Eadulf was impatient. ‘Let us find the smith and see what he can tell us about the lock and maybe a second key.’
Usually, they could locate a forge by the sound of the hammer smashing down on the inneoin, or anvil, but with the sound of the building work it was impossible. Before they came to the forge they passed another tall building being erected with stone blocks and suddenly Eadulf nudged Fidelma.
‘There is a means of entrance to Brother Donnchad’s cubiculum and someone small enough to pass through the window.’
A tall ladder was resting against the building to allow the masons to climb to the upper walls. Seated by it was a small boy who was busy sharpening a chisel with a honing stone.
Fidelma regarded the boy critically for a moment. ‘I’ll grant he’s probably small enough but he would need two conspirators to help lift the ladder in place.’ So saying, she strode across to the boy.
‘Hello,’ she greeted him. ‘I haven’t seen you before.’
The boy was no more than ten years old, with fair hair, a ruddy face and wiry limbs. He glanced up at her with a shy smile.
‘Nor I you, Sister,’ he replied pertly.
‘My name is Fidelma and he,’ indicating Eadulf, ‘is called Eadulf. What’s your name?’
‘Gúasach. Why does he have a funny name?’
Fidelma chuckled. ‘Because he comes from a place across the sea which is called the Kingdom of the East Angles. Are you working on this building?’
The boy smiled proudly. ‘I am. I am apprentice to the master builder.’
‘How long have you-’
Her question was interrupted by a loud shout from a rough-voiced man on the other side of the new wall.
‘Gúasach! The chisel immediately!’
The boy sprang up with the chisel, gave them a grin of apology and disappeared through a gap in the wall.
Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘I doubt we have found the killer in that lad.’
‘Conspiracy?’ mused Eadulf. ‘Several people carried the ladder to the wall, the boy went up, killed Brother Donnchad and took the papers and books they wanted …’ Eadulf halted with a wry chuckle. ‘You are right. It is not a likely story.’
The cérdcha, or forge, of Brother Giolla-na-Naomh was located near the main gate of the community but just beyond the stables. It was after several wrong turns that they finally found the way behind the stable block. A young man stripped to the waist was gripping a glowing piece of metal in a tenn-chair, a pair of tongs. He struck the metal with an ord, a heavy hammer, causing sparks to fly as each ringing blow descended. An older man, also bare to the waist, though with a buckskin apron covering his chest and front, was clearly overseeing the young man’s work. He caught sight of their approach and said something to his apprentice. The young man turned from the anvil and plunged the piece of metal he was working into a telchuma, or water trough, next to the anvil.
‘Greetings, Sister Fidelma,’ the older man boomed. His voice was as deep and resonant as one might expect from his tall and muscular appearance. ‘I saw you and Brother Eadulf in the refectorium last evening. I am Brother Giolla-na-Naomh.’
Both Fidelma and Eadulf recognised the smith as one of those who had been seated at the abbot’s table the previousnight. A smith of the rank that had been ascribed to Brother Giolla-na-Naomh would of course, take precedent among the hierarchy of the abbey after the abbot, his steward and librarian.
The big man smiled through his shaggy black beard and examined them keenly with his blue eyes. He thrust out a massive hand to each of them in turn.
‘While I am pleased to welcome you here,’ he said, ‘it is sad that it is the death of Brother Donnchad that brings you.’
‘We share your sadness, Brother Giolla-na-Naomh,’ replied Fidelma solemnly, ‘and appreciate your welcome.’
The smith turned to his apprentice. ‘Bring me the metal lock that is on the shelf behind you.’ When the young man had passed it over, the smith added more instructions. ‘Stoke up the furnace with the cual craing and keep it hot.’ Eadulf knew that cual craing was literally ‘coal of wood’, the term applied to charcoal.
The smith turned back to them and pointed to a stone bench that stood under the canopy of a yew tree a little way from the forge.
‘The furnace is too hot to remain in comfort near it on a day like this,’ he said. ‘We may sit in the cool shade of that tree. The bench is comfortable. Brother Lugna advised me last evening that you would be wishing to question me.’
‘About the lock,’ confirmed Fidelma. She sat down on the stone bench while Brother Giolla-na-Naomh lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the ground in front of her. Eadulf simply stood to one side against the tree.
Brother Giolla-na-Naomh glanced round as they made themselves comfortable and said, ‘I expected the steward to come with you.’
‘For what purpose?’ asked Fidelma, intrigued.
‘No purpose.’ The man grinned. ‘Our steward simply likes to know everything that is happening. He is young to havereached the office of rechtaire. He has been here barely three years and already thinks he is in charge of all of us.’
‘Tell us about the lock,’ she invited the smith, mentally noting that he was obviously no big admirer of the steward.
The smith shrugged his massive shoulders and handed her the metal lock. She saw at once that Brother Giolla-na-Naomh was no novice at his art. It was a fine piece of work.
‘Not much to tell, really,’ the smith said. ‘It was Brother Lugna who came to me with the request. Brother Donnchad desired a lock and key to be fitted to the door of his cotultech … beg pardon, cubiculum. Brother Lugna insists on using these new Latin names.’
‘Did you find that a strange request?’ asked Eadulf.
Brother Giolla-na-Naomh smiled briefly. ‘I have had stranger requests. But, I suppose it was unusual in our community where trust is our faith and a way of life.’
‘There is usually no need to lock anything away? There are no other locks in this community?’
‘Of course not. We are a poor community. Does not The Didache say, “Share everything with your brother. Do not say it is private property. If you share what is everlasting, you should be that much more willing to share things which do not last.” Is that not right, Sister?’
Fidelma regarded him in surprise. ‘You have read The Didache? It is a rare book, which I have seen only once.’ There was envy in her voice.
‘Our tech-screptra has a copy of the Greek text. It is regarded as one of the central texts of the Faith.’
Eadulf was looking bewildered.
‘It is an ancient Greek text,’ explained Fidelma quickly. ‘It is called The Didache, or The Teaching, but its full title is The Teachings of the Twelve Apostles, and it is said to have been written shortly after their deaths.’
‘Anyway,’ the smith went on, ‘the quotation sums up how our community should live. As the Blessed Tertullian taught, we, who share one mind and soul, have no misgivings about community in property.’
‘Very well, let us return to the subject of the lock and key,’ Fidelma said. ‘You were asked to make them for Brother Donnchad.’
Brother Giolla-na-Naomh nodded.