Peter Tremayne - Valley of the Shadow

‘Such a god,’ sneered Murgal. ‘He had to kill his own son to show love! Was he jealous of his son? Your God’s son is as poor as his father!’

Brother Solin began to choke angrily.

‘How dare you …?’

‘Loss of temper is no argument.’ Clearly, Murgal was enjoying himself. ‘Tell us what your God taught? We would like to hear. Was he a strong god? Did he teach resistance to those who would enslave people? Did he teach self-reliance or the practice of what is good and just? Did he teach resistance to those who do wrong? No, for I have heard it with my own ears. He taught poverty of spirit. It is written in your sacred texts — “Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”. Your God’s heaven is not the Otherworld where justice, morality and manly self-reliance are rewarded in the hall of the heroes who sit with the Ever Living Ones.

‘Indeed, your God taught that if someone struck a man on one cheek, that person should offer the other cheek to be struck, thus courting further injury and oppression and inviting wrong doing. Surely the Brehons teach that those who court oppression share the crime? When men are poor in spirit then the proud and haughty in spirit oppress them. When men are true in spirit and determined to prevent wrong then the people benefit. Do you not agree with that, Brother Solin?’

Brother Solin was furious. His anger made him look pitiful and inarticulate in front of the assembly. Fidelma had already assessed that it needed a finer intellect than Brother Solin to do battle with glib-tongued Murgal. She shook her head slightly and whispered across to Eadulf: ‘The triads of Éireann say three laughing stocksof the world — a jealous man, a parsimonious man and an angry man. Brother Solin has walked directly into the trap that Murgal has prepared.’

Brother Solin was continuing on, unaware of the impression he was giving.

‘The Christ said — “Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh. Blessed are you that mourn, for you shall be comforted and Blessed be you poor for yours is the kingdom of heaven.”’

‘Nice promises but only to be fulfilled in the Otherworld,’ sneered Murgal. ‘But it is poor teaching for this world. Poverty of person leads on from poverty of spirit. This religion was obviously conceived by a tyrant who wanted to see the poor continue in their poverty while he grew rich and fat on their misery.’

‘Not so, not so …’ cried Brother Solin losing all attempt at composure.

Fidelma stood up abruptly.

She said not a word but the very fact of her rising and her silence caused every voice to fade so that silence gradually permeated the room. She waited until it was so encompassing that even the smallest whisper could be heard.

‘I was misinformed,’ she began softly. ‘I was told that this was to be a negotiation on practical matters. Not a theological debate. Should you have required representatives to discuss theology then you should have told the bishop of Imleach who would have sent you scholars who would match your scholars. I am but a simple servant of the law of this land. I shall commence my journey home to Cashel this afternoon and I shall take back the message that the chieftain of Gleann Geis has been unable to make a decision on this matter. Cashel will not send anyone to Gleann Geis again until it is assured that a decision has been made.’

As she turned, Eadulf rose unsteadily, groaning inwardly at the very idea of commencing such a journey in his condition.

‘An admission of defeat?’ cried Murgal. ‘Do you admit that Christians cannot argue logic with a Druid?’

Fidelma halted and looked in his direction.

‘You are acquainted, I suppose, with the triads of Eireann?’

‘A poor Brehon I would be if I was not,’ replied Murgal complacently.

‘Three candles that illuminate every darkness: truth, nature and knowledge,’ she quoted and then turned away towards the door.

This time she did not even stop when she heard Laisre’s voice call out to her to do so.

The warrior, Rudgal, looking uncomfortable, barred the doorwayas she reached it, resting his hand lightly on his sword hilt. He looked apologetic.

‘My chieftain calls on you to stay, Sister,’ he muttered. ‘He has to be obeyed.’

He was taken aback by the green fire that danced in Fidelma’s eyes.

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, princess of the Eóghanacht. I stay for no one!’

How she did it not even Eadulf knew but her sheer presence caused Rudgal to fall back a pace and she had swept through the door and out into the courtyard. She did not pause to see if Eadulf was following but walked quickly across the courtyard of the ráth to the guests’ hostel. Inside she made straight for a pitcher of water and poured herself a drink.

Eadulf hastened in after her and closed the door. He looked at her nervously but found that her face was creased with laughter. He shook his head in bewilderment.

‘I do not understand.’

Fidelma was good humoured.

‘Whether this was Laisre’s design or not, this council was a charade. It was set up either to waste time or to distract us from the business we were sent here to conduct. What I have to decide is why and who is responsible. And, further, was that idiot Brother Solin part of this deception?’

‘I still do not understand.’

‘Instead of getting down to the business we were meant to arrange, Murgal deliberately tried to lead us into the time-wasting morass of arguing our differing philosophies. If I had accepted that as the starting point, we would have been arguing here for weeks. Why? What purpose would that serve? The only thing to do was to take the stand I did and to call their bluff.’

‘Will their bluff be called?’ demanded Eadulf.

There came the sound of voices growing nearer.

Eadulf glanced out of the window.

‘It is Brother Solin and his scribe. He does not look in a good mood.’

A moment later Brother Solin burst into the room; his face was still red with mortification.

‘Little you did to support me in spreading the Faith,’ he snapped at Fidelma without preamble. ‘All you have done is insult our hosts and deny any means whereby we might arrange to bring the Faith to this valley.’

‘It is not my task to support you in theological debate,’ Fidelmareturned, causing Solin to blink at her sharpness. If he had expected her to acquiesce to his dominance, he had quickly learnt. She turned to Eadulf. ‘Go and saddle our horses and I shall be along directly. I’ll pack and bring our bags.’

Reluctantly, Eadulf departed on his mission.

Brother Solin looked aghast.

‘You mean to go through with it? You cannot leave here now!’

She regarded him coldly.

‘Who will stop me? And what business is it to you?’

‘You mean to leave here, having insulted the chieftain and his council in such a manner?’

‘The chieftain and his council have insulted me by not discussing the business that had been arranged.’

Brother Solin spread his hands in helpless agitation.

‘But surely there must be give and take to everything? These people want assurances about the Faith and it is our moral duty to give them those assurances. To each, something of the Faith and …’

‘Poor Brother Solin,’ Fidelma said with a harshness in her voice that belied her solicitude. ‘You do not see, or do not wish to, that you were being manipulated into an unending debate, wasting time in arguing small points of theology. I am unsure if you be knave or fool. Why do you wish to waste time which might elsewhere be spent profitably? Did you really think that this was the opportune moment to attempt to convert Murgal and his followers to the Faith? You should have remembered the wise saying fere libenter homines quod volunt credunt — men usually believe what they want to believe.’