Master of Souls

CHAPTER FOUR

F idelma rose from the bench to examine the bloodstained robes that Eadulf held out to her.

‘Indeed, it is dried blood and splattered in such quantity that the wearer must have bled profusely or been in contact with someone whose blood has drenched their clothing.’ She gave an appreciative look at Eadulf. ‘Well done. Now, is there a way of finding out the identity of the wearer?’

Brother Cu Mara was staring at the clothes with a curious frown.

‘Did you not ask Sister Sinnchene?’ he inquired. ‘She is very particular about the washing and would not mix such stained garments with the other clothing for wash.’

Eadulf looked a little crestfallen.

‘I was so agitated by the discovery that I came straightway to inform you, Fidelma. Sister Sinnchene was not in the tech-nigid when I discovered them and so I did not think to ask. They were certainly in a pile set to one side,’ he added defensively to the young steward.

Fidelma reached out a hand to touch Eadulf’s arm.

‘Go now and repair the omission. Seek the identity of the wearer of these garments but do not approach them until I am ready. I see,’ she glanced across the herb garden, ‘Conri has returned and that must be the merchant with him. I will deal with him and then we will pursue the wearer of these clothes.’

A little downcast, for he realised that he should have discovered the information before coming to Fidelma, Eadulf nodded and went back to the tech-nigid.

Fidelma turned to watch Conri approaching with his companion. Mugron looked more like a sailor than a merchant. He was a stocky man, barrel-chested and walking, arms akimbo, with the rolling gait of

‘Greetings, Fidelma of Cashel. We have met before.’ He had a deep, rasping voice.

Fidelma frowned, searching her memory but gave up with a shake of her head.

‘I do not recall…’ she began.

The merchant interrupted with a smile.

‘You would not. You were a little girl. I was a young merchant, sailing my ship up the River Siur to the trading post that serves Cashel. Maenach mac Fingin was king at that time. You and your brother had come down to the quay to see my boat come in.’

Memory came back to her. Her father, King Failbe Flann, had died when she was a baby. She had little memory of her father’s successor, King Cuan, who had also died when she was four or five years of age. But Maenach had been king during most of her childhood until she had been sent away to study under the great Brehon Morann at Tara. She and her brother Colgu had looked upon Maenach as a kindly uncle for he was certainly, in their eyes, old enough to be so, although he was actually their first cousin. He had been the son of Fingin, the elder brother of their father Failbe Flann. He had looked after Fidelma and Colgu well, ensuring that they were properly educated. He had died two years before she had set out for the great Synod at Hilda’s Abbey in Northumbria, and another cousin, Cathal, had taken the throne until he died of the Yellow Plague. Maenach had been the only relative that she could think of in terms of what it must have been like to have a father. And she did remember playing along the banks of the great Siur with her brother and watching the trading boats coming up and down the river.

‘Lady?’

She started and guiltily realised that she had drifted off into the world of her remembrance. She brought herself back to the herb garden and to the gaze of the stocky merchant and Conri. It was Brother Cu Mara who had spoken.

‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I was trying to recall something, but no matter. Come, let us sit awhile, Mugron. I want you to tell me the story of how you came to find the body of the Abbess Faife.’

She and the merchant seated themselves on the wooden bench while Conri and the steward took up positions nearby.

‘It was purely by accident,’ the merchant began and then hesitated. ‘I am not sure where to start.’

Fidelma smiled encouragement.

‘Let us start with how you came to be on that road in the land of the Corco Duibhne.’

The merchant paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts.

‘As you have probably been told, I am the main merchant in this area and dwell on the coast to the south-west of here.’

‘I have been told,’ confirmed Fidelma solemnly.

‘I have several ships and we do good business along this coast and often have commissions to supply goods to the abbeys.’ He paused. ‘Several weeks ago, I set out to trade some goods with the Corco Duibhne. I deal regularly with them.’

‘You set out on foot?’

Mugron shook his head.

‘The easiest way to transport goods is a short sail from the port of An Bhearbha across the great inlet to the peninsula, which is their territory. In good weather it is a simple run due west, then around a finger of land that pokes up from the peninsula to a group of islands, through these and round into Breanainn’s Bay. There is a good landing in the bay and that is where many of the merchants of the Corco Duibhne gather. Also it is not a hard climb into the mountains, to Breanainn’s mount where this abbey keeps a small community at the very spot where the founder-’

‘I know of Breanainn’s mount,‘interrupted Fidelma, suppressing a sigh of restlessness. ‘So you went to Breanainn’s Bay on the north side of the peninsula by ship to trade. How was it that you were later on foot on the south side of the peninsula heading eastward away from your ship?’ She hesitated as another thought occurred to her. ‘How was it that the Abbess Faife did not take her charges by this quicker and easier route to Breanainn’s mount? Why, in the midwinter snows, was she taking her charges on foot on what was surely the longest way to her objective?’

Brother Cu Mara coughed awkwardly.

‘If I might remind you, lady? There were two good reasons. One reason being that her first goal was the abbey of Colman where she had business. It is easier to get there on foot from Ard Fhearta. But she always

‘Of course, of course,’ cut in Fidelma sharply. ‘I had forgotten that point for a moment. ‘But it still does not explain why you, Mugron, should have abandoned your ship for such an arduous route home?’

Mugron was smiling broadly.

‘As I said, lady, there is no quicker route with fair weather and a westerly wind to bring you from the great bay back to my safe little harbour here. The journey there was fine enough. We had a good breeze blowing off the coast from the east and there were no problems. But not long after we landed and were exchanging cargoes, the winds rose, the snows came down and we were forced to seek shelter close inshore. I had business that would not wait and so I negotiated for a fine horse from a local trader. I left my ship, telling my crew to wait until the weather improved before setting out to return here.

‘I took the route south-west through the mountains to pay my respects to Slebene, the chieftain of the Corco Duibhne, at his fortress of Daingean. It did not put me out of my way. I could also proceed to the abbey of Colman and conclude some other business. Then the ride home would be easy.’

‘I see. Go on.’

Mugron massaged his forehead with his fingertips for a moment.

‘Perhaps I should tell you that Brother Maidiu, who is in charge of the community on Breanainn’s mount, had come down to see me at the ship. We carried supplies for him.’

‘And?’

‘He told me that he was worried as he had been expecting the Abbess Faife and some of her companions. It was the first time that she had not turned up on the day they usually celebrated the enlightenment of the Blessed Breanainn on the mountain.’

‘So she was already overdue?’

‘She was.’

Fidelma turned to the young steward.

‘How many are there in this community under Brother Maidiu?’

Brother Cu Mara smiled.

‘To call it a community is merely to flatter it, lady. He has no more than three or four Brothers of the Faith who reside on the mountain all year round. It is a cold and harsh environment and only suitable for those who have a vocation for the life.’

‘I see.’ She returned to the merchant. ‘I am sorry. Please continue.’

‘When I had made my mind up to continue on horseback, I told Brother Maidiu that I would look out for Abbess Faife along the road as I was sure that she was on the way but had probably been caught up and delayed by the snows.’

He paused, as if to gather his thoughts again.

‘I left the fortress, An Daingean, and rode along the south coast road eastward towards the abbey of Colman. It is a long straight track with mountains on one side and the sea’s great inlet on the other. On a pleasant, dry day, it is an easy ride. The abbey of Colman lies about thirty-five or so kilometres from Daingean. I was confident of reaching there before nightfall. The wind was from the south-west, so it was, thanks be, at my back, but the snow was falling thickly and it was causing drifts. I was feeling quite exhausted when I reached the place that is called simply the Island, where, until a short time ago, Uaman, Lord of the Passes, had his fortress. It is in blackened ruins now for the people rose up against him-’

Fidelma nodded quickly.

‘We have heard the story,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

‘Near there is a disused coirceogach, a round stone hut, where I have sheltered several times. I thought that I would rest again and try to dry my clothes, keeping out of the snow for a while, rather than press on the remaining distance to the abbey. I had no difficulty locating the place despite the drifting snow, for I had the position of Uaman’s island to guide me.’

‘The coirceogach is easy to find,’ added Conri.

‘What was your first impression?’ queried Fidelma. ‘Were there any signs of disturbance around that you noticed?’

The merchant shook his head.

‘Don’t forget, lady, the snow was coming thick and fast. I saw nothing but a white blanket across the ground. I tried to pull my horse into the shelter of some trees and made towards the entrance of the coirceogach. I was aware that I had trodden on something that did not feel right. I don’t know how else to explain it. But it was not hard like ground or rock and when I looked down I saw there was something dark beneath the snow. I scraped away and realised it was a body.’

He paused and passed a hand over his forehead as if to wipe it

‘My first thought was to rebury it but… but then I realised that it

‘Why did you do that?’

‘My idea was to preserve the body as best I could. If I left it where it was, someone else might find it. My thought was then to hurry on to Ard Fhearta to report the matter for, as I say, it was clear that she had been murdered.’

‘And you saw nothing else which would give any indication as to why she came by her death? No sign of what might have happened to her companions?’

Mugron shook his head firmly.

‘I was halfway to the abbey of Colman when I realised about her companions,’ he confessed. ‘But there had been no sign of anyone else. As I have said, the snow lay thick on the ground. It had been snowing on and off for several days.’

‘So there were no other bodies?’

‘Not where I found that of the abbess.’

She looked at him sharply. ‘Does that imply there were other bodies in the vicinity?’

Mugron nodded. ‘There must have been some wreck along the coast. There was fresh wreckage nearby, floating along the shore, and among it were one or two bodies. There was nothing I could do about them. Remember, I was alone.’

Fidelma sat back and was silent for a few moments. Then she asked: ‘Your first intention was to enter the coirceogach and get dry. Did you go in at all?’

The merchant hesitated.

‘I did, but only for a moment.’

‘And there was nothing inside that presented you with any information as to what might have happened?’

‘I saw that the fire had recently been used.’ He frowned. ‘There was some discarded clothing in a corner.’

Conri nodded in agreement.

‘The rags were still there when we returned. There was also a water-soaked boot by them.’

Fidelma raised an inquisitive face to the warlord of the Ui Fidgente.

‘A boot?’

Instead of using the word cuaran for an ordinary shoe he had used the word coisbert for something larger.

‘It was the sort of boot that a seaman might wear,’ the merchant chimed in. ‘But it was of foreign origin.’

Fidelma regarded him with interest.

‘How do you know that?’

Mugron smiled complacently.

‘It is my trade, lady. If I did not know a native boot from a foreign one, I would be a poor merchant. This boot was one that I would expect to see in Gaul. In fact, I would say it was a type that many of the seamen of Armorica wear.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘When I returned with lord Conri, we examined the clothes and the boot.’

‘What did you do with them?’

‘We left them in the hut.’

There was a silence as Fidelma considered the information. After a while, she said: ‘There is nothing else that you can tell me?’

‘Nothing, lady.’

‘Nothing that struck your mind about the scene that caused you any thought? Even if it was unrelated to the death of the abbess?’

The merchant was about to shake his head when he caught himself.

‘There was something?’ Fidelma pressed.

Mugron shrugged. ‘It was absolutely unrelated. I mentioned the wreckage of the ship and the bodies. A lot of ships have foundered around that coast. I just noticed that it looked very recent. The timbers that lay along the shore had not been discoloured. It was just a passing thought, no more. Then I went on.’

‘I see,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘So it might be that your Gaulish boot might have come from a survivor of that wreck. A ship from Gaul.’

Mugron responded only with a faint shrug.

‘And all this occurred about ten days ago?’ she asked.

‘More like fifteen days now.’

Fidelma gave a soft sigh and sat back.

‘Well, Mugron, I will not detain you further. If I want to talk to you again how shall I find you? At this harbour of yours? An Bhearbha?’

‘Ask anyone and they will direct you to me. But within a day or so, I have a cargo to run to Breanainn’s Bay.’

‘Ah, then it may well be that I might need to book a passage on your vessel for my companions and myself.’

‘You would be most welcome, lady.’

The burly merchant rose from the seat and bowed stiffly towards her. As he was turning to leave, Fidelma called softly: ‘Oh, and Mugron… my thanks for reminding me of a pleasant period in my life. My childhood on the banks of the River Siur. They were good times.’

The merchant answered with a smile and raised a hand in salutation before leaving the herb garden.

For some time Fidelma sat in silence, turning over in her mind the information that she had garnered.

Finally, an anxious clearing of his throat by Brother Cu Mara attracted her attention. She looked up and realised the steward and Conr were waiting for her to speak.

‘What now, lady?’ Brother Cu Mara asked anxiously.

‘What now, Brother?’ She stood up. ‘Now we shall go in search of Brother Eadulf and discover what he has found out about the bloodstained clothing.’

She quickly explained to Conri about Eadulf’s find in the washing house.

Brother Cu Mara led the way to the tech-nigid, a wooden structure conveniently sited next to a stream which gushed from a spring and made its way across the hillside on which the abbey buildings were distributed. As they approached, Eadulf was emerging with the bloodstained clothing in his arms.

‘I have the names of the owners,’ he said in triumph, as he saw them.

‘Then let us have a word with them,’ Fidelma replied.

‘The first is Brother Feolaigid,’ Eadulf said.

Brother Cu Mara guffawed immediately.

They turned on him with some astonishment.

‘You seem amused, Brother,’ Fidelma observed coldly. ‘Is there some joke that can be shared with us?’

The young rechtaire did not lose his expression of amusement.

‘I will take you to where Brother Feolaigid is working,’ he said in a

Brother Cu Mara led the way to a far corner of the abbey complex, to a building also alongside another of the numerous little streams that were to be found in this countryside. In construction it was rather like the tech-nigid. The doors stood wide open and as they approached Eadulf became aware of an odour he could not quite identify. There was a sound, too. It was halfway between someone chopping wood and the smack of something heavy on flesh.

‘This is where Brother Feolaigid works,’ the young steward said, this time scarcely able to conceal the mirth in his voice.

At the door, peering into the interior of the building, they saw a burly man with an axe, hewing at a carcass. Blood was everywhere. The carcass was that of a pig. The man was expertly reducing it to joints of meat. Around him, hanging on metal hooks, hung large joints and whole carcasses of more pigs and lambs.

‘Brother Feolaigid is our butcher.’ There was no disguising the amusement in Brother Cu Mara’s voice. ‘If there was no blood on his robes, it would be more of a mystery than otherwise.’

Fidelma turned with irritation on her face and was about to launch into a homily on the wasting of a dalaigh ’s time. Then she glanced at Eadulf and the look on his face made her suddenly chuckle.

‘Well, Brother,’ she turned back to the rechtaire, ‘you have had your little joke on us. But there is still another bloodstained robe to be accounted for.’

Eadulf was clearly irritated.

‘Your brethren would seem to over-indulge in eating the flesh of animals,’ he observed testily to the steward. ‘Such indulgence in meat eating is frowned upon in Rome.’

The young rechtaire ’s expression was smug.

‘I have heard the Venerable Mac Faosma quote from an ancient book upon which our religion is founded and which the Greeks called “the beginning” — Genesis. In this holy book God tells Noah, “Every creature that lives and moves shall be food for you.”’

Conr, not really understanding the cause of Eadulf’s ill-humour and believing him not to know the widespread practice of eating various meats in the country, added: ‘The abbey has many people to sustain, Brother Eadulf. It has its own flocks of sheep, even cows to provide milk and indrechtan and marog.’

Eadulf, who was just being surly and certainly had no real objection to meat eating, did not understand the words that Conri used and said so.

It was Fidelma who explained.

‘They are meat dishes in which the intestines of a pig, cow or sheep are stuffed with minced meat to which is added grain or diced apple. Then they are boiled and put aside until wanted. They are regarded as great delicacies in many parts of the country. Now let us not waste time. To whom does the other bloodstained robe belong?’

‘Sister Uallann,’ Eadulf replied.

Brother Cu Mara turned away and coughed several times as if to hide some urge to laugh. Fidelma waited impatiently while he recovered.

‘Now take us to where this Sister Uallann works,’ she snapped.

It was Conr who answered.

‘There will probably be as good a reason for Sister Uallann’s robes to be bloodstained as there was for the robes of Brother Feolaigid,’ he said quietly.

‘Indeed?’ said Fidelma defensively. ‘Do you know this Sister Uallann?’ The warlord of the Ui Fidgente nodded.

‘She is the physician of the abbey, lady. It was she who examined and prepared the corpse of my aunt, the Abbess Faife, when we brought it here for burial.’

Fidelma let out a long, low exasperated sigh.

‘And doubtless did the same for the Venerable Cinaed?’

Brother Cu Mara had regained his composure.

‘Indeed, she did, lady. I am afraid the bloodstained clothing that Brother Eadulf has found will lead you nowhere.’

Eadulf was trying to hide his embarrassment.

‘Does this abbey have a woman physician?’

‘Do you not have women physicians among your own people?’ demanded Conr in amusement at the other’s discomfiture. ‘In ancient times, there was a cult of women who followed the teachings of Airmed, daughter of the old god of healing. She was said to be the first to identify all the healing herbs. We have always had female physicians.’

Eadulf, who had studied the apothecary’s art for a time at Tuam Brecain, knew the fact well enough. His cheeks were crimson with mortification and he was merely doing his best to avoid Fidelma’s censure. He should

‘You better return the clothing to Sister Sinnchene,’ she told him. ‘But I want to see this physician anyway, so we will speak to her now.’

Eadulf’s mouth became a thin slit of anger as he departed back along the path to the tech-nigid.

Sober-faced now, Brother Cu Mara led the way along the path towards the main abbey buildings.

‘Those are the quarters for the bachelors.’ The rechtaire indicated one building with a gesture of his head. ‘The married rooms are behind there and beyond are the quarters for the unmarried sisters.’

‘Are there many people in this abbey?’ inquired Fidelma.

‘Scarcely more than five hundred souls,’ Brother Cu Mara replied.

‘It is surely enough,’ Fidelma observed with surprise.

‘We have heard that the great abbey at Ard Macha boasts the attendance of seven thousand students and then there are members of the Faith who instruct them.’

Fidelma had passed through Ard Macha, which lay in the northern kingdom of the Ui Neill. She had been sent there to get instructions from Bishop Ultan on her way to the great council in Northumbria, and had found Ard Macha too crowded, too city-like and ostentatious for her. And, she had to confess, she was not impressed with Ultan, who seemed the product of his environment for he, too, was ostentatious and full of his own importance. As his abbey had been founded by the Blessed Patrick, who was now being claimed as the first preacher of the word of Christ in the five kingdoms, Ultan was seeking recognition as the Primate, the head of all the churches in the kingdoms. Violent arguments were springing up, especially from Imleach which the bishop and abbot pointed out had been founded by Ailbe, who had preached Christianity in the five kingdoms before Patrick, as had many others.

‘Ard Macha should not be judged by the numbers of people who live there but by what it achieves in the manner of the lives of those it influences,’ Fidelma said now.

Brother Cu Mara had paused before a stone building set slightly apart from the main structures of the abbey and indicated a door.

‘This is the apothecary of Sister Uallann, lady.’

He tapped gently at the door.

A voice curtly bade them enter.

Inside the large room, the pungent scents of a hundred hanging herbs and plants was overwhelming, mixed as they were with an odour rising from a cauldron in which a strange-looking liquid was bubbling over a fire. Benches filled with amphorae, jugs and pots stretched round the room. Above one bench was a shelf containing several ageing manuscript books. At one end was a table made of a thick block of wood that was almost large enough for two people to lie down upon. Its stained and grooved surface showed to what use an apothecary could put it.

Nearby, at a smaller table, sat a woman with mortar and pestle, pounding something in the bowl.

She was almost masculine in facial appearance, with wispy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and ruddy skin. She had a large nose and a hint of moustache-like dark downy hair over her upper lip. It was hard to guess her age.

‘Well?’ she cried, her voice shrill, as she glanced up at them. ‘I am busy. State your illness. I have little time.’

The young steward glanced apologetically at Fidelma.

‘This is Sister Uallann, lady.’ He turned to the physician. ‘Sister Uallann, this is Fidelma of Cashel. She is the dalaigh come to investigate the deaths of the Abbess Faife and of the Venerable Cinaed.’

Sister Uallann remained seated.

‘Of Cashel? Of Cashel? Does she not know that the Ui Fidgente have no business with Cashel? We owe allegiance to Eoganan. We have no need for a Cashel dalaigh.’

Conr coughed with embarrassment and moved forward.

‘Sister Uallann, do you remember me? I am Conr

– ’

The woman sighed pointedly and laid aside her mortar and pestle with a resounding thump on the table.

‘Of course I know you, lord Conr. Do you consider that I am senile?’ Conr was embarrassed.

‘Eoganan was killed at Cnoc Aine two years ago. The Ui Fidgente have pledged allegiance to Cashel now. Sister Fidelma is blood sister to Colgu, legitimate king of all Muman. She is the dalaigh we have asked to come to investigate the violent deaths of the Abbess Faife and the Venerable Cinaed.’

Sister Uallann frowned and sat for a moment as if considering this.

‘My husband is also dead. Dead by the design of Cashel. The Ui Fidgente are now at peace. Yet still there are violent deaths in the land.’

Fidelma moved forward and as she did so her feet crunched on something on the floor. She looked down to see several granular crystals on the floor.

‘You seem to have spilt something, Sister Uallann.’

The physician glanced down and appeared embarrassed for a moment.

‘It is nothing. I spilt a preparation.’

Fidelma noticed the crystals clung to the woollen arm of Sister Uallan’s robe and reached out to pluck off a few. She kept them in her hand, wondering what they were.

‘I hope that whoever uses the preparation does not have to ingest it. These are as hard as little rocks.’

‘What exactly is it that you want?’ snapped Sister Uallann impatiently.

Fidelma sat down directly opposite the physician, dropping the granules on the floor.

‘There are a few questions that I must ask you, Sister Uallann.’

The physician blinked and focused her pale eyes on Fidelma.

‘I understand that you examined the body of Abbess Faife when it was returned here to Ard Fhearta.’

‘That is so, that is so.’

‘And then you prepared her body for burial?’

‘Of course, of course.’

‘Can you tell me anything about the manner of her death?’

The physician sniffed irritably.

‘A wound made by a blade. Simple. Sharp. I would say such a wound would cause death instantaneously. Instantaneously.’

‘You cannot say what caused the wound other than a blade?’

‘I will say that it was either a sword or a broad dagger. It would be the weapon of a warrior.’

Fidelma raised her eyebrows slightly.

‘Why do you specify a warrior?’

‘Because of the sharpness of the blade and its cleanness. Only a warrior tends to keep his blade sharp and clean. That it was sharp and clean is certain from the nature of the wound it inflicted.’

‘It is a logical conclusion,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘The body had begun to decay but not much because of the cold. It had been lying in snow and ice, I think, and that had slowed the decaying process. So the marks of the wound were clear and the thrust was delivered downwards. Yes, downwards.’

Again, Fidelma was amazed at this senescent physician’s ability to be certain.

‘How do you deduce that?’

‘The nature of the wound, the angle of its entry into the breast. I have been treating battle wounds for many years. I know about sword and dagger wounds. I would say that Abbess Faife must have been kneeling on the ground or her assailant was on horseback and she afoot.’

Fidelma paused for a moment digesting the information.

‘Very well. Did you notice anything else which might give a clue as to the assailant?’

Sister Uallann shook her head.

‘Now let us come to the death of the Venerable Cinaed,’ Fidelma went on. ‘You examined his body and prepared it for burial.’

‘That was only a few days ago,’ said the physician petulantly.

‘But the cause of his death was…?’

Sister Uallann glanced at her in surprise.

‘I would have thought that you would already be aware of that?’

‘I need to hear it officially from the physician who examined him.’

‘He died instantly from a heavy blow on the back of his skull which smashed the bone and shattered it so that fragments pierced the brain.’

‘Just one wound?’

‘One blow. There was no need for more.’

‘After that blow, are you saying that he could not have moved?’ Sister Uallann stared at her as if in pity.

‘If you believe a dead man can move, then he was capable of movement,’ she snapped sarcastically.

‘I am trying to clarify the facts,’ replied Fidelma evenly. ‘The blow was struck from behind with such a force that it shattered his skull, is that right?’

‘I have said so.’

‘But the body was found lying on its back.’

Sister Uallann was not perturbed.

‘Then it is surely logical that, after the blow was struck, the killer turned it over on its back.’

‘Clearly logical,’ Fidelma smiled thinly, ‘but it would be a poor dalaigh who does not consult the physician to seek verification of the medical logic. I presume that you knew the Venerable Cinaed well?’

‘Well enough.’ It was said in a truculent manner.

‘Would you say that you were a close friend of his?’

‘Not close. I respected some of his arguments. He was, after all, a careful scholar. Yet I did not agree with his fundamental attitudes.’

‘About the Faith?’

To her surprise Sister Uallann shook her head.

‘I did not like his essay Scripta quae ad remplicum geredam pertinent — his writings on how the Ui Fidgente should govern their temporal lives. Cinaed had views on everything. Those views angered many people. Eoganan, when he was king of the Ui Fidgente, sent his warriors to seize Cinaed but Abbess Faife, who was in control of the abbey in Abbot Erc’s temporary absence, refused to hand him over.’

Brother Cu Mara intervened.

‘I have heard the story. It happened just before the defeat at Cnoc Aine where Eoganan was killed. Had Eoganan been victorious, I don’t doubt that he would have sent his warriors back to the abbey to seize Cinaed whether the abbess protested or not.’

‘Did Abbot Erc support the abbess in her refusal to hand the Venerable Cinaed over?’ asked Fidelma.

The physician sniffed. ‘By the time he returned, there was no need to make a decision one way or another. Eoganan was defeated at Cnoc Aine. That was where my husband was slain, too,’ Sister Uallann added pointedly. ‘There are many here whose husbands were slaughtered by the Eoghanacht.’

Fidelma turned to Brother Cu Mara and spoke in a slightly sarcastic tone.

‘So, far from the Venerable Cinaed being a scholar beloved by everyone, we now find out that he had many enemies. Not least, the supporters of the late Eoganan!’

‘Ah, poor Eoganan,’ Sister Uallann exclaimed in a whisper.

Fidelma turned quickly back to her.

‘You have made clear your views, Sister. You believe that your people should not have made peace with Cashel?’

To her surprise, the physician shook her head.

‘I am of the Corco Duibhne but my husband was Ui Fidgente.’

‘And you are saying that the Venerable Cinaed made enemies among the Ui Fidgente because of his political writings?’

‘We dwell in the territory of the Ui Fidgente but Cinaed believed, even before the disaster at Cnoc Aine, that we should owe allegiance to the

Fidelma sat for a few moments staring at the grim-faced physician and then she stood up.

‘I am grateful for what you have said, Sister Uallann,’ she said quietly. Outside they found Eadulf, having returned from the tech-nigid, looking for them. Eadulf was about to ask how Fidelma had fared when he caught the warning look on her face. She turned to Brother Cu Mara.

‘All I need ask you is to guide us to your tech-screptra, then we shan’t need your assistance until after the etar-suth.’ She used the term ‘middle fruits’ which was the more popular name in monastic foundations for the etar-shod or ‘middle meal’ of the day.’

‘The library?’ queried the rechtaire with a frown.

‘That is what I said. I need a word with Brother Eolas, your librarian.’ Fidelma added to Eadulf, ‘I think there may be some important information that we could find there.’