Fidelma stood still, as if she had been slapped in the face. There was shock in her expression. Then her jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed dangerously.
‘So, perhaps we are getting to the truth of your views about me.’ Her voice was cold and hard.
Eadulf, red in the face, was now in control of himself.
‘Do not react until you have considered what I am saying. I am not so uncaring that I cannot see both sides of you. But I have to tell you that I am weary of being a …’ He tried to think of an Irish term. ‘I am weary of being an idbartach.’ He chose the word for ‘sacrifice’ and hoped that it would convey the idea of someone who was used as a victim.
Fidelma’s face had become a mask. He waited for the explosion he presumed would come. Then, amazingly, her frozen features seemed to dissolve into a troubled expression. She said in a quiet voice, ‘What is it that you want in life, Eadulf?’
He did not reply immediately, too surprised by the softness of her tone.
‘What do I want for the future? I don’t want to live without you or our son, Alchú. But I want to be regarded as someone whose feelings should be considered as equal.’
‘Do you think that forcing me to give up the law, as you tried to do, and move to some enclosed community would be a recipe for happiness?’
‘Perhaps I was wrong to think it. But I don’t want to be a mere appendage of Fidelma of Cashel,’ he replied firmly. ‘I want to be my own person. I want to be regarded for my own worth and not for your sake.’
‘You don’t think that you are already?’ she asked with a frown.
‘I certainly do not,’ he returned immediately. ‘Although I have spent many years here, I am not of your country, Fidelma. I rely on your charity for my subsistence.’
She shook her head with a sad smile. ‘We knew that life together would not be easy. That was why I insisted on pursuing our custom of living with each other for a year and a day before we took our final vows of marriage.’
‘I know, I know. Perhaps it was my fault. There was little Alchú to consider,’ he muttered angrily.
‘Eadulf, all I can say is that I am sorry you feel that you are not regarded for your own worth. I know I am cursed with a temper. I cannot stop the criticism that springs from my tongue when I am distracted. But let me tell you this. As far as I am concerned, without you, your advice, your ability to analyse, I would not have succeeded in many of the investigations we have undertaken. Remember the time when you were able to understand the Law of the Fénechus to the level where you were able to successfully defend me when I was unjustly charged with murder. Who of importance in this kingdom has not shown you respect? My brother, the King, respects you, as does the nobility of Muman. Abbot Ségdae of Imleach respects you, and so do most of the religious of Muman. Indeed, even the High King himself knows and respects your abilities.’
Eadulf was silent for a moment.
‘I suppose,’ he said uncertainly, ‘I sometimes feel that I am not respected by the one person I really want respect from.’
Fidelma looked long and hard at him and there was suddenly a brightness in her eyes.
‘For that I am truly sorry. I know I must try to curb my temper, yet I cannot change my life or my ambition. I have explained many times that my cousin, Abbot Laisran, acted for my benefit when he told me to join the community at Cill Dara. It seemed a good idea at the time but I soon discovered it was not. For some time, because I was young and inexperienced, I did not know what path I should take. But finally, I know what I should do. My whole being is involved with law and the administration of justice. Not pursuing this will mean the death of my soul. No sacrifice that involves me giving this up is possible.’
‘Do you regret your time with me, as you regret your time in the community at Cill Dara?’ asked Eadulf.
Fidelma shook her head vehemently. ‘It tortures me, Eadulf, to think that we have come so far along our path in life together and may not continue on. I do not want to lose you. You will forever be my soul mate, my anam chara, and if you go, my soul will die. But if I am constrained from doing what I need to do in life to be fully alive, my heart will die. So what is my choice?’
He did not know how to answer or, indeed, how to sort out the thoughts that crowded into his mind.
‘What would you do in a religious community, Eadulf?’ Fidelma pressed when he did not answer.
‘In a religious community there is security.’
‘Security?’ Fidelma actually chuckled. ‘Look at this community and at the many communities to which we have been called when our talents are needed. Little security here, I’m afraid.’
Eadulf found himself smiling for it did seem a contradictory thing to say.
‘I mean in terms of position,’ he added, ‘of putting food on the table.’
‘Have we not security enough in Cashel? Are not our talents in demand far and wide? One day, we find ourselves summoned to Tara to investigate the death of the High King; another day our path takes us to Autun in Burgundia to advise at a council. Now, here we are in Lios Mór, where our talents are required yet again. Who knows where our footsteps may take us? But let us remember the saying from Horace — vestigia nulla retrorsum — no steps backwards. We have much to do to finish this investigation and once we have, I swear we will talk about our future. We know what we each want; we must see if we can reconcile our wants to some compatibility of purpose and, of course, the welfare of our son.’
Eadulf forced a wan smile. ‘Very well. And let me also quote Horace, as advice for both of us: ira furor brevis est: animum rege: qui nisi imperat.’
Fidelma laid a hand on his arm. ‘Well considered, Eadulf. Anger is a momentary madness, so we shall both control it before it controls us. And now I think it is time to return to the guesthouse and prepare for the evening meal.’
She turned and was leading the way from the chapel steps when she halted abruptly, causing Eadulf to cannon into her.
‘Eadulf, I think you have made an excellent suggestion.’ She turned excitedly.
He stared at her in bewilderment.
‘About controlling anger?’ he asked.
‘Is there not a saying, in anger there is truth?’
‘I have never heard it,’ he replied.
‘Then perhaps we shall invent it.’ She suddenly gave that mischievous grin that he had fallen in love with. ‘I have an idea …’
Before she could explain, they were hailed by Gormán who was crossing the quadrangle and had spied them.
‘I was looking for you,’ he announced as he came up to them.
‘Is anything the matter?’ inquired Fidelma, observing the excitement in the warrior’s expression.
‘I’ve been chatting with the echaire, the stableman, about the builders,’ he said.
‘Haven’t you heard enough about builders after Glassán’s eloquence the other night?’ Eadulf had reacquired his sense of humour.
‘In fact, it was Glassán we were chatting about. Did you know that Brother Echen is originally from Laighin?’
‘We did not,’ responded Fidelma solemnly, ‘but it is good to know that he has an appropriate name for a stableman.’ Echen meant a ‘steed’.
Gormán ignored her humour and went on, ‘It seems that his cousin is actually the táisech scuir, the man in charge of the King of Laighin’s stables.’