Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

Eadulf had been about to turn away when he realised the extra information that the Venerable Verax had added. ‘Did you say that Brother Cerdic went to Sléibhte?’

‘I am told there is an old abbey there which he wanted to visit,’ agreed the Venerable Verax before giving a nod of his head and moving away.

Eadulf remained a moment or two, locked in thought. Then he returned to Fidelma, who was now in conversation with her brother.

‘I was just saying to Fidelma,’ Colgú greeted him, ‘that after all our expectations, we have found the matter exceedingly boring. I have suggested that our guests rest here another day and then, if they wish to persist with what I believe is a pointless enquiry, they should take the road for the Abbey of Cluain Mic Noise.’ He shrugged. ‘However, they will be told the same story there as we have told them here. Ard Macha’s claims are not recognised by the bishops of the Five Kingdoms. As for accepting the religious jurisdiction of Theodore of Canterbury. .’ He ended in a bark of laughter.

‘There is still the matter of the death of Brother Cerdic to be resolved,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘Are you still holding Deogaire for the attempt on your lives?’ her brother asked. ‘Surely we can get a confession from him. Isn’t his guilt obvious?’

‘That is what is troubling me,’ Fidelma said. ‘Surely a guilty person would be able to come forward with a better excuse than the one he gave us?’

‘The facts should speak for themselves,’ her brother maintained.

‘But often facts can be seen from a distorted perspective so that they appear entirely contrary to what they really are.’

‘I don’t quite see what you mean.’

‘Perhaps I shall be able to demonstrate the point as time progresses.’

‘But there is not too much time, Fidelma. Remember, Brother Cerdic’s death occurred in my palace and I am responsible for that death under the law. I will have to pay the Venerable Verax compensation and receive the judgement of fines. That would be a mark against my character. There are many who would be willing to use that against me. Some would even claim that I am not worthy of kingship, and try to unseat me from the throne.’

‘You have in mind Brehon Aillín,’ Eadulf observed. ‘That man could do much to stir malcontents who would use such methods.’

‘Just find the killer of Brother Cerdic before the Venerable Verax departs and all else will follow for the good,’ Colgú said tightly. ‘And now it grows late. I see the Venerable Verax coming this way and I suspect he will be offering his excuses so that he might retire for the night.’

Fidelma drew Eadulf aside as Colgú went to speak with the Roman prelate. ‘Did you learn anything from Verax?’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘Nothing we did not already know. Although I did gather that Brother Cerdic had been to the Abbey of Sléibhte before he went to Cill Náile and then on to Imleach.’

‘Why on earth would he go to Sleibhte?’

‘Venerable Verax told me that Brother Cerdic had heard that it was an ancient abbey and simply wanted to take a look at it. The interesting thing is that at Sleibhte they have a claim to be older than Ard Macha, and Sister Dianaimh once studied there.’

Fidelma gave a brief sigh of frustration. ‘I wonder if it is true, after all, that this is a means of testing whether Theodore of Canterbury could claim ecclesiastical jurisdiction over these kingdoms as well as the Saxon kingdoms? It just does not feel right.’

‘I agree that it seems odd that such a high-ranking person as the Venerable Verax, brother of the Bishop of Rome, should then be sent all this way to test the views of these kingdoms which have already been made perfectly clear to Rome.’

‘I cannot help feeling that there are lies being told,’ Fidelma said.

‘Everywhere there seems to be a wall in front of us.’

‘But on a practical level, there is still Beccan to question about Deogaire’s story,’ Eadulf reminded her. ‘Afterwards, I am not sure where we should turn from there. One thing I do agree with you about is that I don’t believe this suave prelate from Rome — even if he is the brother to Pope Vitalian.’

The morning was dry but a blustery wind and heavy dark clouds promised wet weather to come. Fidelma and Eadulf were taking their morning meal, scarcely speaking to one another as each engaged with their own reflections about the previous evening. When Muirgen entered to clear the table, she said: ‘I hear Beccan has returned this morning.’

The announcement caused both of them to look up.

‘This morning?’ Fidelma glanced towards the window. ‘He must have arrived early.’

‘I went down to the kitchens to get hot bread and saw him coming through the main gates,’ confirmed the elderly nurse.

Fidelma was already rising from the table. ‘We should have a word with him at once.’ She was at the door when Eadulf, snatching a last piece of bread which he had coated liberally in honey, joined her. They reached the courtyard and were crossing it towards the main building when they encountered Abbess Líoch, hurrying towards the chapel.

‘Have you seen my steward?’ she asked Fidelma as they came abreast of one another.

‘Sister Dianaimh?’ Fidelma shook her head. ‘We have only just arisen. I am afraid we are up late today.’ She peered more closely at the other woman. ‘You look worried.’

‘It is only that I needed to consult her on something,’ the abbess said distractedly. ‘She is nowhere to be found.’

‘She has probably risen early and is about the palace somewhere. If not, then the guard would tell you whether she has passed through the gates,’ Eadulf offered.

‘I have already spoken to the guard. She has not left the palace grounds.’

‘There are few places in the palace she can have gone,’ Fidelma assured her. ‘You were on your way to the chapel, weren’t you? She might well be there.’

Abbess Líoch did not seem convinced but continued on her way towards the chapel.

‘Now,’ Eadulf said tightly, ‘let’s see whether Beccan supports this strange story that Deogaire would have us believe.’

They found the steward, looking contrite, in the palace kitchens. He was speaking with Dar Luga. On seeing them, he immediately approached, wringing his hands.

‘I have heard the news, lady. It’s my fault. All my fault.’ His voice was almost like a child’s wail. ‘Luan told me — he was on guard at the gates when I arrived.’

Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a puzzled glance.

‘What is your fault, Beccan?’ Fidelma asked calmly.

‘Being absent at the very time important guests arrive.’ He was practically in tears. ‘I have told the King that I am ready to take the consequence. I should never have-’

‘And have you been told about Deogaire?’ interrupted Eadulf. Seeing the steward’s baffled look, Fidelma swiftly enlightened him.

‘My fault again,’ he bleated. ‘I should never have allowed Deogaire to use a room in the guest chambers.’

‘Calm yourself, Beccan,’ Fidelma said, as the man seemed on the verge of hysteria. ‘Just tell us — slowly — what happened in relation to Deogaire.’

The punctilious little steward rubbed his face with one hand and paused as if to gather his thoughts. ‘Deogaire came to the door of the kitchen last night and asked to see me. He was aware of my position as steward.’

‘Of course. You knew him?’

‘I knew of his relationship with Brother Conchobhar, the apothecary. And I had seen him about the palace during his current visit.’

‘Go on.’

‘He told me that he had argued with his uncle and now lacked a bed in the palace. It was too late for him to leave to commence his journey home, so he asked me. .’