The Devil's seal

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

They were walking back to their chambers across the courtyard when Fidelma stopped abruptly in mid-stride. Eadulf immediately glanced nervously up at the surrounding walls, even though they were some way from the nearest one, in case there was a threat. However, Fidelma had halted because a thought, not a missile, had struck her.

‘It just occurred to me that there is an easier way than confrontation to find out what this deputation is really about.’

Eadulf turned to her. ‘I thought your original suggestion was the best. The Venerable Verax is the man with authority and he would be the best person to respond to reason.’

‘But there might be another way. If you get a chance, have words with the young scribe who accompanies them. . what’s his name?’

‘Brother Bosa?’

‘Brother Bosa,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘He has been keeping very quiet so far. As scribe to Bishop Arwald, he should be able to tell us what is going on.’

Eadulf was doubtful. ‘He will obey his masters. If they have told him to say nothing, then doubtless he will say nothing. Anyway, I don’t like him.’

‘Why not?’ Fidelma asked.

‘There is something furtive about him.’

To his surprise, Fidelma laughed. ‘I swear, husband, you are getting suspicious of religious; first your brother and now this scribe. Religious are not born. They enter the life from all manner of previous lives — even from the role of warrior. Anyway, his response will no doubt depend on the way he is questioned. I feel that he might provide the breach in the wall put up by Verax and Arwald. After all, you are a fellow countryman of his. You still wear the Roman tonsure, for you have not yet completely accepted the rites of our church.’

Eadulf was intrigued in spite of his reservations. ‘It might well be a path,’ he admitted. ‘Do you remember how Arwald thought he recognised me as being at Canterbury a short time ago?’

‘We know that was a mistake.’

‘It was obvious that he mistook me for my brother, Egric. Superficially, there are similarities. At least it tells us that Arwald knows that Egric came to this kingdom. But why did he say, “in the company of an elderly man”, and not the Venerable Victricius?’

‘We must keep an open mind and. .’ Fidelma fell silent as she glanced towards the far side of the courtyard. The very person they had been talking about had emerged and was speaking to one of the guards. The warrior was pointing to the chapel, as if to give directions, and Brother Bosa began walking towards it.

‘The ideal opportunity, Eadulf.’ Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘I suggest you follow Brother Bosa to the chapel while I return to our chambers. See what you can find out.’

Eadulf walked slowly towards the chapel and entered. A few lamps shed a shadowy light inside. He paused at the door, peering round in the gloom, trying to locate the figure of the Saxon. He saw him at last at the back of the chapel, kneeling in prayer.

Eadulf waited until it looked as if Brother Bosa had finished his devotions and then made his way towards him. Brother Bosa saw him coming and rose from his knees.

‘You looking for me, Brother?’ he asked brusquely in their common language.

‘I could not help but notice that you act as both translator as well as scribe to this deputation,’ Eadulf replied in as friendly tone as he could muster. ‘I was wondering how you had such a good command of the language of the Five Kingdoms.’

‘I make no secret of it,’ replied the other with a shrug. ‘I studied at the Abbey of Darú where many of our countrymen have studied. I was there for two years before returning home.’

‘And where is home?’

The young scribe did not reply but changed the subject. ‘I heard you say that you were from the Kingdom of the East Angles. Do you not find it difficult to live among these strange people? Look at the way the servants seem to think themselves equal to their King. We would have them flogged for such pretensions.’

‘It is not the custom here to flog those who attend to our needs.’ Eadulf felt his hackles rise. ‘Rather, we reward them for their service to us. You should know that, if you have studied here for two years.’

‘I did not concern myself with the lives of those outside the abbey. I concentrated on my studies and was glad to leave the country,’ replied the other rudely.

‘I presume that you are from Magonsaete?’ Eadulf asked, trying to keep a calm voice and pursue the information he sought.

‘Magonsaete? That backwater? Not I,’ declared Brother Bosa, much to Eadulf’s surprise. ‘I am from the Kingdom of Kent. I am a direct descendant of Wecta, son of Woden. My father was Octha, brother to Eorcenbert.’

Eadulf was even more surprised. Eorcenbert had been a King of Kent and married to Seaxburh, daughter of Anna, King of his own people, the East Angles. Importantly, Eorcenbert was the first king to have been raised as a Christian, and when he had come to power in Kent, he had ordered the destruction of all the ancient gods and goddesses and their priests. He had appointed the first Jutish Archbishop of Canterbury. That had been Frithuwine, who took the Latin name Deusdedit, but who had died of the Yellow Plague.

Brother Bosa obviously took Eadulf’s silence for awe and smiled indulgently. ‘I am the son of kings and of the oldest kingdom among our people. My father, a pious man, sent me first to Rome for my education and then to Darú, so that I might learn the ways of the barbarians that surround our country.’

Eadulf regarded the young man thoughtfully, ignoring the slight. ‘Bishop Arwald is from Magonsaete,’ he pointed out.

Brother Bosa flushed in annoyance. ‘I have never been to that place,’ he said haughtily.

‘But you serve Bishop Arwald. Why. .?’ Eadulf was frowning.

‘I am of Kent,’ snapped Brother Bosa. ‘I am from Canterbury and serving in the household of Theodore, the Archbishop, who is also served by Arwald. I serve the Bishop because. .’ He suddenly caught himself as if he was about to reveal something he should not.

‘Your master, Bishop Arwald, thought he had seen me before. In fact, he thought he had seen me in Canterbury only a short time ago in the company of an elderly man. Whoever he mistook me for, he said that he had come to this country and was known to have landed at one of the ports in the south.’

When Eadulf paused to allow a comment, Brother Bosa made no response.

‘I was wondering why Bishop Arwald thought it was me and how he knew that this person and his elderly companion had come to the Five Kingdoms.’

Brother Bosa hesitated a moment and then, obviously unable to think up some prevarication, he said: ‘I also glimpsed this person. He was remarkably like you but, now I look closely at you, he was much younger. While we were at this abbey called Fearna, Bishop Arwald made some enquiries of local merchants, and was told that two people answering the descriptions of those we sought had landed at a sea port to the south not so long ago.’

‘So you seek these people!’ Eadulf exclaimed. ‘Why?’

Brother Bosa seemed hesitant again. ‘I could answer, why should that be of interest to you?’ he countered.

‘If one of these persons looks so like me,’ replied Eadulf ‘then it is surely of interest.’

‘I suppose it would be,’ the scribe reflected. ‘I cannot enlighten you, however. I can only say that Bishop Arwald was much concerned about them.’

‘I suppose you know that the Venerable Verax is brother to the Holy Father?’

Brother Bosa seemed surprised that Eadulf knew, and confined himself to a nod of acknowledgement, before adding: ‘I serve Canterbury and Rome, and therefore it distresses me to be among barbarians who have not accepted the True Faith. You yourself, Brother Eadulf, wear a tonsure of Rome, yet you live among these barbarians and have even married the sister of the King.’

Eadulf’s eyes narrowed for a moment. ‘And you disapprove?’

Brother Bosa did not appear perturbed at the frowning countenance of Eadulf. If anything, he was growing assertive, leaning forward to tap the other man on the chest with a forefinger.

‘You are a religieux, and in spite of conversion to the Faith by clerics from this country, we are told that you went to Rome and declared for her teachings as decided at innumerable councils of her bishops. You represented the true path of Rome at the Great Council of Streonshalh against the false doctrines of the Church of Columba.’

‘Therefore?’ Eadulf’s voice was quietly ominous.

‘You have been seduced; married to a foreigner. A religieux should be celibate.’

Eadulf raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, so you are an advocate of celibacy among the religious?’

‘There is no other path to follow but that of the True Faith. It is wrong for anyone in the religious to marry and have children.’

Smiling complacently, the young scribe did not notice the tightening of the muscles of Eadulf’s features.

Eadulf completely forgot that the scribe had neatly deflected him from the purpose of his questions. He said icily, ‘You are now in the Kingdom of Muman, Brother Bosa; in the Land of the Five Kingdoms which hold an allegiance to a High King who resides in the Middle Kingdom. All the kingdoms follow the same laws and practices and religious concepts. You would be well advised not to express the opinion that their liturgy is a false doctrine. Remember, it is Rome which, through its many councils and debates, has departed from what was originally taught when the Faith first came to this land. Here, they regard the liturgy and doctrines now followed in Rome as the deviant ones; ones rejecting the original teachings of the Faith.’

‘That is nonsense!’

‘Nonsense or not, not even the Bishop of Rome and his council have declared against marriage among the religious. So be aware of where you are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Have you ever read the works of Aurelius Ambrosius, a man from Gaul who became Bishop of Mediolanum, a city situated, so I am told, to the north of Rome?’

Brother Bosa was puzzled. ‘I have never read his work.’

‘There are two lines of advice given by him that you may well consider. Quando hic sum, non jejuno Sabbato; quando Romae sum, jejuno Sabboto.’

Brother Bosa thought for a moment and then translated: ‘When I’m here, I do not fast on Saturday; when I’m in Rome, I fast on Saturday. What does that mean?’

‘In other words, Brother Bosa, follow the customs of where you are and do not try to impose your own.’

‘What if I know that I speak the truth? Am I to remain silent?’

‘Ensure that your truth will not offend another’s truth before uttering it!’

‘And you take offence because I do not believe that you have followed the right path of the Faith in marrying yourself to a foreigner in order to gain favour with these people?’

Eadulf fought once more to restrain a surge of angry emotion. He was thinking of the attitude of his brother, Egric. ‘It did not happen like that. Besides, nowhere in Christendom is this idea of celibacy mandatory for those in religious life. Even the apostles were married, for did not Christ cure the mother of Peter’s wife? Did not Paul write to Timothy at Ephesus, accepting marriage among the church fathers but saying that bishops should only take one wife for there are some societies where there can be a plurality of wives?’

Brother Bosa bent forward, eyes fierce. ‘Paul also wrote to the Christians at Corinth pointing out that the unmarried religious care for the Lord’s business and devote their life to pleasing the Lord; but the married men and women care only for worldly things, aiming to please their wives or husbands and gain security through personal wealth.’

‘Indeed, he did,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘He also explained that this was his personal view — which he did not impose on anyone else. There was no compulsion and people were in complete control of their own choices.’

‘I have read, in the sacred texts, that the disciples asked Christ if it was better not to marry, and He said that His followers should renounce marriage for the sake of achieving the Kingdom of Heaven.’

‘Return to the text, Brother Bosa, which is in the Gospel of Matthew,’ Eadulf counselled. ‘The words of Christ are very clear. He was speaking generally when he said some are incapable of marriage because they are born so. Others might decide to renounce marriage to devote their time to the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven. Nowhere does the Christ say that they must do so.’

‘More and more, the churches are realising that you cannot serve the needs of the faithful while being distracted by the needs of your own family. It was one of the canons agreed by the bishops and priests meeting at the Great Council of Elvira,’ Brother Bosa argued stubbornly.

‘The Council of Elvira, three centuries ago, was the first Christian council in Iberia, limited only to a few local bishops and priests. Their declaration had no authority anywhere else. And don’t tell me that the first council of bishops in western Christendom — that of Arles in Gaul — also declared for celibacy a few years after Elvira!’

‘They did so,’ affirmed the young scribe enthusiastically. ‘Over forty-three bishops from churches in the west of the Roman Empire confirmed the decisions made at Elvira, including celibacy. We should stand by the edicts of Elvira.’

‘Then, dear Brother Bosa,’ Eadulf said coldly, ‘I suggest that your party, being here, stand in peril of breaking those very edicts.’

Brother Bosa stared at him without comprehension.

‘Canon nineteen of Elvira states that bishops, priests and deacons must not leave their churches to engage in other business, and must not go into foreign provinces.’ Eadulf wasn’t sure he had the detail correct but it was a vague memory. Brother Bosa’s expression was suddenly nervous.

‘We did not come here to. .’ he began, and then suddenly paused.

‘Why did you come?’ Eadulf tried to press the point. ‘None of you appear willing to tell us.’

‘It was not to be persuaded by outdated concepts already overturned at the Council of Arles,’ snapped the young scribe.

‘Arles was called by Constantine, the Roman Emperor, only to deal with the Donatists who were opposed to state interference in religious affairs. And many of the decisions at Arles were never accepted throughout Christendom,’ sighed Eadulf, aware that he had missed the opportunity to press for the motive behind the deputation.

‘But Pope Siricius declared that bishops and priests should no longer be cohabiting with their wives,’ the scribe droned on.

‘Dear Brother Bosa.’ Eadulf smiled wearily. ‘I can see that you have been converted to this concept. Thankfully, such an unnatural course between men and women is certainly not doctrine. The idea that you cannot involve yourself in the New Faith without becoming a self-imposed eunuch goes against creation, which surely must be an insult to the Godhead Whom we accept as creating it. It is not marriage that is an anathema to the Faith, but gratuitous sexual congress. It is this which breeds abuse among people. Comfort and support of men and women in vows of fidelity with one another is the natural succession of God’s principle of human creation. And now,’ he turned abruptly, ‘I think we have spent enough time on this matter.’

He was frustrated at being led aside from his purpose by a debate on celibacy. He had come no nearer to finding out the purpose of this curious deputation at Cashel except. . except that he was certain that there was a connection with his brother’s unexpected arrival and the murder of the Venerable Victricius. He suddenly decided to test whether the name would provoke a reaction from the young scribe. He turned back.

‘One more question, since you come from Canterbury. Did you ever meet the Venerable Victricius of Palestrina there?’

Brother Bosa’s reaction was immediate. ‘The Venerable Victricius?’ he gasped.

‘So you do know him?’

Brother Bosa was staring at him with suspicion moulding his features. ‘Is he here?’ he demanded slowly, adding: ‘He was the elderly man mentioned by Bishop Arwald.’

Eadulf decided to stick to the truth. ‘We had a report that such a man was attacked and killed on the river just south of here.’

‘Who attacked him?’ demanded the scribe in a fierce tone.

‘Bandits,’ replied Eadulf.

‘Bandits?’ There was dismay in his expression. ‘He was robbed? Were his belongings taken?’

‘The bandits took what they did not destroy,’ Eadulf said, being frugal with the truth. ‘You knew him then? We understood he was a senior cleric from Canterbury.’

Eadulf was not prepared for the man’s next response. Brother Bosa began to chuckle and then quickly regained his composure. ‘I knew of a man named Victricius in Canterbury, but he was neither a senior cleric nor anyone who would be entitled to such a prefix to his name. I am not even sure he was entitled to the name Victricius either.’

Eadulf tried to suppress the uneasiness that was welling in him. ‘Who was he then, this Venerable Victricius?’ he asked quietly.

‘I suppose he could pass as a “venerable”,’ sneered Brother Bosa. ‘He was old enough. When I saw him in Canterbury, he was tied to a whipping post and being flogged.’

‘What had he done?’ Eadulf closed his eyes for a moment, remembering Gormán’s description of the healed lacerations on the back of the corpse.

‘When I saw him he also wore a tonsure — the tonsure of Rome. He was passing himself off as a religious. I doubt that he was one. He was certainly a thief. He had stolen gold and silver plate from the new Abbey of Menstre — and was lucky not to be hanged. He was saved because he managed to convince the Princess that he was a Roman.’

‘Menstre? Princess?’ Eadulf was unable to hide his ignorance.

‘Last year, the Princess Domneva, of the Royal House of Kent, became abbess of a foundation that she set up near Ypwines fleot, which is now called Menstre, the monastery. She caught this thief and sent him to Egbert at Canterbury for punishment. He was a thief, not a “venerable” of the Church. Are you sure that he and his party are dead? Are you quite certain that his belongings were stolen?’

The eagerness in the scribe’s voice put Eadulf on the alert.

‘I am told that a band of outlaws attacked the boat he had hired to bring him upriver. His boatmen were killed and his belongings were taken or destroyed.’ Eadulf made no reference to Egric.

Returning to his chambers, Eadulf had barely finished relating the conversation to Fidelma when there was a tap on their door and one of the King’s young attendants stood framed quivering in the portal.

‘The King requests your immediate attendance in his council chamber,’ the young boy intoned breathlessly to Fidelma.

‘My attendance?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Both of you, lady, if it please you,’ the boy stammered, before turning and hurrying off.

Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a glance.

‘Now what?’ Eadulf wondered.

When they reached Colgú’s council chamber, they found not only the King but Abbot Ségdae with Brother Madagan. Gormán was on guard outside the doors and showed them in.

Colgú glanced up with relief as they entered. ‘I have need of both your talents,’ he greeted them shortly.

‘What has suddenly caused this?’ Fidelma asked, taking the seat her brother had indicated.

‘It seems our friend Eadulf has spoken to Brother Bosa and prompted a response from the Venerable Verax.’

‘I have?’ Eadulf was startled.

‘As I understand it, you were trying to find out some information from Brother Bosa.’ Colgú raised his hand as Eadulf was about to justify himself. ‘Brother Bosa must have passed this on to his masters. So I think your questions have produced a result.’

Fidelma bent close to Eadulf: ‘I suspect it was your news about Victricius,’ she whispered.

‘The Venerable Verax has sent a message to me saying he now appreciates our concerns at wanting to know the purpose of this visit,’ Colgú said. ‘He is prepared to explain things.’

‘He is prepared?’ Abbot Ségdae echoed disdainfully.

‘He has offered to go through it before the meal begins, for a welcome feast would not be the correct place to discuss such matters. He has said that he personally will explain it to me and my bishop, meaning Ségdae here and his steward. I have said that I cannot accept this unless my legal adviser and my adviser on the Saxon matters are also in attendance. That is you, Fidelma, and Eadulf.’

‘He agreed?’ asked Fidelma with surprise.

‘He agreed,’ confirmed her brother.

‘Then by all means, let us hear what the Venerable Verax has to say,’ Fidelma urged. ‘Then we can alleviate some of the tension for tonight.’

Gormán was sent to inform the Venerable Verax that they were ready. The warrior left and returned in hardly any time, escorting the austere figure of the Venerable Verax of Segni. The prelate’s glance encompassed the assembly before coming to rest on the face of the King.

‘You may be seated, Venerable Verax.’ Colgu motioned to a chair. ‘You have come to volunteer the reasons why your party has come here to Cashel?’

‘I have, and you will pardon our initial reticence as we are strangers in a strange land and were much perturbed by the killing of our emissary, Brother Cerdic, while under your protection in this palace.’

Colgú shifted uncomfortably. ‘I have assured you that this death is being investigated and when the culprit is found, they will be subject to our laws and punishment.’

‘I now understand this.’

‘So, what is the purpose of your coming here?’

The Venerable Verax considered for a moment. ‘Let me tell you in my own way.’

‘Then let us all be seated,’ the King invited with a gesture of his hand.

After everyone was seated, the Venerable Verax leaned back and cleared his throat for a moment. ‘There have, as you know, been many problems in Christendom. One of these problems concerns the spreading of the true word of the Faith to the far reaches of the earth. Certain people believe that they alone have the true interpretation of that word.’

Abbot Sédgae spoke up at this point to say: ‘So far as we know, Rome has held many councils at which new interpretations of the Faith and new teachings have been offered. We here, in the west, maintain the Faith as it was originally brought to us.’

The Venerable Verax was equal to this. ‘The Faith was first brought to you by whom? I can name a dozen different interpretations that were being taught — Donatism, Pelagianism, Iconoclasm, Priscillianism, Arianism. . Oh, the list is endless. It is Rome’s ambition that all these different interpretations may one day be united.’

‘Under Rome,’ muttered Abbot Ségdae, quietly but audibly, ‘And how will Rome succeed in this? There are many who claim to be of the Faith, who believe in the teachings of Jesus. Yet some say he was just a man who adopted the title “Son of God”, meaning that we are all the children of God.’

‘That teaching was condemned by the Council of Antioch many years ago,’ stated the Venerable Verax.

‘Then there are many who say that they believe Jesus was a man — but that his soul was divine.’

‘And that was condemned by the Council at Constantinople.’

‘Arius claimed that the title “Son of God” was merely a courtesy.’

‘Arian has also been condemned,’ sighed the Venerable Verax. ‘Many coming to the Faith have not been able to understand how Jesus could be both human and divine.’

‘At the moment, Rome accepts that Jesus had two natures but one will.’ Abbot Ségdae spoke out clearly.

‘My brother, the Bishop of Rome, like many of us, is working towards changing that mistaken teaching as well.’

‘With respect, these arguments are subjects for the scholars of the Faith to debate,’ Colgú intervened. ‘Such arguments are surely not your purpose in coming here. Let it suffice to acknowledge that the Faith is not united and never has been. When it was first brought to this island, we were told that Jesus was fully divine; soon afterwards, we began to hear that not everyone — even in Rome — accepted that. Such debates are held regularly to consider this interpretation or another one.’

‘And now we must change,’ Venerable Verax said aloofly.

‘And you are here to preach that new change?’ Colgú asked, perplexed.

The elderly prelate hesitated and shook his head.

‘We are informed that this island contains Five Kingdoms. In these kingdoms, I am told, are many bishops. Bishops like yourself, Ségdae of Imleach. Each bishop seeks power over his territory.’

Abbot Ségdae glanced at Colgú before responding. ‘We do not see it in those terms,’ he said. ‘I have already told you that abbots are more powerful than a bishop, for the kings and princes of the territory grant lands to the abbeys, and the abbots and abbesses are often of the same royal blood as those kings and princes. The abbots and abbesses are elected to their office by their derbhfine — that is, the family within the abbeys. Among us, sons often succeed family members, but only if they are worthy. Daughters become abbesses in place of their mothers. We believe in the family.’

The Venerable Verax grimaced, not trying to hide his distaste. ‘Many of us believe that only in celibacy can we of the Faith serve God completely and without distraction.’

‘A curious notion, but we will not debate it. We find Rome often preaches many notions that are alien to our understanding of life,’ Fidelma said briskly. ‘I believe Brother Eadulf has discussed that very topic with your Brother Bosa.’

Abbot Ségdae saw an opportunity to speak on a favourite subject. ‘Here, we believe that men and woman are responsible for all their acts — whether they be good or evil. We are all capable of redemption. Yet I have heard that Rome now believes in the teaching of Augustine of Hippo, who declared that the original sin of Adam and Eve, at the beginning of time, tainted human nature, and from that time we were all condemned, each and every one of us. Only God knew who He would consign to Heaven or to Hell. Rome believes that no matter what a person does in their life, no matter how good or how evil, they are already condemned. We find that a curious and disturbing belief.’

The Venerable Verax’s face had become blotched with red. ‘We know that you are misled by the teachings of Pelagius. His heresy has long been declared at Rome.’

‘Pelagius, in stating that we are all capable of choosing between good and evil and saving our own souls, was merely echoing what we all believe. Augustine’s teaching imperils moral law, and, above all things, we believe in law in this land. If we follow his logic then we have permission to indulge freely in evil because, whatever crimes we commit, Augustine says that we have no chance of redemption, or choice between Heaven and Hell. It has already been decided.’

‘God has infinite knowledge. Whatever we do, our future is ordained. Pelagius has been condemned,’ burst out the Venerable Verax.

‘Zosimus, Bishop of Rome, supported Pelagius — but when Augustine and his friends applied political pressure, he was forced to declare Pelagius’ teachings heretical,’ Abbot Ségdae replied steadily.

‘Indeed, his teachings were declared heretical — but here in these western fastnesses you still cling to his heresy!’ The elderly prelate was getting really angry now.

Colgú himself was also clearly annoyed with the direction of the exchange. ‘I was not aware that I had called another council to discuss aspects of the Faith. I repeat: is this why you are here, Venerable Verax? If so, a proper council should have been summoned by the abbots and bishops involved. This is a matter for ecclesiastics and not for kings.’

Venerable Verax collected himself and said more calmly, ‘My apologies. The Bishop of Rome is concerned that these western reaches are without a strong guidance as to the Faith. He was inclined to support the argument that the Archbishop of Canterbury might extend his authority over all the abbots and bishops of this island in order to secure some form of religious conformity. The reason we are here is to gather information as to whether that would be acceptable, or whether there is some alternative.’

The silent response was one of astonishment at the suggestion. Then Abbot Ségdae said slowly: ‘There are too many differences in the paths chosen by our churches and among our people to take that proposition seriously.’

Even Eadulf was utterly surprised at the suggestion and felt he should contribute. ‘Canterbury does not even exert religious authority over all the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons,’ he spoke up, ‘let alone the kingdoms of the Britons in the west and the kingdoms of the Cruthin and Dál Riadans in the north. The Bishop of Rome is either not well informed or has been misled by his advisers.’

A look of annoyance crossed the Venerable Verax’s features. He seemed about to say something in retort but then smiled thinly and said, ‘What is the purpose of seeking information, other than to see how such a proposal would be received?’

‘And this is why you are here?’ Colgú demanded, still disbelieving. ‘To see how we would react to such a proposal? Then you can be assured that we, in the Kingdom of Muman, would be united against any such idea. I am sure that you will have heard similar opposition when you were in the Kingdom of Laighin.’

‘Yet we have also heard that there are some prelates of these kingdoms who wish to see an Archbishop preside over all the abbots and bishops here,’ replied Venerable Verax.

Abbot Ségdae grunted, and said dismissively, ‘We are aware that for some time the abbots at Ard Macha have tried to claim themselves to be the heirs of Patricius, and further, claim that he was the first to preach the Faith among the Five Kingdoms. Therefore, they argue they should be senior in rank to all other cleries on this island.’

‘And you disagree with that?’

‘As we told you before, you will find few who agree. It is a fact that the Bishop of Rome sent Patricius here as his bishop to those who had already been converted to the Faith. Moreover, he was sent here to argue against what Rome saw as the heretical teachings of Pelagius, which we had accepted. There were many teachers of the Faith here before Patricius the Briton — even the emissary from Rome, Palladius, who our friends in Ard Macha would prefer to wipe out of history.’

‘So you would not agree that the abbots or bishops of Ard Macha have an historic right to be Archbishops over all these kingdoms?’

‘Certainly not. Ségéne, the current Abbot of Ard Macha,’ Abbot Ségdae carefully emphasised the correct title, ‘is even opposed by the Abbot of Dún Lethglaisse, for it was there that the same Patricius the Briton lived, died and is buried.’

‘So who would you claim to be senior among the churches?’ pressed the Venerable Verax.

‘Here in Muman we have had several teachers of the Faith who taught and established their abbeys in the south before Patricius the Briton arrived in the northern kingdoms. I, for example, am the comarb, the successor of the Blessed Ailbhe of Imleach; then there was Ciarán of Saighir; Declán of Ard Mór; Abbán of Magh Arnaide; Fiacc established the abbey of Slèibhte before Patricius visited him there; even Ibar set up his community on the island of Beg Ériu in Laighin long before Patricius.’

‘Are you saying that these abbeys would claim precedence over Ard Macha?’

‘It is long known that Imleach has been regarded as the first and most senior abbey in the south of this island. It is accepted in our Kingdom of Muman.’ Colgú spoke deliberately in support of his Chief Bishop as it seemed that Abbot Ségdae was taking the brunt of the debate with the Roman prelate.

‘If you had asked these same questions in the Kingdom of Laighin, on your way here, I think you would have received similar answers,’ confirmed Fidelma.

The Venerable Verax turned to her. ‘Ah yes. ., you were formerly Sister Fidelma and dwelled some time among the religious at Cill Dara. I am told that is in the Kingdom of Laighin?’

‘I was there until I decided to serve my brother in my capacity as an advocate of our laws.’

‘I heard that you left the abbey, after having disagreed with the abbess? Abbess Ita, wasn’t it?’ mused the Venerable Verax.

Fidelma made no reply, remembering the crimes of the abbess from which she had walked away, rather than expose her as a thief and murderess. Soon after, Abbess Ita had left and disappeared on some missionary cause beyond the shores of Laighin.

‘Abbot Moling, who is Chief Bishop of Laighin, told me Cill Dara also claims to have precedence over all the other religious houses because it was established by the Blessed Brigit,’ went on the Venerable Verax. ‘That would never be countenanced by Rome.’

‘Why so?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Because Cill Dara is a. . what do you call a mixed house of men and women and their children? There is both an abbess and an abbot. I am told that Abbot Máel Dobarchon is currently answerable to Abbess Gnáthnat who is regarded as the true successor of the Blessed Brigit. Now that would make the senior cleric in these kingdoms a woman. That is a preposterous idea!’

‘To your way of thinking,’ Fidelma responded spiritedly.

‘So who else could come forward to claim the Archbishop’s title in the Five Kingdoms?’ the Venerable Verax asked.

Abbot Ségdae turned to his steward, Brother Madagan, who had been silent. The steward cleared his throat as he realised he was expected to answer the question.

‘I would presume that Abbot Colmán Cass of Cluain Mic Nois, where many of the kings of that place are buried. They would have as much right as any. But if you are here to discover who has the better claim to be Archbishop over all the Five Kingdoms, then you will have a hard task. In spite of what the abbots of Ard Macha have written to Rome — for we know they have already done so — there are many among all Five Kingdoms who would dispute their claim.’

The Venerable Verax considered the matter. ‘But rising from such disputes, you might say that there are some bishops or abbots here who would give much to show that they were endowed with the blessing of such an office by the Bishop of Rome himself?’ The question was directed at Abbot Ségdae.

‘I am not sure that any abbot of the Five Kingdoms would consider it necessary,’ Abbot Ségdae replied with a brief smile. ‘The Bishop of Rome is recognised as senior bishop of the Faith as a courtesy, for it was in Rome, so we are told, that the foundations of the Faith were laid and from where the teachings spread through the world.’

‘But you would agree that such recognition by Rome would be valuable to support such a claim?’

Abbot Ségdae shrugged. ‘I suppose it would be considered worth something. However, at the moment it is only Abbot Ségéne of Ard Macha who seems intent on getting recognition from Rome of such a title. For the rest of us, what is more meaningful is being comarb — successor — to the first of our blessed teachers.’

The Venerable Verax sat back, nodding thoughtfully. ‘But still valuable?’ he asked softly.

‘Such recognition would influence some,’ conceded the abbot.

There was a silence and then the Venerable Verax stood up and inclined his head towards the King. ‘The day grows late and I must prepare for this feast and entertainment that you are so kindly providing for our poor inquisitive deputation. Do I have your permission to retire?’

Colgú was looking bewildered. ‘So this was the purpose of your delegation? You have come to enquire about our views on whether we would accept an Archbishop from Canterbury or support the establishment of our own Chief Bishop over all the Five Kingdoms?’

‘That is our purpose,’ agreed the Venerable Verax solemnly.

Colgú waited until the doors had closed behind the prelate before turning to Abbot Ségdae and expressing his mystification. ‘I have little understanding of these arguments, but it seems that these people have made a very long journey simply to engage in an exercise of pointless speculation and argument.’

Eadulf added: ‘I am afraid that most of the countless councils summoned by the Church are about silly, small and trivial details. Why, we might even hear of a council meeting to discuss whether Christ owned His own sandals.’

‘Well, I for one am glad that the speculation about this strange deputation is over,’ Abbot Ségdae commented.

As a murmur of agreement began, it was Fidelma’s quiet voice that suddenly caused them to fall silent.

‘You forget that one member of this strange deputation was murdered in our chapel here. Was he really killed merely because he was enquiring whether the clergy of the Five Kingdoms wanted a Chief Bishop over them?’

As she and Eadulf crossed the courtyard a short time later, Fidelma was even more forthcoming.

‘The Venerable Verax made no mention of Victricius,’ she pointed out. ‘Yet it was your mention of Victricius that drew him out to make some explanation to us. Why? That explanation is not good enough. I believe the Venerable Verax was lying about the purpose of his mission here.’