‘Will you explain how you came here and for what purpose?’
‘To teach Cumscrad and his fellow liars a lesson,’ snapped the warrior.
‘I will explain,’ Brother Temnen intervened in a more moderate tone. ‘Our abbot, Rian of Ard Mór, who is a kinsman of yours, contacted Dubhagan, the librarian at Fhear Maighe, with a commission. As you know, the library there has many works that are not to be found elsewhere among the great libraries of the Five Kingdoms.’
‘And the commission was?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘To copy two works, one a collection of the poems of the great bard Dallán Forgaill, and the other a foreign work by a writer called Celsus.’
‘And why would your abbey want to spend money on getting a copy of a book attacking the Faith?’ queried Eadulf.
Brother Temnen said, ‘So you know this work? One of our scholars had read a criticism of Celsus by Origenes and thought it could be improved on. He did not want anyone beguiled by the pitfalls Celsus had prepared.’
‘Very well, continue.’
‘Dubhagan accepted the commission and all was agreed by us in good faith. Then we heard word that the copies had been placed on one of the river barges which was due at Ard Mór. Not only did they not arrive but we also heard rumours that Uí Liatháin warriors had attacked the barge and stolen the books. Uallachán was summoned to the abbey but denied this. He claimed the Fir Maige Féne were liars. This war band is to demand reparation from Cumscrad and the Fir Maige Féne for spreading such lies.’
‘And why are you, a librarian from Ard Mór, accompanying these warriors on this raid?’
‘Uallachán believes that the books were never sent and that Cumscrad has engaged in some deception,’ said Brother Temnen. ‘He wants me to search the library during the raid and identify the books that he claims were stolen. I am to be a witness.’
‘How could you tell who was the liar?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘Either chief could be lying.’
‘When Abbot Rian called Uallachán to the abbey, he made the chieftain take oath before the High Altar that he spoke the truth. He did so and therefore we believe that no warrior of the Uí Liatháin has done this thing. Uallachán believes that Cumscrad is spreading lies to provoke a war in the hope of seizing the lands of the Uí Liatháin.’
‘If that were so,’ Fidelma smiled thinly and gestured to the warriors around her, ‘Cumscrad has been successful. However, I don’t think it is that simple, Brother Temnen. If you had witnessed the destruction of the library of Fhear Maighe, the near death of Cumscrad’s own son who worked in the library, and the death of Dubhagan … I do not think Cumscrad or his men had a hand in it. Furthermore, the bánaí was killed when he tried to escape with the others.’
Brother Temnen shrugged. ‘We will have to await the arrival of Uallachán. After speaking to him, perhaps you will be able to ascertain where the truth lies.’
‘That is my intention,’ Fidelma replied. ‘If the Uí Liatháin did not attack either the barge or the library, then someone is trying to create a problem between Uallachán and Cumscrad. But why? Who would that benefit?’
Eadulf had been thinking. ‘Who knew about this commission from your abbot to the library of Fhear Maighe?’ he asked. ‘I mean, who apart from your abbey and Dubhagan?’
‘I suppose several people.’
‘But would they know the titles and the nature of the books that were to be copied?’
‘That was a matter that only we in Ard Mór and Dubhagan and his copyists would have known. But isn’t there a saying that to tell a secret to three people makes it no longer a secret?’
‘How did you learn that Fhear Maighe had these books?’ asked Eadulf.
‘I checked with them.’
‘How?’
‘I sent a messenger to find out. But that was a long time ago. It took many months to make the copies. It was only last week that we received word that the books were ready. We were to pay thirty seds.’
‘A large price to pay.’
‘Extortionate,’ agreed the librarian, philosophically. ‘But the Celsus book is very rare. I am told there is not another copy known in the Five Kingdoms because of the nature of the book.’
‘You mean because it was an early attack on the founders of the Faith?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Exactly so.’
‘So who brought you the news that the copies were ready and would be delivered?’
‘One of the brethren.’
‘The same messenger from your abbey?’
‘Not from our abbey, no.’
‘From Fhear Maighe?’
‘A physician,’ replied Brother Temnen. ‘He paid us a visit to collect certain herbs that had been brought ashore from one of the merchant ships.’
The abbey of Ard Mór lay where The Great River emptied into the sea, just on the southern coast where merchant ships came and went to many parts of the world, to the island of Britain, the coast of Gaul and even south to Iberia.
‘A physician?’ Fidelma queried sharply.
‘The physician from Lios Mór.’
‘Are you speaking of Brother Seachlann?’ she asked slowly.
‘Seachlann, that was his name. It was Brother Seachlann who came to our abbey some days ago in search of herbs that had been lately carried from Gaul. He told us that the books were ready and being shipped by barge to the abbey. Thus we were forewarned to gather thirty seds to pay the bargemen, but the barge never arrived. Then we heard that the Uí Liatháin had stolen the books.’
‘How did Brother Seachlann know that the books from Fhear Maighe were ready?’
The librarian shrugged. ‘No one asked. What need was there to ask? We were happy to hear the news.’
There came a shout from one of the sentinels and the sound of approaching horses. The warrior commander went quickly to the entrance of the fortress just as a band of horsemen entered.
The leader of the newcomers was not an ugly man but he could not be described as handsome. He was a bearded, middle-aged man, clad entirely in black, with burnished armour and plumed war helmet. He wore his weaponry in such a way that it was obvious that he was no novice in the use of arms.
The commander saluted the man respectfully and held his horse while he dismounted.
‘So what have we here?’ the newcomer thundered. ‘Innocent wayfarers or spies from the Fhear Maighe?’
They had all risen and Gormán took an aggressive step forward but Fidelma held him back. But the young warrior paid her no attention and shouted in a firm voice, ‘You stand in the presence of Fidelma of Cashel, sister to your King, Colgú, son of Failbe Flann. Do I, Gormán of the Nasc Niadh, need to teach you a lesson in respect?’
The newcomer stared at Gormán, then he saw the golden circlet round his neck that denoted membership of the Nasc Niadh. He turned his head to examine Fidelma and his eyes widened in recognition.
He strode forward with a grin spreading over his features but first he spoke to Gormán.
‘Be at peace, young cockerel. You could not teach me anything.’ Then he gazed at Fidelma for a moment more before he held out his hands. ‘It is so,’ he said quietly. ‘Fidelma of Cashel. Was I not at your wedding celebration last year?’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘And with Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. The Saxon of whose fame is spoken of even in our tiny part of the world.’
Fidelma allowed herself to be caught in a bear hug and then Eadulf found himself similarly smothered before the chieftain swung round to his men and thundered, ‘Why are they held prisoners?’
The commander hung his head as if in shame. ‘I thought—’
‘Not clearly enough,’ bellowed his chieftain, turning back with a broad smile again. ‘Forgive us, lady.’
Fidelma did not respond to his smile but gazed evenly at him.
‘Why do you ride in a war band, Uallachán of the Uí Liatháin, when my brother’s kingdom is at peace?’ she demanded. ‘I am told you ride against Fhear Maighe?’
The big man raised
one shoulder and let it fall. ‘It is true that there is a score to be settled with Cumscrad. We ride to punish him for his lies.’
‘Do you claim that you have not done so already?’ replied Fidelma. Uallachán looked uncertain. Fidelma went on, ‘We have just ridden from Fhear Maighe where I have seen the library attacked by sword and fire and it now lies in ruins with many priceless works destroyed. The librarian Dubhagan lies dead. Several are injured. The attackers rode in under your banner. One of the attackers was killed, he was a bánaí. Tell me, Uallachán, what score needs to be settled?’
There was no disguising the utter astonishment on Uallachán’s face. The man was no actor and he was clearly shocked at her news.
‘My people are not responsible for this. And I have, or had, no bánaí riding among my warriors.’
‘Then we must discover who is responsible. The same people, under the same banner, took the barge of Muirgíos of the Fir Maige Féne and stole two valuable books from it. The blood of the Fir Maige Féne has been spilt enough.’
‘But not by us,’ protested Uallachán. ‘Let us sit awhile and you tell me the story as you know it.’
They did so and Fidelma outlined the accusations that she had heard about the Uí Liatháin. Uallachán did not interrupt but sat listening patiently. When she had finished, he shook his head slowly.
‘As Christ is my witness, lady, I know nothing of this. What would I want with such books, let alone want to destroy them? How can Cumscrad demand retribution for something I did not do? Can you not persuade Cumscrad that he must defer to the judgement of yourself and your brother?’
‘I would hope that both of you will accept such judgement,’ replied Fidelma. She sighed and then suddenly asked, ‘Do you know of a cousin of yours, Gáeth, who is currently a member of the brethren in Lios Mór?’
Uallachán looked surprised at the abrupt change of subject.
‘Gáeth, the son of Selbach of Dún Guairne?’
‘The same.’
‘His father was my cousin and found guilty of fingal, the kin-slaying of my uncle, who was chief before me. He was judged harshly, in my opinion, and consigned to the fate of the wind and waves. But the night before the sentence was due to be carried out, he escaped. He took his wife and Gáeth, who was hardly more than a child. Why do you ask? What has that to do with this matter?’
‘Probably nothing at all. Yet I am interested. In law, a wife and child does not have to share the fate of the husband. They do not have to become daer-fudir.’
‘That is true but Selbach’s wife chose that fate. She was loyal to her husband. However, if Gáeth has become a member of the community at Lios Mór, it means that he has freed himself from that stigma.’
Fidelma look at him curiously. ‘You did not insist that even as a member of the brethren he be regarded as a daer-fudir and be consigned to work as a field labourer?’
Uallachán uttered a short laugh. ‘Why would I do that? I thought the punishment given to his father was harsh enough at the time. Anything else is simply revenge.’
‘You did not inform the abbot that, even if Gáeth joined the abbey, he must remain a field worker.’
‘Doesn’t the law in some place say that every dead man kills his own liabilities?’
Fidelma smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you, Uallachán. Now, let us return to this matter between you and Cumscrad. This is my condition, and I will send Gormán here back to Cumscrad with a similar condition. I want you, Brother Temnen and a chosen warrior to go to a bruden, a hostel, on the Rian Bó Phádraig where it crosses the Abh Beag, the little river, south of Lios Mór. Do you know the place?’
‘I do,’ said the leader of the Uí Liatháin.
‘You will wait there until I send for you to come to Lios Mór at a time when I am ready to render judgement.’
‘And is Cumscrad to be there as well? How can I stay there if Cumscrad is there?’ he protested.
‘Cumscrad will be told to wait at another place, awaiting a similar message from me. You will not know where, and he will not know where you are. I do that for the protection of you both. I will send messengers to you at the same time, asking you both to come to the abbey, freely, without prejudice and with no warrior guards apart from your single bodyguard. Is that understood?’
‘I understand the terms, lady, but not the reason.’
‘You may have to await my message for several days but it will be sent and this matter resolved. A judgement shall be made about the tensions between your peoples. I begin to realise that there is a greater judgement to be made, of which your conflict is but a smaller part, although an important part – an attempt to distract me from reaching the truth.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was Brother Echen, the keeper of the stables, who greeted them as they rode through the gates of the abbey of Lios Mór early the following morning. They had spent a night at the hostel by the Abh Beag where they had left Uallachán and his companions to wait until Fidelma was ready to call them. It was a short ride. Gormán had been sent back to Fhear Maighe to see Cumscrad and give him similar instructions. Now Brother Echen came forward and he was clearly agitated as they swung down from their horses. He began to speak excitedly even before Fidelma reached the ground.
‘Glassán, the master builder, has been killed, Sister.’
‘When?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘His body was found only a short time ago.’
‘How was he killed and where?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Where else but on the building site?’ Brother Echen replied. ‘He has just been found by the little boy, his foster-son, as the builders were coming to start work.’
Before they could question the man further, Fidelma’s name was called from across the quadrangle. They turned. Brother Lugna was striding towards them.
They left Brother Echen attending their horses.
‘I presume that Brother Echen has told you the news?’ was Brother Lugna’s opening question. His expression registered no emotion.
‘He has. What happened?’
‘An accident. One of the stones of the building fell on him.’
‘There seems to have been too many accidents on this building site,’ Eadulf commented drily.
‘Such things happen,’ replied the steward in a terse tone.
‘Let us see where this happened.’ Fidelma turned and made for the half-finished building.
The body still lay where it had fallen. Brother Seachlann was examining it and beside him was Saor, the carpenter and assistant master builder.
Abbot Iarnla looked relieved as he spotted their approach.
‘Thanks be that you have arrived back,’ he greeted Fidelma. ‘As you see, we have yet another tragedy on our hands.’
The group stood back while Fidelma moved forward to look down at the body of Glassán, the master builder. His body lay on its back under a small doorway amidst a pile of debris. Some large blocks of stone that had been dressed were nearby. One of them was stained with blood but there was no blood on the man’s face or the front of his body.
‘He has been moved,’ Eadulf said, stating the obvious.
Brother Seachlann nodded. ‘He was lying face down. A heavy stone crushed the back of his head. I turned him on to his back to see if he had any injuries to his front. As you can see, there are none.’
‘It is sad,’ offered Saor. ‘But it seems clear what must have happened. Glassán came here to inspect the work early this morning and a loose stone fell as he was passing this wall.’ He pointed upwards to where the wall was unfinished and some dressed stones seemed not to have been placed correctly. He shook his head. ‘These accidents can sometimes happen.’
‘Sometimes?’ Eadulf’s inflection was cynical as he bent down beside the body. Then he raised his eyes to the physician. ‘With your permission, Brother Seachlann?’
‘I have finished my examination, Brother,’ the man answered with a shrug.
Eadulf turned the corpse on to its front and
examined the back of the skull. They could all see the massive injury. There was little doubt how the master builder had come by his death. To Fidelma it seemed that Eadulf spent a longer time than necessary peering at the injury before standing up. Then she saw from his expression that he had noticed something.
‘Is it all right to remove the body now?’ asked Brother Seachlann.
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf who nodded.
‘I understand the foster-son, Gúasach, found the body,’ Fidelma said. ‘I will need to have a word with him.’
‘He is being comforted by Brother Donnán in the scriptorium ,’ Abbot Iarnla told her.
Saor was helping Brother Seachlann lift the body of the master builder in order to carry it to the bróinbherg.
Brother Lugna looked on, still expressionless, as the two men began to carry the body out of the debris. He muttered a swift apology to the abbot and hurried after them.
Abbot Iarnla remained, looking helpless and undecided. ‘Is there anything that I should do?’ he asked.
‘Just tell me what you know,’ Fidelma suggested. ‘I am told that it was not long ago that young Gúasach came to the site, presumably to start work. He found his foster-father here, already dead. What then?’
‘I was not witness to this, Fidelma. I was in my chamber when Brother Lugna came to tell me the news.’
‘How was Brother Lugna told?’
‘I think the boy raised the alarm with Brother Seachlann. Then a passing member of the brethren told Brother Lugna. By the time I came here with Brother Lugna, I found the physician and Saor standing with the body. The physician had asked our scriptor to look after the boy. As we were contemplating the removal of the body, we saw your return to the abbey and Brother Lugna went to inform you of what had happened.’
Fidelma stood in thoughtful silence for a moment and then said, ‘Very well. You had better ensure that the brethren are not alarmed over this. A second death in the abbey will be disturbing. It would be best to carry on with your routines without interruption.’
Abbot Iarnla hesitated, a worried expression on his features.
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