‘All this is well known, Cumscrad. Is there a purpose in reminding me of it?’ inquired Fidelma mildly.
‘There is,’ snapped the chief. ‘The complaint I wish to make is that two days ago, one of our barges was attacked as it came along the river. It was a vessel taking goods to the abbey at Ard Mór.’
‘What happened?’
‘The barge was not far out of Fhear Maighe when warriors, having blocked the river with their own vessel, attacked the crew and took over the barge.’
‘Were there survivors of this attack?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Every one of the crew survived. A few were wounded in the attack but the crew were unarmed merchants. They were simply seized, bound and placed ashore, while the attackers continued on in the barge. They must have passed this community.’
Abbot Iarnla spread his hands in a helpless gesture and felt compelled to explain. ‘None of the brethren working along the river noticed anything untoward. Some of them saw the passing of the river barges, but many barges use the river here so no one questioned what they saw.’
‘The attackers who took charge of the boat disguised themselves as bargemen,’ Cumscrad said.
‘And you have no idea who these robbers may be?’ asked Fidelma.
A grim smile spread across Cumscrad’s features. ‘Oh indeed, lady. We know right well who they are.’ He paused, as if for dramatic effect. ‘The attackers were our southern neighbours, the Uí Liatháin.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I have said that our crew survived. The master of the barge, Muirgíos, as well as his crewmen, were able to identify them.’
‘There was no mistake?’
‘I trust Muirgíos. He has sailed the river for many years. The attackers made no attempt to conceal their identity. Furthermore …’ He hesitated. ‘Furthermore, one of our bargemen, Eolann, who also trades along the river, was returning from Ard Mór and saw Muirgíos’s barge passing him on its way south. He was about to greet his comrade but found he did not recognise any of the crew. He felt it wise not to challenge them. Eolann is a clever man. He was in a small craft and so he backtracked along the river and saw the vessel turn west up the river Bríd that joins The Great River south of here.’
‘I know it. It is the river which provides the boundary between your people and the Uí Liatháin,’ Fidelma said.
‘You are right, lady. Eolann tied up his craft and waited awhile before setting off again upriver. He did not wish to be observed following. When he did set off, he had not far to go. He soon found the vessel tied up and deserted. Eolann came back and reported it to me and I came here to ask the abbot’s advice. We must do something about the thieves.’
‘This is not something the abbey is concerned with,’ Brother Lugna suddenly declared.
Cumscrad looked at him in astonishment and then turned to Abbot Iarnla.
‘Then if this is of no concern to the abbey, times have changed, Iarnla. More than once you have acted to resolve conflicts between the Fir Maige Féne and the Uí Liatháin. Do you tell me that you refuse to do so now?’
‘I am the steward of this abbey,’ Brother Lugna replied before the abbot could speak.
‘And I am chief of the Fir Maige Féne,’ snapped Cumscrad. ‘Very well, I shall send my envoy to Uallachán, chief of the Uí Liatháin, demanding reparation for the act. And if I do not receive it, we shall know how to answer.’ He had clamped his hand to his sword hilt, and made for the door.
‘One moment, Cumscrad.’ Fidelma spoke quietly but it had the effect of stopping the chief in his tracks. He turned to look at her. ‘Return to your seat, so that we may discuss this within the bounds of the law.’
‘I could raise my people and attack Uallachán and his robbers now,’ Cumscrad said as he obeyed her. ‘But I respect the law and so, before I do so, I shall send an intermediary. I will demand reparation first so that when we attack the Uí Liatháin it will be done in accordance with the law.’
Fidelma sighed and shifted her weight in the chair.
‘You have not been refused the intervention of either myself, on behalf of the King, or of this abbey.’
Cumscrad frowned for a moment and then jerked his head to where Brother Lugna was standing with a slightly belligerent thrust of his jaw.
‘But he said-’
‘He said he was the steward,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘It is the abbot who makes such decisions.’
There was a spluttering sound and Brother Lugna went red in the face with anger. The abbot was looking at his feet with an unhappy expression.
‘Before we come to what course of action should be taken, I presume the cargo in the vessel was valuable,’ Fidelma went on, ignoring the reaction her words had provoked.
Cumscrad nodded. ‘The total value of the cargo was thirty seds.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Why, that is the honour price for …’
‘For my own worth as chief of my people,’ Cumscrad calmly agreed. A sed was the value of a milch cow.
‘Was there much gold in this cargo, then?’ asked Fidelma in astonishment.
‘Not gold, lady. And in truth the metalwork was not of great value — cooking pots, horse bridles, agricultural tools and the like. That was worth no more than a few seds, and Eolann reported that it was all intact on the vessel, it had not been removed.’
Fidelma was bewildered. ‘If this cargo was still on the barge when it was recovered, what was missing? How did your man identify what was missing?’
‘Because he had come upriver from Ard Mór and he knew that the barge was expected there and, moreover, what it was expected to deliver to the abbey there. It was carrying two bookswhich the scribes in our tech-screptra, our library, had been copying. The library of Ard Mór, knowing we had these books, had commissioned our scribes to make copies for them. The work had taken one year and had just been completed.’
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘What were the books?’
‘One was a copy of the poems of the great bard Dallán Forgaill, which we consider valuable.’
‘And the other?’
‘A Greek work. The True Word, I think they called it.’
‘Alethos Logos by Celsus?’ Fidelma gasped.
Cumscrad looked at her in admiration. ‘You are well read, lady. Indeed, it was a work by Celsus.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fidelma cast a warning glance towards Eadulf before turning back to face Cumscrad. ‘The theft of books is a great crime according to the law,’ she said, ‘but who would go to such lengths and risk so much for such a theft?’
‘It was for the theft of a book that Colmcille was exiled from the Five Kingdoms,’ Cumscrad pointed out.
Eadulf was astonished at the remark, for he had long held Colmcille as a great pillar and teacher of the Faith. This man appeared to be calling him a thief.
‘What are you saying? That the Blessed Colmcille of Iona, whose abbey brought the new Faith to the lands of the Angles and Saxons, was a book thief?’ he queried.
‘The story is well known,’ Cumscrad returned dismissively.
‘Colm Crimthain, whom you call Columba, went to stay with Finnén at the abbey of Maghbhile,’ explained Fidelma. ‘Finnén had a copy of a gospel from the abbey of the Blessed Martin and Colm coveted it. So each night he went to the abbey library and copied the gospel. Finnén discovered what he was doing and took his complaint to the High King Diarmait mac Cerbaill and his Chief Brehon. The judgement was given that just as every calf belongs to its cow, so every copy belongs to its original. In making a copy without permission, he was in fact stealing the book.’