Peter Tremayne - Chalice of Blood

She stirred again and sighed.

And there was their son, little Alchú. She suddenly felt guilt as she recalled her emotions following his birth more than three years ago. They had bordered on the resentful. Initially she had felt confined by the presence of the child and a responsibility she did not want. When she was called to investigate a series of murders at the great abbey of Finnbarr, she had had a wonderful feeling of freedom and then, returning to Cashel, of depression. She loved her child; she declared it fiercely to herself. Too fiercely? After his birth she had had all manner of depressive thoughts. She even began to question whether she was ready for marriage — marriage to anyone.

Her mind turned quickly back to Eadulf. She had concerns for him. She was concerned that, under the law of her people, theirs was not a marriage of equals. She was of royal rank and Eadulf, being a foreigner, did not have equal property rights with her. Did Eadulf still feel resentment because of this? She knew that she could not really contemplate an existence without Eadulf’s support. Who else would tolerate her sharp temper, which she accepted was her biggest fault? She enjoyed Eadulf’s company, his friendship and his tolerance. Perhaps she had taken it all for granted and when, a few weeks ago, he had proposed his idea of a withdrawal from Cashel … well, bitter words were exchanged. After he had left Cashel, she had felt a curiousisolation, a loneliness, which she had tried to cover with her fierce determination to pursue the law.

She wanted to apologise to Eadulf for her temper but, at the same time, she felt that she was right; that she should be allowed her individuality and the freedom to pursue her own path in life. She had no wish to dominate but she wanted a supportive partnership. Would Eadulf see an apology as surrender? She was growing more confused than ever.

There was movement outside that caused her to look up from her meditation.

Fidelma knew who it was as soon as she heard the footfall outside the door. A smile of excitement came to her lips, which she immediately sought to control. Before she could do so there was a knock and she had called out, ‘Come in, Eadulf.’

Eadulf stood uncertainly on the threshold.

In spite of her misgivings, Fidelma rose and moved towards him, both hands outstretched.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said simply.

‘And I you,’ he replied slightly stiffly, although he responded to her embrace. She drew back, her eyes searching his.

‘You should know at once that I have asked Abbot Ségdae for his blessing on my withdrawal from the religious.’

He was silent for a moment, his face expressionless.

‘I did not doubt that you would follow that course once you had set your mind to it. I assume that you are sure that this is what you want?’

She turned back to the chair she had risen from, near the fire.

‘Close the door, Eadulf. Come and sit down.’ She waited until he was seated before continuing. ‘I am sure,’ she said simply. ‘This is what I must do.’

‘The status of a religious is not to be abandoned lightly,’ Eadulf observed with some sadness.

‘You know that I have never had any inclination to be a proselytiser of the Faith, to preach or teach, nor to spend my days in isolated contemplation or worship. I am a lawyer, Eadulf. That is my role in life.’

‘But being of the religious gives one security and status,’ he protested in a half-hearted fashion, aware that they had had this conversation many times.

For a moment her eyes flashed. ‘I am a princess of the Eóghanacht. I am a dálaigh of the law courts of the Five Kingdoms. You know that I am no longer in need of such status.’

Eadulf nodded slowly. ‘And soon you will be claiming the office of Chief Brehon of your brother’s kingdom.’

‘Who told you that?’ Fidelma’s voice was sharp.

Eadulf smiled briefly, without real expression. ‘If you have taught me nothing else, you have taught me how to make a logical deduction. Once I heard that Brehon Baithen was ill and that the Council of Brehons will soon meet to discuss his successor, well …’ He ended with a slight motion of his left shoulder as if to dismiss it. ‘Has Abbot Ségdae given you his blessing?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Not immediately. He suspects my leaving might have something to do with us.’

Eadulf’s brow wrinkled. ‘With us? I do not follow.’

‘Because we have separated he thinks …’ It was her turn to shrug.

‘He looks for cause and effect,’ Eadulf reflected. ‘That is logical.’

‘But not accurate,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Anyway, whether I have his approval or not, and whether I secure the office of my brother’s chief legal adviser or not, I am determined to follow my career in law.’

‘I suppose it was silly of me to think that I could change you,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘During these last weeks, I have cometo realise that the cause of most of the problems in this world is the desire to change other people, to make them think as we think, or behave as we do. Quid existis in desertum videre … hominem mollibus vestitum? ’

It took her a moment before she realised that he was paraphrasing the Gospel of Matthew: ‘What went you out into the wilderness to see? A man clothed in soft raiment?’ In other words, one shouldn’t judge others by one’s own standards.

‘I will not attempt to put any further constraints on you, Fidelma,’ he went on. ‘You must do what you think best. And I … I must give thought to what I must do to fulfil my path in life.’

She stared at him in surprise. And suddenly she felt sorry for him. He looked very tired and resigned.

Then she mentally shook herself. She did not want to go down the path of discussing what thoughts he might have — at least, not yet.

‘Have you seen my brother yet?’

‘I have seen him and Abbot Ségdae.’

‘And you were interested enough in their proposal to come back to Cashel?’

‘Your brother is King and his proposal was more of a summons than a request. I think I have been able to reassure Ségdae that his suspicion was wrong. That your decision to leave the religious was made a long time ago.’

‘So what do you think of their plan that we undertake the investigation at Lios Mór?’

‘At first I was inclined to think that your brother was hatching some plot to bring us together but apparently the news of the murder of Brother Donnchad of Lios Mór is true.’

‘There still might be a motive in my brother’s thinking.’ Fidelma grimaced. ‘Nevertheless, you are right. It is true that Brother Donnchad has been murdered and the abbot hasrequested help in resolving the matter.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you prepared to work with me on this mystery?’

‘I came here in answer to your brother’s summons,’ said Eadulf. ‘But whether I work with you or not is entirely your decision. I have told him that I will not impose myself where I am not wanted.’

She glanced at his determined features and suddenly smiled softly. ‘In these matters, we have always worked well together, Eadulf. I am not averse to your aid; in fact, I would more than welcome it.’

There was a moment of embarrassed silence.

‘Then I shall accompany you,’ Eadulf said after a while. ‘If we are to set out for Lios Mór tomorrow at first light, I must find somewhere to sleep.’

‘Muirgen will fix you up a bed in little Alchú’s chamber,’ Fidelma replied. ‘He has been asking for his father this last week and will be pleased to see you. Did you come here by foot or by horse?’

‘By horse, as it was the King’s summons.’

‘A good horse? It is a long ride tomorrow and, as you will recall, there are some steep mountain roads to climb before we reach Lios Mór.’