‘Nonsense,’ replied Fidelma fiercely. ‘You will outlive us all.’
The old man gave a wheezy smile. ‘You were ever the optimist, Fidelma of Cashel. I thought Brehon Morann would caution you on an adherence to optimism. You have been to Rome?’
‘I have.’
Suddenly a troubled look crossed the old man’s features. His frail hand closed on Fidelma’s arm with an unexpected pressure, and he struggled as if he would raise himself up on his bed.
‘Calm yourself, Ruadán,’ soothed Fidelma anxiously.
‘Take care, Fidelma of Cashel. That which was taken from its watery grave must be returned to it. It is cursed!’
The sick man’s eyes stared into her face with a strange intensity. His features wore an expression of anguish.
‘I do not understand you, Brother Ruadán,’ she replied, trying to pacify him.
Both hands now came up, gripping her arms so tightly that the upper half of his body rose from the bed by the strength of his grip.
‘There is evil in this place, Fidelma of Cashel! Evil! Leave now — leave at once, for you will not be safe. Leave …’
He gave a gasp and fell back exhausted on the bed. Fidelma stared down at him, bemused. She was suddenly aware of Brother Hnikar standing at the door. Now the apothecary hurriedly approached the bed and laid a hand on Brother Ruadán’s forehead.
‘I told you that his strength was lessening. He has exhausted himself and fallen back into sleep. Leave him now. He needs all the rest he can get.’
Fidelma stood hesitantly for a moment and gave a reluctant glance at the old man. The apothecary was gently pushing her to the door.
‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured her. ‘He must rest now. When he is overtired he tends to hallucinate. I will take care of him. Pay no heed to what he says. His mind is disturbed.’
She found herself back in the passage, the door shut firmly behind her. Faintly, from beyond it, she heard the frail voice of Brother Ruadán cry out: ‘Tell her to leave … leave this abbey now! There is much evil here!’
CHAPTER FIVE
Brother Wulfila was waiting in the passage to guide her back to the abbot’s chamber. The steward greeted Fidelma with a sombre expression.
‘I heard him cry out,’ he said moodily. ‘Alas, he tends to think his attackers can still do him harm, even here in the abbey. We are doing our best for him. Brother Ruadán is much respected here. It is very sad.’
‘Indeed,’ Fidelma replied quietly.
‘Was he able to recognise you?’
‘He was, but little else.’
The steward was about to say something more but then changed his mind and guided her back to the abbot’s study.
Abbot Servillius and Magister Ado were still engaged in conversation. They had been joined by another man who seemed older than either the abbot or the magister. He was silver-haired, thin but not gaunt, with tanned features that were quite handsome. He carried himself with the erect posture of a younger man. It was only when one looked carefully into his face that one realised he was well beyond his allotted three-score and ten years. They all looked up as she entered.
‘Ah, Sister Fidelma,’ greeted the abbot. ‘Allow me to present the Venerable Ionas, our greatest scholar.’
The Venerable Ionas grimaced with an almost embarrassed expression. However, she was aware of a close scrutiny from his dark, penetrating eyes. ‘Pax tecum, Sister. I am merely one of many scholars in this community. Magister Ado here has as great a claim as my own.’
‘Abbot Ionas has written the praiseworthy work on the life of our founder,’ added Abbot Servillius.
Venerable Ionas seemed to notice that Sister Fidelma was troubled in spite of her best efforts to remain expressionless. ‘You are anxious about something?’ he asked.
‘I have just been to see Brother Ruadán.’ She could only explain the obvious. ‘He was my teacher when I was little.’
‘I did try to prepare you.’ The abbot was slightly defensive.
‘Poor Brother Ruadán will not be with us long, according to Brother Hnikar,’ the Venerable Ionas sighed. ‘How bad was he when you saw him?’
‘Bad enough,’ she replied as she lowered herself into the chair indicated by the abbot.
‘I shall call in on him later,’ Magister Ado said. ‘I would like to see him before it is too late.’
Fidelma felt an annoyance at what appeared to be their casual acceptance of Brother Ruadán’s imminent death. ‘Perhaps we should not consign him to the grave just yet,’ she protested.
‘I am sure that is not our intention,’ the abbot replied hurriedly. ‘But we must face reality.’
‘And the reality is …?’ queried Fidelma.
‘Outside these walls there is a harsh world at the moment,’ replied the abbot. ‘That is why young Prince Romuald is our guest at the moment.’
Magister Ado looked concerned. ‘You were about to tell us the reason for his coming here,’ he said.
‘He was sent here for protection. The rumours that Perctarit has returned from exile, taking advantage of the King’s absence in the south, are growing daily.’ Abbot Servillius glanced at Fidelma and smiled apologetically. ‘Our King Grimoald sent Perctarit into exile and-’
‘I have been told of your change of kingship,’ she interrupted.
‘Grimoald is in the south. Duke Lupus of Friuli has been left as Regent here in the north during his absence. The King’s son, Romuald, was left in the charge of a nurse and the protection of Lupus.’
‘So why is he here?’ pressed Magister Ado.
‘It seemed that the boy’s nurse, Lady Gunora, began to entertain suspicions as to where Lupus’ loyalties really lay. She took the boy and they left Lupus’ fortress in the dead of night to make their journey here, where she knew the brethren would provide Prince Romuald with sanctuary. The boy has a heavy burden on his young shoulders.’
‘I presume that the absence of the King in the south of the country is the reason why Perctarit is rumoured to have returned from exile?’ mused Magister Ado.
‘I would also presume that is so,’ agreed Abbot Servillius.
Magister Ado was frowning. ‘If this is the case, Father Abbot, do you not think there is a danger to the abbey? If the boy is in danger, then surely the abbey is too?’
The Venerable Ionas leaned forward in his chair. His features were serious as he looked towards the abbot. ‘Magister Ado makes a good observation, my old friend. Who knows outside these walls that Prince Romuald is here?’
The abbot took a moment before responding. ‘Apart fromLord Radoald, no one outside the abbey, for he and his escort arrived under cover of darkness only two nights ago. As the Lord of Trebbia is our friend and protector, he had to be informed.’
‘It is a secret that can scarcely be kept,’ Magister Ado pointed out. ‘Have you given any thought to what we should do if Lupus of Friuli makes a descent against the abbey?’
Abbot Servillius shook his head. ‘We are a house of God, not a military fortress,’ he responded. Suddenly realising that Fidelma had been sitting listening with quiet interest to the conversation, he rose to his feet. ‘But where are my manners? I have not afforded our friend, Fidelma of Hibernia, the hospitality that is the custom of our people. I shall instruct Brother Wulfila, our steward, to have a chamber prepared for you in the guest-house and water for washing as is your custom. The guest-house is a separate section of chambers above the apothecary and the cubicula for the sick. Indeed, it is situated on the floor above where you went to visit Brother Ruadán. It overlooks our herbarium, our herb garden of which we are justly proud and where you may wander freely on your own.
‘As you are a special guest, I am making a dispensation of certain of our rules so that you may stay here and not go to the house of the religieuses in the township. The same dispensation I have given to the Lady Gunora, for she must reside close by Prince Romuald. But I must ask you to abide by our rules that segregate the brethren from our guests. Never venture far without permission or the attendance of one of the brethren appointed to guide you. I am sure that you will respect this rule.’