‘And who is this man? What was his motive for killing the abbot? Was it some feud from the days of antagonism between our peoples?’
Colgu shook his head in frustration. ‘As I said, the facts are sparse. From the messenger, I could learn nothing although I suspect he knew far more than he was saying. Prince Donennach’s message was that he wanted me and my Chief Brehon to ride immediately for his fortress. He is concerned with what might be liable to follow in the wake of the pronouncement of guilt of this man.’
Fidelma frowned. ‘What did he mean by that?’ she repeated, puzzled.
‘The abbot’s killing has apparently caused an outcry among the Ui Fidgente religious. They are demanding some ritual execution in accordance with the new rules of the Penitentials which have been brought from Rome. Many of the religious are adopting them instead of following our own laws, very probably as a means of asserting their independence from the rest of us. They said that the death of an abbot of Segdae’s standing should be punished in the severest terms according to their laws of the Faith.’
Fidelma suppressed a sigh. ‘In one way I can sympathise with them,’ she said. ‘It is hard to be impartial when it involves the death of a wise old man such as Segdae. He was like a kindly uncle to us.’
‘That is true,’ her brother agreed. ‘But the argument between those who wish to adopt these rules from Rome and those who want to safeguard our native laws would be yet another tear in the fabric of our society. I have taken oath to protect and sustain our laws, as you have. These arguments between our churches and those of Rome are something that is drawing our people apart, pushing them into opposing camps and threatening our stability. Abbot Segdae, as you well know, was one of those churchmen who stood unflinchingly behind our laws; laws which we have developed from the time before time. He would be the first to urge us not to abandon them. I fear that this demand of the Ui Fidgente is simply another means to exclude their territories from accepting the rule of Cashel.’
‘I see,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully. ‘How does Prince Donennach propose that this matter be dealt with if, as you say, he and his Brehon have already agreed the man’s guilt?’
‘He urges me to bring my Chief Brehon and go straightway to his fortress so that we may listen to the details of the matter in person and see how we can appease his religious advisers.’
Fidelma’s expression was one of deep suspicion. ‘It is hard to trust the Ui Fidgente, even Prince Donennach, who has done much to form this peace treaty between us. I would not recommend riding into Ui Fidgente territory or even responding until we know more.’
Colgu poured himself another drink. ‘Abbot Segdae was my chief adviser on these religious matters. That being so, it is reasonable that I and my Chief Brehon should have all the facts placed before us so that we can endorse the finding of guilt of the person responsible for this evil crime. Prince Donennach and I, as King, must speak on this matter with one voice so that there can be no dissension which might lead to another conflict with the Ui Fidgente.’
Fidelma stared at her brother. ‘Do I hear the word “but” in your voice, Colgu?’
‘As you know, Aillin, my Chief Brehon, is on a mission to the High King in Tara,’ Colgu pointed out. ‘That leaves me riding alone into the territory of the Ui Fidgente.’
‘Alone? Why not with a cath, or battalion, of your Nasc Niadh, your bodyguard?’
‘That would be interpreted as a provocative act,’ Colgu told her. He paused and then went on: ‘For the time being I shall not leave Cashel. That is why I have sent for you.’
Fidelma stirred uncomfortably. ‘I do not understand,’ she said, but began to suspect what was coming.
‘You are my personal legal adviser. Therefore, I desire you to go to Dun Eochair Mhaigh to represent both myself and the Chief Brehon, and discover all the facts relating to this matter.’
At once Fidelma protested. ‘Even if I have your authority, I do not have the authority of your Chief Brehon. And would it not be argued that I have a personal interest in the punishment of someone found guilty of the murder of such a friend and adviser as Abbot Segdae?’
Colgu held up his hand to still her protests. ‘That same argument would apply to me as well. I have made up my mind, sister. You must represent my authority as you have done, so many times before. You will go as you have the best legal mind in Cashel …’ A brief wry grin crossed his features. ‘I mean, in the absence of Brehon Aillin. Find out the details. Take Eadulf with you, of course. Oh, and you had better take young Enda as escort. After your last adventure, he seems bored with his duties as simply one of the palace guards.’
‘One warrior to accompany us into Ui Fidgente territory?’ Fidelma did not try to hide her dismay.
‘You have travelled into danger often before and emerged unscathed,’ her brother pointed out. ‘Besides, as I have already said, entering Ui Fidgente territory accompanied by any more warriors could be interpreted in an unfortunate manner; just as it might be if I rode at the head of a battalion of my bodyguards. At this moment, we want no unfortunate interpretations of actions on either side.’
‘Has anyone informed the steward at the Abbey of Imleach about the abbot’s death?’ Fidelma asked, changing the subject.
‘The messenger from Prince Donennach called there yesterday on his way here. It seems Segdae’s airsecnap, the deputy abbot, and his steward had accompanied the abbot to Dun Eochair Mhaigh. They were there at the time of the murder.’
‘Since Brother Madagan fell into disgrace when we received the deputation from Canterbury, I do not recall the name of the new steward to the abbot. I think he was a tall man, very muscular, who looked like someone who should have been a gleccaide, a wrestler, rather than a cleric. But certainly he was someone full of his own self-importance.’
Colgu was amused at her description. ‘That sums up Brother Tuaman right enough. He is the new rechtaire, the steward, at Imleach. The deputy abbot is named Cuan. I think he prefers the Latin title praepositus or prior. He was also recently appointed and I have never met him.’
‘That is unusual. Segdae would normally have brought him here to introduce him to the court. Prior Cuan … is he a relative that we do not know?’
They were both aware that many of the Irish abbeys adopted the same method as for the appointment of chiefs, princes, provincial kings and even of the High King. The method was elective, that was true – but the candidate had to be the most worthy and qualified to fulfil the role. In addition, the candidate had to be of the bloodline that was of the male line related to three generations of the abbot; therefore, a son often succeeded his father as abbot or bishop of a territory. The justification behind this was that an abbot, who was senior to a bishop in the churches of the Five Kingdoms, was usually a member of the royal household, and the members of his ecclesiastic community were regarded as his fine or family. Therefore the derbhfine, or electoral college, were the community, who acted in the same way as the derbhfine of a chieftain, prince or king.
The Abbots of Imleach were related to the kingly line of Cashel, the Eoghanacht. A hundred years before, Fergus Scandal had been chosen first as Abbot of Imleach and later chosen as King of Muman. He would not be the first or last to hold both high offices. While celibacy was not a tenet of holding high office in the Church, it was a growing matter of concern in Rome where inheritance was becoming a problem. Less than a century before, Pope Pelagius II, had ruled that married religious should not bequeath to their sons any property they had acquired when holding clerical office.