‘In this case that office is held by the doorkeeper of the abbey?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Yes. His name is Brother Eladach,’ confirmed the girl.
Fidelma was now growing used to surprises. ‘Brother Eladach just happens to be the uncle of Brother Mael Anfaid,’ she pointed out.
‘He is,’ confirmed Ciarnat without guile.
‘Very well,’ Fidelma said firmly. ‘We will inform him and hope you will not be kept long from the care of your mother nor to the return to your duties in the prince’s household.’
Enda opened the door and followed Fidelma and Eadulf back out into the sweet scent of the herbal garden. There was no sign of Airmid as they walked through it and into the main courtyard of the fortress. Fidelma was taking them to the guest-hostel where Abbot Segdae had met his death.
‘I presume we are going in search of Brother Mael Anfaid,’ Eadulf hazarded after a few moments.
‘Your presumption is correct,’ she said.
As they approached the door, it opened and Prior Cuan came out, followed by Brother Cuineain. They halted at the approach of Fidelma and her companions.
‘We were looking for Brother Mael Anfaid,’ Fidelma explained after polite greetings were exchanged.
‘He is gone on some errand into the town, I believe,’ offered the prior.
‘To the abbey?’ queried Fidelma.
‘Possibly. I am not sure.’
She turned to Brother Cuineain. ‘As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you a question. I believe you were in attendance on Prince Donennach when Gorman warned him about the fact that Glaed of Sliabh Luachra was free again and making threats?’
The steward of Mungairit said, ‘Yes, I was. Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered how Prince Donennach responded to the warning. Was he dismissive, or did he take it seriously?’
‘How else would a responsible leader act?’ the man replied testily. ‘He gave orders for his guards to be alerted and sent for the warlord, Conri.’
‘There was no doubt in anyone’s minds that Prince Donennach was seriously concerned on hearing this news?’
‘No doubt at all. Now, if you will excuse me, I am due to meet with Abbot Nannid and Brehon Faolchair. There is still much work to be done.’ The steward turned and hurried away towards the great hall.
A moment later, Fidelma and her companions continued to make their way through the main gate and towards the township.
Brother Eladach turned out to be an elderly, pleasant-featured man, with a permanent smile on his jolly face.
‘No, lady, I have neither seen my nephew this morning nor Brother Mac Raith,’ he replied after Fidelma had introduced herself and put her question. ‘The meetings between the brethren of Imleach and Abbot Nannid have been delayed by the terrible events in the fortress,’ he added unnecessarily.
‘I understand that you are also the uaithne, appointed to look after the elderly folk of this township?’
‘That is so, lady. I have enjoyed that post for the last five years.’
Fidelma then told him of Ciarnat’s concerns about her mother.
‘I regularly call on Etromma – I have known her for many years. I expect Airmid will do so too as she often comes by here.’
‘Why does she visit here?’ Eadulf intervened.
‘Since Abbot Nannid has been here, he has suffered an ague from time to time, a shivering fever. Or so I’m told. It seems to come and go. The lady Airmid is a physician and so visits the abbot when needed.’
‘I would not think Abbot Nannid was one who was prone to fevers,’ Eadulf remarked dryly.
‘An Mhaigh is called the River of the Plains, brother. Mudflats, marshlands, with much water around. At this time of year the area produces a preponderance of cuili conda – insects and midges whose bite can produce fevers.’
Eadulf grimaced in sympathy. Having once studied the healing arts, he continually carried in his les, or medical bag, a jar of ointments combining honey and apple-cider which, when applied to the midges’ bites, was at least a solace and eased the irritation.
‘I have no knowledge of Airmid’s intentions,’ Fidelma was saying, ‘but Ciarnat was concerned that her mother would be worried and mentioned that you might consent to visit her.’
‘Tell her to have no fear, lady,’ Brother Eladach said kindly. ‘I shall see to Etromma. She worked hard in the prince’s household during her life, as does her daughter after her. She had two sons who were killed at Cnoc Aine when your brother’s army defeated Prince Eoganan, and that deprived her of sons to attend her. So she relies on Ciarnat quite a lot.’
Fidelma felt a curious pang of guilt as she considered this news. However, Eoganan had been leading an insurrection against her brother and many good folk on both sides died during the battle. Indeed, Eadulf himself had been captured by one of the Ui Fidgente’s supporters at the time and nearly suffered death. She decided to change the subject quickly.
‘I have already spoken to Brother Mac Raith, who tells me that he is also a relative of yours.’
‘A distant relative,’ the doorkeeper agreed. ‘When he and my nephew decided to enter the religious I tried to persuade them to join us. We were then a small open community. We had freedom. However, they decided to go to Imleach for training. The facilities to learn the art of calligraphy and illumination is renowned there. Mac Raith succeeded in achieving excellence and is now chief illustrator and scribe.’
‘I was told you were unhappy that this community had adopted the Penitentials as rules.’
Brother Eladach looked askance and gave a quick glance around as if to check that no one had overheard.
‘Why should I be unhappy at that?’ he parried.
Fidelma looked hard at the man. ‘I thought that you were also unhappy that the laws of our people were being ignored by these new church laws?’
Brother Eladach cast a second worried look around him. ‘They are the laws of God which supersede the laws of man,’ he intoned in a carrying voice. He then lowered his head so that she could not peer into his eyes and murmured, ‘It is not wise to speak of these things.’
‘I presume it is not wise while Abbot Nannid stays with you?’ She also lowered her tone.
‘It was only in the month of Dubh Luacran, the moon of the dark days, that Abbot Nannid came from Mungairit and ordered us to construct the wooden walls that surround our community. Since then we must not speak our minds.’ His voice now was barely a whisper.
Fidelma glanced meaningfully to Eadulf. ‘When we were here last, this abbey did not exist. It was a small religious community that was just part of the township. There were no walls.’
Brother Eladach swallowed, hesitated – and then seemed to make up his mind.
‘This is so. The holy lady Nechta had started to preach the New Faith under the shade of the old sacred oak in this township a hundred or more years ago. The early members of the community erected our wooden chapel close by that oak. Those who felt devoted to the Faith built their dwellings around it, each living in their separate houses, individually sustaining themselves but devoting time to the teachings of their spiritual mother, Nechta.’
‘When Nechta died, she must have appointed someone to follow her as leader of the community,’ Eadulf said.
‘In accordance with our laws, it was the community who was her derbhfine, her kinfolk, who would gather and elect the best among them to preach the word of the New Faith to the community. That continued until the dark days, nearly seven months ago, when Abbot Nannid arrived.’
‘Are you saying that he has been here nearly seven whole months?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Yes. Abbot Nannid came here and declared that it was wrong that we had no barrier between our homesteads and the people of the township. While we pointed out that we were the people of the township, he ordered that whosoever felt true to the New Faith must enclose themselves behind walls and become a cenobium.’