Iarnbud sat back with a deep sigh at the end of his narrative.
Eadulf snorted indignantly.
‘It seems to me that the fishermen are superfluous in this story. If these dark forces supply the craft and the wind to take them to the Otherworld and back again, why are human fishermen needed to man their ships? These forces could do the job by their own powers.’
Iarnbud looked shocked.
‘We have similar stories,’ interposed Fidelma. ‘Stories even the coming of the New Faith has not entirely eradicated from our land. To the west of my brother’s kingdom is an island we called Tech Duinn, the House of Donn. Donn was our God of the Dead. It was an island where the souls of the dead had to assemble before they began their journey westward to the Otherworld.’
Iarnbud glanced at Bleidbara and shrugged as if he were disappointed. It was so slight that the motion of his shoulder was almost lost on Fidelma — but not quite. She turned to where Bleidbara had been sitting in silence during this whole conversation.
‘You are a warrior, a practical man,’ she said smoothly, ‘and you say you command a ship. Do you believe in such tales?’
Bleidbara had been deep in thought and now he looked up.
‘Tales?’ He reflected hurriedly. ‘I believe only in what I see, feel, hear and smell, lady.’
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘it was a good story, well told, and these ancient beliefs are to be respected.’
She looked at Eadulf for support. He interpreted her expression correctly, for he nodded earnestly.
‘That is so,’ he agreed. ‘For there is usually a reason behind an ancient tale. It is best to be sitting before a blazing hearth fire or, better yet, to be in a warm bed, rather than stalking the shores in the dead of night when the powers of the old gods are exalted.’
Brother Metellus regarded him in disgust.
‘The old gods have only the power we give them,’ he rebuked.
‘As do the new gods,’ Iarnbud rejoined quickly.
‘Are you a believer in the old gods, then, Iarnbud?’ asked Fidelma gently.
Iarnbud looked nervously at Macliau who pretended to be interested in his little dog, still stretched asleep at his feet.
‘I am, as you have heard, Bretat to Canao, Lord of Brilhag. I am a keeper of the arcane knowledge of the people of this land.’
‘That is not what I asked,’ Fidelma responded gently. ‘It just sounded as though you gave equal credence to the old gods as you do to the New Faith.’
The man pursed his lips in thought for a moment or two and then sighed.
‘It would seem strange, lady, that the gods who the people accepted at the time that was beyond time, and who were believed and worshipped for generation after generation for millennia, could suddenly lose their power and disappear in such a short space of time when some people turned to stories of other alien gods from the east.’
Brother Metellus did not seem outraged but he observed quietly: ‘That is sacrilege.’
Iarnbud was unperturbed by his condemnation.
‘You know from old, Brother Metellus, that I merely state what is logical. Many of our people still make offerings to the old gods and goddesses. They have proved their worth over the generations while the new deities have only just appeared in the land and need to demonstrate their greater power — if they have it.’
Macliau stirred and set down his wine and, as he had been doing throughout the evening, bent to caress the ears of his little dog Albiorix. It was obvious that he was fond of the animal.
‘Is it not enough that when the New Faith entered our lands, it did so soon after the Roman legions?’ he said vehemently. ‘First the Roman legions came and slaughtered our people, and then the New Faith came and subverted the minds of those who remained, turning them away from their very roots.’
Fidelma and Eadulf stared at the young man in surprise. Fidelma was aware that he had been helping himself very liberally to the wine and she wondered if this had been the means of making him so outspoken.
Trifina surprised them even further by giving a peal of laughter.
‘My brother likes to annoy people by being contrary,’ she said. ‘He says what he knows to be opposite to their views merely to provoke them.’
Macliau stared at his sister for a moment and Fidelma was sure that she gave him a warning signal. He turned back with a shrug.
‘I do not believe it is a fault to stimulate conversation,’ he explained grumpily. ‘If we all sat around agreeing with each other, it would surely be a boring existence.’
‘The way our great teachers provoked knowledge was taking an opposite view, to induce the student to bring forth argument,’ confirmed Iarnbud.
‘That was also the method in our land,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But it sometimes gets in the way of the seeker after facts.’
Iarnbud leaned back in his chair and examined her quietly for a moment.
‘Then the facts are simple. This New Faith is spreading through the land. The princes have seized upon it and great centres have been erected, like the abbey built here by Gildas. These new centres dominate the lives of the people. But the beliefs of a thousand years and more are hard to eradicate. The old gods and goddesses live on, and in the depths of the great forests north of here, they are still respected and worshipped. And even among those who follow the Christ, while they might genuflect before His symbols, in their minds they still respect the old gods and the customs of the ancestors.’
Eadulf stirred uneasily. He had been a youth brought up with the gods of the Saxons — Woden, Thunor, Tyr and Freya — until a wandering monk from Hibernia had converted him to the New Faith. But still, in times of stress, it was the old gods that he mentally invoked. Iarnbud’s comment was a telling one.
Iarnbud noticed his discomfort and smiled knowingly.
‘I think you understand me well, Saxon,’ he said, before turning to Fidelma. ‘You have travelled on shipboard to this place, lady. Have you noticed the behaviour of seamen or the fisherfolk? Have they abandoned their faith in the protection of the old sea gods? They have not. They will give them their due, especially to the goddess of the moon who controls the seas. They will not even mention her true name once they set foot on shipboard for fear of her.’
Fidelma had to agree that among the fisherfolk of her own land, this was true, for there were many names by which the moon was called, and all were euphemisms for her proper name. Names such as ‘The Brightness’, ‘The Radiance’, ‘The Queen of the Night’ and ‘The Fair Mare’. She shivered slightly. Was Iarnbud secretly laughing at her?
Eadulf was trying to disguise his irritation.
‘What does it matter?’ he said. ‘Most people accept the Faith now.’
‘The New Faith is but a veneer to disguise other true allegiance to the old ways.’ Iarnbud turned to face him. ‘When your Saxon hordes started to land on the island of Britain, the Britons had long converted to the New Faith and welcomed you at first with talk of peace and the rule of Thou Shalt Not Kill. Your people, crying upon your War God Woden, soon dissuaded them by eliminating them or driving them from the land.’
Eadulf’s jaw tightened. ‘I am not responsible for what my ancestors did,’ he muttered. ‘I live in the present.’
‘And the Saxon kingdoms are now being converted to the New Faith,’ pointed out Fidelma, coming to his defence.
Iarnbud laughed. ‘Indeed, converted by those religious of Hibernia. Do you see any Britons converting the Saxons? The Britons have better sense. One day you Hibernians may regret it.’
Trifina suddenly stretched languorously and yawned.
‘You will excuse me,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘The hour grows late and I must retire.’
With a glance that embraced the company, she rose and left them.