Brother Temnen shrugged. ‘We will have to await the arrival of Uallachán. After speaking to him, perhaps you will be able to ascertain where the truth lies.’
‘That is my intention,’ Fidelma replied. ‘If the Uí Liatháin did not attack either the barge or the library, then someone is trying to create a problem between Uallachán and Cumscrad. But why? Who would that benefit?’
Eadulf had been thinking. ‘Who knew about this commissionfrom your abbot to the library of Fhear Maighe?’ he asked. ‘I mean, who apart from your abbey and Dubhagan?’
‘I suppose several people.’
‘But would they know the titles and the nature of the books that were to be copied?’
‘That was a matter that only we in Ard Mór and Dubhagan and his copyists would have known. But isn’t there a saying that to tell a secret to three people makes it no longer a secret?’
‘How did you learn that Fhear Maighe had these books?’ asked Eadulf.
‘I checked with them.’
‘How?’
‘I sent a messenger to find out. But that was a long time ago. It took many months to make the copies. It was only last week that we received word that the books were ready. We were to pay thirty seds.’
‘A large price to pay.’
‘Extortionate,’ agreed the librarian, philosophically. ‘But the Celsus book is very rare. I am told there is not another copy known in the Five Kingdoms because of the nature of the book.’
‘You mean because it was an early attack on the founders of the Faith?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Exactly so.’
‘So who brought you the news that the copies were ready and would be delivered?’
‘One of the brethren.’
‘The same messenger from your abbey?’
‘Not from our abbey, no.’
‘From Fhear Maighe?’
‘A physician,’ replied Brother Temnen. ‘He paid us a visit to collect certain herbs that had been brought ashore from one of the merchant ships.’
The abbey of Ard Mór lay where The Great River emptiedinto the sea, just on the southern coast where merchant ships came and went to many parts of the world, to the island of Britain, the coast of Gaul and even south to Iberia.
‘A physician?’ Fidelma queried sharply.
‘The physician from Lios Mór.’
‘Are you speaking of Brother Seachlann?’ she asked slowly.
‘Seachlann, that was his name. It was Brother Seachlann who came to our abbey some days ago in search of herbs that had been lately carried from Gaul. He told us that the books were ready and being shipped by barge to the abbey. Thus we were forewarned to gather thirty seds to pay the bargemen, but the barge never arrived. Then we heard that the Uí Liatháin had stolen the books.’
‘How did Brother Seachlann know that the books from Fhear Maighe were ready?’
The librarian shrugged. ‘No one asked. What need was there to ask? We were happy to hear the news.’
There came a shout from one of the sentinels and the sound of approaching horses. The warrior commander went quickly to the entrance of the fortress just as a band of horsemen entered.
The leader of the newcomers was not an ugly man but he could not be described as handsome. He was a bearded, middle-aged man, clad entirely in black, with burnished armour and plumed war helmet. He wore his weaponry in such a way that it was obvious that he was no novice in the use of arms.
The commander saluted the man respectfully and held his horse while he dismounted.
‘So what have we here?’ the newcomer thundered. ‘Innocent wayfarers or spies from the Fhear Maighe?’
They had all risen and Gormán took an aggressive step forward but Fidelma held him back. But the young warrior paid her no attention and shouted in a firm voice, ‘You stand in the presence of Fidelma of Cashel, sister to your King, Colgú, son of FailbeFlann. Do I, Gormán of the Nasc Niadh, need to teach you a lesson in respect?’
The newcomer stared at Gormán, then he saw the golden circlet round his neck that denoted membership of the Nasc Niadh. He turned his head to examine Fidelma and his eyes widened in recognition.
He strode forward with a grin spreading over his features but first he spoke to Gormán.
‘Be at peace, young cockerel. You could not teach me anything.’ Then he gazed at Fidelma for a moment more before he held out his hands. ‘It is so,’ he said quietly. ‘Fidelma of Cashel. Was I not at your wedding celebration last year?’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘And with Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. The Saxon of whose fame is spoken of even in our tiny part of the world.’
Fidelma allowed herself to be caught in a bear hug and then Eadulf found himself similarly smothered before the chieftain swung round to his men and thundered, ‘Why are they held prisoners?’
The commander hung his head as if in shame. ‘I thought-’
‘Not clearly enough,’ bellowed his chieftain, turning back with a broad smile again. ‘Forgive us, lady.’
Fidelma did not respond to his smile but gazed evenly at him.
‘Why do you ride in a war band, Uallachán of the Uí Liatháin, when my brother’s kingdom is at peace?’ she demanded. ‘I am told you ride against Fhear Maighe?’
The big man raised one shoulder and let it fall. ‘It is true that there is a score to be settled with Cumscrad. We ride to punish him for his lies.’
‘Do you claim that you have not done so already?’ replied Fidelma. Uallachán looked uncertain. Fidelma went on, ‘We have just ridden from Fhear Maighe where I have seen the library attacked by sword and fire and it now lies in ruins with many priceless works destroyed. The librarian Dubhagan liesdead. Several are injured. The attackers rode in under your banner. One of the attackers was killed, he was a bánaí. Tell me, Uallachán, what score needs to be settled?’
There was no disguising the utter astonishment on Uallachán’s face. The man was no actor and he was clearly shocked at her news.
‘My people are not responsible for this. And I have, or had, no bánaí riding among my warriors.’
‘Then we must discover who is responsible. The same people, under the same banner, took the barge of Muirgíos of the Fir Maige Féne and stole two valuable books from it. The blood of the Fir Maige Féne has been spilt enough.’
‘But not by us,’ protested Uallachán. ‘Let us sit awhile and you tell me the story as you know it.’
They did so and Fidelma outlined the accusations that she had heard about the Uí Liatháin. Uallachán did not interrupt but sat listening patiently. When she had finished, he shook his head slowly.
‘As Christ is my witness, lady, I know nothing of this. What would I want with such books, let alone want to destroy them? How can Cumscrad demand retribution for something I did not do? Can you not persuade Cumscrad that he must defer to the judgement of yourself and your brother?’
‘I would hope that both of you will accept such judgement,’ replied Fidelma. She sighed and then suddenly asked, ‘Do you know of a cousin of yours, Gáeth, who is currently a member of the brethren in Lios Mór?’
Uallachán looked surprised at the abrupt change of subject.
‘Gáeth, the son of Selbach of Dún Guairne?’
‘The same.’
‘His father was my cousin and found guilty of fingal, the kin-slaying of my uncle, who was chief before me. He was judged harshly, in my opinion, and consigned to the fate of thewind and waves. But the night before the sentence was due to be carried out, he escaped. He took his wife and Gáeth, who was hardly more than a child. Why do you ask? What has that to do with this matter?’
‘Probably nothing at all. Yet I am interested. In law, a wife and child does not have to share the fate of the husband. They do not have to become daer-fudir.’