Eadulf stirred uncomfortably.
‘I think. .’ he began, but he was silenced by the blast of a trumpet outside the chapel.
‘That sounds like another distinguished guest arriving,’ sighed Brother Conchobhar, ‘and an important one for a trumpet to be sounded. Let us go and see who it is.’
Unprotesting, Eadulf followed the old man to the doors of the chapel and they halted on the steps overlooking the courtyard.
Two riders followed by a wagon had entered through the gates. To both Brother Conchobhar and Eadulf’s surprise, the wagon contained two religieuse with luggage, while seated on the riding box were two armed men in menial dress, not of the religious. One of them had a small trumpet on his lap and had clearly sounded the announcing blast. However, the two riders caused the observers an even bigger surprise.
The first rider was a tall, middle-aged man, fairly handsome in a dark and saturnine way, who carried himself with an arrogant manner. He was looking round with an expression of disdain. At his side, his companion was elderly and sharp-featured. What was astonishing was that they were clad in monastic robes. True, they were richly embellished, but nevertheless the men were clearly members of the religious.
Brother Conchobhar snorted in disgust.
‘Since when have the religious given themselves airs and graces?’ he muttered to Eadulf. ‘I know not these strangers.’
Caol, the commander of Colgú’s bodyguard, had come hurrying from the stables with Dego, one of his warriors, and halted before the newcomers. Eadulf noticed that Caol looked slightly bewildered and guessed that he had shared their expectation of the trumpet’s announcing the arrival of some noble or even a minor king. He was apparently nonplussed at being confronted by religious.
‘You are welcome to Cashel,’ he said warily. ‘Whom am I addressing?’
It was the elderly, sharp-featured man, who replied in a grand tone, ‘You are in the presence of the abbot of Cill Ria, Bishop Ultán of the Uí Thuirtrí, envoy from the archiepiscopus of Ard Macha.’
Caol continued to frown uncertainly. ‘Dego will see you to your chamber, Abbot Ultán, and then conduct your companions to the hostels set aside for them. The hostel for females is within the fortress but that for males is in the town below.’
The abbot did not move as Dego went forward but the elderly man at his side, glancing uneasily at his master, raised his tone querulously.
‘Does your king not come to the gate to welcome the envoy from the archiepiscopus of Ard Macha?’
Caol had begun to return to the stables but now turned with surprise.
‘My king does not even come to the gate to welcome the Comarb of the Blessed Ailbe who brought the Faith to our kingdom, let alone to welcome an abbot from the north who represents someone with a title that I do not recognise,’ he replied shortly.
Even from where he stood, Eadulf could see the saturnine abbot’s brows drawing together in anger. Beside Eadulf, Brother Conchobhar was stifling a chuckle.
‘Now,’ Caol was continuing, ‘should you wish to be received by Colgú before the ceremonies commence, I will convey your greetings to him. But he is, at this time, welcoming the High King, the provincial kings and the princes of these lands in his private chambers.’
He nodded to Dego to continue and began to turn away again.
‘Young man!’
Abbot Ultán’s sharp tones cut through the courtyard, halting Caol, who again turned questioningly to the newcomer.
‘You are insolent, young man. Know you that I am. .’
‘An arrogant messenger from an arrogant abbot,’ snapped a new voice.
Eadulf saw another religieux enter the courtyard from one of the buildings and come striding over to stand by Caol. He was broad-shouldered and looked more like a warrior than a leading member of the church, for as such his clothes and accoutrements proclaimed him.
‘That is Augaire, the abbot of Conga,’ whispered Brother Conchobhar. ‘He’s also one of the chief bishops to the king of Connacht.’
Abbot Ultán had turned a venomous gaze on the newcomer.
‘So? You are here too?’ He almost hissed the words.
Abbot Augaire smiled but it was a smile without humour.
‘Oh yes. Everyone who matters is here,’ he replied softly. ‘Even some who do not matter are here.’
‘Including the jumped-up Uí Fiachracha whom some call a king in Connacht?’ sneered Abbot Ultán.
‘Including Muirchertach Nár,’ affirmed the other, calmly. ‘Several of your old friends are gathered here.’
The way the abbot pronounced ‘old friends’ made it clear to Eadulf that the people referred to were anything but friends of Abbot Ultán. He wondered what this exchange really meant.
‘Do not think that they will intimidate me. I shall speak the truth,’ snapped Abbot Ultán.
Abbot Augaire’s smile broadened but it was still without warmth.
‘They would not wish to stop you if ever you decided to speak the truth,’ he replied with acid in his voice.
Abbot Ultán blinked. His expression was suddenly dangerous. He was about to say something but then seemed to change his mind and turned back to Caol.
‘Young man, tell your king that I demand to see him. In the meantime, I also demand that you send a warrior to stand guard at my chamber door to protect me from. .’ he glanced at Abbot Augaire, ‘from anyone who might wish to harm a truth servant of the true Faith.’
Caol looked bewildered for a moment and then he shrugged.
‘As I have said, Dego will take you to your quarters. I will convey your request to Colgú,’ he said, and left.
Dego moved forward to oversee the unloading of the luggage from the wagon and to conduct the abbot to his quarters, while another attendant went to see to the rest of the party.
For a few moments, Abbot Augaire stood in the courtyard looking thoughtfully after Abbot Ultán even when he had vanished through one of the entrances to the main building. He was unaware that Eadulf and Brother Conchobhar were still watching him. The expression on the abbot’s face was not a pleasant one. Then, with a shake of his head, he was gone.
Eadulf turned to Brother Conchobhar. ‘Well, what is to be made of that?’
Brother Conchobhar pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Have you not heard of Abbot Ultán?’
‘I seem to have heard his name recently.’ Eadulf frowned. ‘Ah, he was coming to protest against our wedding.’
‘I have never seen him before but I have heard many stories about him, none of them to his credit. He is not a man whom I would pronounce as fit for the company of saints.’ For once Brother Conchobhar looked serious. ‘Beware of Abbot Ultán. He is full of ambition, and pays homage to nothing save power.’
‘Ultán? Who speaks of Ultán?’
Eadulf swung round and found Brother Berrihert on the steps behind them. He smiled in warm greeting.
‘So you have come to join us? That is good. This is Brother Conchobhar.’
Brother Berrihert nodded curtly at the old man but his eyes did not leave Eadulf’s face. ‘The name of Ultán was spoken. Abbot Ultán of Cill Ria?’
‘The same,’ agreed Eadulf, worried at the intensity in the young Saxon’s voice. Then he remembered that it was Berrihert who had first mentioned the name of the abbot to him.
‘Is he here?’
‘He is. I am told that he has come here to protest against my wedding.’
Berrihert drew in a deep breath as if facing some momentous decision. Then he let it out slowly.
‘Then I give fair warning, Eadulf. Make sure that his path does not cross mine or that of my brothers, for I fear the worst.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘I fear that one of us might kill him,’ replied the young man sharply. He turned and strode off, leaving Eadulf staring in surprise.
Brother Conchobhar stood looking thoughtfully after him.