‘I can offer you no motivation behind these events as yet,’ replied Fidelma. ‘But we will find out.’
‘I understand that this library is famous for keeping books that are not approved of by many members of the Faith,’ interposed Eadulf softly. ‘That might be the motivation.’
‘You mean they attacked the books because they posed difficult questions for the Faith?’ Cumscrad smiled cynically.
‘Well, people have destroyed books for less,’ Eadulf pointed out.
‘It is certainly the unintelligent option to destroy that with which we don’t agree rather than present our arguments and then decide what is the better argument.’
Gormán gave an embarrassed cough. He had been silent for so long they had almost forgotten he was there.
‘But why would the Uí Liatháin be so fanatical about the Faith? I know them. They are not known for their piety.’
‘Your warrior companion is right, lady,’ Cumscrad agreed. ‘But they are enemies of my people. That’s why.’
‘How much was this library of yours worth, Cumscrad?’ asked Eadulf. ‘What did it contain that made it as priceless as you claim?’
‘It has existed since the time of Mug Ruith, long before the new Faith reached these shores,’ replied the chieftain. ‘It was famous. It was unique.’
‘Famous?’ queried Eadulf. ‘I have heard of many libraries but not of Fhear Maighe’s.’
‘That does not reflect on the fame of our library but on your ignorance of it,’ the chieftain replied icily.
‘You may be right, Cumscrad.’ Fidelma smiled at his riposte, in spite of the mortified expression on Eadulf’s features. ‘But indulge our ignorance and tell us something about it.’
The chieftain was mollified. He gave a sigh and began to recount the history of the library. ‘Four centuries or so ago, a scholar from the east called Aethicus of Istria wrote what he called a Cosmographia, a cosmography of the world. Aethicus sailed to our shores from Iberia because he had heard of the fame of our libraries. He speaks of the volumina of our libraries as noteworthy.’
‘You say that this was four centuries ago?’ Eadulf interrupted in surprise. ‘But that would mean-’
‘That would place the fame of our libraries two centuries before the new Faith came to this island,’ finished Cumscrad. ‘Furthermore, Aethicus writes of the ideomochos of our books, clearly indicating that the books contained a literature that he had not seen before and using a word that meant that it was particular to our people.’
‘They were written on what we call the flesc filidh, or rods of the poets,’ Fidelma said. ‘The flesc filidh were wands of beech and birch. So you are saying that Aethicus actually came here and viewed these ancient books?’
‘Indeed. But since the coming of Christianity, there has been a systematic attempt to destroy everything that went before.’ Cumscrad gestured in the direction of the smouldering ruins of the tech-screptra. ‘The destruction is almost succeeding. We are witnessing crimes against knowledge. Aethicus of Istria praised our libraries and we know that he came to this very spot to examine the ancient books. His Cosmographia tells us so.’
‘I have never heard of this Aethicus and his Cosmographia,’ said Eadulf.
‘Have you not read Orosius Paulus’s History Against the Pagans? Even he quotes passages from Aethicus about his voyage to this country. But Orosius was a Christian and wished to denigrate the pagans. He described us as cannibals.’
‘You’ll forgive us, Cumscrad,’ intervened Fidelma, seeing the chieftain’s anger just below the surface. ‘It is in the nature of lawyers to be sceptical while gathering evidence.’
‘Truth is great and will prevail. You are fond of quoting that saying of your mentor, the Brehon Moran, Fidelma of Cashel. But truth does not always prevail. I presume you know of our ancestor, Mug Ruith?’
‘I was told that, in pagan times, he was regarded as a sun god who rode the skies in a chariot of burning light.’
Cumscrad grimaced sourly. ‘The stories became embellished in the retelling. He did take his name from the solar deity but Mug Ruith was a man of flesh and blood and a great Druid of my people. My clan look to him as our ultimate ancestor.’
‘So tell me who he was,’ Eadulf asked, ‘and forgive me my ignorance.’
‘The zealots of the Faith claim he was a magician. That’s how they dismiss the Druids these days, they call them wizards and magicians. Now the fanatics of the Faith also claim that Mug Ruith went to the Holy Land to learn his so-called magic from someone they call Simon Magus.’
Eadulf stirred uncomfortably. ‘That was Simon of Gitto who is considered the source of all heresies.’
‘Exactly. Mug Ruith did not have to go to learn “sorcery” from anyone. He was a great Druid.’
‘And Simon of Gitto is certainly not well regarded among those of the Faith.’ Eadulf frowned. ‘So it is a story to denigrate him.’
‘Did your library hold a copy of the Apophasis Megale or The Great Declaration which Simon of Gitto is said to have written?’ Fidelma asked suddenly.
‘You would have to ask my son that question,’ replied Cumscrad.
‘There are many things we must ask Cunán,’ Fidelma said quietly. ‘I hope he will join us soon.’
‘One thing I would like to ask now,’ Eadulf said quickly. ‘What was that curious contraption I saw which seemed to pump water from the river towards your tech-screptra?’
Cumscrad smiled sadly. ‘It was something that Dubhagan was working on. He had not perfected it. It is a new form of water pump that relies on a plunger at the top of a cylinder creating a vacuum which draws water up through valves, pushing it along the troughs. Do not ask me the meaning of these terms for I heard them only from poor Dubhagan. I barely understand the purpose.’
‘Dubhagan invented this machine for pumping water upwards?’
Cumscrad shook his head. ‘He did not invent it. He told me that he found a description of the machine in one of the Latin books that came to our tech-screptra. Let us hope thatit has been saved, for it was written many centuries ago. It was called De architectura and was written by a Roman, Vitruvius. Dubhagan said Vitruvius had seen this machine in Egypt and had adopted it when he served in the army of Julius Caesar.’
Fidelma was vaguely interested but more impatient to be about the work she had come for.
‘Let us hope it is a book that has been saved. But you remind me that the books you had here in your tech-screptra were not only the ancient ones from the Five Kingdoms.’
‘Our library made a practice of keeping religious books that were not written by the zealous, such as the book that was stolen — the one by Celsus. They were books it was felt might be destroyed because they were regarded as heretical.’
‘Do you know what they were?’
‘Only our librarians would know that.’
‘Maybe I can help you, then.’
They looked up to find that Cunán had entered the hall. The young man was washed and looked more in control of himself. The scorch marks on his face were clearly visible now.
‘Are you all right, my son?’ asked the chief anxiously.
‘I am now. I must apologise if I seemed dazed before. To find poor Dubhagan murdered and then to see the destruction of all those priceless works … it is like seeing the destruction of all you hold dear.’
He came and took a seat with them while an attendant appeared with a jug of mead and poured a measure for him. He sipped it slowly and thoughtfully.
‘I understand that the library contained books that were not entirely approved of by the Faith,’ said Fidelma.