Peter Tremayne - Chalice of Blood

‘ Nihil aeternum est , nothing lasts forever,’ came unbidden to Eadulf’s lips before he could stop himself from uttering it.

The Lady Eithne turned to him with a disapproving scowl. ‘You disappoint me, Brother Eadulf. I would not expect such a philosophy from a man of your cloth. The one thing that will endure is the Faith and this will be its greatest physical memorial. I am determined upon it.’

‘Of course,’ Fidelma said hurriedly, with a frown of warning at Eadulf. ‘The buildings of Lios Mór are beginning to look impressive.’

‘Brother Lugna has been a great asset to the abbey. In a few years from now, everyone will be speaking of the greatness of Lios Mór. I feel humbled that I have been able to play a part in its creation.’

‘You have been and are most generous to the abbey,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘Is it not an edict from the Council of Nicaea that places of worship to the Faith should be built wherever possible?’

‘I think that was meant as-’

‘Indeed, lady, Lios Mór owes you much,’ Fidelma cut across Eadulf. Lady Eithne did not appear to notice.

‘I simply follow the teachings of Brother Lugna,’ Lady Eithne said. ‘He says that the Blessed Timothy taught that the rich should give generously to the Faith and in that way they will build themselves a good foundation in heaven.’

Once again, Fidelma shot Eadulf a warning glance before he could attempt to correct her interpretation of the writings of Timothy of Ephesus.

‘It seems that you are lucky to have Brother Lugna to guide you in these matters,’ she observed drily.

‘Indeed, I am. For he has brought a refreshing wind from Rome. Here, we have fallen into lax and immoral ways. Under his abbacy, new rules will clear away all that is corrupt at Lios Mór.’

‘Under his abbacy?’ queried Eadulf.

‘Abbot Iarnla, as I have said, is old and set in his ways. He must move with the times and give way to Brother Lugna soon.’

‘I am sure that you take pride in seeing the development of the abbey. Your generosity must be appreciated by the brethren,’ Fidelma went on before Eadulf could say more.

‘I contribute what little I can.’

‘I am told that you were always of a kind and generous nature.’

Lady Eithne frowned uncertainly. ‘I have always tried to keep to the rules of the Faith and raise my two sons to praise the Lord and do His great works.’

‘I was thinking of Brother Gáeth.’

‘Brother Gáeth?’ She blinked in surprise. ‘What has he to do …?’ Then she smiled sadly. ‘A poor creature. My husband had more to do with him than I did. He came as a refugee with his father and mother. Our Brehon advised us that we could give sanctuary but not freedom and so they became daer-fudir on our land.’

‘There was no question that the father, Selbach I think his name was, was unjustly sentenced of the crime of which he was accused?’

‘Not at all. The Uí Liatháin made representations to retrieve Selbach from our jurisdiction and presented testimony as to how Selbach killed the chief of the Uí Liatháin by stealth. We gave them assurances that Selbach and his family would remain as daer-fudir on our land and they went away, not happy but satisfied that Selbach would not trouble them any more.’

‘And Gáeth was raised on your estate?’

‘He was a field worker, that is all.’

‘He was a friend of Donnchad, I’m told.’

She laughed derisively. ‘Friend is not the word I would use. As a child Gáeth used to run after both my sons although it wasDonnchad who showed him more kindness and compassion than Cathal.’

‘I thought he became Donnchad’s soul friend?’

‘A matter which I thoroughly disapproved of. Even Abbot Iarna tried to persuade Donnchad to choose someone else.’

‘Yet you allowed Gáeth to go with your sons to join the brethren in the abbey.’

‘My weakness is that I indulged my sons, particularly my younger son, Donnchad. He pleaded with me and so I agreed. It was part of Donnchad’s kindness, to keep the poor simpleton happy.’

‘Surely he is no simpleton,’ reproved Eadulf, realising that she was not the first person to use the word in connection with Gáeth.

‘If not a simpleton, than a cunning young creature,’ she sniffed in reply. ‘He was much like his father, Selbach, and doubtless will end up the same way.’

‘And was that why you instructed Abbot Iarnla to ensure, if he granted him the right to join the breathren, that he remained as a daer-fudir within the community?’

Lady Eithne smiled. ‘The law is clear. Not until the third generation of the family of a daer-fudir can freedom be achieved. The Uí Liatháin made the judgement and we had to follow it. Abbot Iarnla agreed to the condition. When Donnchad returned from his pilgrimage, his sense of generous kindliness had altered and thankfully he realised that Gáeth could not be treated as anyone special.’

‘You do not like Gáeth?’ Fidelma put the question softly.

‘Not like him? Why should I feel anything at all about him? He was just a field worker. I cannot be expected to like or dislike those who are nothing to me.’

‘Yet Gáeth grew up with your sons and your son Donnchad believed him to be his friend,’ Eadulf pointed out.

‘I believe that in my stables there is an old workhorse who grew up with my sons,’ replied the lady in a cutting tone. ‘Am I suppose to like the horse too? It is just a horse.’

Fidelma rose to her feet. ‘We have troubled you long enough, Lady Eithne,’ she said decisively, glancing at Eadulf who also rose. ‘We thank you for your time and your hospitality.’

Lady Eithne raised a hand and beckoned to one of her attendants who had stood quietly in the background awaiting her orders. The man came forward.

‘My steward will see you out,’ she said. ‘I hope you find the culprit. When you return to Cashel, remember me to your brother, the King, and tell him something of the great work being done here at Lios Mór.’

‘When I return to Cashel, lady, I hope I shall be able to report a resolution of this matter,’ Fidelma said solemnly and bade Lady Eithne farewell.

On the road back to the abbey, Fidelma called a halt, ostensibly so that they could water their horses by a tiny stream. While Gormán led the beasts to the water, Fidelma sat on a nearby boulder. She seemed deep in troubled thought.

Eadulf guessed what she was thinking. ‘She seems a cold sort of woman,’ he observed.

‘She certainly does not like Abbot Iarnla,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘And is enamoured of Brother Lugna.’

‘Does not like Abbot Iarnla?’ grunted Eadulf. ‘Last time we saw her she more or less accused him of being her son’s murderer because he was jealous of young talent.’

‘It’s not beyond the realms of possibility,’ sighed Fidelma. ‘I have known such things happen before. In fact, the thought crossed my mind the night he paid me a visit to claim how powerless he is.’ Fidelma had told Eadulf of her night visitor.

‘Abbot Iarnla told you that it was almost a good thing that Donnchad was murdered so that he had an excuse to send for us to tell us about the problems with Brother Lugna and Lady Eithne,’ said Eadulf. ‘Do you think he precipitated the cause to send for you?’

‘It occurred to me.’

‘Well, now, we are told that the plan is to replace Abbot Iarnla with Brother Lugna as abbot.’

Fidelma did not reply. ‘I think I can work everything out but it’s the basic motive that confuses me. There is just one thing I am not clear on, something that does not fit correctly here. Something that I am overlooking and I can’t quite put my finger on it. It is the linchpin, it holds together all the parts.’ She shrugged and stood up. ‘Let me think for awhile and then I will tell you what I believe happened but it is all supposition.’