‘He did tell us that Brother Donnchad taught him his basic reading and writing,’ said Eadulf.
‘You must have been worried that Brother Donnchad determined on Gáeth as a soul friend,’ Fidelma remarked.
‘It did seem strange that a man as intelligent and scholarly as Donnchad would insist on such a person as his spiritualguide,’ admitted the abbot. ‘But then they had been boys together and playmates. But I saw no benefits in Gáeth being able to give spiritual guidance to Donnchad.’
‘It seems a curious relationship. Did Cathal ever enter it?’
‘Cathal was older than Donnchad and did not have much to do with Gáeth.’
‘What happened when Cathal and Donnchad left on their pilgrimage to the Holy Land?’
‘What happened?’ The abbot did not understand.
‘What was Brother Gáeth’s reaction at the loss of his friend Donnchad? How was Gáeth managed if he had tantrums that could only be calmed by Brother Donnchad?’
‘Ah, I see. Certainly we had some trouble with him. He continued moody and uncommunicative. Once or twice I even thought he might try to abscond from the community. But Gáeth has been constrained by the law and by tradition most of his life, and in the event he knew he could not break with it.’
‘You mean he just accepted the legal obligations of being a daer-fudir?’ Eadulf asked incredulously.
‘I think he knew his place in the scheme of things.’
Eadulf was about to say something else when he caught a warning glance from Fidelma.
‘I am interested, Abbot Iarnla, as to why you seemed concerned that we should talk to Brother Gáeth,’ she said.
Once more, Abbot Iarnla became embarrassed. ‘I wanted you to have a chance to meet and discuss matters with Brother Gáeth.’
‘And now that we have?’ demanded Fidelma sharply, when he hesitated again.
‘Now that you have, did he mention when he last saw Brother Donnchad?’
Fidelma saw that there was some meaning behind the question.
‘He said it was two or three days before Donnchad’s death,’ Eadulf answered.
‘Then he did not tell you the truth. It was the day before Brother Donnchad died,’ said the abbot. ‘I saw him hurrying away from Donnchad’s cell. Brother Lugna wanted to start allocating the accommodation to some of our senior clerics here and I felt that I should inspect them. I was in the next cubiculum but one to Brother Donnchad’s when I heard his door open. I heard Brother Donnchad’s voice say, “I rely on you, Gáeth.” Then I heard Gáeth exit into the passage.’
‘Did Brother Gáeth reply?’ asked Eadulf.
‘He did. He said, “It shall be put in the place of the dead. Have no fear. It will be just as you say.” Then I heard the door close and the key turn.’
‘It shall be put in the place of the dead?’ repeated Fidelma. ‘Did you confront Brother Gáeth?’
Abbot Iarnla shook his head. ‘I did not. As I said, Brother Donnchad shut the door and I heard Gáeth walking past the cell door where I was. When he had passed by I peered out and saw him heading towards the stairs. There is a window overlooking the quadrangle and so I went and leaned out to watch him come out of the building below. He was putting something under his cloak, for he was wearing one.’
‘Something? What sort of something?’
Abbot Iarnla shrugged. ‘I suppose it could have been anything. I had the impression it was a scroll.’
‘What sort of a scroll?’
‘It might have been a parchment.’
‘I wish you had told me this before we spoke to him. I might have been able to draw him out on this matter,’ Fidelma said irritably.
‘I had hoped that he would volunteer the truth rather than have to be confronted by it. One thing is certain, if BrotherDonnchad entrusted Gáeth to undertake this task for him, then we must assume there must still have been some friendship between them,’ the abbot concluded.
‘Perhaps,’ replied Fidelma. ‘This place of the dead that Gáeth mentioned, was it a relec, a graveyard, or was it an otharlige, a specific sepulchre? His exact words might give a clue as to where he was going to bury this object with which Donnchad had entrusted him.’
Abbot Iarnla brightened. ‘You are right, Fidelma. I had not thought of that. Gáeth chose an unusual word. He said dindgna.’
‘That is a mound, a small elevation,’ Fidelma translated. ‘The mound of the dead? Does that mean anything to you?’
‘Not at all. Our cemetery to the east, where Donnchad himself is now buried, is a low-lying flatland surrounded by trees. But our chapel was originally built on a mound because our founder wanted it to overlook the community. The only people buried there are our founder, Mo-Chuada, and his successor, Abbot Cuanan. No one else.’
‘I will not pursue this matter with Brother Gáeth for the moment, for I need to gather a few more facts,’ Fidelma said. ‘It shall remain a secret between us.’
‘You are a discerning person, Fidelma of Cashel. I know that. Otherwise I would not have invited you here to investigate this case.’ The abbot fidgeted, as if trying to formulate words to express what was on his mind, ‘You said that you detected some resentment in Gáeth. Now that you know he has lied to you about the last time he saw Brother Donnchad, what do you think?’
‘I think you should tell me what is on your mind,’ prompted Fidelma.
‘While Brother Donnchad was in this community, he seemed to exercise a control over Gáeth that calmed him and made him at peace with his lot in the scheme of things.
‘And when Brother Donnchad was due to set out on hispilgrimage, Gáeth at first wanted to accompany him and his brother Cathal. That concerned me and it was explained that such a thing was not possible.’
‘What reason did you give?’
Abbot Iarnla shrugged. ‘Simple enough. Cathal was against it and so was Lady Eithne.’
‘Since when does Lady Eithne pronounce rules for this community to obey?’ queried Eadulf.
Abbot Iarnla looked uncomfortable. ‘I have already explained to you that this land is under her jurisdiction according to the law of the Fénechus.’
‘We appreciate that. And this accounts for her control?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Under the law and with the judgement of the Brehons,’ confirmed the abbot patiently. ‘On the matter of the pilgrimage, Cathal probably made his views known to his mother and she made her views known to me. Gáeth was to remain here in the abbey while Cathal and Donnchad proceeded on their pilgrimage. Gáeth was not happy to see his lifetime’s friend and companion leave, especially in view of the fact that Donnchad was the only person among the brethren who seemed to have time to sit down and talk to him.’
‘But then Donnchad returned.’
‘Donnchad returned,’ sighed the abbot. ‘But not the same Donnchad who left, as has been explained to you. Can you imagine what his rejection of his former soul friend meant to Gáeth?’
There was a silence.
‘I once knew a man,’ said Eadulf suddenly in a reflective tone. ‘He had a dog whom he petted and fussed over. The dog went everywhere with him, even slept on his bed. Then the man met a woman. They married. The dog was no longer important and was chased out of the bedroom and when it whined andhowled, it was chased from the house. When it continued to whine and howl, the man chased it from the village, throwing stones at it. As he did so, the dog, angered by the rejection and hurt by the flying stones, leapt for the man and bit him in the throat. The man died.’ Eadulf regarded the abbot expectantly. Finally Abbot Iarnla stirred.
‘You must draw your own conclusions,’ he said. ‘I am just recounting the facts. I will see you in the refectorium this evening.’
They watched him walk away and then Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘I cannot see Gáeth having the ability to carry out this killing. The lock, the manuscripts … no. It is too complicated.’