Chalice of Blood (4 page)
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland
‘And it was over this disagreement of your opinions that he left you and went off to the community at the abbey of the Blessed Rúan?’
‘We argued,’ Fidelma agreed simply. ‘But I told him to go. Better he find out sooner than continue in resentment.’
Her brother grimaced wryly. ‘You told him to go? An order to a man such as Eadulf …’ He left the comment unfinished.
‘You know as well as I do that it was our cousin Laisran who persuaded me to join the religious,’ she said. ‘I am not interested in being committed to spreading the Faith but in spreading the concept of truth and justice under the law and obedience to it. With me, the law comes first and Faith comes second. That is why I have decided to withdraw from the religious and pursue my duties as a Brehon.’
Her brother smiled. ‘In the expectation that I shall nominate you as my Chief Brehon when the Council meet next week?’
Fidelma flushed indignantly. ‘I shall not try to persuade you to do so. You know what work I have done, so I shall let my reputation be my advocate.’
‘And what did Eadulf say to this?’
‘As I have said, he wanted me to give it up and go to the community of the Blessed Rúan with him. I told him that if that was all he cared about, then he should go on his own. He should respect my wishes.’
‘And what of Eadulf’s wishes? Should those not be respected?’
‘That is not the same thing.’
‘Not the same?’ Colgú queried sadly.
‘Law is the only thing that has really interested me since I reached the
amsir togú
, the age of choice. That is why I persuaded our foster-parents to allow me to attend the school of Brehon Morann. Perhaps if I had not listened to our cousin, Abbot Laisran …’
amsir togú
, the age of choice. That is why I persuaded our foster-parents to allow me to attend the school of Brehon Morann. Perhaps if I had not listened to our cousin, Abbot Laisran …’
‘If, Fidelma? Then what?’ Her brother smiled. ‘You are the last person to start playing the “if” game. Have you not said before that with an “if” you could put Tara and the High King’s palace in a bottle?’
Fidelma did not respond to her brother’s humour and moved her hand in a gesture of dismissal.
‘It does not alter the facts. I want to devote myself to the pursuit of legal matters. It has been my ambition since a child, what I was trained to do and what I have proved myself adept at. I shall leave the religious with or without Abbot Ségdae’s blessing.’
‘And with or without your husband’s approval?’
Fidelma gazed at her brother, the fire blazing in her eyes.
‘If that is the way it must be, then so be it,’ she said firmly.
There was a silence and then Colgú stirred reluctantly and
rose, turning towards the fire in the hearth. For a moment or two he stood staring down into the flames, one hand on the stone mantel. Then he looked at her over his shoulder.
rose, turning towards the fire in the hearth. For a moment or two he stood staring down into the flames, one hand on the stone mantel. Then he looked at her over his shoulder.
‘Very well. I must tell you that I have discussed the matter with Abbot Ségdae. You are too good an advocate to be allowed to waste your talents. But that does not mean that I am certain to support you in your bid to become Chief Brehon. I will remain neutral and it will be up to the Council of Brehons to make the final decision.’
Fidelma was unable to resist a broad smile.
‘I will take the chance that they make the right decision,’ she replied.
Colgú frowned sternly. ‘Their decision is their decision. Meanwhile, there is something more important to think about.’
Fidelma was already turning for the door but paused now and looked expectantly back at her brother.
‘There is a condition that Abbot Ségdae and I have agreed should be put to you.’
‘A condition?’ Fidelma returned from the door with suspicion on her features.
‘You are well acquainted with the abbey of Lios Mór.’ It was more of a statement than a question, for Colgú knew the answer.
‘Of course. I have sat in judgement in the abbey on minor matters when Brother Cathal was in charge in Abbot Iarnla’s absence.’
‘But you know old Abbot Iarnla?’
‘I do, but not well. I have only met him briefly.’
‘This morning Abbot Ségdae and I received a messenger from him asking for assistance.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘What type of assistance?’ she asked.
‘Some years ago you may recall that you advised on accusations that were being made against Brother Cathal and Brother Donnchad of Lios Mór.’
‘Indeed. The Prince of the Déisi, Maolochtair, had begun to see conspiracy in every quarter. But he was old, though none would dare declare him feeble of mind. He accused Cathal and his brother of conspiracy to overthrow him. Cathal and his blood brother Donnchad were of a princely family of the Déisi. I advised that they should leave on a pilgrimage and not return until a more opportune time. They left for the Holy Land and Maolochtair died while they were away. I remember it very well. I hear that Donnchad returned earlier this summer, while Cathal decided to settle in some city south of Rome.’
‘That is so. Brother Donnchad has returned to Lios Mór.’
‘So what is Abbot Iarnla’s problem?’
‘Brother Donnchad was found yesterday dead in his cell. He had been stabbed twice in the back. Yet he lay on his bed, on his back, as if in repose, and his door was locked from the inside. The abbey is in uproar.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened a fraction at the news.
Colgú continued, ‘Ségdae and I have sent a message, telling Abbot Iarnla that you will be setting out tomorrow for Lios Mór.’
Fidelma did not conceal her sudden excitement. During these last weeks she had found nothing to pit her intellect against and she found herself bored with doing nothing. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at dismissing her daily play with Alchú as ‘nothing’. But it was Muirgen who usually nursed the child. She had also gone riding, of course, and for the occasional swim, but – she had to admit it – without Eadulf, there seemed little enjoyment in these diversions. She had even taken to asking Brehon Baithen if there were any courts in which she could sit. That was when she had learned that Colgú’s Chief Brehon was ill and was resigning his office. In eighteen days, the King and his Council of Brehons would meet to make a decision on his
successor and Fidelma had decided that she would put herself forward for the office. Now she could hardly contain her excitement at being offered such an investigation; if handled well, it could only enhance her reputation.
successor and Fidelma had decided that she would put herself forward for the office. Now she could hardly contain her excitement at being offered such an investigation; if handled well, it could only enhance her reputation.
‘Thank you, brother, for choosing me,’ she said with a happy smile.
‘It was, frankly, not my choice,’ Colgú said, with a shake of his head. ‘It was Abbot Iarnla who specifically requested you,’ he replied dourly. ‘He remembered that you had resolved the problem with Maolochtair.’
‘It is still well,’ Fidelma replied, undeterred.
‘Then there is the condition that Ségdae and I would impose on you before you accept this undertaking,’ her brother added. ‘In sending to Abbot Iarnla and saying that you would attend him, we have presumed your acceptance of this condition.’
An expression of uncertainty crossed her features. ‘I shall not withdraw my request to the Council of Brehons,’ she said firmly.
‘I did not expect you to. The condition is that you are to be accompanied by one other.’
Her expression grew dark and ominous.
‘After all this time, you do not trust my experience?’ she said sharply.
‘On the countrary, I do trust your experience. Sometimes, however, I do not trust your emotions.’
‘Who have you foisted on me to investigate this matter?’ she demanded aggressively.
‘Someone you have worked well with in the past and to whom my kingdom owes a great debt. I have asked Brother Eadulf to be here by this afternoon.’
Fidelma stood for a moment, saying nothing. Colgú watched the emotions chase each other across her face until she brought them under control.
‘I had not imagined that you were a matchmaker, brother,’ she finally said in a tone of irony.
Colgú resumed his seat before responding.
‘Neither am I, sister. In such a matter as this, where the community of Lios Mór now speak of dark, supernatural deeds, I felt that I should send those best qualified to bring about a rational resolution. Do you deny that you and Eadulf have worked on such mysteries in the past and come to a logical resolution of them?’
‘I do not. Yet it seems that you have not accepted what I have said about Eadulf.’
‘I have understood exactly, Fidelma.’
‘He will not accept this,’ she said firmly. ‘He will not come.’
‘In that case, you are absolved from the condition and you may go alone.’
Fidelma hesitated. Her brother’s words suggested that he had no doubt Eadulf would come.
‘We shall see, then.’
Later, in her chamber, Fidelma sat alone and reflected on the situation. She had to admit to herself that she did hope Eadulf would come but Eadulf was a stubborn man and she had been particularly caustic with him during that last argument. She gazed moodily at the fire in the hearth as she remembered their parting. He had called her arrogant and accused her of being too concerned with her own wishes and having little or no concern for others. He had even told her that she was unwilling to tolerate other people’s opinions or beliefs. That was partially untrue. She knew her own faults.
It was when Eadulf had said that she had too much pride in herself and scorned others that she had lost her temper and told him to leave. It was true that she would not tolerate ignorance or false pride in others but her own pride … she did not think of it as pride to have faith in her knowledge of law and to pit that
knowledge against others. She did not tolerate fools gladly. That was not arrogance. She was not full of unwarranted pride or self-importance. It was only when she came up against those who would not treat her with the respect her knowledge of law warranted that she was forced to remind them that she held the second highest degree it was possible to obtain from the law schools. If they had no respect for that, then she reminded them that she was the daughter of a king and the sister of a king. It was so easy to be overwhelmed by the dictates of others that she was determined to repulse anything that she saw as an infringement of her independence. Was that being overbearing and haughty, as Eadulf pointed out?
knowledge against others. She did not tolerate fools gladly. That was not arrogance. She was not full of unwarranted pride or self-importance. It was only when she came up against those who would not treat her with the respect her knowledge of law warranted that she was forced to remind them that she held the second highest degree it was possible to obtain from the law schools. If they had no respect for that, then she reminded them that she was the daughter of a king and the sister of a king. It was so easy to be overwhelmed by the dictates of others that she was determined to repulse anything that she saw as an infringement of her independence. Was that being overbearing and haughty, as Eadulf pointed out?
Fidelma sighed deeply. She was aware that she was trying to justify her faults and that made her more irritable. At the same time, she tried to examine her feelings for Eadulf. He was only the second man she had allowed into her life. The first had been a young warrior called Cian who had awakened her sensuality as a girl and then brutally discarded her for another. She had barely been eighteen years old when she had met the handsome warrior of the High King’s bodyguard, the Fianna. Cian’s pursuit of her had been frivolous and her life had become a turmoil of conflicting emotions. The memory of Cian had haunted her until she had met him again on a pilgrim ship and events had caused her to realise the folly of the bitter-sweet intensity of her youthful affair.
And Eadulf ? Eadulf was very different to Cian. When she had first met him at the great synod held by King Oswy at Streoneshalh, she had not liked him but, by the end of the council, she reluctantly felt that he had become a friend. It had taken a long while before she had come to accept that friendship could become the basis of a partnership in marriage. Even then she had been cautious, first agreeing to a trial marriage of a year and a day, as was the custom of her people – to
become his
ben charrthach
under the law of the
Cáin Lánamnus,
and see if things worked out. She respected Eadulf’s intelligence; after all, he had once undertaken her legal defence when she was accused of murder and he had shown her to be innocent. She trusted him. They had been through much together. It hurt her when he did not realise just how much the profession of the law meant to her and out of this hurt she had been bitter in her attack on his proposal that they should remove from Cashel and join a community solely devoted to religious pursuits.
become his
ben charrthach
under the law of the
Cáin Lánamnus,
and see if things worked out. She respected Eadulf’s intelligence; after all, he had once undertaken her legal defence when she was accused of murder and he had shown her to be innocent. She trusted him. They had been through much together. It hurt her when he did not realise just how much the profession of the law meant to her and out of this hurt she had been bitter in her attack on his proposal that they should remove from Cashel and join a community solely devoted to religious pursuits.
She stirred again and sighed.
And there was their son, little Alchú. She suddenly felt guilt as she recalled her emotions following his birth more than three years ago. They had bordered on the resentful. Initially she had felt confined by the presence of the child and a responsibility she did not want. When she was called to investigate a series of murders at the great abbey of Finnbarr, she had had a wonderful feeling of freedom and then, returning to Cashel, of depression. She loved her child; she declared it fiercely to herself. Too fiercely? After his birth she had had all manner of depressive thoughts. She even began to question whether she was ready for marriage – marriage to anyone.
Her mind turned quickly back to Eadulf. She had concerns for him. She was concerned that, under the law of her people, theirs was not a marriage of equals. She was of royal rank and Eadulf, being a foreigner, did not have equal property rights with her. Did Eadulf still feel resentment because of this? She knew that she could not really contemplate an existence without Eadulf’s support. Who else would tolerate her sharp temper, which she accepted was her biggest fault? She enjoyed Eadulf’s company, his friendship and his tolerance. Perhaps she had taken it all for granted and when, a few weeks ago, he had proposed his idea of a withdrawal from Cashel … well, bitter words were exchanged. After he had left Cashel, she had felt a curious
isolation, a loneliness, which she had tried to cover with her fierce determination to pursue the law.
isolation, a loneliness, which she had tried to cover with her fierce determination to pursue the law.
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