‘Why is this Celsus book so important and how is it connected to the death of Brother Donnchad?’ Eadulf asked irritably. ‘And to everything else that has gone on here? I don’t understand it.’
‘Didn’t Julius Caesar comment, In bello parvis momentis magni casus intercedunt?’
‘In war great events are the result of small causes,’ he murmured in translation.
Fidelma nodded. ‘In other words, Eadulf, pay attention to the small details. By doing so, you will find that patience will reveal the matter.’
‘Well, I already feel exhausted,’ Eadulf remarked, as they walked across the stone flags of the quadrangle. ‘We have travelled a considerable distance these last few days.’
‘If we had not then we would not now be as close as we are to a solution,’ she pointed out. Before Eadulf could form his question, she began to walk to the guesthouse calling over her shoulder, ‘Now, let us search Glassán’s room.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As they passed the fountain in the centre of the quadrangle, the sound of raised, angry voices caused them to look towards the gates of the abbey. They saw Brother Lugna facing a band of men, whom they immediately recognised as the builders. Among them was Saor. Brother Lugna was standing in a belligerent posture that seemed curiously grotesque for a man of the Faith. Even as they looked, the builders turned their backs on him and walked through the gates. As they did so, Gormán rode into the abbey courtyard and swung off his horse. Fidelma and Eadulf went to join him. The steward had not moved from his position, standing staring after the disappearing builders.
‘Is all well, Gormán?’ Fidelma greeted the warrior.
‘Everything is as you instructed, lady.’ Gormán smiled. ‘The conditions are agreed. Both chiefs await your message.’
Fidelma glanced across to Brother Lugna. Anger had made his countenance fierce. Suddenly aware of their presence, he tried to relax his features.
‘There seems to be some trouble with Glassán’s men,’ Fidelma observed.
‘True enough,’ replied the steward through between clenched teeth. ‘They are refusing to come back to work. They say therehave been too many accidents on the abbey buildings for them to continue. They demand their wages and say that they are leaving.’
It was clear that the steward was more upset at the demand for wages than by the death of the master builder.
‘Can you continue the work here without a master builder?’ Eadulf asked.
‘There is always someone who can take over,’ replied the steward immediately. ‘I am sure that Saor is qualified but he seems to agree with the workers. It is not that there is no one suitable; the problem is the stupid superstition of these country people. If this abbey were operating under the Penitentials, I would have every man of them flogged until they undertook the work with enthusiasm.’
He spoke with such vehemence that Eadulf could not disguise the distaste he felt. Like the Roman law they originated from, the rules of the Penitentials were based on physical punishment, bodily mortification and ritual maiming which even included the removal of limbs of those found guilty of breaking the rules. The discipline was completely at odds with the spirit and nature of the native Law of the Fénechus. Eadulf knew that Fidelma regarded them in abhorrence in those few abbeys where zealots of the Faith had managed to introduce them. Usually, they went with those communities of single sex where the rule of celibacy had been enforced. Eadulf shivered slightly. He had come to appreciate the Fénechus laws as being more humane and progressive, based on compensation for the victim and rehabilitation for the perpetrator. Physical punishment was simply bloodthirsty vengeance.
Brother Lugna regarded Eadulf’s look of disgust with an arrogant expression of pity.
‘One day all members of the Faith will fear God and the Penitentials,’ the steward added. ‘There is too much laxity inthis land …’ He paused. ‘Fear is a great persuader, Brother Eadulf. How else can I get them back to work when it is fear that now causes them to run away? Confronted by superstitious fear, one must offer a greater fear.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I will reason with Saor and his men. Not to keep them at work but because they must remain here until my investigations are complete.’
‘I doubt whether Saor will listen to you. Anyway, I must go to inform the abbot. He seems to be in a state of panic about everything, as usual.’
‘Glassán was legally required to present you with a list of his workers. Did he do so?’
‘Of course. And if these men march off now, I shall consider the contract with the abbey broken and I shall not pay them.’
‘Really?’ she said quickly. ‘Wasn’t the contract with Glassán to employ the men he thought fit?’
‘I paid them individually on behalf of the abbey. I did not trust Glassán to resist helping himself to a little extra.’
Fidelma regarded the steward thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Well, Brother Lugna, I think I know an argument that will persuade these men to stay.’
Gormán joined Fidelma and Eadulf as she led the way determinedly through the gates of the abbey and towards the scattered collection of wicker and wattle cabins, called bothan, that the workmen lived in. As they approached there were signs of men moving about, collecting their belongings. A couple noticed their approach, stood still and fell silent.
‘Where is Saor?’ Fidelma asked the nearest man.
She received a shrug in response but after a moment or two the carpenter appeared from one of the huts. He did not meet her eyes but came forward, head down. ‘The men have made up their minds, Sister. We have had enough of this accursed site.’ Then he glanced at Eadulf. ‘I am surprised that you are still hereafter your life was nearly taken. This is not normal. There are forces at work here that we cannot oppose. Dark forces. Lives have been taken. We cannot stand against evil.’
There was a muttering of assent among the men who had gathered round them to hear what Fidelma had to say.
‘On the contrary,’ Fidelma raised her voice above the hubbub, ‘the forces at work here are man-made and if you run away then whoever did this killing might be among you and you are providing them with an opportunity to escape justice.’
Saor’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you accuse one of us? Why would we kill our own master builder? This does not make sense.’
‘All things make sense once the causes are known,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I am requesting that every one of you remain here until the truth is known.’
Saor shook his head. ‘The men and I have had enough, Sister. Brother Lugna must pay what he owes and allow us to depart.’
‘If you all walk away now then it will be you who are breaking the contract and you will have to go to arbitration over your payment. The abbey does not have to pay you if you break your contract. For once, I have to agree with the steward.’
This caused an angry muttering among some of the workmen. Gormán slid his hand to his sword hilt and eased his balance slightly. It was not a threatening movement but enough to remind them of his presence. Saor, however, was not persuaded by Fidelma’s argument.
‘Our contracts were with the master builder who is dead,’ he said. ‘So perhaps they are already terminated. The steward insisted on paying us individually, for he likes exercising power. But Glassán employed us. The abbey can’t refuse what is due to us.’
‘You speak like a lawyer, Saor,’ interposed Eadulf.
The carpenter thrust out his jaw aggressively. ‘I am no lawyer. But I say this job is over.’
This brought a protest from one of the men near him.
‘Perhaps the sister is right. We have wives and children to feed and if we walk away now we shall not be paid. Arbitration will take a long time.’