Peter Tremayne - Master of Souls

‘Has he given an excuse for his visit?’

Conri shook his head. ‘None that I know.’

‘I suggest that you send your man Socht down to your warships in the harbour and tell your captain, Tadcan, to keep a careful watch on Slebene’s men. In fact, lookouts should be posted just in case Slebene has some other surprises in store for us…’

‘You mean that he might have other warships lurking off the coast?’

‘With the discovery of what was taking place on Seanach’s Island, I think the so-called “master” will be pretty desperate now.’

‘You suspect that Slebene might be so involved that he will launch an attack on the abbey? To achieve what?’ demanded Conr.

‘Slebene is part of a plan to overthrow Donennach. That will have repercussions for all Muman. I still need a little more time before I can demonstrate it. Tell Socht to return as soon as he has delivered your orders.’

Conr started to turn away.

‘Wait!’ called Fidelma. ‘How many warriors do you have in the abbey?’

‘Just Socht. The ones who escorted Olcan here with me have returned to the ship. Abbot Erc tolerates no more than a personal guard for visiting chiefs in the abbey.’

Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment.

‘Then tell Socht to return as quickly and unobtrusively as he possibly can and bring a couple of your men with him.’

Conri was hesitant. ‘Do you expect something to happen, lady?’

Fidelma actually smiled. ‘I do, my friend. Something very soon. I just hope that before it does, I can work out the final details of this mystery so that we may prepare ourselves. When you have given your instructions to Socht, find Eadulf and come and join me. I am going to the tech- screptra.’

Eadulf had many abilities including a strong voice. But it was not a singing voice. It was true that he liked to sing but his idea of singing was certainly not shared by anyone with a trained musical ear.

Brother Cillin, waving his hands to indicate the rhythm, strode among the lines of cowled brethren, sometimes plucking notes from his ceis to keep them in time.

Eadulf’s head was bent as he tried his best to cope with the chant so that he would not appear out of place in the company.

As Brother Cill n reached the row in which he stood, the songmaster paused, head to one side.

‘Silence!’ he suddenly roared.

The singing of the brethren came to a ragged halt.

Eadulf thought that he could feel the steely eyes of the songmaster staring directly at him.

‘There is an ear here that is tone deaf!’ thundered the songmaster. ‘The voice obeys the ear and has no concept of melody.’

There was a murmur of surprise and horror from the brethren as they turned round to try to catch a glimpse of the culprit.

‘Surely not someone among the Unending Circle?’ cried a young man at the end of the row.

‘Surely not,’ repeated Brother Cillin with sarcastic emphasis. ‘I have hand-picked you all, every one, each for the beauty of his voice, to join in what will be the greatest choir in the five kingdoms of Eireann. A choir

A horror was coming over Eadulf as he began to understand the mystery he had been pursuing. The Unending Circle — it was simply the name of Brother Cill n’s choristers.

Brother Cillin was continuing: ‘I have chosen you from many communities, and although it is not often we are all together to practise I was assured that within a few months we would be ready to enter our first singing competition. Now, what do I hear? A voice that has no tone in it, no understanding of music. How could I have chosen such a voice? Or did I?’

Eadulf had been aware that the stiuirtheoir canaid had now halted before him.

Reluctantly Eadulf raised his head to meet the steely eyes of the songmaster. He smiled weakly.

Brother Cillin gazed at him with distaste.

‘Ah, Brother Saxon. So it is you? And were you overcome with such a desire to become a chorister that you felt you did not need to be able to sing?’

A sniggering broke out among the lines of the brethren. His erstwhile companion from An Daingean had been staring at him in horror and had moved as far away from him as possible in an attempt to disassociate himself.

‘I did not think I was that bad,’ muttered Eadulf, his face red.

Brother Cillin actually laughed, but with ill-humour.

‘We have an old saying, Brother Saxon — better be silent than sing a song badly. I would remember that if I had your voice. Now I wish to continue with this rehearsal, so if you have tasks more fitting to your talent, you may leave us.’

He stood aside and Eadulf, head down, moved down the row to the chapel door.

Behind him he heard the waspish tone of the stiuirtheoir canaid.

‘We of the Unending Circle must seek purity in our voices. Each voice must contribute to the whole. That is why we call ourselves the Unending Circle. There is another old saying that we’d best remember. One scabby ewe will spoil the flock.’

There was a burst of laughter among the choristers.

Outside the chapel, Eadulf closed the door none too gently and threw back his hood. He was still mortified.

‘Unending Circle!’ he snorted. ‘A stupid name, indeed! A bunch of baying mules.’

From inside the voices rose in song. Eadulf grimaced and sighed. He had to admit the sound was sweet and melodious.

Fidelma made her way quickly to the tech-screptra and sought out Brother Eolas.

‘I have just been to see the Venerable Mac Faosma about the genealogy that Conri spoke of last night.’

The librarian pursed his lips in a sceptical smile.

‘And the old man refused to let you see it?’

‘On the contrary, I saw it,’ she replied grimly. ‘However, it came to our noticed that the book has been defaced.’

Brother Eolas’ features dissolved into horror.

‘Defaced?’ he whispered.

‘A section of one page has been cut out. It was obvious that it happened recently.’

‘That cannot be!’ he replied, aghast.

‘I can assure you that it is so,’ said Fidelma calmly.

‘I take a pride in my library, Sister.’ He turned swiftly and beckoned to the reluctant young Brother Faolchair. ‘I tell you that until you came here we have had no trouble. Then the burning of Cinaed’s books… I do not understand it.’

Brother Faolchair came hurrying over, pale-faced and nervous.

‘Do you know of the Ui Fidgente genealogy?’ the librarian demanded angrily. ‘When did the Venerable Mac Faosma borrow it?’

‘Brother Benen came here this morning and borrowed it on behalf of the Venerable Mac Faosma. I told Sister Fidelma of this a short time ago.’

‘You were most helpful, Brother Faolchair,’ Fidelma said gently. ‘The Venerable Mac Faosma did have the book, which I saw. However, the book had been defaced and I think that we can be sure that this was done before Brother Benen took it to the Venerable Mac Faosma.’

The young man gasped in horror.

‘I noticed no such thing when I handed the book to Brother Benen, Sister.’

‘Do you check through the books before and after they have been borrowed from the library?’ she asked.

The young man shook his head, puzzled.

‘Why would one do that?’

‘To ensure that those who borrow them do not damage them but treat them well. You said that you had not noticed the damage. I admit, it would take a sharp eye to spot it for it was only a small piece of the parchment cut from a page by means of the point of a sharp knife. I do not blame you for not noticing it.’

Brother Eolas intervened with a disapproving look.

‘Sister, when religious come to a library to look at the books one does not expect them to be vandals. Most are scholars, scribes and students. Why would we not trust them to behave in a manner befitting their calling?’