"We have," confirmed Cass as they followed him. The warrior in Cass paused to draw attention to a matter Fidelma had neglected. "Our horses need a rub down and feeding, brother."
"I will attend to your horses just as soon as I have conducted you to the abbot," Conghus replied.
The doorkeeper of the abbey started to hurry with somewhat unseemly haste across the paved yard, through the complex of buildings, pausing from time to time to urge them to follow with as much speed as they could. Fidelma and Cass complied, however, with a more leisurely pace which was governed by their fatigue. The walk seemed interminable but, at last, having ascended the stairs of a large building, set slightly apart from the others, the aistreoir halted before a dark oak door and motioned them to wait while he knocked and disappeared behind it. Only moments passed before he re-emerged and, holding wide the door, gestured for them to go inside.
They found themselves in a large vaulted chamber whose cold gray stone walls were relieved by colorful tapestries, each illustrating something of the life of Christ. A fire smoldered in the hearth and there was the smell of incense permeating through the room. The floor was carpeted with soft woollen rugs. The furniture was rich and the ornaments extravagant in their opulence.
The abbot of Ros Ailithir did not appear to believe in frugality.
"Fidelma!"
A tall man rose from behind a dark, polished oak table. He was thin, with a hook nose, piercing blue eyes, and his red hair was cut in the tonsure of the Irish church, shaven at the front to a line from ear to ear and the hair hanging long at the back. There was something about his facial appearance which, to the discerning eye, suggested a relationship to Fidelma.
"I am your cousin, Brocc," the thin man announced. His voice seemed to boom with a deep bass quality. "I have not seen you since you were a child."
The greeting was meant to be a warm one yet there was some false note in the abbot's voice. It was as if part of his thoughts were elsewhere while he was trying to summon a welcome.
Even when he stretched out both hands to take Fidelma's own in greeting, they were cold and flaccid and also seemed to belie the attempted tone of welcome in his voice. Fidelma had little recollection of her cousin from her exuberant childhood. Perhaps that was understandable, for Abbot Brocc was at least ten or fifteen years her senior.
She returned his greeting with a degree of studied formality and then introduced Cass.
"Cass has been appointed to assist me in this matter by my brother, Colgu."
Brocc examined Cass with an uneasy gaze, his eyes going to Cass's throat where the warrior had loosened his cloak and it had fallen away to reveal the golden necklet of his office. For his part, Cass reached out with a strong grip to take the abbot's hand. Fidelma saw Brocc's facial muscles twitch at the power of the grip.
"Come, be seated, cousin. You also, Cass. My doorkeeper, Brother Conghus, tells me that you arrived with Sister Eisten and some children from Rae na Serine. Eisten's mission there comes under the jurisdiction of this abbey and so we are much concerned at what has happened there. Tell me the story."
Fidelma glanced to Cass as she slumped thankfully into a chair, relaxing for the first time in twenty-four hours in some degree of comfort. The young warrior picked up the invitation that her glance implied and quickly told the story of how they had found Eisten and the children at Rae na Serine.
Brocc's face became a mask of anger and he reached up a hand to tap absently on the bridge of his nose.
"This is an evil business. I will send a messenger at once to Salbach, the chieftain of the Corco Loigde. He will have this man Intat and his men punished for this heinous act. Leave this matter with me. I shall ensure Salbach hears of this at once."
"And Sister Eisten and her charges?" asked Fidelma.
"Have no fears for them. We will care for them here. We have a good infirmary and our physician, Brother Midach, has dealt with ten cases of the Yellow Plague over the last year. God has been good to us. Three of the victims he has successfully cured. We have no fear of the plague here. And is it not right that we should have no fear for we are of the Faith and are in God's good hands?"
"I am delighted that you view the matter with such a perspective," replied Fidelma gravely. "I would expect no less."
Cass wondered, for a moment, whether she was being ironical at Brocc's pious attitude.
"So now," Brocc's cold eyes examined her steadily, "let us get down to the main reason for your visit here."
Fidelma groaned inwardly. She would prefer to have slept and recovered something of her serenity of mind before dealing with the matter. A long deep sleep was what she most desired. She would prefer to have eaten and drunk mulled wine to warm her and then fallen onto a dry bed no matter how hard. But Brocc was probably right. It would be best to get the preliminaries over with.
As she was contemplating her reply, Brocc rose from his seat and went to stand at a window which, she could see, even from her seated position, looked out across the inlet of the sea. The abbot stood, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down.
"I am aware that time is of the essence, cousin," he said slowly. "And I am aware that I, as abbot, am held accountable for the Venerable Dacán's death. If I was in need of reminding of the fact, then the king of Laigin has sent me a token as remembrance."
Fidelma stared at him for a moment.
"What do you mean?" Cass articulated the question that she was about to ask.
Brocc gestured with his head through the window.
"Look down there, at the mouth of the inlet."
Fidelma and Cass both rose and went to join the abbot, curiously peering over his shoulder toward the spot he had indicated. There were several ships at anchor in the inlet, among them two large ocean-going vessels. Brocc was specifying one of these larger vessels, riding against its sea anchor, near the exit to the sheltered bay.
"You are a warrior, Cass." Brocc's bass voice was morose. "Can you identify that vessel? You see the one I mean? Not the Frankish merchantman but the other one."
Cass screwed up his eyes as he examined the lines of the ship.
"It flies the standard of Fianamail, the king of Laigin," he replied with some surprise. "It is a Laigin ship of war."
"Exactly so," sighed Brocc, turning to motion them back to their seats while resuming his own. "It appeared a week ago. A Laigin ship of war sent to remind me that Laigin holds me accountable for Dacán's death. It sits there in the inlet, day in and day out. To emphasize the point, when it initially arrived, its captain came ashore to inform me of the intention of the king of Laigin. Since then no one from the ship has come to the abbey. It just sits at the entrance of the inlet and waits— like a cat waiting for a mouse. If they mean to destroy my peace, then they are succeeding. Doubtless they will wait there until the High King's assembly makes its decision."
Cass flushed angrily.
"This is an outrage to justice," he said fiercely. "It is intimidation. It is a physical threat."
"It is, as I have said, a reminder that Laigin demand their eye for an eye, tooth for tooth. What does the scripture say? If a man destroy the eye of another man, they shall destroy his eye?"
"That is the law of the Israelites," Fidelma pointed out. "It is not the law of the five kingdoms."
"A moot point, cousin. If we are to believe that the Israelites are the chosen of God, then we should follow their law as well as their religion."
"Time for theological debate later," snapped Cass. "Why do they hold you responsible, Brocc? Did you kill the Venerable Dacán?"
"No, of course not."