Peter Tremayne - Chalice of Blood

‘And so you learn while working for Glassán.’

‘I do. I came into fosterage at the same time that Glassán was invited here to start rebuilding this abbey in stone. Everything I have learnt so far, I have learnt here. Of course, I am not as strong as the men, so can’t do the heavy work. But I have learnt how to do other tasks like woodworking. I can also use the plumb line and measuring rods to help position the stones.’

‘That is clever,’ Fidelma said. ‘But dangerous work as well. That lintel that fell last night might have fallen while you were working underneath.’

The boy nodded solemnly. ‘It must have been badly placed.’ Then he added defensively, ‘I did not measure the place for it. Anyway, sometimes accidents happen if you don’t concentrate properly. Glassán taught me that.’

‘A wise thing to remember,’ Fidelma solemnly agreed.

‘Indeed. Glassán was very angry when the Saxon Brother was injured.’

‘Was he?’

‘To be honest, there have been a few accidents here since Gealbháin left. I think Gealbháin used to go around the site every evening to ensure everything was in order. He was a very careful builder.’

‘Gealbháin? Who was he?’

‘He was the assistant to Glassán.’

‘But I understood that Saor, the carpenter, is second-in-command here.’

‘Saor has been with us only a short time. He replaced Gealbháin who quit the job several weeks ago.’

‘Why did he quit?’

‘I do not know, Sister.’

‘So these accidents have occurred since Gealbháin left?’

‘Saor is not as thorough as Gealbháin.’

‘But isn’t it the task of Glassán, as master builder, to check everything, to make sure it is safe?’

The boy shrugged and said, ‘He has many tasks to perform. Saor is all right but I have not learnt much from him.’

‘Oh? Why is that?’

‘He does not seem to have time.’

‘Who taught you your carpentry, then?’

‘Gealbháin mostly.’

‘Where was Gealbháin from? Connachta?’

‘He was a local man … I think from a clan called the Uí Liatháin.’

‘I see. Are the other workmen from around these parts or do most of them come from Connachta like you and Glassán?’

‘Oh, no. Most of them are recruited from these parts. Although Saor is of the Uí Bairrche.’

‘The Uí Bairrche? They are a clan from southern Laighin, aren’t they?’

‘So Saor has told me, Sister. I only know of my own lands and this place. I’ve never been out of sight of the abbey since we came here.’

‘And do you stay in the abbey? I have only seen Glassán and Saor eating in the abbey refectorium .’

‘We live in the wickerwork bothans we constructed outside the abbey walls by the river. That’s where we all stay except Glassán. He has a special room in the guesthouse. The bothans are also where our stores are kept. That way, we do not interfere with the running of the abbey. Glassán explained that to us.’

A bell started to toll.

‘That is the bell for the evening meal, Sister. I must go to join the others.’

Fidelma thanked the child before making her own way to eat. She was slightly annoyed for, not having noticed the passing of time; she realised that she would have to miss the ritual of her evening bath before the meal. She paused at the fountain to wash her hands and face. Then she saw Eadulf walking slowly to the refectorium guided by Gormán.

‘Eadulf!’ Her voice was a rebuke as she greeted him. ‘Is this wise?’

He grimaced before saying, ‘I am hungry. A bowl of vegetable soup does not put strength back into one. I am all right. A slight headache still and soreness on the forehead but I have to admit that Brother Seachlann’s noxious potion is doing the trick. But the aftertaste is awful.’

‘Well, if you are sure.’

‘I just hope that Glassán will not wax lyrical this evening.’ He smiled.

‘I saw Glassán and his band of workmen leaving the abbey a few hours ago,’ Gormán offered. ‘I haven’t seen him return since.’

‘The young boy told me that they have gone to fetch stone from the quarry,’ Fidelma said, ‘so we might avoid a discourse on building.’

There was no sign of Glassán or Saor during the meal. Several people, including the abbot, crossed to their table to inquire after Eadulf’s health. Even Brother Lugna asked, in a sharply disapproving tone, as he passed their table, whether Eadulf thought himself fit enough to eat in the refectorium . Brother Gáeth and Brother Donnán raised their hands in greeting and the Venerable Bróen, leaning heavily on a stick, came across and said in a wheezy voice, ‘I knew you would be all right, Brother. The angel did not appear last night to take your soul.’

Eadulf gazed uncomfortably at him and, with a forced smile, said, ‘I thank you for your concern, Brother.’

The Venerable Bróen leant closer, peering at Eadulf with pale rheumy eyes, and whispered, confidentially, ‘The angel appeared in order to take the soul of poor Brother Donnchad. I saw the angel, floating in the sky. But the angel did not come last night, so I knew that you would be well.’

Brother Gáeth came across to take the old man’s arm.

‘Time to eat, Venerable Bróen,’ he coaxed.

The old man peered round in bewilderment for a moment. ‘Is it time to eat? Very well. We must all go to the refectorium to eat, must we not. Come on, then. Time to eat.’

Brother Gáeth gave them an apologetic smile and led the old man away.

There seemed an uneasy quiet in the dining hall that evening. Now and then they were conscious of surreptitious glances from the brethren. The atmosphere infected them and they exchanged little by way of conversation themselves. Afterwards, the three of them walked several times round the quadrangle of the abbey as a means of digesting their food. Fidelma ran over her conversations with the physician, who once again had not come to the evening meal in the refectorium , and with the boy. There was little to be commented on and Fidelma reminded them that she wanted to visit the fortress of Lady Eithne in order to ask her a few more questions. Eadulf assured her that he was fit enough to accompany her if she wanted to make the journey in the morning. Gormán was also enthusiastic. He was finding the stay in the abbey uninteresting and dull. It was agreed that they would make the journey in the morning.

A gentle tapping on her door woke Fidelma. It was still dark and she had the feeling that she had not long been asleep.

She frowned and swung out of the bed. She drew on her robe, thankful of the full moon which lit her chamber and saved the trouble of trying to light the candle.

‘All right, Eadulf …’ She began pulling open the door, for she expected no one else to arouse her at such a time.

Abbot Iarnla stood outside, one hand holding a lantern while the other seemed to be vainly attempting to shield its light.

Fidelma stared at him in astonishment.

‘My apologies, Sister Fidelma.’ The abbot was whispering. ‘I need to talk to you urgently and without prying ears. That is why I have waited until the community are asleep.’

Fidelma held open the door without speaking and the abbot passed in. She peered out into the darkness of the passage but could see nothing, so she shut the door. She went to the solitary chair in the room over which she had hung her clothes picked them up and laid them on the end of the bed. She motioned for the elderly abbot to sit. He did so, placing his lantern carefully on the table. Fidelma then sat on the edge of the bed and waited expectantly.

‘I want you to know that I am not a fool, Fidelma,’ he began.