Master of Souls

CHAPTER FIVE

E ven Eadulf was impressed by the size of the tech-screptra, the great library of Ard Fhearta. He knew of the fame of the Irish ecclesiastical colleges for learning. That meant that each one had need for books for students and therefore they had good general libraries. He had seen that these libraries contained not only works in the native language but books in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. As he followed Fidelma into the room he paused in astonishment at the rows and rows of racks with their pegs from which hung leather book satchels, the tiaga liubhair which not only were employed to carry books from place to place, being slung from the shoulder by one or more straps, but provided an excellent means of keeping the books in good condition in the libraries. Eadulf estimated that there were many hundreds, hanging along the racks.

There were also shelves on which stood many obviously valued volumes in elaborately wrought and beautifully ornamented leather covers, some of which were kept in lebor chomet or book holders made partly or wholly of metals. Eadulf had noticed that special books were kept in very ornate and valuable metal and wood boxes, which were piously called book shrines. He noticed that the tech-screptra had several of these set to one side.

In the centre of the library was a row of desks occupied by the copyists and scribes. Each had a wooden chair and a desk of yew wood, a plinth topped by a frame on which the book or manuscript page rested. A maulstick was used to steady the hand of the copyist. Half a dozen men now bent to their task using quills from geese or swans and writing on vellum or parchment. Other scholars, simply researching from the books, were using the standard writing tablets, wooden frames in which melted wax had been allowed to set. These could then be a temporary means of raibh, a sharp-pointed stylus of metal. After the notes had been used, or transcribed into the vellum books, the wax could be melted again and remoulded into the tablet to be used again.

A round-shouldered man, his arms folded before him in the sleeves of his robe, came shuffling forward as they entered. He seemed smaller than he actually was because of his hunched appearance. It was obviously the product of many years bent to his literary endeavours. He peered from one to another.

‘I am the leabhar coimedach,’ he intoned in a whisper. ‘How can I be of service?’

‘I am Fidelma of-’

‘The dalaigh from Cashel?’ interrupted the librarian, still whispering. ‘You are most welcome, lady. I saw you and your companion, Brother Eadulf, at the evening prayers yesterday. I know why you are here. The tech-screptra is at your disposal.’

‘Thank you. I take it that you are Brother Eolas?’ When the man bowed his head in acknowledgement of the fact, she went on, ‘I am interested in the works of the Venerable Cinaed.’

‘The Venerable Cinaed? Come this way.’ He led them to a corner of the library. ‘This is the section of original books and writings made by our brethren. We have had many scholars who have contributed to our library during the many decades of our history. See, there, that book contains the hymns of Colman moccu Clusaig who stayed here during the year of the Yellow Plague. He wrote many of his hymns here, including Sen De, the Blessing of God. Our master of song, Brother Cill n, became a great friend of Colman. If you have an interest in music, you must speak to Brother Cill n about his own songs before you leave. And in that volume,’ pointing, ‘we have some letters which the abbot of Iona, Cuimine Ailbhe, wrote to the Venerable Cinaed arguing about the dating of the Casc.’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘You Saxons call it Easter. I believe you insist on retaining the feast of your goddess of fertility?’ There was disapproval in his voice. ‘Abbot Cuimine has accepted the new dating that Rome has adopted. However, like many of our great scholars, the Venerable Cinaed disagreed with him and believed that Rome was wrong in its calculations. But Abbot Cuimine Ailbhe remained a friend of the Venerable Cinaed and sent him his own work De Poententiarum Mensura as a gift which is now in the book shrine there’ — he gestured to it — ‘as one of the great works we hold and-’

‘But the works of the Venerable Cinaed themselves…’ Fidelma

‘Of course,’ Brother Eolas replied, a little cestfallen. ‘Here they are.’ He indicated a shelf and picked up a writing tablet. ‘In fact, I have been making a catalogue of his works here.’

Eadulf glanced at the tablet. ‘It seems a rather long list.’

Brother Eolas smiled in satisfaction. ‘The Venerable Cinaed was one of our best scholars. He had many interests. I think that you would call him eclectic. He even wrote a discourse entitled De ars sordida gemmae, denouncing the local trade in precious stones, which he handed to Brother Faolchair to copy just a short time before his death. But his Disputatius Computus Cummianus is a classic and-’

‘And De Trinitate Interpretatio Perversa?’ Eadulf asked.

The librarian looked a little shocked. ‘You have read that?’

‘I know people who have,’ admitted Eadulf truthfully, trying not to look at Fidelma.

‘It is not well liked in some quarters of this abbey,’ the librarian said shortly. ‘He wrote far better things. His poems in our native tongue, for example, and his setting down of some of our old tales and historic traditions are regarded as excellent and-’

‘What of his Scripta quae ad rempublicum geredam pertinent?’ Fidelma asked sharply.

Brother Eolas gave a shake of his head.

‘You appear to be interested in his most controversial works. Ah well, we have them all here but, while the Venerable Cinaed had his followers, he also had his enemies as well.’

‘So we have now begun to learn,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘Do you have any thoughts as to why he should have been murdered?’

The librarian looked shocked.

‘Are you implying that… that he was killed by someone who did not like what he wrote? That is ridiculous. In this land scholars are treated with respect even when they are in dispute with others. Each has the right to speak their mind freely, to write their thoughts and discuss ideas without rancour, as have others to disagree whether in private or in public. Learning is not a matter to kill over.’

‘There is nothing that instils deep rage so much as a scholar’s views,’ pointed out Fidelma. It was something her mentor, Brehon Morann, used to say.

‘I refuse to believe that,’ replied Brother Eolas.

‘Never mind. Let us get down to the task in hand. I would like to read this work on government by the Venerable Cinaed. Where is it?’

Brother Eolas consulted his wax tablet and turned to the shelf.

‘It should be along here…’

He paused and frowned. Then he checked again.

‘It seems to be missing. And another of his works is not here.’

‘Missing?’ Fidelma used the word so sharply that several of the scholars in the library looked up to see what was amiss.

Brother Eolas frowned in admonition at her and raised a finger to his lips. Then he turned and waved to a youth who was carrying a pile of vellum to a scribe on the far side of the library. He caught the boy’s attention. The boy deposited his burden with the scribe before turning to join them. He was young and eager, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old.

‘Brother Faolchair, two of our books are missing.’ He pointed to the spaces. ‘They should be on the shelf there but they are not. Who has taken them?’

The boy looked at the titles that his superior indicated.

‘The one on trading precious stones is the one I have for copying. The other has been taken from the library, Brother Eolas.’

The librarian’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Taken from…’ he began. ‘How can this be? Only the abbot and… Who has taken it?’

‘The Venerable Mac Faosma sent Brother Benen for it yesterday morning. He has the authority to do so, Brother Eolas.’

The librarian paused and then shrugged.

‘Very well. Be about your duties.’ The boy hesitated, looking anxious. The librarian relented. ‘You are right, Brother Faolchair. He does have the authority to take the book out of the tech-screptra.’ He waved the youth back to his work before turning to Fidelma to explain. ‘In normal circumstances, no one is allowed to borrow books from the library. They are only allowed to sit here and read them. There were three exceptions… well, three until the death of the Venerable Cinaed…’

‘So the abbot and the Venerable Mac Faosma can remove books from the library?’

‘Just so.’

‘So if we want to see this book we should go to the chamber of the Venerable Mac Faosma?’

The librarian looked a little awkward. ‘He is reclusive and does not receive visitors.’

Eadulf chuckled. ‘From what I hear, the man is not reclusive enough to refuse to take part in scholastic debates in front of hundreds of students.’

‘Taking part in a debate on a platform is not the same thing as receiving people in intimate surroundings,’ pointed out the librarian.

‘It is a fine point that you are making. Is the behaviour of this man so strange?’ Eadulf smiled.

The librarian shrugged. ‘Let me say that all great men are entitled to peculiarities.’

‘And the Venerable Mac Faosma is, in your estimation, a great man?’ Eadulf asked pointedly.

Fidelma gave a warning glance at him before smiling at the librarian.

‘We are grateful for your help and may seek it again. You have a great library here, Brother Eolas, and I hope that we may have time to spend a while viewing your magnificent treasures.’

Brother Eolas gave a half-bow, trying to appear dignified, but it was clear that her words gave him pleasure.

Outside, she turned to Eadulf.

‘No need to annoy the librarian, Eadulf. But I have been thinking that we should call on the Venerable Mac Faosma. We will wait until this afternoon.’

‘What of the business of the Abbess Faife?’ inquired Eadulf. ‘After all, that is what has brought us here.’

‘I am not neglecting that,’ she assured him. ‘But the trail that led to her death is a fortnight old while the death of the Venerable Cinaed is still fairly fresh. I thought we could spend another day here and then set out to see what leads we could pick up in the land of the Corco Duibhne.’

‘But surely there are no obvious connections between the two deaths?’

Fidelma grimaced. ‘There is the connection that Abbess Faife and the Venerable Cinaed were both well-respected and important members of the same religious house. And it seems they shared a similar political outlook about the future of the Ui Fidgente. Coincidences happen, but not often.’

Eadulf shrugged as if dismissing the point.

‘That does not mean a connection between their deaths. The abbess was travelling outside the abbey while Cinaed was an elderly scholar still

‘As you say, there are no obvious connections.’ Fidelma put a slight emphasis on the word ‘obvious’.

‘You sound as though you think there is a connection?’ Eadulf pressed.

‘I have told you before, you cannot make suppositions without facts. For the moment, I want to see what it was that Cinaed wrote to upset people in this abbey and which may… I say, may… have led to his death.’

Eadulf slowly shook his head.

‘Every time I come to this western part of your brother’s kingdom, it is always the Ui Fidgente behind all the mischief.’

‘But with Conri as their warlord, they have become calmer. The defeat of Eoganan at Cnoc Aine has caused them to settle down. It is only the people who have been marked by the conflict who yearn for the past.’

‘Remind me again, what is the basis of the quarrel between the Ui Fidgente and your family, the Eoghanacht?’

Fidelma took him by the arm, for they had been standing outside the door of the tech-screptra, and led him towards the hospitium. She explained as they walked.

‘It goes back some generations. The Ui Fidgente claimed admittance to the councils of Cashel and claimed the kingship. Needles to say, they were rejected, and since then until the time of Eoganan they have intrigued and plotted and several times risen up against the Eoghanacht of Cashel.’

‘I understand that,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘But from what I know of your laws of inheritance, I cannot understand how they can claim the kingship, which descends only through the Eoghanacht. I understand this business about the council, or what you call the derbhfine, having to elect the best man out of the extended family to the kingship. I know that there is no such thing as automatic inheritance by the eldest son as is our system in the Saxon lands. But I still cannot see the basis of their claim.’

‘Simple enough,’ replied Fidelma. ‘All the branches of the Eoghanacht trace their descent back to Eoghan Mor, the greatest king of Cashel, son of Ailill Olum, son of Mug Nuadat. That is why we are called Eoghanacht. However, the Ui Fidgente, when they sought entry to the council, made the claim that they had a better right to the throne at Cashel than the descendants of Eoghan Mor. The Ui Fidgente claimed that they were descended from the elder brother of Eoghan Mor, who was called Cormac

‘I see. But if all this was agreed generations ago, why is there such conflict between your peoples?’

‘Because the Ui Fidgente have never accepted the judgement that was given against them. Not even those who have made peace with Cashel have accepted that ruling. They mean to topple the Eoghanacht from power. Until now the Ui Fidgente have not submitted to paying tax without threat of force. They have not allowed any representative of the Eoghanacht into their lands. That is why I have tried to convince you that it was so important to come here when Conri actually came to Cashel to ask for our help. This could break through the antagonisms, as we have wanted. It could be the first real step to uniting the kingdom under Cashel.’

Eadulf sighed softly.

‘I think I begin to understand. It is hard for me, however, to appreciate all the nuances of the intrigues that go on here.’

Fidelma looked sympathetically at him.

‘Well,’ she said, as a bell began to toll, ‘that is something that it is not hard to understand. The bell for the etar-suth — the midday meal. Come, we can leave this talk of intrigue until later.’