‘Where did you study? I think you mentioned Sléibhte.’
‘Indeed. I studied at the medical school attached to the abbey at Sléibhte in Laighin.’
‘I know it, for I was once at Cill Dara, which is not far distant. Aedh is abbot at Sléibhte, is he not?’
Brother Seachlann gave a grunt of assent.
‘It is a small world,’ Fidelma said pointedly.
‘It is,’ he responded, ‘and so you will know that there isregular contact between Lios Mór and the abbey of Sléibhte. It is surely not strange that it would bring me here.’
‘That is true,’ Fidelma agreed. It was clear that the physician was determined to provide as little information as possible while seeming to answer her questions. She thanked him for his help and left him to his herbs and potions.
Fidelma made her way slowly towards the building site again. She realised that it would have been quite a distance for the physician to carry the inert body of Eadulf by himself in the darkness. She was almost tempted to demand that Brother Seachlann reveal who his companion had been. He seemed to be hiding something but she knew she would not find out what by directly confronting him.
It was late afternoon now and Fidelma was surprised to find the site deserted. There was no shouting, no sounds of hammering, sawing or the clash of stone on stone. She hesitated before the half-built door whose lintel had so nearly put an end to Eadulf’s life. A cold shiver went down her spine. She realised that she would not have been able to continue had anything happened to Eadulf. She felt a sudden desire to cry. Then she sniffed and drew herself up, trying to chase the thought from her mind.
The lintel had been replaced in position on top of the door and a line of stones had been laid to secure it. Fidelma looked round at the deserted site and shook her head. She was about to turn away when suddenly a young voice started singing from beyond the walls of the half-built construction.
Hymnum dicat turba fratrum,
hymnum canos personet …
Band of brethren raise the hymn,
let our song the hymn resound …
Fidelma picked her way towards the sound of the singing.
It was the young boy Gúasach, busy piling up loose pieces of wood.
‘Hello,’ Fidelma called.
The boy turned with a frown and then, on recognising her, smiled broadly.
‘Were you looking for Glassán, Sister?’ he asked.
‘Everyone seems to have vanished except you,’ countered Fidelma. ‘Where have they gone? It is surely early to stop work for the day.’
The boy shook his head. ‘They have not stopped work. All are needed down at the quarry to bring up more stones to the site.’
‘Ah, I see. You seem to like this work,’ she said, perching herself on a low stone wall.
‘I am learning to be a master builder under the fosterage of my aite.’ The boy spoke proudly.
‘And where are you from?’
‘I am of the Uí Briún Sinna, Sister.’
‘Then you are from the Kingdom of Connachta. But isn’t your foster-father from Laighin?’
‘I do not know. I am told that he came to live among us just after I was born. My own father was a builder of mills and so Glassán and he worked together. When I was seven years old, my family, wanting me to train to be a master builder, arranged for me to go into fosterage with Glassán.’
Fidelma knew that the Law of the Fénechus determined that a mill-maker could charge two cumals, the equivalent of six cows, for a finely constructed mill. But a master builder was higher up the professional scale and could receive more money.
The boy added, ‘My father pays Glassán a cumal, three milch cows, for my tuition.’
‘And so you learn while working for Glassán.’
‘I do. I came into fosterage at the same time that Glassán was invited here to start rebuilding this abbey in stone. Everything I have learnt so far, I have learnt here. Of course, I am not as strong as the men, so can’t do the heavy work. But I have learnt how to do other tasks like woodworking. I can also use the plumb line and measuring rods to help position the stones.’
‘That is clever,’ Fidelma said. ‘But dangerous work as well. That lintel that fell last night might have fallen while you were working underneath.’
The boy nodded solemnly. ‘It must have been badly placed.’ Then he added defensively, ‘I did not measure the place for it. Anyway, sometimes accidents happen if you don’t concentrate properly. Glassán taught me that.’
‘A wise thing to remember,’ Fidelma solemnly agreed.
‘Indeed. Glassán was very angry when the Saxon Brother was injured.’
‘Was he?’
‘To be honest, there have been a few accidents here since Gealbháin left. I think Gealbháin used to go around the site every evening to ensure everything was in order. He was a very careful builder.’
‘Gealbháin? Who was he?’
‘He was the assistant to Glassán.’
‘But I understood that Saor, the carpenter, is second-in-command here.’
‘Saor has been with us only a short time. He replaced Gealbháin who quit the job several weeks ago.’
‘Why did he quit?’
‘I do not know, Sister.’
‘So these accidents have occurred since Gealbháin left?’
‘Saor is not as thorough as Gealbháin.’
‘But isn’t it the task of Glassán, as master builder, to check everything, to make sure it is safe?’
The boy shrugged and said, ‘He has many tasks to perform. Saor is all right but I have not learnt much from him.’
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘He does not seem to have time.’
‘Who taught you your carpentry, then?’
‘Gealbháin mostly.’
‘Where was Gealbháin from? Connachta?’
‘He was a local man … I think from a clan called the Uí Liatháin.’
‘I see. Are the other workmen from around these parts or do most of them come from Connachta like you and Glassán?’
‘Oh, no. Most of them are recruited from these parts. Although Saor is of the Uí Bairrche.’
‘The Uí Bairrche? They are a clan from southern Laighin, aren’t they?’
‘So Saor has told me, Sister. I only know of my own lands and this place. I’ve never been out of sight of the abbey since we came here.’
‘And do you stay in the abbey? I have only seen Glassán and Saor eating in the abbey refectorium.’
‘We live in the wickerwork bothans we constructed outside the abbey walls by the river. That’s where we all stay except Glassán. He has a special room in the guesthouse. The bothans are also where our stores are kept. That way, we do not interfere with the running of the abbey. Glassán explained that to us.’
A bell started to toll.
‘That is the bell for the evening meal, Sister. I must go to join the others.’
Fidelma thanked the child before making her own way to eat. She was slightly annoyed for, not having noticed the passing of time; she realised that she would have to miss the ritual of her evening bath before the meal. She paused at the fountain to wash her hands and face. Then she saw Eadulf walking slowly to the refectorium guided by Gormán.
‘Eadulf!’ Her voice was a rebuke as she greeted him. ‘Is this wise?’
He grimaced before saying, ‘I am hungry. A bowl of vegetable soup does not put strength back into one. I am all right. A slight headache still and soreness on the forehead but I have to admit that Brother Seachlann’s noxious potion is doing the trick. But the aftertaste is awful.’
‘Well, if you are sure.’
‘I just hope that Glassán will not wax lyrical this evening.’ He smiled.