Fidelma frowned in puzzlement. ‘Why so?’
It was Brother Gambela who answered in his more stilted Greek. ‘We proclaim the monophysis of the Christ. We are taught that Christ had a single nature rather than a double nature.’
Fidelma’s eyes lighted in understanding. ‘Ah, I have heard of the Council of Chalcedon when this matter was discussed and Rome expelled those who believed that Christ was of a single nature.’ She turned to Eadulf, adding, ‘Hence the Greek words mono and physis. Rome believes that Christ was both divine and human. These were the two natures. The Council of Chalcedon said it was heretical to proclaim that Christ had only one nature.’
Brother Dangila was shaking his head. ‘We never believed in monophysis as it was portrayed by the Chalcedon Council. We Aksumites argued that Christ was perfect in his divinity and perfect in his humanity but his divinity and humanity were united in one nature — that is, the nature of the incarnate word. Did not the Blessed Cyril of Alexandria say that human and divine natures were united in one, without mingling, without confusion and without alteration? Those two natures were not separate. Perhaps the pontiffs of Rome conspired to misconstrue our teachings as a punishment for the refusal of our Church to obey them or be politically influenced by them.’
‘Harsh words,’ muttered the abbot reprovingly.
‘Truth is often bitter,’ replied Brother Gambela.
‘So let us finish the story,’ intervened Fidelma, seeing they might be entering dangerous theological territory. ‘You were slaves in Rome, you say? And no one would raise a hand to help you?’
‘That is true,’ Brother Dangila agreed. ‘We were used as labourers to load cargoes into the ships that docked along the river in Rome. Then we were sold to a Frankish merchant and forced to work as crew on his ship which undertook a long and terrible voyage from the Middle Sea and through a narrow strait, which we were told was called the Pillars of Hercules. Then came a terrible voyage along the coast of Iberia. A great storm came up and our ship was driven away from the coast, off its course. The captain began to panic and believed that we were going to be driven to our doom over the edge of the world.’ The Aksumite smiled lopsidedly. ‘The man believed that the earth was a flat shape and the horizon marked the edge over which none may venture. This idea we found a quaint teaching. Is such a belief current here?’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘Our astronomers have long taught that the world is spherical, Brother Dangila. Martialis writes that even in the days of our pagan ancestors, the Druids taught us that the world was in the shape of a ball.’
Brother Dangila nodded approvingly. ‘This captain was from a country called Frankia and seemed uncertain how to navigate his ship once we lost sight of land. While he and his crew panicked, we three prayed. The ship foundered in that terrible storm but God smiled on us for we three were among several who were then washed ashore into this kingdom. Your people fed, clothed and gave us hospitality. We were made welcome and made even more welcome when we revealed that we were of the Faith. Your people did not condemn us because we were Aksumites-’
Brother Gambela interrupted. ‘We were blessed when we discovered that the followers of Christ in this kingdom do not slavishly follow the dictates of Rome but retain many of the original rituals and the teachings of the early Faith just as we have done. We felt that God had ordained our journey for a purpose — that we were meant to learn here and take back that knowledge to our people. From the place where we were washed ashore we were taken to an abbey called the house of Molaga where we spent some time.’
‘Yet in spite of these adventures, or rather misadventures, you appear in clothing and with ornaments that are of your own country.’ Eadulf suddenly pointed out with suspicion, speaking for the first time in what had been, for him, a long period of silence. His knowledge of Greek was less than his knowledge of Latin and he had been struggling to follow the nuances of the conversation. ‘How were you able to keep those crucifixes of valued silver during your slavery?’
Brother Dangila turned to him, not in the least put out by his question. ‘These robes were woven here on our instruction. But you are right; Aksumite silversmiths made these crucifixes. Alas, we cannot claim them as our own. The abbot of the house of Molaga gave them to us. They were apparently part of some spoils taken from shipwrecks. We noticed them when staying with the abbot and identified their provenance. The charitable man felt it just that we should have them.’
‘After staying at the house of Molaga, what then?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Then we came here, to this abbey, where we have applied ourselves to our studies.’
‘Out of interest, may I ask what these studies are?’ enquired Eadulf.
It was Brother Nakfa, not having spoken before, who surprised everyone by suddenly speaking in reply. His voice was low and soft and yet his tone was quite musical, making his Greek sound like an incantation rather than speech.
‘We are interested in the way you perceive the heavens. Interested in the interpretation that you give to the sun, the moon, the stars and their courses across the sky. We have discovered that within your land dwell many learned men who have studied and written on such matters. Our people pride themselves on their knowledge of the heavens and the celestial beings but we did not think to find others beyond our known world who have pondered such matters.’
Brother Dangila added: ‘We have found the works of a learned brother named Augustine…’
Here Abbot Brogán, who had been following the Greek conversation with a frown of concentration, muttered: ‘He means Brother Aibhistín who dwells on Carthaigh’s Island. Aibhistín has devoted his life to studying the heavens.’
‘But specifically the moon and the tides,’ added Brother Dangila, ‘which is of great importance for he has clearly observed that the astrorum splendidissimum, that most splendid of the heavenly bodies, the moon, governs the tides of the oceans and is therefore one of the great mysteries of the universe.’
Brother Gambela raised his head a little, his face, like his companions’, lighting up with enthusiasm.
‘We discovered, while we were at the house of Molaga, that this abbey possesses a copy of De Mirabilius Sacrae Scripturae in which the good Brother Augustine speaks of the importance of the moon. He argues that it was at the full moon that the Passion of Christ took place…’
Eadulf suddenly leant forward with a suspicious frown.
‘You Aksumite brothers seem extremely interested in the full moon,’ he said pointedly.
Brother Dangila turned to him with a disarming smile. ‘What person can ignore the full moon and its consequences?’
‘Its consequences?’ Fidelma spoke sharply, suddenly alert to a possible significance in his words.
‘Isn’t that why you are interested in these deaths, Sister?’ countered Brother Dangila impassively. ‘I am told that your people place great weight on the fact that these local deaths have occurred at the full of the moon.’
‘What consequences do you speak of, Brother Dangila?’ demanded Fidelma, feeling that the impassive face of the Aksumite hid more than he was revealing.
‘The flood tide begins three days and twelve hours before the full moon, and after completing its course it comes to an end after an equal length of time. This fact is according to your scholar, the Brother Aibhistín. Now if the tides are drawn into such intensity at the time of the full moon, then how much are the emotions of man so roused to flood and ebb? Is there not liquid that flows within our bodies that might respond to the moon as does the liquid of the seas?’