Peter Tremayne - Chalice of Blood

‘About the lock,’ confirmed Fidelma. She sat down on the stone bench while Brother Giolla-na-Naomh lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the ground in front of her. Eadulf simply stood to one side against the tree.

Brother Giolla-na-Naomh glanced round as they made themselves comfortable and said, ‘I expected the steward to come with you.’

‘For what purpose?’ asked Fidelma, intrigued.

‘No purpose.’ The man grinned. ‘Our steward simply likes to know everything that is happening. He is young to havereached the office of rechtaire . He has been here barely three years and already thinks he is in charge of all of us.’

‘Tell us about the lock,’ she invited the smith, mentally noting that he was obviously no big admirer of the steward.

The smith shrugged his massive shoulders and handed her the metal lock. She saw at once that Brother Giolla-na-Naomh was no novice at his art. It was a fine piece of work.

‘Not much to tell, really,’ the smith said. ‘It was Brother Lugna who came to me with the request. Brother Donnchad desired a lock and key to be fitted to the door of his cotultech … beg pardon, cubiculum . Brother Lugna insists on using these new Latin names.’

‘Did you find that a strange request?’ asked Eadulf.

Brother Giolla-na-Naomh smiled briefly. ‘I have had stranger requests. But, I suppose it was unusual in our community where trust is our faith and a way of life.’

‘There is usually no need to lock anything away? There are no other locks in this community?’

‘Of course not. We are a poor community. Does not The Didache say, “Share everything with your brother. Do not say it is private property. If you share what is everlasting, you should be that much more willing to share things which do not last.” Is that not right, Sister?’

Fidelma regarded him in surprise. ‘You have read The Didache ? It is a rare book, which I have seen only once.’ There was envy in her voice.

‘Our tech-screptra has a copy of the Greek text. It is regarded as one of the central texts of the Faith.’

Eadulf was looking bewildered.

‘It is an ancient Greek text,’ explained Fidelma quickly. ‘It is called The Didache , or The Teaching , but its full title is The Teachings of the Twelve Apostles , and it is said to have been written shortly after their deaths.’

‘Anyway,’ the smith went on, ‘the quotation sums up how our community should live. As the Blessed Tertullian taught, we, who share one mind and soul, have no misgivings about community in property.’

‘Very well, let us return to the subject of the lock and key,’ Fidelma said. ‘You were asked to make them for Brother Donnchad.’

Brother Giolla-na-Naomh nodded.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘As you see, Sister, the lock was to be glais iarnaidhi — an iron lock. I understood from Brother Lugna that it had to be unlike any other lock. I think I achieved that.’

‘It is true that I have not seen one like it,’ she agreed. ‘And the key?’

‘I was told that one key only was to be made.’

‘And was it?’

‘Of course.’

‘You fitted the lock yourself?’

‘I did, and I gave the only key to Brother Donnchad.’

‘I was told that the key was found with Brother Donnchad’s body. I hope that it is not lost?’

‘I still have it.’ Bother Giolla-na-Naomh reached into the leather pouch on his belt. He took out a metal key and handed it to her. She glanced at it. It was made of iron and was nearly seven centimetres in length. It, too, showed good-quality workmanship, with several teeth of varying lengths and spaced irregularly. The other end of the key, the part held between thumb and forefinger, was impressively worked with spiral designs. There was a slippery quality about it.

‘And you confirm that this was the key that you made for the lock and found by the body?’

‘I do confirm it.’

‘No one could open the lock without this key, is that right?’ she asked.

Brother Giolla-na-Naomh shrugged. ‘No one can guarantee that, for what a man can make, another man can unmake. Isn’t that the old saying?’

‘But it would take time to unpick the lock and such a method would leave behind markings to show that it had been tampered with.’

‘Abbot Iarnla asked me to examine the lock after I had broken in. I had done no damage to the lock, only splintered the wood of the doorjamb where I kicked it open. There were no signs that it had been tampered with.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ Fidelma sighed, examining the key on the palm of her hand. ‘What accounts for the quality of the surface? Do you have to oil it to make it work?’

The smith frowned and looked at the key carefully.

‘The key should need no oil,’ he replied. ‘The lock, when I tried it, was working perfectly. But this is not oil. More like wax … maybe Brother Donnchad spilt some candle wax on it. It can easily happen. A candle by the side of the bed, a key resting nearby …’

Fidelma placed the key in her marsupium .

‘Keep the lock for me and I will keep the key,’ she said.

‘I will do so,’ Brother Giolla-na-Naomh replied. ‘But I would be glad if you did not tell Brother Lugna unless you have no other choice.’

Both Fidelma and Eadulf looked at him in surprise.

‘Brother Lugna asked me this morning, before the morning meal, if I would give him the key. I told him that I had mislaid it.’

‘He probably meant to hand it to me when we were examining Brother Donnchad’s cell.’

Brother Giolla-na-Naomh looked uncomfortable. ‘Perhaps.’ Then he added, ‘I tell you this strictly between ourselves, Fidelma of Cashel. I am a loyal servant to Abbot Iarnla. Loyal to theabbey and to this kingdom. I will say no more except that our steward told me that I should be frugal with the information I gave you. I have refused to obey his instruction and have provided you with what information is in my knowledge. I say to you, be careful. I suspect our steward has given the same instruction to everyone in this abbey whom you may wish to question.’

Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a glance.

‘Thank you for the warning,’ said Fidelma. ‘I shall do my best to keep what has passed between us strictly to myself unless the time comes when I must use it in my task to uncover who killed Brother Donnchad.’

‘That is fair enough,’ said the smith. ‘All I wish is for the abbey to prosper and peace to follow my craft.’

‘Are we keeping you from the work of rebuilding the community? ’ Fidelma smiled, glancing round at the building works.

The burly man shook his head. ‘Glassán, the master builder, has his own team of workmen,’ he said with some resentment in his voice. ‘They even have their own forge and smithy outside the abbey for their work. My skills remain for the brethren and not for the new building work.’

‘The abbey will be truly magnificent once the new buildings are erected,’ Eadulf observed. ‘When will that be?’

‘Glassán and his men have been working here for two years or so. We estimate that another three years will see all the main buildings in place.’

‘The fees for such professional work must be high,’ Fidelma remarked innocently.

‘I suppose so. Such matters only concern the abbot and Brother Lugna.’ Brother Giolla-na-Naomh rose to his feet. ‘If you will forgive me, I must tend my forge.’

Eadulf sat down beside Fidelma and they watched him walk back to his forge.

‘Well, well,’ said Eadulf. ‘The steward of this abbey doesnot want to cooperate with us at all, it seems. Strange that he doesn’t want people to speak to us.’