A Prayer for the Damned (43 page)

‘Are you ready to present your resolution to the matters that have been placed before us?’

‘I am,’ she responded, rising from her seat.

‘Proceed,’ instructed the Chief Brehon.

‘The matters before us are the murders of two men. First, the murder of Abbot Ultán of Cill Ria, the emissary of the Comarb of the Blessed Patrick. Second, the murder of King Muirchertach Nár of Connacht …’

‘I would like to make a protest,’ cut in a voice.

To her surprise it was Brehon Ninnid who had risen. Even Brehon Barrán seemed astonished.

‘A protest? About what?’ he demanded.

‘The learned brehon presents the slaying of Ultán, an abbot, to be considered before the murder of a king, Muirchertach. That is not socially just.’

For a moment Fidelma did not understand the meaning of the intervention. Then she realised. There was no humour in her smile.

‘I present these murders in order of their chronological precedence rather than that of their social precedence,’ she replied dryly.

Brehon Barrán was frowning at Ninnid. He, too, had realised as Fidelma had that Ninnid, having been admonished by Barrán over the release of Brother Drón, was now trying to ingratiate himself by attempting to show off points of law. He was trying to present a good figure in front of his king.

‘I will not accept frivolous interruptions in this court,’ Brehon Barrán snapped and, flushing, the petulant Ninnid sat down.

‘Let us begin, as we should,’ Fidelma said with emphasis, ‘with the first murder. It should not fall to a mere advocate such as I to judge a man when he is dead but the judgement is necessary to an understanding of this death. Everyone here had cause to dislike Abbot Ultán, even his close associates – or should I say
especially
his close associates? He was not a likeable man. He pretended to have been converted to the Faith even as the Apostle Paul had been when he saw the blinding light on the road to Damascus, as the Scriptures tell us. But I believe that Ultán’s conversion was false. He used his rescue from the judgement of the sea, to which he had been condemned as an unrepentant criminal, in order to seize a path that would lead him to power. He was persuasive. He was even appointed by the Comarb of the Blessed Patrick as his emissary to attempt to
persuade all the abbots and bishops of the five kingdoms that Ard Macha should be the primatial seat of the Faith in these lands.’

She paused and looked round the hall until her eyes alighted on Abbot Ségdae, who was seated with his steward, Brother Madagan.

‘The Comarb of the Blessed Ailbe had cause to dislike the arrogance of Abbot Ultán when he arrived at the abbey of Imleach. Ultán attempted to make him acknowledge subservience to Ard Macha. And Abbot Ségdae was not alone in that dislike of this emissary. Many of the abbeys and churches of the five kingdoms had already stood up to Abbot Ultán’s blustering and bullying.

‘Hatred walked hand in hand with Ultán and that was the cause of his death. His murder was the ultimate act of vengeance. Muirchertach Nár had cause to dislike Ultán. Did his feelings reach the degree of hatred that was needed to kill him? Some thought so. But then Muirchertach Nár was killed. That, too, was an act of vengeance. The two murders were linked. But was it, as some thought, that Muirchertach Nár killed Ultán in vengeance and was then killed, also in vengeance, by someone who had admired Ultán?’

She paused and glanced to where Brother Berrihert and his brothers were seated.

‘There was, of course, one person who came to Cashel with the open intention of killing not only Abbot Ultán but also Brother Drón. That was the Saxon warrior Ordwulf.’

Brother Berrihert rose quickly from his place. ‘I protest. My father is dead and cannot defend himself. So I must answer in his place. I admit that he did try to kill the creature called Dron. But I know from his own lips that he did not kill Ultán. If he had, he would have been proud of the act and willingly acknowledged it. Such people as Ultán do not have the right to shelter under the name of the Faith. My father, indeed, my brothers and I, rejoice in Ultán’s death. But we did not kill him.’

Brother Berrihert sat down abruptly. Fidelma continued as if ignoring the interruption.

‘Ultán and Drón had gone to Inis Bó Finne to the community of Colmán the former abbot of Lindisfarne who, after Witebia, had brought his like-minded brethren to that place. Ultán demanded that
Colmán, so much respected for his adherence to the church of Colmcille, make obeisance to Ard Macha. Colmaán sent him away. But as he was leaving the island, he saw the wife of Ordwulf, the mother of those three brothers – Berrihert, Pecanum and Naovan -making some token veneration to the old gods to whom both she and Ordwulf had clung despite the conversion of their sons. Ultán had this defenceless old woman scourged and whipped to death. The sons of Ordwulf tried to forgive him as the New Faith teaches and came south. But when Ordwulf heard that Ultán and Dron were here, the old creed of blood vengeance stirred that old warrior.’

‘He did not do it!’ cried Brother Berrihert again.

Fidelma turned calmly to him.

‘I did not say that he did. He wanted to, as you admit, but he had no opportunity, for he could not enter the fortress that night and when he entered the next morning he found the deed already done. He admitted as much to Eadulf. However, he conspired to kill Drón. He lured him to a spot not far from here in order to slay him, to complete that vengeance. But his frail body failed him before that act of vengeance and, as you see,’ she pointed to where Brother Drón was seated between the warriors Dega and Enda, ‘Drón still lives, whereas old Ordwulf now feasts with his gods.’

‘So Ordwulf is in no way suspect of killing Abbot Ultán?’ demanded Brehon Barrán, bending forward from his chair in order to clarify matters.

‘Even had he been able to gain entrance to the fortress that night, I would have to have eliminated him because the murders of Muirchertach Nár and Ultán are inseparably linked. Ordwulf had no opportunity to kill either. When the king of Connacht was murdered, Ordwulf was waiting in vain for Drón at the Well of Patrick almost in the opposite direction. That was the first time he had tried to lure Drón there, but Drón was pursuing Sister Marga, who was at the hunt.’

Brehon Barrán stirred a little impatiently.

‘So we have eliminated Ordwulf. Do you point the accusation at his sons? They would have equal cause for blood vengeance.’

‘On Ultán and Drón but not on Muirchertach Nár. There was no motive to kill the king of Connacht.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Let
us come back to Brother Drón, for it is Brother Drón’s actions on the night of Abbot Ultán’s death that are the most important.’

‘Brother Drón?’ Blathmac had stood up suddenly. ‘It would be logical if he had killed Ultin. He would succeed as abbot, then. He is ambitious. It would follow.’

Brother Drón struggled to his feet but was held back by Dego and Enda.

‘I see it! This has already been decided to salve your consciences. I refuse to be judged by you, for I am ordained in the Faith and answer to no man but only to my God. I will not recognise this court.’

‘Sit down, Drón!’ instructed the Chief Brehon. ‘You will observe the law and respect it.’

Brother Drón took no notice of him. His voice rose in strident tones. ‘Beware you who call yourselves kings or place yourself under their authority! There are two powers by which this world is ruled the sacred authority of the priesthood and the authority of kings. But of these, the authority of the priest carries the most weight and is superior to that of the king. It is the priest who renders the accounts of kings before the tribunal of God. It is the priest who stands superior to the king for the priest intercedes with God on behalf of the king. So beware in judging me lest I judge you.’

Brother Drón turned to Fidelma with his anger and fanaticism still distorting his features. ‘You beware, woman. Your days of lording it over men are numbered. I echo the words of Timothy and Titus. I permit no woman to teach or have authority over men. She is to keep silent. That is what is written in Scripture. So it is written, so let it be done!’

Fidelma sighed. ‘I would advise you to return to the original text and amend your translation, Brother Drón. The word
epitrepsecin
, which means “not to permit”, is used for a specific permission in a specific context. When translated correctly in Timothy and Titus, it means that Timothy is not presently allowing women to teach until they have studied and learned in silence.’

Brother Drón stared at her for a moment, trying to follow her argument. ‘Then do you deny that our beloved Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians that women are not permitted to speak but should be subordinate, as the law says, to men. If there is anything they should
desire to know, he says let them ask their husbands at home because it is shameful for a woman to speak in a church.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘I cannot believe that they have such poor Greek scholars in Rome as to misinterpret the nuances of these texts. Perhaps those that render these texts into the language by which others may teach are scared of women? Perhaps it is men who find misinterpretations an easy way of denying women their just role in life? What was once a normal practice has now become abnormal – women can no longer be allowed to be ordained and officiate over the divine offices. What sort of loving religion is it that teaches the subjugation of one sex by another? Is it the fault of the religion? Or is it the fault of the prejudiced men who have risen to high office in the services of that religion, seeking to protect their petty authority?’

There was silence. Even Eadulf was surprised, for Fidelma had never been so forthcoming on her thoughts about the role of women in the religious.

‘Only man through his natural resemblance to Christ can express the sacramental role of Christ in the Eucharist,’ cried Brother Drón.

‘A weak argument and an insult to those women who have spread the Faith and have now been rendered as servants and foot-washers to men,’ Fidelma observed dryly. ‘Thank God that here, in the five kingdoms, we still have some degree of our ancient freedoms left.’

‘Fidelma, much as we would like to hear more,’ intervened Brehon Barrán firmly, ‘this is not the place for a discussion on theology unless it is relevant to these murders. Do you charge Brother Drón?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘I do not charge Drón with either Ultán or Muirchertach’s deaths. But an understanding of theology – that practised by Drón – was necessary before I could understand one of the mysteries that obscured the truth of their deaths for a long time. The mystery of why, when he was positive that it was Sister Marga who killed Abbot Ultán, he sought to cover it up and forcibly take her back to Cill Ria.’

‘He believed Sister Marga killed Ultán?’ echoed Brehon Barrán.

‘Drón saw Sister Marga emerging from Ultán’s chamber and a short time afterwards went there and found Ultán dead. This was before Muirchertach Nár was seen leaving that chamber and proof that the king of Connacht did not kill Ultán. But Drón kept that fact
to himself, thus withholding evidence that would have proved Muirchertach’s innocence.’

‘So are you identifying Marga as the murderer?’ Brehon Barrán queried.

Fergus Fanat, sitting close by Blathmac, groaned loudly and held his still bandaged head in his hands. Fidelma did not look to where Sister Marga was sitting, pale-faced but with composed features.

‘Fergus Fanat also saw Sister Marga emerge from Ultán’s chamber and leapt to the same conclusion as Drón. Sister Marga did have good reason to hate Abbot Ultán. Marga had gone to Cill Ria because of her abilities as a scribe and it was while she was on a visit to Ard Stratha that she met and fell in love with Fergus Fanat. Abbot Ultán intervened when she made a request to leave the community. In this case, he himself developed a sexual passion for Marga, a young attractive girl, and he forced her to satiate his needs under what manner of coercion I can leave to your imagination. Sister Marga ended the relationship with Fergus because she felt unclean.

‘She came here hoping for an opportunity to escape Ultán’s clutches. On the night of his death he had summoned her to his chamber and she had no option but to obey. When Fergus Fanat and Drón saw her leaving his chamber, Abbot Ultán was still alive. She did not learn of his death until the next morning. Later that day, she saw her old love, Fergus Fanat, but he made no effort to respond when she tried to speak to him and she thought the relationship was over. Later she went on the boar hunt. It was an attempt to escape to Laigin, away from Drón and his acolyte Sister Sétach to whom I shall return in a moment.

‘As she was doing so, she fell in with Fergus Fanat, who professed that he still loved her. She told him what had happened but Fergus Fanat chose to believe that she was guilty, and not only guilty of Ultán’s murder but later that of Muirchertach.’

‘For what reason would she kill Muirchertach?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.

‘Fergus Fanat thought Muirchertach must have seen her leaving Ultán’s chamber. That he tried to coerce her into helping him against Cill Ria and she had eventually killed him to silence him.’

‘I tried to protect her in spite of her guilt,’ cried Fergus Fanat.

‘This was nonsense,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘Marga was innocent of both crimes. But Fergus Fanat’s love was not sufficient for him to have faith in her. He wanted her, that is true. He announced that he was going to see Blathmac to tell him that she was the killer and ask Blathmac to protect her for his sake. This Fergus Fanat had the makings of a martyr! Can you imagine Marga’s mortification, her feelings, at this pronouncement? A man claiming to love her but not believing in her innocence? What could she do?’

Fergus Fanat had risen angrily. ‘What did she do?’ he cried shrilly. ‘You know well what she did. I went to see Blathmac and I was just outside his chamber door when she came up behind me and hit me over the head, trying to silence me. Then she fled from this fortress.’

‘That is not so,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘You went down the corridor, passing one of the alcoves in which, you told me, you saw no one. It was after you passed by this alcove that you said you were struck over the head. Your assailant could only have been hiding on the ledge outside. You agree that you did not see the assailant?’