Chalice of Blood

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fidelma cast a warning glance towards Eadulf before turning back to face Cumscrad. ‘The theft of books is a great crime according to the law,’ she said, ‘but who would go to such lengths and risk so much for such a theft?’

‘It was for the theft of a book that Colmcille was exiled from the Five Kingdoms,’ Cumscrad pointed out.

Eadulf was astonished at the remark, for he had long held Colmcille as a great pillar and teacher of the Faith. This man appeared to be calling him a thief.

‘What are you saying? That the Blessed Colmcille of Iona, whose abbey brought the new Faith to the lands of the Angles and Saxons, was a book thief?’ he queried.

‘The story is well known,’ Cumscrad returned dismissively.

‘Colm Crimthain, whom you call Columba, went to stay with Finnén at the abbey of Maghbhile,’ explained Fidelma. ‘Finnén had a copy of a gospel from the abbey of the Blessed Martin and Colm coveted it. So each night he went to the abbey library and copied the gospel. Finnén discovered what he was doing and took his complaint to the High King Diarmait mac Cerbaill and his Chief Brehon. The judgement was given that just as every calf belongs to its cow, so every copy belongs to its original. In making a copy without permission, he was in fact stealing the book.’

‘But to be exiled for that …’ began Eadulf.

Fidelma smiled and shook her head. ‘That was not the reason why Colm was exiled. He was not only a religious but also a hot-headed prince of his people — the Cenel Conaill, a sept of the Uí Néill of the north. He raised his clan and physically challenged the High King and his Brehon over their ruling. There was a terrible battle at Cúl Dreimne at the foot of the mountain called Binn Ghulbainn. Many fell in that dreadful clash but the High King’s warriors prevailed and Colm was banished from the Five Kingdoms as a punishment. That was when he went to Iona.’

‘All that just because he copied a book?’ said Eadulf in amazement.

‘Is not a book of more value than metal?’ asked Cumscrad. ‘It is the fruit of a person’s brain and contains knowledge and ideas; it has power greater than gold because knowledge and ideas can change people.’

‘And some books can be dangerous.’ The comment came ominously from Brother Lugna who had been standing quietly all this time.

‘I am sure the songs of the chief bard of the Five Kingdoms cannot be dangerous,’ Fidelma said with a smile, being deliberately obtuse. She turned to Eadulf. ‘Dallán Forgaill died nearly a century ago and was regarded by all as the greatest bard in the Five Kingdoms. But he was killed out of jealousy,’ she added significantly. ‘I would say that even the works of Dallán Forgaill are rare.’

‘We have a library of several ancient works, lady,’ Cumscrad said proudly. ‘Fortunately, we even retain some of the books that were not destroyed by the early zeal of those proselytising for the new Faith. Works that reflect the mind and spirit of our ancestors, which would otherwise have been lost in the book-burning.’

Brother Lugna scowled and almost hissed, ‘Heretical works. Works of pagan idolatry!’

‘Works such as that of Celsus?’ asked Fidelma innocently.

‘Exactly so! There is only one book that should exist and that is the gospel bearing the good news of the Faith.’

Cumscrad regarded the steward with an expression akin to pity and said softly, ‘Timeo hominem unius libri.’

Fidelma gave the chieftain an approving glance, for the adage was: ‘I fear the man of one book.’ Trying to argue with someone who believed that the literal statement of one book was sufficient knowledge to form a dogma was difficult.

‘The burning of books must surely be a crime against culture and civilisation,’ Eadulf remarked.

‘I agree with you, Saxon.’ Cumscrad chuckled cynically. ‘That should have been explained to Patrick the Briton who, according to his friend and biographer Benignus, ordered the burning of eighty books of the Druids.’

‘Druidical books! Pagan idolatry!’ hissed Brother Lugna again.

‘Books that would have helped us understand our past, without which we are condemned to live in ignorance,’ observed Fidelma quietly.

‘Heresy!’ replied the steward. ‘I will not listen to such conversation.’

‘Indeed, there is no need for you to remain,’ Fidelma told him. ‘The abbot and I will reach a conclusion as to what is to be done in this matter.’

It was a direct challenge to the steward. He stood for a moment, undecided. His chin was raised belligerently as he stared at her. He saw the sparkle of fire in her eyes, hesitated a moment more, then turned and left the room without another word.

Cumscrad grimaced in satisfaction. ‘An unpleasant fellow, Iarnla. What possessed you to appoint him as your steward?’

Abbot Iarnla glanced at Fidelma and made a hopeless gesture with his hands. He was far from happy.

‘You said that the books that were stolen were copies of originals? ’ Eadulf asked to distract the chief’s attention.

‘It took our scribes over a year to make them and in that lies their value.’

Fidelma turned back to Cumscrad. ‘It will be my brother’s wish to avoid the unnecessary spilling of blood, so I warn you not to raise your clan against Uallachán of the Uí Liatháin before I have had time to properly investigate the matter. We must then place the evidence before Uallachán and allow him to submit his rebuttal. Do you agree with that, Cumscrad?’

The chief thought for a moment and then gave a quick smile of agreement. ‘I do, for I favour things being done in accordance with the law.’

‘Then what I suggest is, after the midday meal, we set out for your township of Fhear Maighe so that I can question the bargemen and librarian. Then I shall ride to Uallachán of the Uí Liatháin and put the matter to him.’

Abbot Iarnla was frowning. ‘But what of your inquiry here? This means you may be gone two days or so.’

‘There are some things I must consider before making my report on the death of Brother Donnchad. But have no fear. I should be able to announce my findings soon.’

‘Then you have come to a decision on the death of Brother Donnchad?’ demanded the abbot in surprise.

‘I will let you know soon.’

Cumscrad was shaking his head sadly. ‘Ah, Brother Donnchad. He did not look a happy man when I saw him.’

‘Did you know Brother Donnchad then?’ Fidelma asked with interest.

‘Who did not?’ replied Cumscrad. ‘He was well known even before he went off on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land. It wasonly a few days after he came to Fhear Maighe that I heard he was dead.’

‘After he came to Fhear Maighe? Are you saying that you met him there a few days before his death?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘That is what I said. He spent the day at Fhear Maighe and only a few days later we heard of his death. It was a shock that …’ He paused as he noticed the expressions of surprise on the faces of his audience. ‘But you must have known of his visit, Iarnla. Brother Donnchad would have sought permission to leave the abbey to ride to Fhear Maighe, isn’t that the rule?’

Abbot Iarnla nodded uneasily.

‘It was noted that Brother Donnchad had disappeared for a day without telling anyone where he was going,’ Fidelma told Cumscrad before the abbot could reply. ‘That was four days before he was found murdered. So now we know. What was the purpose of his visit to you?’

‘He did not come to visit me,’ replied Cumscrad.

‘But you said-’

‘He came to Fhear Maighe but he went to visit our tech-screptra.’

‘Your library?’

‘Brother Donnchad came to examine some of the texts that we hold in our library.’

‘Which ones?’ Eadulf could not disguise the hint of excitement in his voice.

‘I don’t know. You would have to ask Dubhagan our leabhar coimedach.’

‘How long did he spend at the library?’ Fidelma pressed.

‘I met him when he was departing in the evening,’ admitted Cumscrud. ‘But I was told that he had arrived early that morning.’

‘So he spent the entire day in the library? He went nowhere else when he was at Fhear Maighe?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Was his visit unusual? I mean, had he ever visited the library before?’

Cumscrad smiled and shook his head. ‘I had encountered Brother Donnchad only twice previously, when I visited this abbey. However, he did employ my son to make copies at our library. My son, Cunán, is assistant at the library and has a reputation for the fairness of his copies. Not that Brother Donnchad approved of many of the books the library holds. He was somewhat like our friend the steward.’

‘Like Brother Lugna?’

‘He claimed that our library was full of profane and heretical works. He had never expressed a wish to visit us before he arrived on that day.’

‘Didn’t that arouse your curiosity?’ Fidelma asked. ‘The fact that he suddenly turned up at a place abhorrent to his thinking?’

‘I gave it a passing thought, no more. I knew he was an intelligent man and thought that perhaps he had reconsidered his attitude.’

‘And within a few days of his returning from your library, he is found murdered,’ muttered Eadulf and immediately received another warning glance from Fidelma.

‘What are you implying, Brother Eadulf?’ demanded the chief quickly.

‘Eadulf meant that it would be of benefit to know the reason why he visited your library. We may learn the answer by speaking to your librarian this afternoon.’ She rose determinedly from her chair. ‘As it is now well past the hour for the etar-shod, the midday meal, I suggest that we partake of refreshment before we set out with you, Cumscrad.’

‘I have no objection to that.’

The refectorium was deserted and so the meal was a frugal one with just the four of them being served cold meats and cheeses with cold water from the abbey fountain. As they rose to leave, Cumscrad lingered a moment.

‘I will see you at the gate shortly. I have one other small matter to speak to Abbot Iarnla about,’ he said.

‘We have some things to pick up from the guesthouse so we will meet in the courtyard in a little while.’

As they left, Fidelma caught sight of Gormán in the quadrangle. He was obviously waiting for them. She felt a tinge of guilt in case he had not eaten but he assured her that he had gone into the refectorium when the bell for the midday meal had sounded.

‘Ask Brother Echen to saddle our horses and be ready to join Cumscrad and his men. We may be away for a day or two.’

Gormán was surprised. ‘Are we going to Fhear Maighe, lady?’

‘We are.’

‘I thought there was something in the wind because the steward came hurrying into the courtyard some time ago. He looked angry. He seized Glassán, spoke swiftly to him. Glassán took a horse from the stable and rode rapidly away.’

Fidelma frowned. She had forgotten about Brother Lugna.

‘Did you notice which way Glassán went?’

Gormán shook his head. ‘Only that he rode through the abbey gates as quickly as I have ever seen a man move on a horse. Whether he turned east or west, I did not see.’

‘Well, no matter,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It may not be relevant. Get the horses ready.’

She and Eadulf went to the tech-oíged to pack a few things in case they were obliged to spend more time away than Fidelma expected. On their return to the quadrangle, they found Gormán and Brother Echen waiting in front of the stables with her white horse Aonbharr and Eadulf’s cob already saddled.

Fidelma took the opportunity to ask Brother Echen about what he had told Gormán. ‘You mentioned to Gormán the other day that your cousin told you that a building Glassán was working on in Laighin had fallen down and killed several people.’

‘I did so,’ the stableman replied.

‘I just wondered if you knew where that building was located?’

‘It was in the country of the Uí Dúnlainge,’ Brother Echen replied immediately. ‘In the south of the kingdom.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

Brother Echen thought for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Alas,’ he said after a moment or two, ‘all my cousin knew was that it was a chief who lived on the southern coast. Anyway, it was some ten years ago. Glassán was not held directly responsible; he was deemed to have neglected his contractual duty by not overseeing the work and then trying to blame others.’

Fidelma was about to ask another question when Cumscrad emerged from the refectorium with Abbot Iarnla. Brother Echen, with a muttered apology, hurried into the stables and returned with the chief’s horse and led it across to him.

‘Do you think that it is more than a coincidence that Brother Donnchad went to this library and that a copy of the book he was interested in was later stolen?’ asked Eadulf quietly as they mounted up

‘I do not believe in such coincidences, Eadulf,’ replied Fidelma. ‘But let us keep this between ourselves.’ She glanced at Gormán; the young warrior was pretending to be absorbed in adjusting his horse’s bridle. ‘We’ll explain later, Gormán.’

‘I notice that Cumscrad does not call his scriptor by the Latin title,’ Eadulf said.

‘The library of Fhear Maighe is still a secular one.’

While the religious had taken over many of the professions, there were still some secularists fulfilling the roles of poets, doctors, lawyers and other official functions, and many libraries remained unattached to the new abbeys.

‘That surprises me. I would have thought that Fhear Maighe was too remote to have a library, particularly one that is notpart of a religious institution. I thought that the members of the Faith now controlled all the intellectual pursuits.’

‘It would be a sorry day if everyone agreed on how we should think or what we should do,’ responded Fidelma. ‘There would not be much individuality left in the world. But there is a curious pattern emerging here. Brother Donnchad wanted to see a copy of Celsus’s work. Brother Donnán tells us that he saw a response to that work by Origenes but that work has been sent to Ard Mór abbey. Cumscrad says the original of Celsus’s work is in Fhear Maighe, but that a copy on its way to Ard Mór has been stolen.’

‘Isn’t Ard Mór in the territory of the Uí Liatháin?’

‘It is in the territory of the Déisi but stands on the opposite side of the river to Uí Liatháin territory — the same Great River that flows from here.’

‘I wonder how Brother Donnchad heard or knew that Celsus’s book was at Fhear Maighe,’ mused Eadulf. ‘What about the other book — the poems of Dallán Forgaill?’

‘It is of no consequence. The thieves were after the work by Celsus, I am sure. Dallán’s poems are no danger to the Faith.’

At that moment Cumscrad came trotting towards them on his black mare.

‘Ride alongside me, Fidelma. My warriors are waiting outside the abbey to escort us.’

Indeed, just outside, a group of half a dozen warriors were sitting on a grassy knoll indulging in a game of chance which involved throwing dísle, or dice. They scrambled to their feet when they saw their chief and hurriedly set about collecting their horses, which were tethered nearby. Within moments two of them had placed themselves at the head while the others fell in behind and the entire party was on the road, riding due west.

The afternoon’s ride passed pleasantly enough and the groupkept a fairly good pace leaving Lios Mór on the roadway that ran along the south bank of The Great River. Fidelma rode with Cumscrad, with Eadulf and Gormán behind. The pace was comfortable even for Eadulf. He enjoyed the ride in the mild afternoon sunshine. The hills to the south of them looked peaceful, large and rounded with thick woods carpeting them. There were plenty of rivulets and streams that tumbled and gushed down these hills to empty into The Great River, An Abhainn Mhór. There was no shortage of places to water the horses.

‘I can see why you call it simply The Great River,’ Eadulf observed, nodding towards the flowing water. ‘It’s large enough. Though in truth I have seen broader rivers in my travels.’

Gormán grinned, shaking his head, and replied, ‘It is not named because of its width, Brother Eadulf.’

‘Then it must be its length, for I understand it rises in the mountains a far distance to the west and bends southwards, flowing down to the sea.’

‘Again, not so, my friend,’ the warrior replied. ‘It is called The Great River as a euphemism. It is not its real name.’ Eadulf gave him a questioning glance and Gormán continued: ‘In the old days, before the coming of the new Faith, the river was called the Nemh, which meant immeasurable, sacred and heavenly. In that lies its greatness.’

Eadulf recognised the word, which also applied to a saintly person. ‘A sacred river?’

‘Many of the rivers in this land are named after the old gods or goddesses. They are dedicated to sacred deities.’

‘That is the custom in many countries I have visited,’ Eadulf said.

‘I have not travelled beyond the Five Kingdoms,’ Gormán replied regretfully. ‘But my people regard some rivers or places as being so sacred that their real name is never mentioned.As with The Great River here. There is a geis upon speaking its name.’

‘I have heard of the geis. Isn’t it a prohibition or taboo which, if broken, results in serious consequences?’

‘Yes.’ Gormán smiled grimly. ‘Breaking a geis could result in death or bring misfortune on your family.’

‘I had not realised that it could apply to uttering certain names.’

‘Very much so. For example, the sun and moon were considered sacred objects in the old days and their real names were names of gods. But the Druids forbade those names to be used, so we have several terms for them. For example, as you well know, we call the moon simply “the brightness”, or “the queen of the night”, and many more names besides. No one is allowed to call it by the name of the goddess it represents.’

‘So we can be sure that this river was named after a powerful pagan god?’

‘Yes. I have heard that along its great length there are still spots where people gather to make obeisance to the spirits of the river.’

They were approaching a large hill to the south, which Gormán told him was called the Hill of the Stone Ridge because of its obvious feature. Just before this point, the track they were following meandered away from the river. The river’s path came directly from the north for awhile but the track continued west through thick forests.

Suddenly one of the leading warriors gave a cry and pointed with his outstretched arm.

Some distance away to the south a band of horsemen was riding swiftly across the hills. They were a dozen or more. They were heading towards the south-east.

‘Warriors,’ muttered Cumscrad with narrowed eyes. ‘Uí Liatháin, from the colour of the battle emblem their leader is carrying.’

Fidelma stared at the distant riders. Their small party had halted and they heard a distant shout. The warriors had seen them and the leader had halted them in turn.

‘We are not enough swords to hold them, should they attack, lady,’ called Gormán. ‘Two, perhaps three, to one.’

The warrior band was still for a moment or two, seeming to return their observation.

‘Be prepared to ride,’ called Cumscrad, for he realised that discretion was the better part of valour.

Then suddenly the leader of the warriors raised his arm in a signal and, as one, the band turned and disappeared over the shoulder of the distant hill.

Cumscrad sniffed derisively. ‘Cowards!’

‘Are you sure that they were Uí Liatháin?’ asked Fidelma, frowning at the place where the warriors had disappeared.

‘You saw their battle standard,’ Cumscrad replied. ‘It was white with the head of a grey fox on it. That is their emblem.’

‘My eyes are not as good as yours, Cumscrad,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘I saw only a white flag. But I accept that the odds are that they were Uí Liatháin. Whoever they were, I am concerned about the direction they were coming from.’

For a moment Cumscrad did not understand what she meant and then he looked to where the men had first appeared. An oath fell from his lips.

‘Forward!’ he shouted. ‘Forward to Fhear Maighe!’

Abruptly, they were racing forward along the track into the straddling woods. As they rode through the woodland, the cries of birds seemed unusually loud. Even Eadulf raised his eyes to the dark canopy of branches spread above them. Something was exciting the birds, that much was obvious. They suddenly emerged on to the edge of some cultivated fields, which overlooked Cumscrad’s main township of Fhear Maighe. It lay below themalong the south bank of The Great River. Cumscrad let out a great shout.

It was but a fraction of a second before they saw what had caused it. Below them, near the bank of the river on the edge of the town, a building was on fire. They could see smoke billowing. Borne into the air on a southerly breeze, it was black and ominous. Even from this distance they could all see the red and yellow tongues of flame leaping into the air.

‘The library!’ cried Cumscrad, digging his heels into his horse. ‘The library is on fire!’