‘I suggest that you question Sister Buan a little more closely about her relationship with Cinaed.’
‘Are you suggesting that Sister Buan has lied to me?’
The girl shrugged indifferently.
‘That is no answer,’ Fidelma said sharply.
‘The Venerable Cinaed and I were lovers.’
‘Lovers?’ Fidelma looked keenly at the girl. ‘And is this a claim that you can substantiate?’
Sister Sinnchene’s eyes burnt with anger for a moment.
‘You do not believe such a relationship could exist?’
‘I am not saying that. I do say that given the sixty years that separate your age from Cinaed’s, it needs support. What I question is this — you are young, Sinnchene. An attractive young girl in the full bloom of youth. What would attract you to such a frail, ageing person as the Venerable Cinaed, who I gather was not in the best of health?’
The young woman sniffed disdainfully and was silent.
‘Love?’ pressed Fidelma and when the girl refused to respond she
‘Why not?’ snapped the girl. ‘Why is it so hard to believe?’
It was Fidelma’s turn to reflect for a moment or two.
‘Very well. What you are saying is that the Venerable Cinaed and you were having an illicit affair.’
‘Illicit?’
Fidelma had used the old law term aindligthech.
‘Improper. Not sanctioned by law, rule or custom.’
A colour came to the girl’s cheeks.
‘It was not an improper relationship!’
‘You knew that Sister Buan was his legal wife and that he was living with her?’
‘Of course. And we both told her of the situation.’
‘Both?’ queried Fidelma in surprise.
‘We had nothing to hide. If it was unlawful, then it could have been corrected if Buan had accepted me as a dormun, which is provided for in law. Cinaed told me.’
‘It is a law still practised,’ Fidelma admitted, ‘although it is frowned upon by the New Faith and the term ben adaltrach has been introduced to replace the earlier title for such a concubine. It is a law that will doubtless be abolished at the next council called by the High King.’
Every three years there was an assembly at which the High King and the provincial kings gathered with the leading churchmen and Brehons from all five kingdoms of Eireann to discuss and revise the laws.
‘But it is still the law now,’ the girl said stubbornly.
‘And this is what Cinaed wanted as well as you?’
‘Of course.’
‘And he said as much to Sister Buan?’
‘He did.’
Fidelma exhaled softly.
‘And what if Sister Buan denied that he said this?’
‘Then she would be lying.’
‘Could you prove that this happened? Were there any witnesses?’
Sister Sinnchene hesitated a moment and then shook her head.
‘Nevertheless, it does not alter the fact that it is the truth,’ she said defiantly.
Fidelma noticed that the girl’s robe had loosened around her neck and caught a glimpse of a necklet of semi-precious stones.
‘That is hardly the jewellery one expects a member of this community to wear,’ she observed drily.
Sister Sinnchene’s hand went to her neck and then she shrugged. She lowered it to reveal a glittering necklet of silver set with amethysts and topaz.
‘Cinaed gave it me,’ she said quietly. ‘He told me to keep it safe, to let no one here see it.’
‘Why?’
‘It will not hurt to tell now, I suppose. He said that it was evidence.’
‘Evidence of what?’
‘He did not explain. Perhaps evidence of his love for me.’
‘Well, let us accept what you say,’ Fidelma finally said. ‘The evening before his death, the Venerable Cinaed came to this washing room and you were here?’
‘That is correct,’ confirmed the girl.
‘And accepting that you were lovers, what other than the obvious transpired? Did you talk?’
The girl looked irritated.
‘We were not animals,’ she replied angrily. ‘Of course we talked.’
‘What was the subject of conversation? Did you speak of philosophy, theology, history… what?’
Fidelma knew she was being a little sarcastic with the girl for it was obvious that she was no more of a scholar than Sister Buan. In fact, the dalaigh was beginning to wonder what sort of person the Venerable Cinaed really was behind his great reputation as a scholar.
Sister Sinnchene was looking sourly at her.
‘You seem to think that our relationship was based on lust,’ she said.
‘I am trying to understand it,’ Fidelma confessed.
‘We spoke of life, not dead, musty books; not of the past, or the future, nor of things unseen that had no immediate concern for us.’
‘Life?’
‘Cinaed had a great lust for life. He observed everything. The seasons, the weather, the plants growing. He was a very active man. Had he not spent most of his life in the shadow of dark libraries, he would have been a gardener.’
‘And this was the subject of the conversation that evening?’
‘We talked about the herb garden and ways to improve it but we also talked about Sister Buan.’
‘Ah. What about Sister Buan?’
‘Don’t get me wrong. Cinaed had a very generous spirit and felt deeply for Buan. She was fostered in the land of the Corco Duibhne. I presume she was an orphan and later came to the abbey when she was still young to escape poverty. She fulfilled a part of Cinaed’s life. She mothered him, did his cleaning, prepared food for him — for he liked to eat separately from the community most times. She was not his lover but a… a…’ The girl struggled to find the right word.
‘Housekeeper?’ suggested Fidelma.
The girl nodded. ‘Exactly so. But she filled no other need. He was no longer intimate with her.’
‘So, if Sister Buan believed that he was impotent, you would argue that it was because of his rejection of her in bed?’
Sister Sinnchene gestured disdainfully. ‘I don’t think they even slept in the same bed.’
‘But he had no such inhibition with you?’ Fidelma asked softly.
‘We enjoyed our physical beings. That is no sin.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘The old laws make allowance for human nature provided it offers no harm to others. But you should know, Sister Sinnchene, that the New Faith preaches a different attitude. Sexual intercourse with someone other than one’s spouse or indulging in general sexual infidelity, even in thought and word as well as deed, is considered a sin. Holy Scripture says the Christ put an emphasis on such infidelity as a sin against someone as well as with someone. Such sexual activity is considered a rejection of the divine intention.’
Sister Sinnchene stared at Fidelma. ‘That which gives pleasure cannot be sinful otherwise God would not have created it.’
Fidelma had to admit that she could accept that Sister Sinnchene was probably right.
‘We have to accept the guidelines given by Paul in his letter to the Corinthians when he called on Christians to deal decisively with sexual immorality in the communities.’
Sister Sinnchene sniffed deprecatingly.
‘You sound like the Venerable Mac Faosma,’ she muttered.
‘In what way?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘He preached such a sermon to me as you do. Yet I feel that your heart is not in it as was his.’
Fidelma’s brows came together in a defensive look, angered that this girl could see the doubts in her own mind.
‘Are you saying that the Venerable Mac Faosma knew about your relationship with Cinaed?’ she asked.
‘He did. Some weeks ago, he came unexpectedly into the tech-nigid and… well.’ She shrugged. ‘He saw us.’
‘What happened? What did he say?’ Fidelma asked curiously.
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ repeated Fidelma.
‘He simply turned and walked out. Then a few days later he met me outside the oratory and started to give me this homily about the new sexual morality. He was more scholarly than you are, Sister,’ she added with a grin. ‘He quoted so many sources, gospels and epistles that I thought I would go mad.’