To Fidelma, the circulation of the ‘rules of the first council of Patrick’, as they were being called, was another piece of propaganda from the camp of the pro-Roman faction which wished the Faith in the five kingdoms of Éireann to be governed entirely from Rome.
She caught herself as she became aware that Cass had been saying something.
‘I am sorry,’ she said awkwardly, ‘my mind was drifting miles away. What were you saying?’
The young warrior stretched his legs in the cramped chair.
‘I was saying that I had an idea about the lamp.’
‘Oh?’
‘It is obvious that someone refilled it when Dacán’s body was discovered.’
Fidelma examined his guileless eyes solemnly.
‘It is certainly obvious that the lamp could not have beenburning all through the night, if Dacán was killed at midnight or soon after … that is,’ she gave a mischievous grin, ‘unless we are witnesses to a miracle; the miracle of the self-refilling lamp.’
Cass frowned, not sure how to take her levity.
‘Then it is as I say,’ he insisted.
‘Perhaps. Yet we are told that Brother Conghus discovered the body and found the lamp burning. He did not refill it. It was still burning when Brother Tóla went to examine the body and he swears that he did not refill it. He further told us, when I raised that very point, that he had extinguished the light when he and his assistant, Brother Martan, carried the body to his mortuary for examination. Who then refilled it?’
Cass thought for a moment.
‘Then it must have been refilled just before the body was discovered or after the body was carried away,’ he said triumphantly. ‘After all, you judged for yourself that the lamp could only have burning no more than an hour by the amount of oil still left in it. So someone must have refilled it.’
Fidelma regarded Cass with a sudden amusement.
‘You know, Cass, you are beginning to display the mind of a dálaigh.’
Cass returned her look with a frown, unsure whether Fidelma was mocking him or not.
‘Well …’ he began, starting to rise with a petulant expression.
She held up a hand and motioned for him to remain.
‘I am not being flippant, Cass. Seriously, you have a made point which I have neglected to see. The lamp was certainly refilled just before Conghus discovered the body.’
Cass sat back with a smile of satisfaction.
‘There! I hope I have contributed to solving a minor mystery.’
‘Minor?’ There was a sharp note of admonishment in Fidelma’s voice.
‘What matter whether a lamp is filled or unfilled?’ Cass asked, spreading his hands in emphasis. ‘The main problem is to find who killed Dacán.’
Fidelma shook her head sadly.
‘There is no item too unimportant to be discarded when searching for a truth. What did I say about gathering the pieces of a puzzle? Gather each fragment, even if they do not seem to be connected. Gather and store them. This applies especially to those pieces which seem odd, which seem inexplicable.’
‘But what would a lamp matter in this affair?’ demanded Cass.
‘We will only know that when we find out. We cannot find out unless we start to ask questions.’
‘Your art seems a complicated one, sister.’
Fidelma shook her head.
‘Not really. I would think that your art is even more complicated than mine in terms of making judgments.’
‘My art?’ Cass drew himself up. ‘I am a simple warrior in the service of my king. I adhere to the code of honour that each warrior has. What judgments do I have to make?’
‘The judgment of when to kill, when to maim and when not. Above all, your task is to kill while our Faith forbids us to do so. Have you ever solved that conundrum?’
Cass flushed in annoyance.
‘I am a warrior. I kill only the wicked — the enemies of my people.’
Fidelma smiled thinly.
‘It sounds as if you believe them to be one and the same. Yet the Faith says, do not kill. Surely if we kill, if only to stop the wicked and evil, then the very act makes us as guilty as those we kill?’
Cass sniffed disdainfully.
‘You would rather that they killed you instead?’ he asked cynically.
‘If we believe in the teachings of our Faith, then we must believe this was the example Christ left us. As Matthew records the Saviour’s words, “those who live by the sword shall die by the sword”.’
‘Well, you cannot believe in that example,’ scoffed Cass.
Fidelma was interested by his reaction, for she had long struggled with some of the theology of the Faith and had still not found a firm enough ground to argue many of its basic tenants. She often expressed her doubts in argument by taking the part of a devil’s advocate and through that means she clarified her own attitudes.
‘Why so?’ she demanded.
‘Because you are a dálaigh. You believe in the law. You specialise in seeking out killers and bringing them to justice. You believe in punishing those who kill, even to the point of raising the sword against them. You do not stand aside and say this is God’s will. I have heard a man of the Faith denouncing the Brehons also in the words of Matthew. “Judge not or you will be judge”, he said. You advocates of the law ignore Matthew’s words on that so do I ignore Matthew’s words against the profession of the sword.’
Fidelma sighed contritely.
‘You are right. It is hard to “turn the other cheek” in all things. We are only human.’
Somehow she had never felt comfortable with Luke’s record of Jesus’ teaching that if someone steals a person’s cloak, then that person should give the thief his shirt also. Surely if one courted such oppression, such as turning the other cheek, it meant one was equally as guilty for it gave actual invitation to further theft and injury at the hands of the wrongdoer. Yet according to Matthew, Jesus said: “Think not that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a man’sfoes, they shall be of his own household”. It was confusing. And long had Fidelma troubled over it.
‘Perhaps the Faith expects too much from us?’ Cass interrupted her thoughts.
‘Perhaps. But the expectation of humankind should always exceed their grasp otherwise there would be no progress in life.’
Fidelma’s features suddenly dissolved into an urchin grin.
‘You must forgive me, Cass, for at times I do but try to test my attitudes against the Faith.’
The young warrior was indifferent.
‘I have no such need,’ he replied.
‘Then your faith is great.’ Fidelma was unable to keep a note of sarcasm from her voice.
‘Why should I doubt what the prelates preach?’ inquired Cass. ‘I am a simple person. They have considered these matters for centuries and if they say this is so, then so it must be.’
Fidelma shook her head, sorrowfully. It was at times like these that she missed the stormy arguments that she had experienced with Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.