waited until it was so encompassing that even the smallest whisper could be heard.
‘I was misinformed,’ she began softly. ‘I was told that this was to be a negotiation on practical matters. Not a theological debate. Should you have required representatives to discuss theology then you should have told the bishop of Imleach who would have sent you scholars who would match your scholars. I am but a simple servant of the law of this land. I shall commence my journey home to Cashel this afternoon and I shall take back the message that the chieftain of Gleann Geis has been unable to make a decision on this matter. Cashel will not send anyone to Gleann Geis again until it is assured that a decision has been made.’
As she turned, Eadulf rose unsteadily, groaning inwardly at the very idea of commencing such a journey in his condition.
‘An admission of defeat?’ cried Murgal. ‘Do you admit that Christians cannot argue logic with a Druid?’
Fidelma halted and looked in his direction.
‘You are acquainted, I suppose, with the triads of Eireann?’
‘A poor Brehon I would be if I was not,’ replied Murgal complacently.
‘Three candles that illuminate every darkness: truth, nature and knowledge,’ she quoted and then turned away towards the door.
This time she did not even stop when she heard Laisre’s voice call out to her to do so.
The warrior, Rudgal, looking uncomfortable, barred the doorwayas she reached it, resting his hand lightly on his sword hilt. He looked apologetic.
‘My chieftain calls on you to stay, Sister,’ he muttered. ‘He has to be obeyed.’
He was taken aback by the green fire that danced in Fidelma’s eyes.
‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, princess of the Eóghanacht. I stay for no one!’
How she did it not even Eadulf knew but her sheer presence caused Rudgal to fall back a pace and she had swept through the door and out into the courtyard. She did not pause to see if Eadulf was following but walked quickly across the courtyard of the ráth to the guests’ hostel. Inside she made straight for a pitcher of water and poured herself a drink.
Eadulf hastened in after her and closed the door. He looked at her nervously but found that her face was creased with laughter. He shook his head in bewilderment.
‘I do not understand.’
Fidelma was good humoured.
‘Whether this was Laisre’s design or not, this council was a charade. It was set up either to waste time or to distrac
t us from the business we were sent here to conduct. What I have to decide is why and who is responsible. And, further, was that idiot Brother Solin part of this deception?’
‘I still do not understand.’
‘Instead of getting down to the business we were meant to arrange, Murgal deliberately tried to lead us into the time-wasting morass of arguing our differing philosophies. If I had accepted that as the starting point, we would have been arguing here for weeks. Why? What purpose would that serve? The only thing to do was to take the stand I did and to call their bluff.’
‘Will their bluff be called?’ demanded Eadulf.
There came the sound of voices growing nearer.
Eadulf glanced out of the window.
‘It is Brother Solin and his scribe. He does not look in a good mood.’
A moment later Brother Solin burst into the room; his face was still red with mortification.
‘Little you did to support me in spreading the Faith,’ he snapped at Fidelma without preamble. ‘All you have done is insult our hosts and deny any means whereby we might arrange to bring the Faith to this valley.’
‘It is not my task to support you in theological debate,’ Fidelmareturned, causing Solin to blink at her sharpness. If he had expected her to acquiesce to his dominance, he had quickly learnt. She turned to Eadulf. ‘Go and saddle our horses and I shall be along directly. I’ll pack and bring our bags.’
Reluctantly, Eadulf departed on his mission.
Brother Solin looked aghast.
‘You mean to go through with it? You cannot leave here now!’
She regarded him coldly.
‘Who will stop me? And what business is it to you?’
‘You mean to leave here, having insulted the chieftain and his council in such a manner?’
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