‘On what grounds did the abbot refuse to go to the arbitration of a brehon?’
Brother Drón looked angry for the moment and then abruptly smiled, but without humour.
‘The abbey of Cill Ria, as I have explained, operates under the rules we have accepted from Rome, the chief church of Christendom. The Penitentials, which I am sure you know well, are the rules that have been blessed and approved by the archiepiscopus at Ard Macha.’
‘And these forbade Senach and Searc to be together?’
‘Of course.’
‘There is no “of course” about it. Rome does not forbid marriage among the religious.’
‘Had Bishop Ultán lived he would have brought the truth to you,’ snapped Brother Drón.
‘I do not doubt that he would have tried to put forward his views,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘But those views are not shared by everyone. By the way, are you saying that Senach did not respond to the feelings expressed by Searc?’
Brother Drón hesitated, his tongue passing swiftly over his lips.
Fidelma smiled thinly before he could reply. ‘So he did respond?’
Again anger formed on Brother Drón’s features. ‘He had taken an oath to obey the rules of the community of Cill Ria. The woman was a siren who twisted his mind and seduced him away from his oath.’
‘Is it true, then, that he asked if he could be absolved from his oath?’
‘Once taken, such an oath is impossible to withdraw from.’
‘Impossible? A formula of words in these circumstances is not made of chains and locks. Many have asked to be released from the oaths they took. An oath freely given may be ended if both sides freely consent.’
‘And Abbot Ultán did not freely consent, for if you have made a promise to serve God you cannot break that promise.’
‘As I understand it, Senach was not breaking the promise but asking that he be released from holding to it. And Abbot Ultán refused to consider his request and sent him off on this ship in which he was killed.’
‘It was for the boy’s own good.’
‘Hardly good when it resulted in the death of both the boy and the girl.’
‘That was God’s will. It was obviously God’s punishment on them both.’
Fidelma raised her eyebrows in distaste. ‘It seems that God gets blamed for many things,’ she said quietly.
Eadulf cleared his throat. ‘I am unclear. If Muirchertach summoned Abbot Ultán through a brehon to seek compensation in the courts, how could Abbot Ultán legally refuse to answer the courts of this land, even if his own abbey is ruled by the Penitentials?’
‘I have told you, in this the archiepiscopus supported him.’
‘But the king of Ulaidh knows full well that the Fénechus law is the law of all five kingdoms and the Penitentials are rules within the confines of certain abbeys that have adopted them. It was the king’s duty to obey the law and he should have compelled Ultán to come to account before the brehon,’ Eadulf pointed out.
‘A Saxon telling the king of Ulaidh how to obey his own law?’ sneered Brother Drón.
‘A dálaigh asking why the law was not obeyed,’ intervened Fidelma irritably.
‘That is something that the king of Ulaidh may answer and not I. In many places the Penitentials are displacing the old law and bringing our people into a true relationship with God’s holy ordinances.’
Eadulf looked nervously at Fidelma, knowing her fierce commitment to the law. But she said nothing for a moment or two. Then she asked: ‘Just to clarify this matter, Abbot Augaire made various representations to Abbot Ultán on behalf of the king of Connacht? When was the last representation made?’
‘Several years ago. And he was, as I have said, simply Brother Augaire at that time.’
‘And so the matter was forgotten?’
‘So far as we at Cill Ria were concerned.’
‘And is this argument the cause of the animosity shown yesterday between Abbot Augaire and Abbot Ultán?’
‘Being on different sides in an argument did not endear them to one another. Abbot Ultán considered that Augaire used his witnessing of the girl’s death to ingratiate himself with Muirchertach and his wife. Because of this matter he rose to the position of abbot at Conga. Abbot Ultán had two enemies here — Augaire and Muirchertach.’
Fidelma stood up slowly. ‘That will be all for the time being, Brother Drón. I shall probably want to see you later. I may also want to see Sister Marga and Sister Sétach.’
‘Why would you want to see them?’ demanded Brother Drón belligerently.
‘Why would you ask questions of a dálaigh conducting an investigation?’ snapped Fidelma. ‘This is not the first time that I must reprimand you on your attitude. You are in Cashel and we do not operate under your Penitentials.’
Once again Brother Drón swallowed and hesitated, and then he shrugged. After he had gone there was a silence for a few moments and then Fidelma glanced at her companion and smiled.
‘You are exceptionally quiet, Eadulf.’
Eadulf returned her smile and indicated with his head towards the closed door. ‘He is a vain, narrow and prejudiced little man. It is hard to hold a dialogue with such people.’
‘You are doubtless right, Eadulf. But at least we begin to build up a picture of this doughty prelate. It would seem that Brother Drón confirms that he was a bigot who could attract hate.’
‘I still do not understand how Abbot Ultán refused to answer the summons of a brehon. Surely the Penitentials cannot take any preference over the law of the five kingdoms?’
‘You remember what happened to you in Laigin?’ asked Fidelma softly.
Eadulf shuddered and nodded.
‘More and more we find some local chiefs and even provincial kings giving in to abbots who take it on themselves to adopt an alien system of laws that come in from the dregs of what was once the empire of Rome. They are harsh, with often physical punishments. I believe this is what is happening in the northern kingdoms of the island. Certainly, at some time, I will ask to speak to Blathmac of Ulaidh about it.’
She paused for a while, her fingers drumming on the armrest of her chair.
‘What now?’ prompted Eadulf.
‘Now?’ Fidelma paused and regarded him as if with some surprise. ‘I think a word with Abbot Augaire.’ He seems a central figure in the cause of this conflict between Muirchertach and Ultán.’
Eadulf raised his eyebrows for a moment as she moved towards the door. ‘You don’t want him sent for?’
Fidelma glanced back. ‘He is an abbot and is entitled to a little more dignity in treatment than Brother Drón.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
As they left the library to find Abbot Augaire, they were halted in the corridor by an earnest-looking young man. He was well dressed, of average height, with carefully groomed sandy hair and features that, while not of themselves unpleasant to look upon, were formed into an expression which forced the word ‘conceit’ to come to Fidelma’s mind.
‘I believe that you are Sister Fidelma?’ he demanded, the voice inquisitorial as if he were interrogating her.
Fidelma faced him with a grave smile. ‘I am Fidelma of Cashel,’ she said gently, reminding him of her other rank. It was a trick of hers that she only used when she felt someone was trying to be overbearing with her. ‘And this is Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
Even had the stranger been sensitive to this warning sign, he chose to ignore it.
‘Just so. When will you be ready with your defence? We cannot delay long and keep the Chief Brehon and the High King waiting.’