There was a silence while they digested the vehemence in her voice.
‘He must be a powerful advocate of the Faith then,’ Fidelma observed softly.
‘He has persuaded me to seek the truth, a search which not even my sons were able to inspire.’
‘I have heard that you have a dispensation to borrow some of the texts from the library. Brother Donnán brings you the epistles of the saints to read.’
Lady Eithne’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment. Then she said, ‘You have a sharp eye and sensitive ear, lady. Are there those at the abbey who now object to my borrowing these works?’
‘I am told that Brother Lugna approves,’ she replied. ‘But I was merely going to ask what sort of books you borrow.’
‘What sort?’ She paused in surprise. Then said, ‘The epistles of the founders of the Faith, that is all. Why?’
‘I was just curious,’ dismissed Fidelma. ‘We have also heard that you are supporting the tremendous task of rebuilding the abbey.’
‘It is God’s work and I am privileged to be given the opportunity to help in it.’
‘Yet it is expensive to commission a professional master builder and those that work for him in an undertaking that will last for many years.’
‘You have doubtless met Glassán. He was master builder for the King of Laighin and came highly recommended.’
‘Ah, yes. The King of Laighin.’ Fidelma allowed a small smile to cross her features. ‘I had heard that Glassán was unwelcome in the Kingdom of Laighin and had been exiled inConnachta for some years after being found guilty of being responsible for a building that collapsed and killed and injured many people due to shoddy workmanship.’
Lady Eithne’s face went white. ‘Where did you hear such a thing?’ she demanded.
‘Such information is hard to keep secret,’ replied Fidelma smoothly. ‘In spite of this, I am told that Brother Lugna recommended him.’
‘All I can say is that Glassán is highly recommended and his work will be a great memorial to Donnchad.’ She suddenly rose, trying to control her irritation. ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to.’
It was nearly noon when they rode into the abbey grounds. Brother Echen, the stableman, who was waiting to take charge of their horses, greeted them with a worried glance.
‘A short while ago Brother Lugna was asking whether you had returned or not.’
‘Why did he want to know?’ asked Fidelma, as she swung off her horse.
‘Cumscrad of the Fir Maige Féne arrived with a small guard of warriors some time ago. He demanded to see the abbot. Perhaps that has something to do with it.’
Eadulf glanced curiously at Fidelma. ‘The Fir Maige Féne? Lady Eithne’s bodyguard mentioned them as one of the clans they felt threatened by.’
‘Their main township is Fhear Maighe,’ Gormán said, ‘about twenty-four kilometres due west from here. I can’t say they are my favourite people.’
‘Well, let’s find out why Brother Lugna was asking after us.’
They left Gormán helping Brother Echen tend their horses and walked slowly across the quadrangle towards the guesthouse. They were halfway across when Brother Lugna appearedon the far side, calling to them with a disapproving expression on his face.
‘Cumscrad of the Fir Maige Féne has arrived here and demands to see you,’ he announced without preamble as they turned in his direction.
‘Demands?’ queried Fidelma mildly.
‘He had no idea that you were at the abbey until he spoke to the abbot and now he feels he must see you,’ replied the steward indifferently.
‘Where is Cumscrad now?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Abbot Iarnla has received him in his chamber and requested your presence as soon as you returned.’
‘Very well. Tell the abbot we will come immediately we have washed ourselves after our journey.’
Brother Lugna hesitated at this dismissal, then turned and hurried off. Fidelma turned to Eadulf with a shake of her head.
‘I wonder why Cumscrad wishes to speak to me? The Fir Maige Féne are not exactly robust in their loyalty to the Eóghanacht of Cashel.’
‘But surely they acknowledge the authority of your brother as King?’
‘With the same reluctance as the Uí Fidgente. They are hostile to the Eóghanacht and one of the few clans in Muman who claim no relationship to the line of the Eóghanacht succession. Even the Uí Fidgente claim to be Eóghanacht. But the Fir Maige Féne claim their ancestry is far older and more distinguished than ours.’
‘I seem to have heard that they are talked about as being involved in the black arts.’ Eadulf tried to dredge up a memory.
Fidelma smiled. ‘It is their claim that their ancestor was Mug Róth, a one-eyed Druid whose breath could raise a tempest and who flew like a bird on a chariot made of polished silver and lustrous gems, which made night shine as bright as day. It was called the wheel of light. Not far from Cashel, at Cnámhchaill,is a pillar of stone which local people say was once a fragment of that great wheel.’
Eadulf shuddered. ‘How can they boast such an ancestor?’
‘He was probably the old god of the sun before the coming of Christianity. When the Faith denied the existence of such gods, he took on human form in our eyes. In ancient times the clan were renowned for their knowledge of ancient lore and even supplied the kings at Cashel with their Chief Druid. This was before King Oenghus was converted to Christianity.’
They washed their faces and hands, refreshed themselves from the short journey and then made their way to the abbot’s chamber.
Cumscrad was a tall man with a deep voice that made him seem intimidating. He was sallow of skin, with thick black hair to his shoulders and a beard to match. His eyes, also black, like shiny pebbles, were shadowed by a ridge across his forehead. But his features were well formed and his face had a handsome quality to it. His manner and bearing suggested a person used to command. Nevertheless, he rose with courtesy when Brother Lugna showed Fidelma and Eadulf into the abbot’s chamber.
‘Ah, the Lady Fidelma. I have not seen you since your marriage at Cashel.’ His voice resonated in the stone chamber. He turned to Eadulf. ‘We meet again, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’ He smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgement.
Eadulf returned the courtesy. He vaguely remembered meeting Cumscrad when all the nobles of the kingdom had come to attend the ceremonies at Cashel which had marked his official marriage to Fidelma.
‘I trust we find you well, Cumscrad?’ Fidelma inquired.
‘Well in body but not in spirit,’ he replied.
When Fidelma seated herself, he sank back into his seat next to Abbot Iarnla, who wore his usual worried expression.Brother Lugna and Eadulf remained standing to one side of the chamber.
‘Cumscrad comes with disturbing news,’ the abbot said. ‘When I told him that you were here in your official capacity, he asked that he might make some representation to you.’
Fidelma turned to face Cumscrad. ‘Representation?’
‘I came to asked Abbot Iarnla’s advice and now I find that you are here and I can ask your advice instead. Perhaps, through you, I can make an official complaint to your brother, the King.’
There was a silence while Cumscrad gathered his thoughts.
‘You may know that my people trade along the river here,’ he began. ‘The Great River is a watery highway that runs from our territory, past this community and then turns south to the great sea at Ard Mór. Our people have traded along its reaches for centuries beyond measure.’
Fidelma knew well the geography of An Abhainn Mór.
‘I know your smiths and metalworkers rely on the river for trade,’ she acknowledged.
‘Indeed, our smiths are dependent on it. As you well know, our territory is also known as Magh Méine, the plain of the minerals. Our mines provide the ores that allow our smiths to make their goods — goods that are eagerly sought as far away as Connachta and Ulaidh. Even beyond the great sea.’