‘Does that matter?’
‘I think it does. In view of what you had to say about her, I think it matters a great deal. I understand from Adnár that it was you who suggested that she might have been responsiblefor the death of the corpse in the well. Whether true or not, it indicates that there is no love lost between you.’
Febal flushed and glanced down at his sandals as if suddenly feeling the necessity to examine them in detail.
‘It is obvious that you do not like your former wife,’ Fidelma observed. ‘Perhaps it would help if you could tell me how you first came to know her?’
Febal kept his eyes on his feet for a few moments, frowning, as if trying to make up his mind.
‘Very well. I was seventeen when I entered this very abbey of The Salmon of the Three Wells. Oh, it was a mixed house at that time, a conhospitae. The abbess at this time was Abbess Marga. She was an enlightened lady and it was she who first encouraged scribes to come to copy the books in the library in order to sell or exchange them with other libraries.’
‘Why did you join the abbey? Were you interested in books?’
Febal shook his head.
‘I am no scribe. My father was a fisherman. He died drowning. I did not want to end my life like that and so I entered the religious life as soon as I reached the age of choice.’
‘So you were here before Draigen arrived?’
‘Oh yes. She entered the abbey when she was fifteen. She was already at the age of choice. Her parents had both died so she entered the religious life. At least that is the story as I remember it. Draigen was educated and trained by the members of the community.’
‘And what was your position here when she joined the abbey?’
Febal’s chest rose a moment in pride.
‘I was already the doirseór, the doorkeeper of the abbey.’
‘A position of trust,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘How did Draigen become your wife?’
‘As you know, in some houses the brethren are encouraged to marry to raise their children in the service of the Christ. Iadmit that I was attracted by Draigen. She was a handsome and intelligent woman. I do not know what she saw in me, except that I was already in a position of responsibility here.’
‘Are you trying to tell me that you believe that she only married you because you were the doirseór of the abbey?’
‘It is a reason that I find as good as any.’
‘How did things change? How did Draigen work her way into her present position? And how did you separate from her?’
Febal’s face was a momentary mask of bitterness.
‘She did it as subtly as a serpent,’ he said. Fidelma almost smiled at the echo of the phrase which Draigen herself had used only a few hours before. ‘The old abbess, Abbess Marga, was a kindly, trusting soul. The years passed and Draigen grew up. Oh, I am not denying that Draigen was clever. She responded to the education she received so that from a poor farmer’s daughter she became fluent in Greek, Latin, Hebrew as well as our own tongue, and could read and write easily in all of those languages. She knew her scripture and could quote chapter and verse. She had a clever mind but that concealed an evil temper. I have cause to know.’
Febal paused to make ugly grimace.
‘But you had married her,’ prompted Fidelma.
Febal glanced at her.
‘I did so. But that was not to say that I liked her ambition. She overstepped the bounds of womanhood.’
Fidelma’s mouth turned down.
‘What are those bounds?’ she asked with asperity.
‘You should know, being of the Christian Faith,’ Febal sounded complacent.
‘Then remind me.’ A more sensitive person might have noticed the irritability in her tone.
‘Did the Blessed Paul not write, “Let your women keep silence in the churches; for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience … And if they will learn anything, let them ask their husbandsat home, for it is a shame for a woman to speak in the church.” It is his epistle to Corinthians.’
‘So you believe that women have no place in the abbeys and church?’ Fidelma had heard the argument many times before.
‘Women should obey men in the Church,’ declared Brother Febal. ‘Paul, also in Corinthians says, “the lord of the woman is the man … God created man not for the woman, but created the woman for the man.” And, in his epistle to Timothy, he says, “women must not teach, nor usurp authority over man, but should be silent.” What is more clear than that?’
‘These are the words of one man, Paul of Tarsus,’ observed Fidelma dryly. ‘They are not the words of the Christ. Yet I would go further and observe that these words did not stop you from joining a conhospitae and further from marrying a religieuse.’
Febal’s eyes burned with resentment.
‘I was younger then. But it seems to me, in your answer, that you deny the right of Paul, divinely inspired by the Christ, to teach these things?’
‘Paul was not Christ,’ replied Fidelma quietly. ‘In this land, men and women are coequal before God.’
Brother Febal’s tone was sneering.
‘The Blessed John Chrysostom once observed that woman taught once and ruined all by her teachings. The Faith has changed that. Augustine of Hippo points out that women are not made in the image of God, whereas man is fully and completely the image of God.’
Fidelma looked sadly at Brother Febal whose face was full of vehemence. She had met with many who advanced such arguments. It was true that there were religious houses in the five kingdoms where the advocates of the new Faith were even challenging the ancient laws, even as Draigen had done.
‘Do I take it, Brother Febal,’ she said sharply, ‘that you do not accept the Law of the Fénechus?’
Febal’s eyes narrowed.
‘Only when it contracts the articles of Faith.’
‘And on what article do you base yourself?’
‘On the Penitentials of Finian of Clonard and of Cuimmine Fata of Clonfert.’
Fidelma smiled wryly. It was strange that a few hours before Abbess Draigen had been quoting these same Penitentials, a series of ecclesiastical laws for the rule of religious communities, in support of her case. Curious how both estranged wife and husband seemed to agree. At least Fidelma knew the thoughts that motivated some of Brother Febal’s attitudes.
‘Then as a man who believed that woman had no place in the church, you must have resented being in a conhospitae, a mixed house? I still wonder that you joined such an institution. Furthermore, I wonder that you even contemplated marriage to Draigen.’
‘I have said that I was young when I joined the abbey. I had not read the scriptures in their entirety. I had not come across the works of Finian nor of Cuimmine. And at first Draigen was a quiet girl, willing and ready to obey. I did not know that she was merely biding her time, learning what she could as she awaited her opportunity.’
‘Draigen’s opportunity being her appointment to rechtaire? Was that when you sought to annul the marriage?’
‘We ceased to be husband and wife within a year or so of our marriage. We went our own separate ways within the abbey. I loathed her. I will not deny it. I was doorkeeper and when the old rechtaire died I should have been promoted to the office. But old Abbess Marga had taken a liking to Draigen …’
‘How old was Draigen at this time?’
Febal frowned, trying to recall.
‘She was in her mid-twenties, I believe. Yes, that is the age that she would be.’
‘And Abbess Marga made Draigen her house-steward?’
‘Yes. The second most powerful office in the abbey. And Draigen certainly liked to exercise all that power.’
‘In what way?’
‘She began to make life difficult for the male community and introduce more and more women into the abbey. She became strident against any man who showed talent. She would send men off on missions or give them penances which necessitated them going on pilgrimages abroad. Soon there were hardly any men left in the abbey.’