Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

Eadulf cast a surprised glance at Fidelma because usually Colgú had little time for such ritual and had been known several times to stop his steward from reciting the full rite. He had even known Colgú to halt the bards singing the traditional forsundud or ancestral praise poems in his presence. ‘It is no use praising me for my ancestors,’ he would say. ‘I would rather the bards recognise me for what I do rather than what my fathers did.’ However, Fidelma, who usually shared her brother’s irritation on such matters, was sitting with a solemn expression. Looking across to where the Venerable Verax and Bishop Arwald were seated, Eadulf realised that Colgú was allowing this ritual for their benefit. He could see Brother Bosa struggling to explain what was going on.

When it was over, Colgú raised his goblet. ‘I bid you all welcome this night. Health to the men — and may the women live forever!’ It was the ancient toast, and those of the assembly who understood it responded in kind.

At the end of the hall, at a signal from Gormán, a group of musicians began to play soft music while the doors opened and a line of attendants entered with a variety of freshly cooked dishes, from venison and mutton to roasted boar; to dishes of goose eggs, sausages, and assorted vegetables: from cabbages spiced with wild garlic to leeks and onions cooked in butter — all served with an assortment of drinks: some wines imported from Gaul, but mainly cider, especially nenadmin , made from wild crabapples.

As feastings went, it was not one of the best Eadulf had attended. Even Fidelma was subdued and when he looked, Eadulf saw her gaze was fastened moodily on their guests. The table conversation was sporadic. There seemed no lightness to it, in spite of the best efforts of the musicians to introduce some note of levity by the choice of their compositions. Matters eased somewhat when Colgú rose and indicated that the guests should circulate and chat to one another. Eadulf suddenly found himself being confronted by Bishop Arwald.

‘Well, Brother Eadulf, it seems I was misinformed about you being in Canterbury recently. I apologise.’

‘As I told you, it is many years since I was there.’

‘I believe that you know much about this kingdom?’

‘As much as a foreigner can learn in the years that I have been here,’ Eadulf conceded.

‘Yet you have a unique role, being related by marriage to the King.’

‘It has led to certain privileges,’ Eadulf acknowledged diffidently. ‘As well as certain disadvantages.’

‘But you have come to know the leading members of the nobility here?’

‘Some of them. Why do you ask?’

‘For example, you must know Abbot Ségdae well?’

‘Of course.’

‘I am told that he maintains that his church was founded before the Blessed Patricius brought the Faith here.’

‘That is the history among the people here. The Abbey at Imleach was founded by Ailbhe, son of Olcnais of the Araid Cliach. It is said that a bishop from Rome named Palladius was sent to propagate the Faith here, and it was he who baptised Ailbhe into the New Faith — and that was many years before Patricius arrived. Ségdae is Ailbhe’s successor, chosen and elected by the people of the abbey who are regarded in legal terms as his family.’

‘But I am told that he is also related to the ruling family — so is he related to King Colgú?’ asked Bishop Arwald.

‘He is. That is usually the way it works in this country,’ said Eadulf.

‘So there would be resentment in this kingdom against the claims of Ard Macha to be the senior church here, on the basis that it is in a different kingdom?’

‘Naturally. It is not the first time that such resentment has boiled over among the leading churches of each of the Five Kingdoms.’

‘But there is a High King who rules over all the Five Kingdoms. Doesn’t he control the petty-kings?’

‘The High King is High King mainly out of courtesy. Governing power is retained by the provincial Kings, who then agree who will be High King.’

‘But the son of a High King becomes High King, surely?’

‘Kingship does not work here like it does among your people. Here, a King is elected by three generations of his family — the derbhfine — and chosen because he is best qualified to undertake the task.’

Bishop Arwald gave a puzzled shake of his head. ‘A strange custom. But I was wondering whether Abbot Ségdae had ever thought to make representations to Rome for recognition of his abbey, as he says it pre-dates that of Ard Macha?’

Eadulf was amused. ‘You should ask Abbot Ségdae, as he stands but a short distance away,’ he said, nodding to where the abbot stood in the feasting hall. ‘But I would doubt that he is interested in what Rome thinks.’

‘Why would that be?’ Bishop Arwald reared up.

‘Most of the churches of the Five Kingdoms see themselves as independent of any distant authority, either from Rome, Constantinople, or Alexandria. People here are not concerned with this idea of having a Chief Bishop.’

Bishop Arwald raised his eyebrows. ‘But I know even the Britons and the Irish have recognised the authority of Rome.’

Eadulf found it interesting that Bishop Arwald was going over the same ground as the Venerable Verax.

‘There is a difference between recognising Rome as having a special place in the propagation of the Faith and in accepting that it has authority over all things. You already know that the Five Kingdoms have often rejected the attempts by Rome to dictate rules and even laws; these laws are called Penitentials. Now some of the short-sighted abbots are accepting them and coming into conflict with the native laws here. .’

‘Ah yes. I believe that you can talk of these laws from knowledge. I find it amazing — as should you, being from the Kingdom of the East Angles — that a mere woman can go around questioning, judging and pronouncing the law.’

Eadulf’s eyes narrowed. ‘You mean my wife?’

‘I mean any woman who is a lawgiver in this strange land. However, let us return to our friend Abbot Ségdae. Do you maintain that he would not wish to seek Rome’s favour to be considered as Senior Bishop in all these kingdoms?’

‘I cannot speak for Abbot Ségdae, but I would find it unlikely.’

‘You don’t think he would be interested in achieving the rank of Archbishop — Senior Bishop over all the bishops of these kingdoms — and acquiring some symbol to show it? Perhaps he might even pay for such a token. . even from Rome?’

Eadulf examined Bishop Arwald suspiciously. ‘What are you suggesting?’

Bishop Arwald immediately backed down. ‘I suggest nothing. I am trying to ascertain how serious the bishops in this land are about this matter of the role of an Archbishop.’

‘I think that if you wish to seek any more information, you should put your questions directly to Abbot Ségdae,’ Eadulf replied coldly.

‘I do not wish to offend you, Brother. As an Angle in this strange kingdom you have a unique position to tell me what people feel without my confronting them and causing them insult where no insult was intended. Please accept my apologies if you felt otherwise.’

Eadulf hesitated; being apologetic was not a natural trait of this man. Then he shrugged. ‘So long as you understand that people set high store by frankness.’

‘Then I thank you for your frankness, Brother Eadulf.’

Bishop Arwald turned and made his way towards a group surrounding Abbess Líoch. Eadulf stared after him for a moment before finding Sister Dianaimh at his elbow. She was also staring bleakly after the bishop.

‘You don’t like our guest?’ Eadulf ventured, interpreting her scowl.