The Devil's seal

CHAPTER TWELVE

In view of the distinguished rank of the leaders of the deputation, Colgú received them in his council chamber in the presence of selected members of his household. Fidelma and Eadulf were requested to attend. Fidelma had just time enough to return to their chambers and rouse Eadulf from his nap, and while he was refreshing himself, tell him of her discoveries that morning and the results of her questions.

In the council chamber, they were joined by Abbot Ségdae and his steward, Brother Madagan, Brehon Aillín was already there because he had insisted that his presence was required by protocol as he had not been officially dismissed by the Council of Brehons. It was a fact that Colgú could not refute. Because of the peculiar circumstances in which Abbess Líoch and her steward, Sister Dianaimh, had been summoned by Brother Cerdic before his death, they were also invited to be present.

There was an uncomfortable wait, while Gormán, as Commander of the King’s Bodyguard, received the visitors at the gates of the palace and the usual ritual welcome was enacted before he led them to the council chamber. In view of Beccan’s absence, Gormán also took on the role of the King’s steward in officially announcing the visitors.

Bishop Arwald of Magonsaete strode forward as his name was called. ‘Arrogant’ was the first word that came into Eadulf’s mind. The man was exactly as he had predicted him to be. He was tall, with thin, almost emaciated features, to which was added a disdainful look that appeared to be his natural expression. The dark eyes were set close together under thick brows that almost met across the bridge of his nose. He had a slightly protruding forehead. He halted before Colgú, who was preparing to rise from his chair of office as a gesture of welcome and friendship. But when Bishop Arwald made no indication that he was going to greet the King with the usual respect — not even an inclination of his head, a bow, or even dropping to one knee in token of the rank that divided them — King Colgú decided to remain seated.

Instead, he looked beyond Bishop Arwald to the shorter, grey-haired man who, at first glance, resembled a kindly, elderly uncle. He was almost cherub-like, with olive skin that showed his origins were further south. In spite of the baby-like quality of his face, something unpitying and harsh came through. The corners of the fleshy mouth were stern, revealing a ruthless streak in the elderly, white-haired man. Light-coloured eyes glinted like ice from under shaggy brows. He halted a pace behind and to the side of Bishop Arwald, and gave a slight jerk of his head when Gormán announced the name of the Venerable Verax.

Both Bishop Arwald and the Venerable Verax were clad in rich robes, and there was no disguising the fact that they were men of rank and importance. At the moment, their richly embroidered cloaks bore a film of dust from their journey but the quality of them was evident. Bishop Arwald wore a cross of silver around his neck and the Venerable Verax a cross of gold, which was more elaborately ornamented. Eadulf glanced towards Colgú and hoped he remembered that it was the Venerable Verax who was the real leader of the deputation. The question arose: why did Verax pretend that Bishop Arwald was the senior of the group?

Behind the two men, at a respectful distance of two paces, stood a nondescript young man. Clad in a simple dyed-brown woollen robe, with what appeared to be a bronze cross, he kept his head and gaze lowered, even when Gormán announced him as Brother Bosa, a scribe. To Eadulf’s eye, he looked anything but a scribe. He was muscular, and moved with the precision of a warrior. The more he tried to make himself invisible, the more incongruous he appeared.

There was a momentary silence after Gormán finished introducing the deputation. Bishop Arwald had still made no move to acknowledge the King and so Gormán cleared his throat and declared: ‘You stand in the presence of Colgú, son of Failbhe Flann, King of Muman, scion of the Eóghanacht of Cashel, Lord of Tuadmuma, Aurmuma, Desmuma and Iarmuma. .’

Ordinarily, Colgú would have told him to cut the ritual short but he let it run on as it gave him the opportunity to inspect his guests more closely. Finally, however, he raised his hand to indicate that Gormán should bring his listing of his ancestry and territories to a close.

As Gormán was giving his recitation, the young scribe came forward and was whispering to Bishop Arwald and the Venerable Verax. It was clear that he was not only acting as scribe but as translator. Colgú finally realised that the scribe was translating into Latin.

‘Most of us here speak Latin,’ he interrupted. ‘We may continue in this language.’ The young scribe stepped back at a gesture from the Venerable Verax. Colgú continued: ‘You are welcome here.’

It was Bishop Arwald who then spoke. ‘I trust we are so.’ His voice was brittle. ‘Have your slaves bring chairs for us, for our journey through this savage land has been arduous.’

There were gasps of astonishment from the assembly, and even Colgú’s eyes widened in spite of the years he had been taught to control his feelings when in council.

Gormán stepped forward nervously, a hand dropping automatically to the hilt of his sword. His tone was sharp and emphatic.

‘I remind you that you stand in the presence of Colgú, King of Muman, who is the fifty-ninth direct descendant of Eibhear Fionn, the son of Golamh, who led the children of Gaedheal Glas to this land in the time before time; Eibhear Fionn, who was given this land to rule by the. .’

Colgú raised a hand and motioned him to silence. His eyes had not wandered from the face of Bishop Arwald since the man had spoken.

‘Our guests are strangers, and perhaps they have no understanding of the protocol that prevails in this place.’ He spoke softly, as if addressing Gormán but looking directly at Bishop Arwald. ‘In our uncivilised ways, we still place great store in courtesy and the observance of rules. It is custom to acknowledge the King when you are brought before him. If a King invites you, then you may sit in his presence. It is also important to learn that we have no slaves here. The only people you will find who have restrictions on their freedom are criminals of various classes, and hostages.’

Bishop Arwald’s sallow skin had taken on a paler hue. His thin red lips seemed to disappear entirely in a slit. The muscles in his jaw were working, as if he were trying to find expression for his rage. But Colgú was now looking at the Venerable Verax.

‘In view of your exhaustion, having been forced to travel through our uncivilised countryside, we invite you, Venerable Verax and your companion, Bishop Arwald, to be seated while we speak of what brings you to face the hardships and difficulties that obviously beset your journey.’

The Venerable Verax took a step forward, his features formed into a masklike smile.

‘It will not be necessary, Colgú of Muman. You will excuse us for our lack of knowledge of your customs.’

‘Yet they are the same customs that prevail in the Kingdom of Laighin, where you surely must have been guests of Fianamail the King?’ It was Fidelma who, in her irritation, could not suppress the observation.

Bishop Arwald turned swiftly, eyes narrowed as if noticing her for the first time.

‘And who are you?’ The tone was almost a sneer.

‘This is the lady Fidelma, my sister,’ Colgú replied in an icy tone. Clearly, Bishop Arwald was not one to be immediately cowed. ‘Beside her is Brother Eadulf, who is from your own country but who has made his home here, having married my sister. He is a respected friend and adviser of this court.’

‘Eadulf — from my country?’ queried Bishop Arwald. He looked at Eadulf with great suspicion, then glanced at the Venerable Verax with a look that seemed full of meaning.

‘Not exactly your country, Arwald of the Magonsaete,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I am from Seaxmund’s Ham, in the Land of the South Folk, of the Kingdom of the East Angles.’

‘Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham?’ Bishop Arwald examined him carefully. ‘I believe that you have only recently arrived here.’

Eadulf wondered at the sinister tone in the other’s voice. ‘I have not. Why do you ask?’

‘Were you not in Canterbury only a short while ago?’

‘You are mistaken,’ Eadulf replied. ‘The last time I was in the Kingdom of Kent was during the winter of five years ago.’

Bishop Arwald did not seem satisfied. ‘Yet I heard a story that you departed Canterbury in the company of an elderly man only a few weeks ago. In Laighin we were told that you were seen landing in the country with that same man at one of the southern ports.’

Eadulf blinked in astonishment and exchanged a look with Fidelma. Was Bishop Arwald mistaking him for his brother? If so, what was the meaning of that undertone in the bishop’s voice? He was about to put the question when Colgú, oblivious to the tension, interrupted.

‘I can assure you that our friend Eadulf has been here these many years and, with my sister, has carried out many missions for me.’

The dark eyes of Bishop Arwald swivelled to him. ‘Missions? What missions — and why with a woman?’

It was the second time that a general feeling of astonishment spread, that this stranger should dare to question the King in such a tone. Once more Colgú decided to answer, overlooking the breach of protocol.

‘Is it possible that you have not heard of my sister, the lady Fidelma who, with her husband, Eadulf, has represented my interests in many parts of the Five Kingdoms and beyond? My sister is a dálaigh, a legal advocate and adviser in law to me.’

This time the information had an effect on the Venerable Verax. He turned to look at Fidelma more closely and exclaimed: ‘Of course! I have heard the Venerable Gelasius extolling her wisdom. Did she not perform valuable service in Rome when Wighard, the Archbishop Designate of Canterbury, was murdered in the Lateran Palace? Oh yes, now I have it. The same Fidelma was part of the delegation arguing against the changes made by His Holiness which were debated at Streonshalh and later at the council in Autun. Oh yes, we have heard of her.’

Eadulf picked up a warning note in the last sentence, but was unsure whether it was aimed at Bishop Arwald or at Fidelma.

Colgú relaxed back in his chair. ‘Well, let us hope you will hear many tales from my bards of their deeds while you are here. But now. . we hope that your immediate needs after your journey have been met?’

Bishop Arwald was still staring at Eadulf and seemed reluctant to change the subject of the conversation but at a look from his companion, he addressed Colgú with his customary belligerence.

‘We have an escort of four warriors provided for our personal protection by King Fianamail and the Abbot of Fearna. Your own warriors refused them entrance into this place.’

Gormán coughed to attract the attention of the King. ‘Four warriors of the Clan Baiscne escorted the religious here. I have issued instructions that they be given quarters in Rumann’s tavern in the town below.’

‘That is so,’ Bishop Arwald confirmed, obviously annoyed. ‘I strongly protest. The warriors should be quartered here so that I can call when they are needed.’

‘I trust you do not imply that you will need protection while guests under the King’s roof?’ Abbot Ségdae could not restrain himself from speaking. He had already taken exception to the man’s arrogance.

Bishop Arwald glanced angrily at him. ‘When we arrived, I was told that my emissary, Brother Cerdic, not only came into danger within these walls but has been murdered. I do not think I need imply anything.’

‘We are investigating that matter,’ Colgú assured him quickly.

‘What?’ Bishop Arwald feigned surprise. ‘Has no one been seized and executed for this outrage? Then the murderer is still at large — and yet you say there is no cause for alarm! I am most displeased, for Brother Cerdic was but newly joined to the. . to my group of pilgrims. He had volunteered to come here alone to prepare you for our arrival. Why was he killed?’

‘Investigations take time.’ Colgú was irritated that he had been put on the defensive. ‘Here we are governed by our ancient laws and so do not seize and execute people without just cause. I have appointed my sister and her husband to investigate.’

The sneer broadened in the voice of the bishop. ‘Ah! Then it is understood why there has been no resolution.’

Colgú raised his eyes at Fidelma, signalling to her not to react to the provocation, before he began to address the newcomers in a severe tone: ‘Since you are strangers, we will explain why your armed escort are not allowed within the confines of this palace. Relations between the Kingdoms of Muman and Laighin have not been of the closest. Sometimes, warfare can be the result of mistakes or arrogance, leading to quickening tempers. It is a custom now, between us, that no armed warriors of Laighin may be admitted within the walls of this palace of Cashel, especially none of the Baiscne, who are Fianamail’s élite bodyguards, just as the Nasc Niadh are mine. Nor would I expect any of my warriors to be admitted with their arms into the Laighin fortress at Dinn Ríg or even Fearna.’

Once again, as it seemed Bishop Arwald was about to respond angrily, it was the Venerable Verax who spoke in a conciliatory tone.

‘Then we would not wish to interfere with this custom and provoke any antagonism.’

‘My guard will always be at hand during your stay, so that you need have no fear,’ Gormán added coldly.

‘There are quarters for special guests here in my palace and these have been provided for you,’ Colgú went on.

Abbot Ségdae leaned close to Colgú and whispered into his ear in their common language: ‘Let us find out what these arrogant prelates want before we are all too exasperated to even speak with them.’

Thankfully, Brother Bosa did not appear to hear the remark. Colgú inclined his head in agreement. ‘Now, we are sure you will want to rest from your long journey. However, before you do so, and so that our Chief Bishop, Abbot Ségdae, may be prepared for the coming discussions, perhaps you can indicate to us the reason of your coming. What is it that you wish to discuss?’

The Venerable Verax turned to examine the abbot. ‘We have heard much about Abbot Ségdae. By accounts given to us he is an influential and powerful ecclesiastic. Why is he content to be merely an abbot?’

Receiving a nod from Colgú, Abbot Ségdae replied: ‘I am afraid that, once again, you are not aware of the customs of this country. Here, we deem an abbot of higher rank than a bishop.’ He stared directly at Bishop Arwald as he spoke, ignoring the man’s angry gaze.

‘Yet there is much talk about a primacy among bishops among your people. There is a bishop — or is it abbot? — at a place called Ard Macha, who claims that it was there that Patricius the Briton first taught the Faith in this land, and thereby this abbot should be appointed Archbishop, chief of all the bishops and abbots on this island.’

‘We will disagree on many points, Venerable Verax,’ replied Abbot Ségdae. ‘This will be one of them. Is it to discuss this that you have come all this way?’

The Venerable Verax was silent for a moment. ‘Perhaps it is one point where we might usefully exchange views,’ he conceded.

Abbot Ségdae shook his head. ‘Poor Brother Cerdic made no mention of the subject that has caused your visit. He merely summoned me from my abbey at Imleach and, it seems, he summoned Abbess Líoch from Cill Náile, who also stands before you. Naturally, we are all curious to learn what brings such distinguished prelates into this kingdom.’

The Venerable Verax turned with interest to examine Abbess Líoch.

‘Do you also refute the claims of this Abbot of Ard Macha and make claim for your own abbey?’ he asked.

‘My abbey was established only a few years ago,’ replied the abbess. ‘I make no such claims.’

Brother Bosa had moved forward and whispered in the prelate’s ear. The Venerable Verax nodded slowly and continued to address the abbess. ‘I am told that you were some years in Oswy’s Kingdom?’

‘Were you there?’ returned Abbess Líoch, speaking directly to the scribe. ‘I do not know you.’

Brother Bosa obviously felt that he should answer. ‘I have not been there but am told that you were once spoken of as having spent time in the Abbey of Laestingau.’

A flush came to the abbess’ cheeks. ‘Then perhaps you can tell me why Brother Cerdic summoned me to this curious meeting?’ she said impatiently.

The Venerable Verax intervened. ‘Perhaps we will be able to discuss matters later? We have only just arrived and need some time to recover from our wearisome journey. We will resume the discussion when we are rested.’

‘So the purpose of your coming here remains obscure?’ Colgú replied in annoyance.

‘Let it remain so until we can sit relaxed and discuss it in more detail,’ the Venerable Verax said smoothly — but there was no questioning the determination in his voice.

Colgú could see there was little point in pressing the matter. He looked at Gormán, who anticipated his orders. ‘Dar Luga is waiting outside to escort our guests to their chambers.’

He opened the door and the plump housekeeper entered.

‘This is our airnbetach, the housekeeper, who will take you to your rooms. Any requests that you may have, please make them known to her. This evening, there will be a small feast to welcome you, and then perhaps you will reveal the purpose of your visit here, which is a matter we all look forward to with great curiosity.’

This time, the Venerable Verax took the lead in bowing stiffly, and after a slight hesitation, Bishop Arwald followed his example. Then they turned, with Brother Bosa behind them, and followed Dar Luga from the room. Gormán closed the door after they had left and stood waiting expectantly.

Colgú sat back as the others gathered around him. He had a wry smile on his features.

‘Well, friend Eadulf, you warned me and Ségdae what manner of man we might expect this Arwald to be. I could scarce believe that he is so untutored in the arts of diplomacy.’

‘Diplomacy?’ Eadulf grunted sarcastically. ‘That is just the typical bad manners of Mercia. For too long they have conducted diplomacy at the point of their swords. I wonder that you kept your temper.’

Brehon Aillín had remained quiet the whole time, and now he burst out: ‘If I were still respected enough to advise you, I would say that it is a legal matter. Their arrogance is breaking our laws and putting your honour price in danger.’

They turned to look at the old disgraced Brehon in surprise.

‘How so?’ Colgú demanded, intrigued in spite of himself.

‘The law texts, the wisdom texts, all stress the importance of the respect that must be shown to a king. They state that he is no king to whom royal tribute is withheld. The Críth Gablach insists that he is no king who, not being treated with respect due to his office, overlooks any such offence. A king is expected to demand respect by force from those who are impertinent and do not bend the knee, otherwise he loses his honour price and thereby his kingship. Likewise, if he does not ensure that his household are shown respect, he loses his honour price and his kingship.’

They heard the words of the old judge and understood that his angry challenge had more to do with his earlier dismissal by Colgú than for any precise advice on law.

Fidelma stepped to her brother’s side. ‘Brehon Aillín,’ she said softly, ‘I am, as you know, not as accomplished as you and do not hold the office of Brehon. I am merely a dálaigh, pleading in the courts and being allowed to judge only in minor cases.’

Suspecting sarcasm, Brehon Aillín turned to her, his brows compressed in a frown. ‘And I suppose you are going to tell me that my interpretation of the law is wrong?’ he sneered.

‘You have quoted the text correctly,’ she replied. Colgú looked nervously at her. But before a triumphant smile had fully formed on Brehon Aillín’s face, she continued: ‘All those here were witnesses to the lack of respect these strangers showed to my brother. All those here heard my brother rebuke them for their disrespect, but a king, according to the text you quote, is supposed to be just and take cognisance of the facts and circumstance. My brother took the attitude that, being strangers, they did not know our law as intimately as you do, Brehon Aillín. And finally, all those heard the Venerable Verax admit that, as strangers, they were unaware of it. We all saw them show respect as they left by bending their head to the King.’ She paused. ‘If I had need to defend the King against a charge that he had allowed disrespect to go unheeded, then I would say, as I am sure all here would agree, that he did not.’

Brehon Aillín stood for a moment, blinking. His jaw clenched to hide his anger. Colgú was trying not to show his amusement that the irritating fellow had been bested. He said gently: ‘You may retire, Brehon Aillín. I do not need to consult further with you at this time.’

The old man wheeled about with surprising dexterity for his age and stomped out of the council chamber.

Colgú’s features broke into a grin, and he said to his sister, ‘If looks could kill, Fidelma. .’ He left the rest unsaid.

‘I would watch Brehon Aillín, lady,’ Gormán muttered, unamused. ‘Enemies such as he can develop their grudges into blood feuds.’

Abbess Líoch now caught their attention. She was clearly irritated. ‘When are we ever going to know why these people have come here?’ she demanded. ‘They seemed to be speaking in riddles.’

‘Let us hope that their objectives will be made clear this evening,’ Colgú replied. ‘I too am tired of these mysteries.’

‘Speaking of this evening,’ Fidelma asked, ‘is there any news of Beccan’s return?’

Colgú sighed. ‘I was relying on Beccan to return to take charge of the welcoming feast this evening. Dusk is already approaching now, so it’s too late to send someone searching for him.’

‘Since he has not returned, who will take charge?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Gormán will have to take over ceremonial duties during the feast. The lot of overseeing the preparation and serving of the food will fall to Dar Luga. There must be music and some entertainment. We would not want to show our guests that we do not know how to entertain strangers.’

‘Of course, we must show hospitality according to law,’ Fidelma agreed. In the household of every king and prince within the Five Kingdoms was a band of musicians who were assigned to provide entertainment, especially for feasting. And among them were trumpeters, who would play on their assortment of horns and trumpets as a mark of honour for distinguished visitors.

‘When our guests enter,’ said the King, ‘the trumpeters must be ready to greet them in traditional form.’

‘What of the music to be played during the feast?’ asked Gormán, taking his duties seriously.

‘I’ll leave you to speak to the musicians, Gormán,’ Colgú said. ‘The music must not be raucous, nor should it be of the kind that sends one to sleep. Tell them to play pieces in the gan-traige style.’

Gan-traige was a form of music that incited merriment and laughter — infectious, happy melodies that would hopefully counter-balance the unfriendly atmosphere that the visitors had so far provoked.

‘We should also have a few ballads after the meal,’ Abbot Ségdae suggested. ‘That will prevent the conversation from becoming too introspective. I heard your bard — what’s his name? — playing his cruit the other day and singing the praises of your victory at Cnoc Áine over the Uí Fidgente.’

The cruit was a small eight-stringed harp on which poets would accompany themselves as they sang their poems and ballads.

Colgú met Gormán’s eye. ‘See to it, but suggest a subject less controversial than the Uí Fidgente plot. What of the one about the Blessed Ailbhe? There is a ballad about him being saved by a she-wolf when he was abandoned as a baby by his father. That will surely appeal to our distinguished religious guests.’

‘It is certainly a good ballad to distract our guests with,’ Abbot Ségdae said approvingly.

Abbess Líoch was still looking unhappy, as were both Sister Dianaimh and Brother Madagan. It was the abbess who brought them back to the main subject.

‘It’s all very well to divert these people with entertainment — but what do they want? They have not even indicated why they have come here. And why here, out of all the Five Kingdoms? That’s what I’d like to know.’

‘Líoch does have a point,’ Fidelma told her brother. ‘Since we have heard of their coming, we have witnessed many inexplicable happenings. Are those events connected with the purpose of their visit?’

‘I cannot extract information if the strangers are not willing to give it,’ Colgú replied defensively. ‘Tell me a means of doing so, and I will do it.’

‘The means will present itself tonight,’ Abbot Ségdae said in a positive voice. There was a sceptical silence and so he continued: ‘I will be the spear-point in the coming conflict. As comarb, the successor to the Blessed Ailbhe, therefore abbot and senior bishop in this kingdom, I shall demand answers!’

‘And if the answers are not supplied?’ There was a slight note of derision in Abbess Líoch’s voice.

The abbot made an eloquent gesture with his hand. ‘Then we have recourse to the law.’

Even Fidelma was confused at this remark. ‘I think you had best explain that.’

‘There is a movement among some clerics, especially those influenced by Rome, to reject our system of law and replace it with what they call the “Penitentials”. A few of our abbeys are introducing them. They are a foreign abomination and I am against them.’

‘We can agree in that, but what are you saying?’ asked Fidelma.

‘In our society, an abbot or bishop has no more rights under our law than a secular lord. He is constrained by the law. If he misbehaves, his tuath, the people, can impeach him. He must be heard before a gathering of the derbhfhine of the abbey, who are considered his family. If found guilty of misconduct under the law, they can dismiss him and elect a new abbot or bishop.’ He addressed Abbess Líoch: ‘And of course, the same law applies to the abbesses and their houses.’

He paused again for a moment, in order to gather up his arguments. ‘All clerics of high rank have equal rights to provincial kings and are treated equally. I am an Eóghanacht and my honour price under law is fourteen cumals.’

Fidelma was shaking her head. ‘I still do not understand. How does this mean that we might be able to force the strangers to tell us why they are here? What recourse to law are you suggesting?’

‘There is a text in the Bretha Nemed toísech pointing out that a cleric is called upon to give dagfolad or consideration to society. If he refuses consideration, then he must face the consequences.’

Fidelma’s eyes suddenly lit up as she began to see the point he was developing.

‘The Córus Béscnai speaks of the consequences of the wrongdoing of clerics, even abbots and bishops. They can be treated like any other wrongdoer,’ she said slowly.

Abbot Ségdae was smiling triumphantly. ‘Do not the ancient annals tell us that even high-ranking churchmen can be taken as hostages and have their rights stripped from them, be confined to the territory and made to work for the good of the community?’

Colgú leaned forward nervously in his chair.

‘Now wait. Are you suggesting that we have Gormán and his warriors here take Verax and Arwald as prisoners? Surely that would produce outrage in their own lands, and the next thing would be that foreign armies would land on our shores and we would have to contend with them. That is something I do not want to see!’

Fidelma was chuckling reassuringly. ‘With God’s help, neither shall you, brother. What Abbot Ségdae is talking about is only the threat that this could be done — while not making the threat a reality. It is a bluff that, should there be further prevarication, we can use by simply pointing out our system of law. Why,’ she warmed to the idea, ‘a few years ago, the Council of Brehons even passed an amendment to the laws, speaking of the punishment which should be imposed on a bishop who stumbles in the performance of his duties and obligations to the community.’

‘Very well, how do we confront people like the Venerable Verax and Bishop Arwald?’ Colgú wanted to know. ‘How do you wrap up in diplomatic language the threat that either they tell us what they are doing here or we will simply reduce them to what they call slaves in their own country?’

‘I would suggest that the Venerable Verax would be the one to approach in the matter,’ advised Fidelma. ‘What he decrees, Bishop Arwald, in spite of his arrogance, will obey. So with that in mind, let us wait and see what this evening will bring. Meanwhile, Eadulf and I will retire, for we have much to talk about.’