Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

The Venerable Verax turned with interest to examine Abbess Líoch.

‘Do you also refute the claims of this Abbot of Ard Macha and make claim for your own abbey?’ he asked.

‘My abbey was established only a few years ago,’ replied the abbess. ‘I make no such claims.’

Brother Bosa had moved forward and whispered in the prelate’s ear. The Venerable Verax nodded slowly and continued to address the abbess. ‘I am told that you were some years in Oswy’s Kingdom?’

‘Were you there?’ returned Abbess Líoch, speaking directly to the scribe. ‘I do not know you.’

Brother Bosa obviously felt that he should answer. ‘I have not been there but am told that you were once spoken of as having spent time in the Abbey of Laestingau.’

A flush came to the abbess’ cheeks. ‘Then perhaps you can tell me why Brother Cerdic summoned me to this curious meeting?’ she said impatiently.

The Venerable Verax intervened. ‘Perhaps we will be able to discuss matters later? We have only just arrived and need some time to recover from our wearisome journey. We will resume the discussion when we are rested.’

‘So the purpose of your coming here remains obscure?’ Colgú replied in annoyance.

‘Let it remain so until we can sit relaxed and discuss it in more detail,’ the Venerable Verax said smoothly — but there was no questioning the determination in his voice.

Colgú could see there was little point in pressing the matter. He looked at Gormán, who anticipated his orders. ‘Dar Luga is waiting outside to escort our guests to their chambers.’

He opened the door and the plump housekeeper entered.

‘This is our airnbetach , the housekeeper, who will take you to your rooms. Any requests that you may have, please make them known to her. This evening, there will be a small feast to welcome you, and then perhaps you will reveal the purpose of your visit here, which is a matter we all look forward to with great curiosity.’

This time, the Venerable Verax took the lead in bowing stiffly, and after a slight hesitation, Bishop Arwald followed his example. Then they turned, with Brother Bosa behind them, and followed Dar Luga from the room. Gormán closed the door after they had left and stood waiting expectantly.

Colgú sat back as the others gathered around him. He had a wry smile on his features.

‘Well, friend Eadulf, you warned me and Ségdae what manner of man we might expect this Arwald to be. I could scarce believe that he is so untutored in the arts of diplomacy.’

‘Diplomacy?’ Eadulf grunted sarcastically. ‘That is just the typical bad manners of Mercia. For too long they have conducted diplomacy at the point of their swords. I wonder that you kept your temper.’

Brehon Aillín had remained quiet the whole time, and now he burst out: ‘If I were still respected enough to advise you, I would say that it is a legal matter. Their arrogance is breaking our laws and putting your honour price in danger.’

They turned to look at the old disgraced Brehon in surprise.

‘How so?’ Colgú demanded, intrigued in spite of himself.

‘The law texts, the wisdom texts, all stress the importance of the respect that must be shown to a king. They state that he is no king to whom royal tribute is withheld. The Críth Gablach insists that he is no king who, not being treated with respect due to his office, overlooks any such offence. A king is expected to demand respect by force from those who are impertinent and do not bend the knee, otherwise he loses his honour price and thereby his kingship. Likewise, if he does not ensure that his household are shown respect, he loses his honour price and his kingship.’

They heard the words of the old judge and understood that his angry challenge had more to do with his earlier dismissal by Colgú than for any precise advice on law.

Fidelma stepped to her brother’s side. ‘Brehon Aillín,’ she said softly, ‘I am, as you know, not as accomplished as you and do not hold the office of Brehon. I am merely a dálaigh , pleading in the courts and being allowed to judge only in minor cases.’

Suspecting sarcasm, Brehon Aillín turned to her, his brows compressed in a frown. ‘And I suppose you are going to tell me that my interpretation of the law is wrong?’ he sneered.

‘You have quoted the text correctly,’ she replied. Colgú looked nervously at her. But before a triumphant smile had fully formed on Brehon Aillín’s face, she continued: ‘All those here were witnesses to the lack of respect these strangers showed to my brother. All those here heard my brother rebuke them for their disrespect, but a king, according to the text you quote, is supposed to be just and take cognisance of the facts and circumstance. My brother took the attitude that, being strangers, they did not know our law as intimately as you do, Brehon Aillín. And finally, all those heard the Venerable Verax admit that, as strangers, they were unaware of it. We all saw them show respect as they left by bending their head to the King.’ She paused. ‘If I had need to defend the King against a charge that he had allowed disrespect to go unheeded, then I would say, as I am sure all here would agree, that he did not.’

Brehon Aillín stood for a moment, blinking. His jaw clenched to hide his anger. Colgú was trying not to show his amusement that the irritating fellow had been bested. He said gently: ‘You may retire, Brehon Aillín. I do not need to consult further with you at this time.’

The old man wheeled about with surprising dexterity for his age and stomped out of the council chamber.

Colgú’s features broke into a grin, and he said to his sister, ‘If looks could kill, Fidelma. .’ He left the rest unsaid.

‘I would watch Brehon Aillín, lady,’ Gormán muttered, unamused. ‘Enemies such as he can develop their grudges into blood feuds.’

Abbess Líoch now caught their attention. She was clearly irritated. ‘When are we ever going to know why these people have come here?’ she demanded. ‘They seemed to be speaking in riddles.’

‘Let us hope that their objectives will be made clear this evening,’ Colgú replied. ‘I too am tired of these mysteries.’

‘Speaking of this evening,’ Fidelma asked, ‘is there any news of Beccan’s return?’

Colgú sighed. ‘I was relying on Beccan to return to take charge of the welcoming feast this evening. Dusk is already approaching now, so it’s too late to send someone searching for him.’

‘Since he has not returned, who will take charge?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Gormán will have to take over ceremonial duties during the feast. The lot of overseeing the preparation and serving of the food will fall to Dar Luga. There must be music and some entertainment. We would not want to show our guests that we do not know how to entertain strangers.’

‘Of course, we must show hospitality according to law,’ Fidelma agreed. In the household of every king and prince within the Five Kingdoms was a band of musicians who were assigned to provide entertainment, especially for feasting. And among them were trumpeters, who would play on their assortment of horns and trumpets as a mark of honour for distinguished visitors.

‘When our guests enter,’ said the King, ‘the trumpeters must be ready to greet them in traditional form.’

‘What of the music to be played during the feast?’ asked Gormán, taking his duties seriously.

‘I’ll leave you to speak to the musicians, Gormán,’ Colgú said. ‘The music must not be raucous, nor should it be of the kind that sends one to sleep. Tell them to play pieces in the gan-traige style.’

Gan-traige was a form of music that incited merriment and laughter — infectious, happy melodies that would hopefully counter-balance the unfriendly atmosphere that the visitors had so far provoked.