Chalice of Blood

by Peter Tremayne

  Fidelma turned to Brehon Aillín.

  ‘I have rarely encountered a crime that sickens me so to the depths of my soul. This is the crime of fingal, or kin-slaying, which strikes at the very heart of our society, based as it is on kin, on clans and our relationship with one another. Our laws stress that this is the most horrendous crime of all. It is impossible to atone or compensate for such a crime. It is said that the fortress of a leader who has committed the crime can be erased so that all memory of it may be lost. It is a crime of such malevolence that—’

  As she was speaking there came the sound of horses clattering through the abbey gates. Lady Eithne rose from her seat and glanced around. Her companions, the three warriors she had brought with her, drew their weapons and defensively closed around her.

  The brethren began to move away from her but Brehon Aillín seemed unperturbed. ‘I presume this gesture is an admission of guilt,’ he said.

  Colgú had signalled to Gormán and his two companions at the door, who had drawn their swords, as had Caol, standing behind the King.

  ‘You will have to deal with my warriors before you can walk out of here, Lady Eithne,’ Colgú warned. ‘There is no escape.’

  Lady Eithne laughed harshly. ‘I am afraid you have not been very clever, Colgú of Cashel. While you may have a few of your bodyguard with you, they are not enough to challenge my warriors. Fidelma was right. I have increased my war band by hiring some of the best professionals I could find. Do you think I entered here with just these few men without making a plan? I suspected your sister might stumble on the truth.’ She turned to Fidelma. ‘Unfortunately for you, lady, when you came to see me a few days ago, I read the distrust in your eyes. Your companion, Eadulf, almost confessed your suspicions. Forewarned is forearmed. My warriors now surround this abbey. A moment ago, you heard my advance guard enter.’

  Cries of alarm rose from the hall but Colgú remained relaxed in his seat, a curious smile on his face. Brehon Aillín called for quiet. When the hubbub had died away, he said softly, ‘So what do you intend, Lady Eithne of the Déisi? You say you have surrounded this abbey with your hired bands. Now what? You intend to kill me? To kill all the brethren here?’

  ‘As you leave me with no option,’ Lady Eithne replied evenly. ‘There will be an attack on this abbey by the Uí Liatháin who have long coveted the abbey and these lands.’

  ‘That is not true,’ cried Uallachán, springing from his seat. ‘I have no hand in this. My warriors will not attack this place.’

  ‘There will be enough evidence left to identify the attackers as your men,’ replied Lady Eithne icily. ‘Your own body will be found slain at the head of your warriors, bloody sword in hand. In the attack, you will have slain your arch-enemy, Cumscrad. Indeed, even the King and his retinue will not survive.’

  Abbot Iarnla was staring at Lady Eithne in horror. ‘You are mad, lady. You intend to wipe out all these brethren, your kin and the others gathered here? You intend to kill the King and his advisers? How do you think you can get away with it?’

  ‘I am quite serious. Everyone will perish. This abbey will be cleansed of the faint-hearted. Purified, it will rise again under the leadership of its new abbot – Lugna. I appoint him as the new abbot.’ She gestured to Brother Lugna who was sitting in a state of shock, white-faced, as if unable to comprehend what was happening.

  It was only then that Fidelma realised that not only was Lady Eithne a fanatic for the Faith, she was completely insane.

  ‘It will be reported that the Uí Liatháin are the culprits and they will be punished,’ Lady Eithne said gleefully. ‘And now—’

  The door of the refectorium swung open and several warriors stood there. The cries of alarm began to rise. Lady Eithne’s malicious smile faded when she saw Colgú grinning broadly. He rose and held up his hands, palm outwards. She swung round and noticed that the warriors at the door all wore the golden torc emblems of the Nasc Niadh, the bodyguard of the King of Cashel.

  ‘It is done, Colgú,’ called the leading man, his voice booming over the panicking hubbub. Brehon Aillín started calling for calm, telling the brethren that they had nothing to fear. The noise started to subside.

  Colgú glanced at Fidelma and he inclined his head before turning to the now bewildered Lady Eithne, whose guards still stood ready to defend her.

  ‘There was just one problem with your plan, Lady Eithne,’ Colgú said. ‘You were right that my sister suspected you. When she sent for me she had specific instructions. This morning, after you and your escort had left your fortress for this place, a full catha, a battalion of my army, moved from the mountains across the river and surrounded your fortress just as your men were getting ready to follow you here.’

  The leader of the newly arrived warriors approached the King and spoke urgently in his ear. The King smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you, Enda.’ He looked at Lady Eithne. ‘I am pleased to say, lady, that your mercenaries thought the better of fighting and surrendered their arms.’

  Lady Eithne’s face was white.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh, your lucht-tighe, your personal guard, those of your own clan, put up a brief resistance. But when you pay men to fight your battles, when it comes to fighting to the death, they will often choose life, for they cannot spend money when they are dead.’

  Brehon Aillín looked grave. ‘You should remember the words of the Audacht Moraind on nobility, lady. The noble who takes power with the help of foreign warriors can expect a weak and fleeting lordship – as soon as the warriors leave or surrender then that noble’s dignity and the terror it inspires will decline. So has it in this case.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘You do not respond?’ the King asked drily. ‘I suggest, lady, you order your companions to put down their swords. I do not want to sully this abbey and this court with any more blood.’

  With a gesture from Colgú, Caol and his men moved forward, weapons ready to meet any aggression. But without waiting for any order from Lady Eithne, her companions dropped their swords and raised their hands.

  ‘Excellent,’ approved Colgú. ‘Caol,’ he called to his commander of the Nasc Niadh, ‘escort the Lady Eithne and her companions to a safe place until Brehon Aillín decides how best to resolve this matter.’

  Fidelma watched as Lady Eithne, her head raised in arrogant fashion, left with her escort, looking neither to right nor left.

  ‘I will never understand how a mother can kill her son even if she is insane,’ she commented softly as Eadulf rose and laid a hand on her arm.

  ‘I am sorry I could not help you more,’ he said. ‘That was one of the most complicated presentations you have ever had to give.’

  ‘And the most difficult I have ever had to understand,’ said Fidelma. ‘But we might not have been allowed to proceed had you not found that legal maxim from the Uraicecht Becc. For that alone your help was indispensable.’

  Eadulf shrugged with mock indifference. ‘I suppose I have my uses after all.’

  EPILOGUE

  Fidelma and Eadulf were resting on the bank of a stream on the road to Cashel. Gormán had ridden on ahead to the next tavern where they were due to meet him. They were taking a more leisurely ride back and decided to rest awhile and water their horses. Eadulf was chewing thoughtfully on a stem of quaking-grass, watching the eddies and little whirlpools as the water splashed and gushed its way over the shallow stony bed. He had been thinking a lot since they left the abbey of Lios Mór and crossed the mountains on the way north.

  ‘I have never been so depressed by events in an investigation before.’

  Fidelma gave him a searching glance. His expression was dark and moody.

  ‘Do you mean because a mother killed her own son? Indeed, it is a terrible thing.’

  Eadulf stirred uncomfortably. ‘There is that, of course,’ he conceded. ‘But I was thinking, what if the story related in Donnchad’s document is true? What if he was right?’
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br />   ‘Maybe he was wrong,’ Fidelma said lightly.

  ‘Donnchad believed it to be true,’ pointed out Eadulf. ‘And his mother was so fearful of it being true that she killed him rather than let him pronounce his views. Had she been confident in her Faith, she would have had no need to defend it by silencing criticism in that way.’

  ‘A good point. Eadulf. Yet, again, fear of it being true does not make it true. In the end it comes down to what you believe.’

  ‘And there are countless who believe in the Faith, they cannot all be wrong.’

  ‘But in that case, what makes the countless others who believe in the other faiths across the world wrong? That’s the conundrum.’

  ‘If Donnchad had not gone to the Holy Land on the pilgrimage, he might not have encountered the stories that caused him to doubt his Faith. He might have continued to be a great scholar of the Faith.’

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps not.’ She smiled. ‘We can conjure many things with that magical word “if”.’

  ‘There is one other thing that bothers me.’

  ‘Only one?’

  ‘Brother Donnchad’s own text was remarkable. But we never found out what the other works were that he brought back from the Holy Land, those works he kept protected in his cell, which his own mother killed him for, and which were destroyed by her. What did they contain that would have shattered the Faith of a scholar such as Brother Donnchad?’

  Fidelma hesitated for a few moments before she turned to him, her expression serious. ‘I am certainly no theologian, Eadulf. My expertise lies in the law, as I have often said. That is why I have determined to leave the constrictions of the religious to others and apply myself only to the law.’ She paused and added quietly, ‘Even if I do not become Chief Brehon of Muman.’

  Eadulf’s expression did not change, he remained gazing firmly at a dragonfly hovering above the water of the stream before him. Then he sighed deeply.

  ‘I wonder what will happen to Brother Lugna.’

  ‘I understand that he will return home to Connachta, taking young Gúasach with him. He could not remain at the abbey, especially not now his true views have been revealed.’

  ‘You do not call him heretic?’

  ‘I told you, I am no theologian. It is not up to me to pronounce on heresy. All I know is that I do not like anything he stands for. Maybe he will fulfil his ambitions and create some great abbey in Connachta one day. For the time being, Abbot Iarnla does not have to walk in fear of the malign influence of Lady Eithne. He can govern his community with a stronger hand.’

  ‘And Lady Eithne, she has been judged insane. I am not familiar with how that judgement is carried out. It seems to be exile.’

  ‘Not exactly. She has certainly been judged a dásachtach, the worst condition of madness, one which might lead her to inflict harm on others. She will be sent to a place that we call Gleann-na-nGeilt, the glen of lunatics, in the west of the kingdom. There she will be looked after. The law not only protects society from the dásachtach, it also protects the dásachtach from harm from uncaring members of society. Eithne’s rank and position mean that one-third of her land will be used to provide for her during her lifetime.’

  ‘Do you think that the abbey of Lios Mór will ever rise as Eithne and Lugna envisaged it would?’

  ‘I would hope it will rise but not as some stone shrine to commemorate mythology, rather as a living shrine to a belief in the ultimate goodness of its people, to their intellectual pursuits and the attainment of knowledge.’

  ‘The rebuilding will surely end now, will it not?’

  ‘My brother has confiscated one-third of Lady Eithne’s lands in fines and this land has now been turned over to the abbey with all its wealth. I suspect that Abbot Iarnla will use that wealth to complete the work with a new master builder and workforce.’

  Eadulf sighed deeply. ‘I feel sorry for Brother Donnán. I think he was caught up in Lady Eithne’s web of murder and intrigue without realising where it was leading.’

  ‘Brother Donnán has agreed to make reparation and spend it rebuilding the destroyed library at Fhear Maighe. However, when a book that has no copies is destroyed, it is like the destruction of a human life. The book is no more and will never be again. It is just like murder. But the real person to feel sorry for is Brother Gáeth. He has lost most in this terrible affair. He lost his only friend, Donnchad.’

  ‘But he is no longer condemned to be a daer-fudir, for Uallachán made his views known and Abbot Iarnla no longer has to obey the constrictions of Lady Eithne.’

  ‘You are right. He is a freeman in law. But Fate has been harsh to him. He will continue his life as a field hand, working at the abbey. He is not prepared for anything else in life. At least he will have nothing to fear there but had things been otherwise …’

  ‘What will happen to Donnchad’s account of why he lost his Faith that he asked Brother Gáeth to keep?’

  ‘Brehon Aillín has seen it and accepted it as proof of Donnchad’s state of mind. But it can neither be destroyed nor proclaimed. For the time being, it will remain undisturbed in the Mound of the Dead.’

  Eadulf rose to his feet and threw his piece of quaking grass into the stream, watching it swirl away in the eddies for a moment. Then he shook his head and looked up at the sky. There were some feathery-looking clouds high in the sky, the wisps almost blending together to form high ripples.

  ‘A mackerel sky,’ he remarked. ‘There might be some changeable weather ahead. It has been warm for so long. We might have rain soon.’

  Fidelma rose to join him. ‘Let us hope that there will be no storms before we reach Cashel.’

  ‘And when we reach Cashel?’

  She regarded him sadly. ‘I have made my decision, Eadulf. You must now make your choice.’

  PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

  Sister Fidelma of Cashel, a dálaigh or advocate of the law courts of seventh-century Ireland

  Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham in the land of the South Folk, her companion

  At Bingium

  Huneric, a hunter and guide

  Brother Donnchad of Lios Mór

  At Cashel

  Colgú, King of Muman and brother to Fidelma

  Ségdae, Abbot of Imleach, Chief Bishop of Muman

  Brother Madagan, his steward

  Caol, commander of the Nasc Niadh, bodyguards to the King

  Gormán, a warrior of the Nasc Niadh

  Brehon Aillín, a judge

  At Cill Domnoc

  Brother Corbach

  At Lios Mór

  Iarnla, Abbot of Lios Mór

  Brother Lugna, his rechtaire, or steward

  Brother Giolla-na-Naomh, the blacksmith

  Brother Máel Eoin, the bruigad, or hosteller

  Brother Gáeth former anam chara (soul friend) of Brother Donnchad

  Brother Seachlann, a physician

  Brother Donnán, scriptor (librarian)

  Brother Echen, the echaire, or stable keeper

  Venerable Bróen, an elderly member of the community

  Lady Eithne of An Dún, mother of Brother Donnchad

  Glassán, the master builder

  Gúasach, his foster-son and apprentice

  Saor, a carpenter and assistant master builder

  At Fhear Maighe

  Cumscrad, chief of the Fir Maige Féne

  Cunán, his son and assistant librarian

  Muirgíos, a barge master

  Eolann, a bargeman

  Uallachán, chief of the Uí Liatháin

  Brother Temnen, librarian of Ard Mór

  … Abba Pater omnia possibilia tibi sunt transfer calicem hunc a me.

  Abba Father, all things are possible for you, take away this cup from me.

  Mark 14:36

  Vulgate Latin trs of Jerome 5th century

  Hic est enim calix sanguinis mei –

  For this is the chalice of my blood –

  Early medieval Latin Mass

  By Peter Tremayne
and featuring Sister Fidelma:

  Absolution by Murder

  Shroud for the Archbishop

  Suffer Little Children

  The Subtle Serpent

  The Spider’s Web

  Valley of the Shadow

  The Monk who Vanished

  Act of Mercy

  Hemlock at Vespers

  Our Lady of Darkness

  Smoke in the Wind

  The Haunted Abbot

  Badger’s Moon

  Whispers of the Dead

  The Leper’s Bell

  Master of Souls

  A Prayer for the Damned

  Dancing with Demons

  The Council of the Cursed

  The Dove of Death

  The Chalice of Blood

  HISTORICAL AFTERWORD

  The reader does not have to study the history of the early Christian movement to understand the doubts and conflicts that Brother Donnchad was faced with in this story. Nor does the reader have to accept or believe in the veracity of them. The point being made is that these matters influenced him as they influenced others of this period. Fidelma argued that, whether Donnchad was right or wrong in losing his Faith over the material he had discovered, it was a matter of personal choice.

  But for those readers who are interested in that material, it is a matter of record that once Christianity took over as the official religion of the Roman empire, many works that were contemporary with the birth of Christianity and its early years were amended or destroyed when they were found to contradict and challenge the changing dogmas of the leadership of the Christian movement.