‘Why Sister Brónach?’
‘It was her mother that Draigen killed.’
For a moment or two Sister Fidelma stared at Febal in quiet astonishment.
‘Let me get this right,’ she said slowly, after a while. ‘Are you telling me that Abbess Draigen killed Sister Brónach’s mother? The same Brónach who is now her doirseór?’
‘The same,’ grunted Febal indifferently.
‘And are you telling me that Brónach knows about this?’
‘Of course. Ask her, if you do not believe me. And she will also confirm that Lerben shares the bed of the abbess.’
Fidelma was silent.
‘I believe that you believe this,’ she said after a moment or two. ‘So curious a tale can only be the truth for if it were a lie it could be uncovered easily. However, you have not said whether this was an unlawful killing.’
‘Is any killing lawful?’ sneered Febal.
‘That is true, but some killings can be judged worse than others. Cold, premeditated killings. Do you know the facts of the case?’
The handsome religieux shrugged.
‘I would rather you took your facts from Brónach, for then it will not be said that I misled you.’
‘Very well. But it is a long path from a killing twenty years ago to your suspicion that Draigen killed the person whose body was found in the well of this monastery. And if she was responsible for that death then logic would have it that she was responsible for the death of Sister Síomha.’
Brother Febal gave a disdainful gesture.
‘It is not beyond the realms of possibility, Sister Fidelma.’
‘Granted. If all your allegations have substance,’ conceded Fidelma.
At once Brother Febal bristled with indignation.
‘Do you call me liar?’
Fidelma shook her head.
‘Let us examine what you have told me. You say that you have heard that Draigen killed someone before she came to this abbey. You say that rumour had it that Draigen was encouraging young novices to her bed. Even if you witnessed such matters it is not an unlawful act.’
‘Unlawful in the eyes of God!’ growled Febal.
‘So, you also speak for God?’ Fidelma’s voice was soft. Then she said more sharply, ‘You have told me nothing that can be used as evidence in a court of law against Draigen in order to prove that she is responsible for the deaths which have occurred at this abbey. But you have made allegations which could well convict you of spreading malicious stories and putting a blemish on the reputation of Draigen. A goodadvocate could destroy your story in a court by the very fact that you were once married to Draigen and were dismissed from your office in her abbey before being thrown out of the abbey itself. You are not in a strong position at all, Febal, to argue evidence and law.’
Brother Febal rose to his feet.
‘I would have expected as much from you.’
Fidelma calmly returned his angry look.
‘You should explain that,’ she invited in a voice that was ice.
‘You are a woman! “Let everyone who is dutiful avoid the proud tongue of a woman!” You merely stick together, protecting each other.’
‘You misquote the poem,’ pointed out Fidelma.
‘It matters not. The sense is the same. I have heard that you like to quote from Greek and Latin sages. Then here is a quote for you, Fidelma of Kildare. It is from Euripides-“woman is woman’s natural ally”. I should have expected that you would do your best to protect Draigen, she being woman as are you.’
Fidelma carefully folded her arms and forced a gentle smile.
‘I will not take offence, Febal. I think it is your hate of Draigen talking. Go back to Dun Boí and calm yourself. There is much anger in you.’
Brother Febal stood, swaying a little as if he had no balance, he appeared to be making up his mind as to whether he would say anything further. Then he turned and strode away, anger showing in the demeanour of his walk and the hunching of his shoulders.
Fidelma watched him until he had disappeared around the shoreline.
She suddenly felt a terrible sadness. A sense of loneliness.
She always felt sad when she came across someone whose views of life were so embittered. And she realised immediately why she was feeling a sense of loneliness. She wasthinking of Brother Eadulf. There was a man who liked life and people. There was no malice in him. Malice. Why had she picked that word? Malice was what she felt in Febal. His hostility was imbued with a malevolence.
It is true that a man can find many justifications for his emotions after the event which were not there when the seed of those emotions was planted. Misognynism could certainly be found in the Penitentials of Finian which Febal might have found as justification of his hatreds. But perhaps his hatred had other roots. And a man capable of hatred, capable of strong emotions, could certainly be capable of expressing those emotions in other channels. Even murder.
She stood up and stretched, feeling abruptly uncomfortable. She had a feeling of distaste; distaste not for the individual misogynism of Febal but for a movement in the Faith which he represented. Fidelma was a person born of her culture but the Faith was now changing that very culture as the new ideas from Greece, Rome and other cultures, which helped shape the Faith, were changing the philosophies propounded by the churches of the five kingdoms. It had been women, as well as men, who had converted the five kingdoms to the new Faith-their names were legend; the five sisters of Patrick, Chief Apostle of the five kingdoms, and women like Darerca, Brigid, Ita, Etáin and countless others. Fidelma could reel their names off like a litany …
But two hundred years of the spread of the Faith had produced men, and even a few women too, who sought to reject the rule of civil law and, led by Finian of Clonard, they had devised ecclesiastical laws which sought to replace the Law of the Fénechus by which the five kingdoms were governed.
Febal had mentioned the Penitentials of Cuimmíne, which had been inspired by Finian’s laws. These were now being taken from religious foundation to religious foundation, with the approval of Ultan of Armagh. Cuimmine had died only four years ago and already his ecclesiastical laws were findingconverts among the male religious for they, like Febal’s views, were based on the precepts of Paul of Tarsus.
Fidelma had good reason to resent the Penitentials of Cuimmine. Cuimmine had been responsible for the tragic death of her childhood friend, Liadin, who had been educated with her at Cashel. Liadin had become a religieuse and a poet of remarkable talent. She met a fellow poet from the kingdom of Connacht named Cuirithir and they had fallen in love. Cuimmine was the abbot of the community in which Cuirithir served and he sent him away, forbidding him ever to see Liadin again and using the arguments of Paul of Tarsus to forbid the relationship. He was an abbot of ascetic extremism. Cuirithir had left the shores of the five kingdoms and was never seen again. Liadin eventually sickened and died, broken and unhappy. Her grief had been extreme.
Fidelma had little respect for laws which made people unhappy for no accountable reason, that denied human beings their greatest asset — love. Liadin and Cuirithir should have ignored the ascetic extremism of Cuimmine and been strong enough to have gone away together. As she had lain dying, young Liadin had written her last song, ending:
Why should I hide
That he is still my heart’s desire
More than all the world.
A furnace blast
Of love has melted my heart
Without his love, it can beat no more.
A few days later she had indeed stopped her heart from beating.
Fidelma suddenly exhaled and shook her head. This was not what she should be thinking of. She should not be making moral judgments but looking for the evidence whichwould identify the person responsible for two horrendous killings.