Peter Tremayne - Master of Souls

‘Someone obviously did not behave in that manner.’

‘I have never heard the like. You say that this damage must have been done recently?’

‘I do.’

‘The book has not been borrowed for some time,’ Brother Faolchair said. ‘No one has asked me to take it from the shelves. Not since…’

He paused, trying to remember.

‘Well,’ intervened Brother Eolas irritably, ‘are we to ask Brother Benen if he defaced it?’

‘And would you expect him to answer if he had?’ said Fidelma sarcastically.

‘I remember the last borrowing.’ Brother Faolchair was suddenly triumphant. ‘It was borrowed by the Venerable Cinaed.’

‘So the Venerable Cinaed also borrowed this book?’ Fidelma spoke quietly.

‘He did. It was shortly before his… his death. I remember because Sister Buan returned it to the library with some other books that he had borrowed. It was after his funeral.’

‘Did anyone borrow it before the Venerable Cinaed?’

Brother Faolchair nodded.

‘As I am in charge of any borrowing that leaves this library, I try to keep a record in my mind. Before the Venerable Cinaed, Sister Uallann and before her Brother Cillin. You see, very few people are allowed to take books away from the library. Most of the community has to come in here to read them. But Brother Eolas has made…’

‘I make certain exceptions,’ interrupted the librarian. ‘Our great scholars, of course, are the exceptions — our physician and songmaster are recognised as scholars in their own right.’

‘And all four of these exceptions had borrowed the book… when? Within a few weeks of one another?’

‘That is so,’ affirmed Brother Faolchair.

She turned from them with a quick word of thanks and left the library. Outside she found Conri and Eadulf looking for her.

She smiled at each of them.

‘I think the mystery is about to be unravelled. Let us go to see Abbot Erc and make plans to put this grim tale into the public domain.’

Fidelma had suggested that Abbot Erc request the attendance of certain members of the community to assemble in the aireagal, the oratory. As congregations usually stood in the oratory during the services, benches had been brought in and the lanterns were lit. Opposite these benches another bench had been arranged so that Abbot Erc, along with his steward, Brother Cu Mara, were seated facing the congregation. Next to them were Fidelma and Eadulf.

The small oratory was crowded. Conri sat to one side with Sister Easdan and her companions as well as the Gaulish seaman, Esumaro. On the other side sat the physician, Sister Uallann, alongside Brothers Eolas and Faolchair. Sister Sinnchene sat behind them. Sister Buan sat further back with Brother Cillin. Fidelma had asked Abbot Erc to insist upon the attendance of Slebene, who was seated behind them. His champion was nowhere to be seen and, rather than reassure Fidelma, his absence worried her. There was some surprise among the company when the Venerable Mac Faosma entered escorted by the watchful Brother Benen. The Venerable Mac Faosma attended hardly any gathering unless he was giving one of his lectures or debates. But, again, Fidelma had asked Abbot Erc to especially request his presence.

The last person to enter was Socht, with two of his fellow warriors. They stood near the oratory door, which Socht closed. He signalled to Conr that all was secure and Conr then nodded towards Fidelma.

Abbot Erc found Fidelma looking at him. He realised that he had to govern the proceedings. He gave a nervous cough and began, speaking quickly.

‘We are gathered here at the request of Sister Fidelma, who is here in her capacity as a dalaigh, as you all doubtless know.’ The abbot sounded

He sat back with mouth closed firmly, glancing at Fidelma, who, perceiving that he had said all he was going to say, rose and looked around at the upturned, expectant faces that greeted her.

‘This is not a court of law,’ she began. ‘No one here is on trial but from what occurs here a trial will doubtless result, for we are dealing with murder; not merely the murder of Abbess Faife and the Venerable Cinaed but of many unfortunate Gaulish seamen, of villagers who dwelt among the Sliabh Mis mountains, and of an ill-fated religious member of the community of Seanach’s Island named Brother Martan. In addition, we now must deal with the murder of the prisoner Olcan.’

Abbot Erc seemed irritated by her self-assurance.

‘And you are claiming that all these events are connected?’ he demanded.

Fidelma smiled.

‘I would not say so were it otherwise,’ she replied softly, but Eadulf heard the waspish rebuke in her tone.

She turned back to the still quiet assembly.

‘This has been a frustrating mystery, involving several strands. Each strand had to be followed and unravelled before one could be sure that they all led back to one central point. It makes a long story.’

The harsh voice of the Venerable Mac Faosma came from the assembly: ‘Then the sooner the story is started, the faster it will end and we can return to the comfort of our chambers.’

Fidelma was not perturbed by the old man’s rudeness. She merely glanced in his direction.

‘Are we not in the Lord’s house, Venerable Mac Faosma?’ Her voice was acrid. ‘Where else is more comfortable in his sight than in the place sacred to him?’ She delighted in the disconcerted expression on the old scholar’s face. Eadulf realised that she was pricking at the bubble of his piety with her irony. She continued before he could think of a suitable riposte: ‘Remember that it is not just the sister of the king of Muman who stands here. It is a representative of the laws which govern all this kingdom, all the territories, petty kingdoms and provinces of this land. When insult is delivered to the representative then it is delivered to the law itself. I

The Venerable Mac Faosma made a spluttering sound. But Fidelma was now ignoring him.

‘I will not keep you all longer than I have to. Yet I have to peel away the strands that envelop this mystery. I will begin by showing you the prime cause behind what has happened here. The prime motivation behind the deaths and abductions. I regret to say that we have to return to the ages-old conflict between the Ui Fidgente and the Eoghanacht of Cashel.’

An immediate murmur of outrage came from several quarters. Conr looked about him unhappily.

Fidelma was slowly shaking a finger at them.

‘Noise does not drown out truth,’ she remonstrated.

‘Nor words without evidence will make it the truth,’ snapped the Venerable Mac Faosma.

‘Then listen and you will soon hear the evidence that supports the words,’ replied Fidelma, unperturbed. ‘Or is that demanding too much courtesy from this gathering?’

There were still some angry protests from the predominantly Ui Fidgente gathering. Conri rose, facing them, and held up his hands to motion them to quiet.

‘There is a saying — do not bring your reaping hook into a field without being asked.’ It was a reminder to the assembly to behave properly. ‘We will hear what Fidelma of Cashel has to say and we will hear her without insult, jest or clamour. Remember that truth can come like bad weather, uninvited. But denial of bad weather does not make the day fine nor make the truth less than the truth. If I, as warlord of the Ui Fidgente, can bear to listen, then you can also.’

He sat down again, folded his arms, and stared woodenly ahead of him.

The murmurs of dissent subsided.

‘I shall not trouble you with history,’ Fidelma continued. ‘Nor with arguments of who is right and who is wrong in that conflict. We all know the conflict has lasted many generations between U