Peter Tremayne - Chalice of Blood

‘He gave you no explanation at all?’

‘He said, cast off your robes and escape from this place into the mountains. In the mountains there is solitude and sanity. There is no sanity among men.’

Fidelma sat back, her eyes a little wider than before. ‘Those were his exact words?’

Brother Gáeth nodded. ‘I remember them as if they were spoken but moments ago.’

‘When did this conversation take place?’

‘That was a day or two before his death. He told me that he did not want to see me ever again. He told me to leave this community and seek sanity. I still have no idea what he meant.’

‘You never spoke to him again?’ asked Eadulf.

‘I have said so,’ Brother Gáeth replied.

‘Did you know that just before he was found dead, his mother came to see him?’ asked Eadulf.

‘I saw her riding to the abbey while I was in the fields but I think that was a few days before he was found dead.’

‘Had you met her again since she gave you leave to join the community here?’

‘Not exactly.’ There was bitterness in his tone. ‘She would pass me by on her visits. Whether she even saw me or not, I do not know. That was how it was when I worked on her lands. Perhaps she would not have recognised who I was anyway. I was just another field worker.’

‘Do you know how she felt about her sons?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Oh, she idolised them. She was very proud of them. It is thanks to the Lady Eithne that there is all this building work at the abbey.’

Eadulf’s head came up sharply. ‘Is it?’

Brother Gáeth looked at him as if surprised he did not know. ‘Of course. When word came that her sons, Cathal and Donnchad, had reached the Holy Land, she came to the abbot. The whole community knows that she offered to help fund the replacement of the wooden buildings with great structures of stone that would last forever and help the abbey become one of the great beacons of the new Faith in the west. The condition she made was that the abbey should be a memorial to them.’

‘I see,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘So all this work is not being paid for by the abbey but by Lady Eithne of Dún?’

‘That is so.’

‘What did Donnchad say about it on his return?’ asked Eadulf.

‘He never mentioned it but, as I have said, he hardly spoke to me.’

‘Do you know if he confided in anyone else?’

‘I do not.’

‘But you observed that something was disturbing him. Could it have been connected with this matter?’ asked Eadulf.

‘All I know is that his face was black as a storm from the moment he rode back through the gates.’

‘Do you think that this was because his brother, Cathal, had decided to remain in Tarantum and accept the pallium as bishop of that city?’ asked Fidelma. ‘After all, they were close as brothers and had come to this place together to be members of the community. And they had undertaken that arduous pilgrimage to the Holy Land together. That must have affected Donnchad.’

Brother Gáeth thrust out his lower lip for a moment. He appeared to give the question some thought and then shook his head slowly.

‘Among the things that he said when he last spoke to me was to curse his brother, calling him a fool and worse.’

Fidelma could not suppress a look of surprise in Eadulf’s direction.

‘Everyone is calling Cathal blessed, that he is one of the saints. Yet you say his own brother called him a fool and cursed him? Why so?’

‘I can only repeat what Donnchad said,’ Brother Gáeth replied stubbornly. ‘That is what he said.’

Fidelma sat back reflectively. ‘You have been most helpful, Brother Gáeth. Thank you for answering our questions.’

Fidelma and Eadulf sat in silence for a few moments after Brother Gáeth had left the refectorium .

‘Well, I had the impression that Brother Gáeth was supposed to be a simpleton,’ Fidelma said. ‘He seems intelligent enough but just constrained by circumstances.’

‘There are a lot of sad people in this world,’ Eadulf commented. ‘Didn’t Horace write, non licet omnibus adire Corinthum — not everyone is permitted to go to Corinth?’ In Horace’s day, Corinth was a centre of entertainment and pleasure that not many people could afford. It had come to mean that circumstances deny people certain achievements.

‘But who altered his circumstances?’ Fidelma wondered.

‘What do you mean?’

‘His father is forced to flee from what, most likely, was an unjust death sentence. Such a sentence is only given to the incorrigibles who will not pay compensation or be rehabilitated. So such a sentence is suspect. He flees from his clan territory and ends his life as a daer-fudir , which involves two generations of bondage. Why did no one among his people take up his cause? Did he not have a friend in the world?’

‘Apparently not,’ said Eadulf. ‘At least we have found the answer to one mystery.’

‘Which is?’

‘Who is providing the funding for the rebuilding of the abbey.’

‘Lady Eithne is committed to the Faith and proud of her sons and their achievements, so that is natural.’

‘What is our next task?’

‘To go to the scriptorium . We must see if we can find out anything more about the missing manuscripts.’

‘So what do we know so far?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Let’s enumerate the facts. You start.’

‘Very well. Brother Donnchad, a well-regarded scholar, returns to this abbey after a pilgrimage, which has made him something of a hero. He starts behaving in a curious manner. He is reported to have some precious manuscripts with him. He becomes reclusive and even tells his soul friend that he does not want to see him. He says he fears that his manuscripts will be stolen and then he fears for his life. He is reported as cursing his brother for a fool and advising his former soul friend to leave the abbey and take to the mountains. A few days later he is found in his cell stabbed to death.’

‘And the curious facts about that are …?’

‘He is stabbed twice in the back but the body is lain on the bed in a position of repose. The door is locked and there is only one key that locks the door and that is found by the body.That poses the question of how did the murderer enter and how did they exit taking, we presume, the manuscripts?’

‘That is so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Then we have to consider the reason Donnchad gave for requesting a lock on his door with only one key, which you have mentioned. He was fearful someone might rob him of these valuable manuscripts. Yet no one ever saw them …’

‘Except Lady Eithne,’ pointed out Eadulf. ‘Why would she lie?’

‘Therefore we presume that the murderer stole them but how?’

‘And so we shall question the scriptor of this abbey as, if anyone in the abbey knows about such things, it would be the librarian.’

Fidelma rose and turned to the door of the refectorium with Eadulf following. To their surprise they found Abbot Iarnla waiting outside the door for them. He seemed a little self-conscious.

‘How did you get on with Brother Gáeth?’ he asked anxiously.

‘As you thought, he could tell us little,’ Fidelma answered. ‘It seems he has not been in the position of a soul friend since Brother Donnchad’s return.’

‘I thought he would have little to add,’ said the abbot. He stood awkwardly, looking at the ground, as if he wanted to say something more.

‘Brother Gáeth seems to have led a sad life,’ supplied Eadulf when the silence became awkward.

‘Ah.’ Abbot Iarnla looked up and sighed. ‘He told you he was of the daer-fudir ?’

‘I was under the impression that once a person passes through the portals of a community, such distinctions no longer existed. A king who abdicates to enter an abbey is regarded as being on the same level as a céile , a free clansman, or a daer-fudir . There is no difference in class between them.’