Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

In view of the distinguished rank of the leaders of the deputation, Colgú received them in his council chamber in the presence of selected members of his household. Fidelma and Eadulf were requested to attend. Fidelma had just time enough to return to their chambers and rouse Eadulf from his nap, and while he was refreshing himself, tell him of her discoveries that morning and the results of her questions.

In the council chamber, they were joined by Abbot Ségdae and his steward, Brother Madagan, Brehon Aillín was already there because he had insisted that his presence was required by protocol as he had not been officially dismissed by the Council of Brehons. It was a fact that Colgú could not refute. Because of the peculiar circumstances in which Abbess Líoch and her steward, Sister Dianaimh, had been summoned by Brother Cerdic before his death, they were also invited to be present.

There was an uncomfortable wait, while Gormán, as Commander of the King’s Bodyguard, received the visitors at the gates of the palace and the usual ritual welcome was enacted before he led them to the council chamber. In view of Beccan’s absence, Gormán also took on the role of the King’s steward in officially announcing the visitors.

Bishop Arwald of Magonsaete strode forward as his name was called. ‘Arrogant’ was the first word that came into Eadulf’s mind. The man was exactly as he had predicted him to be. He was tall, with thin, almost emaciated features, to which was added a disdainful look that appeared to be his natural expression. The dark eyes were set close together under thick brows that almost met across the bridge of his nose. He had a slightly protruding forehead. He halted before Colgú, who was preparing to rise from his chair of office as a gesture of welcome and friendship. But when Bishop Arwald made no indication that he was going to greet the King with the usual respect — not even an inclination of his head, a bow, or even dropping to one knee in token of the rank that divided them — King Colgú decided to remain seated.

Instead, he looked beyond Bishop Arwald to the shorter, grey-haired man who, at first glance, resembled a kindly, elderly uncle. He was almost cherub-like, with olive skin that showed his origins were further south. In spite of the baby-like quality of his face, something unpitying and harsh came through. The corners of the fleshy mouth were stern, revealing a ruthless streak in the elderly, white-haired man. Light-coloured eyes glinted like ice from under shaggy brows. He halted a pace behind and to the side of Bishop Arwald, and gave a slight jerk of his head when Gormán announced the name of the Venerable Verax.

Both Bishop Arwald and the Venerable Verax were clad in rich robes, and there was no disguising the fact that they were men of rank and importance. At the moment, their richly embroidered cloaks bore a film of dust from their journey but the quality of them was evident. Bishop Arwald wore a cross of silver around his neck and the Venerable Verax a cross of gold, which was more elaborately ornamented. Eadulf glanced towards Colgú and hoped he remembered that it was the Venerable Verax who was the real leader of the deputation. The question arose: why did Verax pretend that Bishop Arwald was the senior of the group?

Behind the two men, at a respectful distance of two paces, stood a nondescript young man. Clad in a simple dyed-brown woollen robe, with what appeared to be a bronze cross, he kept his head and gaze lowered, even when Gormán announced him as Brother Bosa, a scribe. To Eadulf’s eye, he looked anything but a scribe. He was muscular, and moved with the precision of a warrior. The more he tried to make himself invisible, the more incongruous he appeared.

There was a momentary silence after Gormán finished introducing the deputation. Bishop Arwald had still made no move to acknowledge the King and so Gormán cleared his throat and declared: ‘You stand in the presence of Colgú, son of Failbhe Flann, King of Muman, scion of the Eóghanacht of Cashel, Lord of Tuadmuma, Aurmuma, Desmuma and Iarmuma. .’

Ordinarily, Colgú would have told him to cut the ritual short but he let it run on as it gave him the opportunity to inspect his guests more closely. Finally, however, he raised his hand to indicate that Gormán should bring his listing of his ancestry and territories to a close.

As Gormán was giving his recitation, the young scribe came forward and was whispering to Bishop Arwald and the Venerable Verax. It was clear that he was not only acting as scribe but as translator. Colgú finally realised that the scribe was translating into Latin.

‘Most of us here speak Latin,’ he interrupted. ‘We may continue in this language.’ The young scribe stepped back at a gesture from the Venerable Verax. Colgú continued: ‘You are welcome here.’

It was Bishop Arwald who then spoke. ‘I trust we are so.’ His voice was brittle. ‘Have your slaves bring chairs for us, for our journey through this savage land has been arduous.’

There were gasps of astonishment from the assembly, and even Colgú’s eyes widened in spite of the years he had been taught to control his feelings when in council.

Gormán stepped forward nervously, a hand dropping automatically to the hilt of his sword. His tone was sharp and emphatic.

‘I remind you that you stand in the presence of Colgú, King of Muman, who is the fifty-ninth direct descendant of Eibhear Fionn, the son of Golamh, who led the children of Gaedheal Glas to this land in the time before time; Eibhear Fionn, who was given this land to rule by the. .’

Colgú raised a hand and motioned him to silence. His eyes had not wandered from the face of Bishop Arwald since the man had spoken.

‘Our guests are strangers, and perhaps they have no understanding of the protocol that prevails in this place.’ He spoke softly, as if addressing Gormán but looking directly at Bishop Arwald. ‘In our uncivilised ways, we still place great store in courtesy and the observance of rules. It is custom to acknowledge the King when you are brought before him. If a King invites you, then you may sit in his presence. It is also important to learn that we have no slaves here. The only people you will find who have restrictions on their freedom are criminals of various classes, and hostages.’

Bishop Arwald’s sallow skin had taken on a paler hue. His thin red lips seemed to disappear entirely in a slit. The muscles in his jaw were working, as if he were trying to find expression for his rage. But Colgú was now looking at the Venerable Verax.

‘In view of your exhaustion, having been forced to travel through our uncivilised countryside, we invite you, Venerable Verax and your companion, Bishop Arwald, to be seated while we speak of what brings you to face the hardships and difficulties that obviously beset your journey.’

The Venerable Verax took a step forward, his features formed into a masklike smile.

‘It will not be necessary, Colgú of Muman. You will excuse us for our lack of knowledge of your customs.’

‘Yet they are the same customs that prevail in the Kingdom of Laighin, where you surely must have been guests of Fianamail the King?’ It was Fidelma who, in her irritation, could not suppress the observation.

Bishop Arwald turned swiftly, eyes narrowed as if noticing her for the first time.

‘And who are you?’ The tone was almost a sneer.

‘This is the lady Fidelma, my sister,’ Colgú replied in an icy tone. Clearly, Bishop Arwald was not one to be immediately cowed. ‘Beside her is Brother Eadulf, who is from your own country but who has made his home here, having married my sister. He is a respected friend and adviser of this court.’

‘Eadulf — from my country?’ queried Bishop Arwald. He looked at Eadulf with great suspicion, then glanced at the Venerable Verax with a look that seemed full of meaning.