‘Is it the only copy?’ asked Fidelma.
‘No one has copied it or ever will,’ snapped the old man. ‘It was waiting for young Brother Faolchair to make a copy but now… now there will be no need for me to write a response.’
Fidelma smiled sceptically. ‘That is certainly true.’
The old man frowned and turned to her. ‘What are you implying?’
‘I never imply,’ Fidelma responded quickly. ‘If there is an accusation to be made, I will make it. What is being asserted here is that, between noonday and now, someone entered your study and burnt the Venerable Cinaed’s book. Why would they do that?’
The Venerable Mac Faosma raised his chin sharply.
‘There are plenty in this abbey who would be happy to see this work of treachery destroyed. I am not the only one.’
‘Those same people might go so far as to burn it?’
‘It would seem so.’
Fidelma looked round the room slowly, then went to the hearth and confirmed that the book had been well and truly destroyed. Only a few scorched pages remained, and they were beyond reading except for a few words here and there.
‘There are three doors here. Are they all locked?’
‘My assistant has a spare key to that door, the one that leads into the corridor. The door between my chamber and this room bolts on the inside of my chamber and I always keep my chamber locked so there can be no access from there. That door there,’ he pointed to the third door, ‘leads into the courtyard where I sometimes sit on summer’s days. A key on the inside always locks it. There is no access from there.’
‘You have the only key to that outside door?’
‘I believe so.’ The Venerable Mac Faosma frowned. ‘Anyway, there is no need to make a fuss on my behalf. It is best that the book should be destroyed with its vile insinuations and prejudice. I have no complaint to make.’
Fidelma was about to respond but then thought better of it. She merely commented: ‘I lament every time I see a book destroyed, as it means the loss of human thought if not of knowledge.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma assumed his sneering look again.
‘Then I presume you would be critical of our beloved Patrick to whom we owe so much?’
‘In what respect?’
‘I would have thought that a person with the knowledge you aspire to would have already read the life of Patrick as written by his disciple the Blessed Benignus, who was his successor.’
Fidelma smiled wearily.
‘I suppose you mean the passage in which Benignus admits that Patrick burnt one hundred and eighty books of the Druids because they were not Christian. Indeed, I deplore that destruction, for who knows what knowledge — Christian or not — they would have imparted to us? There has been too much destruction of knowledge simply because someone else disagrees with it. In a civilised world, there is room for all knowledge and the truth will eventually emerge triumphant over prejudice. If we do not believe that, then there is no hope for us. We might as well resort to living as wild animals.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma raised his eyebrows in surprise as her words ended on a note of vehemence.
‘Well, well, you do have a pretension to be a philosopher.’
Fidelma made a cutting motion with her hand to dismiss his words.
‘I have no pretensions to be anything other than what I am and I am content with being what I am. Even if you are not concerned with the destruction of what your own leabhar coimedach, Brother Eolas, believes is a valuable book, I am sure Abbot Erc will consider that a crime has been committed with its burning.’
‘And you, of course, will demand to interrupt my solitude and study by conducting an inquiry into that crime?’ jeered the old scholar. ‘I shall complain to the abbot and I shall protect my right to respect.’
‘Nothing I have done or said has been disrespectful to you, Venerable dalaigh and as sister to King Colgu in whose lands you dwell. I will not seek redress for that out of deference to your age, as you may have forgotten the rights and duties that you owe to the law.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma’s jaw slackened in surprise at her directness and the sharpness of her tone. Before he could frame a response, she had turned and sought the exit through the door into the corridor, which Brother Benen had left unlocked in his haste.
As she closed it behind her, she found Eadulf and Conri accompanied by a harassed-looking Abbot Erc hurrying along the corridor.
‘I am told that you are complaining because the Venerable Mac Faosma does not wish to see you, Sister,’ the abbot said immediately. ‘That is his right, you know, and-’
Fidelma halted as they came up.
‘I have seen and questioned the Venerable Mac Faosma,’ she said shortly.
‘Moreover, it seems that after the etar-suth, the book that he took from the tech-screptra, Cinaed’s political discourse, was deliberately burnt in his study.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened.
‘You mean that he burnt it?’
‘I simply state the fact. I do not accuse anyone — yet.’
Abbot Erc’s harassed expression grew more intent.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma is a scholar. Why would he want to burn a book?’
Fidelma glanced at the abbot pityingly.
‘Mac Faosma was not exactly an admirer of Cinaed,’ she said with a touch of derision. ‘This work, especially, seems to have upset the old man.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ The abbot was tight-mouthed.
‘Nothing, as yet. The Venerable Mac Faosma has adopted an attitude that is totally hostile to my inquiries. But, for the time being, I shall keep an open mind on what has happened here. Anyway, tomorrow we shall be leaving Ard Fhearta to pursue the matter of the missing members of this community.’
The abbot looked almost relieved for a moment and then his expression grew serious.
‘Do you mean that you have given up trying to find the person who killed the Venerable Cinaed?’
Fidelma immediately shook her head.
‘I do not mean that. I mean that I shall seek some other line of investigation to achieve that end. I shall come to your chamber before the evening meal and bring you up to date with our inquiry before we leave.’
Abbot Erc hesitated and then realised that he had been dismissed. He inclined his head briefly and turned and shuffled away.
Fidelma saw that Eadulf was about to open his mouth and raised a finger to her lips with a frown, indicating with her head towards the closed door of the Venerable Mac Faosma’s study. She glanced at Conri.
‘Let us find a more comfortable place to talk,’ she suggested.
Conri pointed along the corridor and led them down it, through a side door and on to the path to the chapel. The chapel was deserted but its gloom was relieved with candles. They seated themselves in a corner on a bench.
‘Well?’ demanded Eadulf.
Fidelma sketched out her interview with the Venerable Mac Faosma.
There was a brief silence before Eadulf said: ‘So you think that this Mac Faosma took Cinaed’s book and burnt it because he disagreed with it?’
‘It is possible.’
‘And if he is capable of that he might also be capable of killing Cinaed?’
Fidelma grimaced in agreement.
‘It is possible again, but we need more than suspicion to proceed. What I do know is that he is an unrepentant supporter of the Ui Fidgente chief Eoganan.’ She turned to Conri. ‘I know that you are desirous of peace between the Ui Fidgente and the rest of Muman. Let me speak, however, as a dalaigh rather than as an Eoghanacht. Even since Eoganan’s death at Cnoc Aine, I presume that many of the Ui Fidgente are still opposed to my brother’s rule?’
Conri looked slightly embarrassed.
‘There are many, lady. All it needs is a strong leader and the people could easily rise up and be led again down the wrong path into more violence and bloodshed.’
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma might be such a leader?’ queried Eadulf.
Conri shook his head.
‘Such a leader would have to be more of a warrior than a scholar. And one born from the line of Brion, one of our great chieftains. Mac Faosma, as his name suggests, is not of any noble line. Since Eoganan was slain,