Having discharged her religious responsibility, Fidelma went to the bowl of water which stood on a table in her chamber and washed quickly in the near icy liquid. She towelled herself vigorously before dressing. When she was ready she went into the corridor. The door to Cass's chamber was opened and it was empty, so she proceeded down the corridor which was lit, now that dusk had fallen, with a few flickering candles in sheltered holders attached to the stone walls.
"Ah, Sister Fidelma." It was the wheezy figure of Brother Rumann who had appeared in the gloom as she came down the stairs into the main hall! on the ground floor of the hostel. "Did you miss vespers?"
"I slept late and the bell awoke me. I made my invocations to Our Lord in my chamber."
She bit her lip as she said it. She had not meant it to sound so defensive but she felt that there had been a tone of censure in the steward's voice.
Brother Rumann's large face creased into what she presumed was a smile, yet of disparagement or sympathy she knew not.
"The young warrior, Cass, went to the abbey church and is probably on his way directly to the praintech, as we call our refectory, for the evening meal. Shall I conduct you there?"
"Thank you, brother," Fidelma solemnly replied. "I would be grateful for your guidance."
The pudgy religieux took a lighted lantern from its hook on the wall and proceeded to lead the way from the building along the now dark courtyard toward the adjoining building, a large construction into which many religious, both men and women, were filing in what seemed never-ending lines.
"Do not worry, sister," Brother Rumann said. "The abbot has given orders that you and the warrior Cass will be seated at his table at mealtimes during your stay with us."
"At what should I worry?" queried Fidelma, glancing curiously at him.
"We have so many people at the abbey that we have to make three sittings for our meals. Those that have to wait until the third sitting often eat their meals cold, which causes complaint. This is why many of the brothers are now working on constructing a new dining hall at the eastern end of the abbey buildings. The new praintech is going to accommodate all of us."
"A refectory which will contain several hundred souls under one roof?"
Fidelma could not keep the skepticism from her voice.
"Just so, sister. A great task and one which will be completed soon, le cunamh Dé." He added the "God willing" in a pious tone.
They paused in the hallway of the refectory and an attendant came forward to remove and stack their shoes or sandals, for it was the custom in most monastic communities that one sat down at the meal table in bare feet. Rumann then led the way into the crowded hall, along lines of tables packed with the religious of both sexes. The refectory hall was lit with numerous spluttering oil lamps whose pungent smell mingled with the heavy aroma of the smoky turf fire which smoldered in the great hearth at the head of the chamber. The odors were made even more piquant by the intermingling of the contents of incense burners placed at various points throughout the hall. Lamps and fire combined, however, to generate a poor heat against the cold of the autumnal evening. Only after a while, with the compactness of the two hundred bodies, did a warmth emerge.
The Abbot Brocc had already started the Gratias as Brother Rumann hurriedly conducted Fidelma to an empty place at the table, next to an amused-looking Cass who smiled a silent greeting at her.
"Benedic nobis, Domine Deus …"
Fidelma hastily genuflected as she took her place.
"Did you oversleep?" whispered Cass cheerfully as he leant towards her.
Fidelma sniffed and ignored the question to which the answer was so obvious.
The Gratias ended and the room was filled with the noise of benches being scraped on the stone flags of the floor.
In spite of the fact that they had eaten only four hours before, Fidelma and Cass ate heartily of the dish of baked fish cooked with wild garlic and served with duilesc, a sea plant gathered from the rocks of the shore. Barley bread was served with this. Jugs of ale stood on the table and the religious were allowed to help themselves to one pottery goblet each of the brew. The meal was finished with the serving of a dish of apples and some wheaten cakes kneaded with honey.
The meal was eaten without conversation, for this, as Fidelma realized, was the Rule of the Blessed Fachtna. However, during the course of the meal a lector intoned passages from the scriptures from a raised wooden lectern at the end of the room. Fidelma raised a tired smile as the lector chose to begin with a passage from the third chapter of Ecclesiastes: "Every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labor, it is the gift of God."
The meal ended at the single chime of a bell and the Abbot Brocc rose to intone another Gratias.
Only when they were leaving the refectory, reclaiming their footwear, did Brocc approach them. At his side came the puffing figure of Brother Rumann.
"Have you rested well, cousin?" greeted the abbot.
"Well enough," replied Fidelma. "Now I should like your permission and authority to commence my task."
"What can I do? You have only to ask."
"I will need someone to act as an assistant, to find those people that I need to question and bring them to me and to run errands on my behalf. Thus they must know the abbey and be able to conduct me where I want to go."
"Brother Rumann's assistant, Sister Necht, shall perform that task," smiled the abbot, turning to the portly steward, who jerked his head up and down in agreement at the abbot's words. "What else, cousin?"
"I shall need a chamber in which to conduct my inquiries. The room next to my chamber in the hostel would serve well."
"It is yours for so long as you require it."
"I will see this is so," added Rumann, eager to please his abbot.
"Then there is no need to delay further. We shall start at once."
"God's blessing on your work," intoned the abbot solemnly. "Keep me informed."
He left the refectory with Brother Rumann clucking after him.
Sister Necht, Brother Rumann's assistant, was the young, heavy-looking woman whom Fidelma had seen briefly on entering the abbey. She had been asked by Conghus to take charge of Sister Eisten and the children. She was fresh-faced, with reddish, almost copper-burnished, curly hair tumbling under her head-dress. Her shoulders were too broad and her chin too square for her to be called attractive. Fidelma found that she was quick to smile but easy to upset. However, she was eager to please and obviously excited at being given a task which was not usual in the rigid sequentially ordered work that was the daily round of community.
If anything, Sister Necht showed herself to be somewhat in awe of Sister Fidelma. It was obvious that she had been told that Fidelma was sister to the heirapparent of the kingdom, cousin to the abbot, and was, in her own right, a distinguished dálaigh of the law courts of the land who had stood to give judgment before the High King and even at the request of the Holy Father so far away in Rome. Young Sister Necht was clearly a hero-worshipper.
Fidelma immediately forgave her the nervousness and spaniel-like adoration. The age of innocence would soon pass. Fidelma felt that it was sad that children had so quickly to pass into adulthood. What was it that Publilius Syrus had written? If you would live innocently, do not lose the heart and mind you possessed in your childhood.