‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded, gazing at them all in horror. ‘This is a House of God and you have no right to bring warriors into its sanctuary.’
‘I am Conrí, warlord of the Uí Fidgente,’ called Conrí, still seated on his horse. ‘I act in the name of Prince Donennach.’
Fidelma and Eadulf swung down from their horses and went up to the steward. His eyes looked almost malignant in the flickering light.
‘Ah,’ was all he said; the syllable expressed in a long and slow breath.
‘You will observe, Brother Cuineáin, that this time I am wearing the badge of the Golden Collar?’ Fidelma addressed him quietly.
The steward sniffed in disapproval. ‘I have noticed.’
‘You will also know what this is?’ She continued presenting the official hazel wand of office, the emblem of her authority from the King of Muman.
‘I know it.’
‘Then you know what it symbolises and the recognition that must now be accorded me and my party?’
‘It is so acknowledged,’ the man admitted reluctantly. ‘You are both representative of the law of the Five Kingdoms and of the personal authority of the King of Muman.’
‘That is good. Then you shall conduct me, and those I choose, to the chamber of Abbot Nannid immediately.’
‘But …’ the steward began to protest, throwing out an arm to encompass her warrior companions, ‘are they necessary?’
‘They are here because there is treason in these walls. Now, this is not a request,’ Fidelma expressed herself firmly. ‘Take me to Abbot Nannid. It is an order and you will carry it out now.’
The steward’s shoulders sagged a little in defeat.
‘Very well. But the abbot will complain to the High King and Chief Brehon of the Five Kingdoms.’
‘That is your right,’ replied Fidelma. She turned to her companions. ‘Conrí — your men are to secure the gates of the abbey in case of any attack on us. I do not think there will be, since I believe that the conspirators’ warriors have been sent to ambush Prince Donennach. However, we must be cautious.’
Conrí issued the orders while Fidelma gathered her party, which consisted of Marban, Temnén and the still silent Gláed, escorted by Artgal and Socht, with Eadulf, Gormán and Conrí. Ensuring that Conrí’s men had secured their positions, Fidelma instructed Brother Cuineáin to lead the way to the abbot’s chamber. As they did so, the steward noticed that Temnén was being followed by his hound, Failinis. He immediately began to protest again.
‘You can’t bring that creature into the House of the Lord. It is an affront and a sacrilege!’
Fidelma was in no mood to allow any further protests. ‘Do you then deny Holy Scripture, Brother Cuineáin?’ she snapped. ‘Nimirum interroga iumenta et docebunt te. Ask the animals and they will teach you … in God’s hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.’
Eadulf smiled. ‘The words of Job,’ he said, and added, ‘the creature has as much right to be here as you do.’
Brother Cuineáin gave an angry exclamation as they marched through the stone corridors towards the chamber of the abbot.
Abbot Nannid rose from his chair, his outrage obvious, as they crowded into his chamber. Before he could speak, however, Fidelma pre-empted him by holding up her wand of office.
‘Look closely on this, Abbot Nannid. I am here first to speak with the voice of the law and then with the voice of the King of Muman.’
‘You do not speak with the authority of the Church,’ snapped Abbot Nannid. ‘You have no authority within these abbey walls. You have admitted that you are no longer a member of the religious. You come here by the power of the sword — so I refuse to acknowledge your right to be here!’
‘You will find that I also act by the authority of Ségdae, Abbot of Imleach, comarb of the Blessed Ailbe and Chief Bishop of this kingdom.’ Eadulf’s voice rang out as he moved forward and, to Fidelma’s surprise, produced a small round, silver object from his leather bag. He laid it on the table before the abbot. ‘I carry the seal of Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, Chief Bishop of Muman. So the authority of the Church is upheld. Do you recognise it?’
Brother Cuineáin made one last effort to challenge them. ‘You did not present these authorities before,’ he began. ‘Why-’
It was Conrí who answered this time. ‘You were told that brigands had robbed the lady Fidelma and her companions. Thankfully, my men encountered the thieves and thus we were able to return these symbols of authority.’
The abbot was still staring at the silver seal. Then he looked from Eadulf to Fidelma, and then at those who had crowded into his chamber, sweeping them with a puzzled gaze. He did not even question the presence of Temnén’s large hound, who now sat patiently by the foot of his master.
‘What do you want here?’ he asked Fidelma.
‘To prevent a plot that would provoke civil war among the Uí Fidgente,’ she replied evenly. ‘To stop a war that will cause bloodshed throughout all Muman. To resolve the unlawful bloodshed that has already marred this kingdom, and to identify the culprits.’
The abbot raised his arms a little way then let them fall in a hopeless gesture. ‘I know nothing of such things,’ he said. ‘When you were here last, you claimed it was Brother Lennán who tried to assassinate your brother, the King. But Brother Lennán had been dead these many years. Have you now managed to resurrect him? Do your powers extend that far?’ Somehow the abbot found the courage to be sarcastic.
‘You hold a key to the door of a certain room,’ Fidelma said, ignoring the abbot’s gibes. ‘You will unlock it for me.’
Abbot Nannid shook his head. ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’
Fidelma turned to Brother Cuineáin. ‘If the abbot has no knowledge of the room of which I speak, I am sure that you do. It is the room in which the items are stored that are kept in remembrance of Cnoc Áine.’
The steward started nervously and glanced at the grim-faced abbot.
‘You have acknowledged my authority,’ Fidelma said forcefully. ‘You do not need the abbot’s permission to respond to my request.’
Abbot Nannid leaned back in his chair with a sigh. ‘That room?’ There was a thin smile on his lips. ‘Come, come, lady. There is nothing in that room that needs such suspicion as I see on your face. Brother Cuineáin may unlock it if he will, but I can tell you already what is in there. Some years ago, I authorised Brother Cuineáin to gather some of the sad debris that was left on the battlefield of Cnoc Áine. We have placed it there as a reminder of the evils of war. Isn’t that correct, Brother Cuineáin? It is a shrine.’
‘A shrine it is,’ Brother Cuineáin agreed quickly.
‘I have a mind to see this shrine,’ replied Fidelma. ‘And we will see it now.’
With another quick glance towards the abbot, Brother Cuineáin pointed to a small door to one side of the abbot’s chamber.
‘It is through there,’ he mumbled.
‘Take us inside,’ Fidelma instructed. She paused only to turn to the two Luachra warriors guarding Gláed, saying, ‘Keep him safe here. The others will come with us and that means you as well, Abbot Nannid.’
‘It is unnecessary. I know what it is in the room.’
‘But I do not want you to accuse anyone here of placing something in it that was not there before,’ she warned him.
They moved in a body, led by Brother Cuineáin, through the door — which opened onto a long corridor. Along one side, high windows would have emitted daylight, had it not been well past nightfall. The sounds of horses showed they were either near a courtyard or the stables. Brother Cuineáin asked Marban to light some lanterns to help and then, with Marban and Temnén holding them aloft to light the way, he preceded them along the corridor until he paused before a stout oaken door.