‘What did he say to that?’
‘He laughed at me… laughed!’
‘What did you expect Abbot Erc to do?’ asked Eadulf. ‘The Venerable
‘But Sister Sinnchene is. I could have had her removed from this community.’
‘Ah, so you would have her expelled?’ Eadulf observed. ‘Isn’t that rather narrow-minded? Two people were involved in this affair. But because one is vulnerable you would place all the blame on her.’
Sister Uallann flashed him a look of anger.
‘I believe that this relationship brings down shame on the abbey.’ She turned to Fidelma. ‘Are you saying that you, a dalaigh, condone it? It is illicit in the eyes of the law as well as of God.’
Fidelma inclined her head in agreement.
‘It was not lawful,’ she agreed, correcting the tense of the physician’s comment. ‘Although I have to admit some grey areas in the law. But by and large, there were grounds enough to disapprove of the Venerable Cinaed’s behaviour. So, as I said, you remonstrated with him?’
‘I did.’
‘And this was the sole cause of your argument that night?’
‘It was.’
‘And how did you and he leave one another?’
Sister Uallann frowned slightly. ‘How?’
‘Did you part in anger?’
‘We did. I accompanied him as far as his living quarters. He told me to attend to my apothecary and leave morals and philosophy to those better able to interpret them. Those were his words.’
‘When we first spoke, you made it clear that you were not exactly a friend of the Venerable Cinaed. But I did ask you specifically if you disagreed with him on matters of the Faith. I thought that you said you did not, only on his politics.’
Sister Uallann shrugged.
‘His dalliance was a matter of discipline not of faith. At the time I answered truthfully and was more concerned with his secular writings. His attack on my husband’s people, the Ui Fidgente.’
‘You are proud of the Ui Fidgente, aren’t you?’ Eadulf put in.
Sister Uallann cast him a patronising glance.
‘As you are doubtless proud of being a Saxon,’ she retorted.
‘If you need to be accurate, I am an Angle from of the land of the South Folk,’ he corrected mildly.
Sister Uallann’s smile broadened.
‘Exactly so,’ she said softly as if her point had been proved.
‘But you are not an Ui Fidgente,’ Fidelma pointed out sharply. ‘You told us before that you were raised among the Corco Duibhne.’
Sister Uallann coloured.
‘When I married my husband, God rest his soul, I became Ui Fidgente and since he was butchered at Cnoc Aine I shall remain Ui Fidgente until I join him in the Otherworld.’
‘So you were displeased with the Venerable Cinaed’s work? You saw him as a traitor.’
‘Is that wrong?’
‘Not unless the displeasure led you to a more violent form of protest.’
Sister Uallann’s mouth thinned.
‘It is no crime to be proud of one’s people nor is it a crime to disagree with scholars. Many people here disagreed with Cinaed… the Venerable Mac Faosma, for example.’
‘When you left him that night, was that the last time you saw him?’ asked Fidelma.
‘The last time until I was asked to examine his body, about which you have already questioned me.’
The physician appeared to be growing impatient. Just then a bell began to sound from the abbey’s refectory.
‘That is the announcement of the evening meal,’ Sister Uallann said with an expression of relief.
Fidelma smiled without warmth.
‘You have been most co-operative, Sister,’ she replied with a touch of sarcasm. ‘We thank you for your time.’
Followed by Eadulf, she left the apothecary leaving Sister Uallann staring moodily after them.
Outside, Fidelma gave a deep sigh as she realised it was getting late.
‘One more task, I’m afraid, Eadulf,’ she said. ‘But not one you can help me with. I have some research to do in the library.’
She left Eadulf to return to the hospitium and made her way back to the library. There was no sign of Brother Eolas but young Brother Faolchair was sweeping the ashes from the hearth, the remains of the destroyed books of Cinaed.
Fidelma smiled encouragingly in greeting.
‘Brother Eolas is in a great rage,’ moaned the youth.
‘You told him that we would take charge of the investigation?’
Brother Faolchair put his brush aside.
‘That seemed to make him even more furious and he said he would do his own investigation. He’s taken himself to bed and left me to clean the library and get rid of the soot that clings to the books after such a fire.’
‘Well, I’ll keep you company for a while. I want to look up a law book — the Cain Lanamna, if you have it.’
‘Indeed we do.’ The boy paused. ‘Oh, and didn’t you want to see Cinaed’s notes? They were just a few sentences about law.’
‘I’d nearly forgotten,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘The notes were brought back with another text, weren’t they? The Uraicecht Bec?’
Within moments the boy had brought her both the books and the single page of notes. Fidelma looked at the scrawl. She was slightly bewildered to see that Cinaed had been copying notes about the position of a woman known in law as the banchormarbae — the female heir. There was a reference from the Uraicecht Bec pointing out that it was permissible under law that, if there was no eligible and suitable male inheritor of a chiefship, a woman could claim the position. Fidelma knew that in the history of the five kingdoms only one woman had successfully claimed the High Kingship and that was many centuries ago when Macha of the Red Tresses had become, according to the bards, the seventy-sixth monarch to rule at Tara. Of course, there had been some provincial rulers who were female and several rulers of clans, but usually a derbhfine, the electoral college, preferred a male and it was a poor family where, out of the living generation of males, there was no suitable candidate. Only a strong-minded woman could succeed to such a position. She wondered why Cinaed would be interested in the subject. But then he was a scholar and why not?
She turned to the Cain Lanamna which was one of the major texts on marriage and the rights of women under the laws of marriage and swiftly found what she was looking for.
She made some mental notes and went to return the books to Brother Faolchair. She found the young assistant librarian exhausted in a chair in the corner. His eyes were closed, but on feeling her presence he started awake, looking guilty.
‘If I were you, I’d close up the library for tonight and return to finish in the morning when you have had some rest,’ she advised.
The boy nodded slowly.
‘I am exhausted, Sister Fidelma,’ he confessed.
She was about to leave when, on an impulse, she said: ‘I believe there are many in this conhospitae who really would prefer to segregate the sexes.’
The young man nodded moodily.
‘There are some who preach against mixed houses and would prefer to see Ard Fhearta as a place of male religious only, Sister,’ he admitted.
Sister Fidelma was thoughtful.
‘And the Venerable Cinaed was not one of them?’
Brother Faolchair grinned and shook his head quickly.
‘I once heard him denounce the Edicts of the Council of Nicaea in very eloquent terms,’ he replied. ‘He believed that companionship was the natural condition for men and women.’
‘The Edicts of the Council of Nicaea were not binding on all the churches of Christendom,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘But as I recall the Council was specific in that one of the rules it issued was that a priest could not marry after ordination. And that, of course, raises a question — I have not heard that the Venerable Cinaed was ordained as a priest. Do you know if he was so ordained?’
Brother Faolchair shook his head at once.