Peter Tremayne - Chalice of Blood

‘This is not something the abbey is concerned with,’ Brother Lugna suddenly declared.

Cumscrad looked at him in astonishment and then turned to Abbot Iarnla.

‘Then if this is of no concern to the abbey, times have changed, Iarnla. More than once you have acted to resolve conflicts between the Fir Maige Féne and the Uí Liatháin. Do you tell me that you refuse to do so now?’

‘I am the steward of this abbey,’ Brother Lugna replied before the abbot could speak.

‘And I am chief of the Fir Maige Féne,’ snapped Cumscrad. ‘Very well, I shall send my envoy to Uallachán, chief of the Uí Liatháin, demanding reparation for the act. And if I do not receive it, we shall know how to answer.’ He had clamped his hand to his sword hilt, and made for the door.

‘One moment, Cumscrad.’ Fidelma spoke quietly but it had the effect of stopping the chief in his tracks. He turned to look at her. ‘Return to your seat, so that we may discuss this within the bounds of the law.’

‘I could raise my people and attack Uallachán and his robbers now,’ Cumscrad said as he obeyed her. ‘But I respect the law and so, before I do so, I shall send an intermediary. I will demand reparation first so that when we attack the Uí Liatháin it will be done in accordance with the law.’

Fidelma sighed and shifted her weight in the chair.

‘You have not been refused the intervention of either myself, on behalf of the King, or of this abbey.’

Cumscrad frowned for a moment and then jerked his head to where Brother Lugna was standing with a slightly belligerent thrust of his jaw.

‘But he said-’

‘He said he was the steward,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘It is the abbot who makes such decisions.’

There was a spluttering sound and Brother Lugna went red in the face with anger. The abbot was looking at his feet with an unhappy expression.

‘Before we come to what course of action should be taken, I presume the cargo in the vessel was valuable,’ Fidelma went on, ignoring the reaction her words had provoked.

Cumscrad nodded. ‘The total value of the cargo was thirty seds .’

Eadulf’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Why, that is the honour price for …’

‘For my own worth as chief of my people,’ Cumscrad calmly agreed. A sed was the value of a milch cow.

‘Was there much gold in this cargo, then?’ asked Fidelma in astonishment.

‘Not gold, lady. And in truth the metalwork was not of great value — cooking pots, horse bridles, agricultural tools and the like. That was worth no more than a few seds , and Eolann reported that it was all intact on the vessel, it had not been removed.’

Fidelma was bewildered. ‘If this cargo was still on the barge when it was recovered, what was missing? How did your man identify what was missing?’

‘Because he had come upriver from Ard Mór and he knew that the barge was expected there and, moreover, what it was expected to deliver to the abbey there. It was carrying two bookswhich the scribes in our tech-screptra , our library, had been copying. The library of Ard Mór, knowing we had these books, had commissioned our scribes to make copies for them. The work had taken one year and had just been completed.’

Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘What were the books?’

‘One was a copy of the poems of the great bard Dallán Forgaill, which we consider valuable.’

‘And the other?’

‘A Greek work. The True Word , I think they called it.’

‘ Alethos Logos by Celsus?’ Fidelma gasped.

Cumscrad looked at her in admiration. ‘You are well read, lady. Indeed, it was a work by Celsus.’

Fidelma cast a warning glance towards Eadulf before turning back to face Cumscrad. ‘The theft of books is a great crime according to the law,’ she said, ‘but who would go to such lengths and risk so much for such a theft?’

‘It was for the theft of a book that Colmcille was exiled from the Five Kingdoms,’ Cumscrad pointed out.

Eadulf was astonished at the remark, for he had long held Colmcille as a great pillar and teacher of the Faith. This man appeared to be calling him a thief.

‘What are you saying? That the Blessed Colmcille of Iona, whose abbey brought the new Faith to the lands of the Angles and Saxons, was a book thief?’ he queried.

‘The story is well known,’ Cumscrad returned dismissively.

‘Colm Crimthain, whom you call Columba, went to stay with Finnén at the abbey of Maghbhile,’ explained Fidelma. ‘Finnén had a copy of a gospel from the abbey of the Blessed Martin and Colm coveted it. So each night he went to the abbey library and copied the gospel. Finnén discovered what he was doing and took his complaint to the High King Diarmait mac Cerbaill and his Chief Brehon. The judgement was given that just as every calf belongs to its cow, so every copy belongs to its original. In making a copy without permission, he was in fact stealing the book.’

‘But to be exiled for that …’ began Eadulf.

Fidelma smiled and shook her head. ‘That was not the reason why Colm was exiled. He was not only a religious but also a hot-headed prince of his people — the Cenel Conaill, a sept of the Uí Néill of the north. He raised his clan and physically challenged the High King and his Brehon over their ruling. There was a terrible battle at Cúl Dreimne at the foot of the mountain called Binn Ghulbainn. Many fell in that dreadful clash but the High King’s warriors prevailed and Colm was banished from the Five Kingdoms as a punishment. That was when he went to Iona.’

‘All that just because he copied a book?’ said Eadulf in amazement.

‘Is not a book of more value than metal?’ asked Cumscrad. ‘It is the fruit of a person’s brain and contains knowledge and ideas; it has power greater than gold because knowledge and ideas can change people.’

‘And some books can be dangerous.’ The comment came ominously from Brother Lugna who had been standing quietly all this time.

‘I am sure the songs of the chief bard of the Five Kingdoms cannot be dangerous,’ Fidelma said with a smile, being deliberately obtuse. She turned to Eadulf. ‘Dallán Forgaill died nearly a century ago and was regarded by all as the greatest bard in the Five Kingdoms. But he was killed out of jealousy,’ she added significantly. ‘I would say that even the works of Dallán Forgaill are rare.’

‘We have a library of several ancient works, lady,’ Cumscrad said proudly. ‘Fortunately, we even retain some of the books that were not destroyed by the early zeal of those proselytising for the new Faith. Works that reflect the mind and spirit of our ancestors, which would otherwise have been lost in the book-burning.’

Brother Lugna scowled and almost hissed, ‘Heretical works. Works of pagan idolatry!’

‘Works such as that of Celsus?’ asked Fidelma innocently.

‘Exactly so! There is only one book that should exist and that is the gospel bearing the good news of the Faith.’

Cumscrad regarded the steward with an expression akin to pity and said softly, ‘ Timeo hominem unius libri .’

Fidelma gave the chieftain an approving glance, for the adage was: ‘I fear the man of one book.’ Trying to argue with someone who believed that the literal statement of one book was sufficient knowledge to form a dogma was difficult.

‘The burning of books must surely be a crime against culture and civilisation,’ Eadulf remarked.

‘I agree with you, Saxon.’ Cumscrad chuckled cynically. ‘That should have been explained to Patrick the Briton who, according to his friend and biographer Benignus, ordered the burning of eighty books of the Druids.’