Peter Tremayne - Our Lady of Darkness

When Abbess Fainder spoke her voice was soft, modulated and almost soothing, lulling one into a deceptive feeling of security. Only Fidelma, her sensitivity to people’s personalities developed over many years, was attuned to the strong tones behind the gentle articulation. Fainder would tolerate no disagreement with her opinions; of that, Fidelma was absolutely certain.

From the way the abbess held out her hand, Fidelma realised that she was supposed to bow and kiss her ring of office, Roman style. However, Fidelma took the hand and inclined her head only a fraction in the manner of the Irish Church.

‘ Stet fortuna domus, ’ she intoned.

Abbess Fainder’s eyes glinted for a moment, the annoyance gone so quickly that only a careful observer might have noticed it.

‘ Deo juvante, ’ she replied shortly, resuming her position and motioning Fidelma to sit on a chair before the table. Fidelma did so.

‘So, you are Fidelma of Cashel?’ The abbess smiled; it was no more than a parting of her thin, bloodless lips. ‘Your name was spoken of in Rome when I was there.’

Fidelma did not answer. There was no comment she could make. Instead she motioned to the piece of vellum bearing Fianamail’s order and seal.

‘I have come on most urgent business, Mother Abbess.’

The abbess did not acknowledge the vellum placed before her. She was sitting upright in her chair, hands on the table, palm downwards, resuming the same position as when Fidelma had been shown into her room.

‘You have a reputation as a dálaigh, Sister,’ Fainder continued. ‘Yet you are a religieuse; I am told that you took it upon yourself to leave the Abbey of Kildare because you disagreed with its abbess, Abbess Ita.’

She paused in expectation of a reply but the comment had been phrased as a statement. Fidelma gave no response.

‘When one becomes a religieuse, Fidelma of Cashel,’ the abbess laid an emphasis on the title which acknowledged that Fidelma was a princess of the Eóghanacht, ‘one’s first duty is obedience to the Order, to the Rule of Saints. Obedience is the first rule for it is the duty of the religieuse not to disagree in mind, not to speak as one pleases and not to travel anywhere with entire freedom. Attention to the Rule is the manifestation of a Godly life.’

Fidelma waited patiently until the abbess had ended her homily before speaking clearly and deliberately.

‘I am here in my capacity as dálaigh, Mother Abbess, and with the authority of my brother, Colgú, King of Cashel. That which I have placed before you is an authority of Fianamail, King of Laigin.’

Abbess Fainder’s voice hardened and still she did not glance at the vellum.

‘You are now a religieuse in the abbey of Fearna — my abbey — and all religieuse have a duty to obedience, Sister.’

‘This is not Rome, Mother Abbess,’ replied Fidelma with a voice that was quiet yet betrayed a sharpness that gave clear warning. ‘I understand that you have only recently returned from there and may be forgiven for a lapse of memory as to the laws of this land. I am here as a dálaigh of the level of anruth. Surely I do not have to remind you of the law of rank and privileges?’

Holding a degree which was only one lower than the highest that the secular and ecclesiastical colleges could bestow, Fidelma, in law as well as her position as sister to a king, outranked an abbess.

Fainder blinked for the first time. It was an oddly menacing movement, like a snake that hoods its eyes for a fraction of a second.

‘In this abbey,’ Fainder spoke softly, ‘the rules of the Penitential govern our life. Thanks be to God that we also have a progressive King in Fianamail who has seen the wisdom of extending the Rule of the Penitentials to all his people as the Christian Duty of Life.’

Fidelma stood up, leaning forward and deliberately retrieving the unread vellum from Abbess Fainder’s desk. Her patience was exhausted.

‘Very well. I take it that this is a refusal to obey the authority of the Council of the Chief Brehon and of the High King. You bring a disservice on your abbey, Fainder. I am surprised that you wish to incite the wrath of a judicial enquiry by disregarding my authority and the warrant of your King, Fianamail.’

Fidelma had turned to the door when Abbess Fainder’s voice, an odd-sounding staccato, stayed her.

‘Stop!’

The abbess was still sitting in the same position, hands palm downward on the table. It seemed to Fidelma that her face had become like a mask; every line sharp and graven.

Fidelma waited at the door.

‘Perhaps,’ the abbess seemed to struggle for a formula of words toescape from the corner in which she found herself by Fidelma’s refusal to be intimidated, ‘perhaps I did not choose my words as well as I might have. Let me see the authority of Fianamail.’

Fidelma returned to the desk and placed it once more before the austere woman. She said nothing. Fainder read it quickly, a frown momentarily passing over her features. Then she looked up at Fidelma.

‘I can raise no objections to the authority of the King. I only inform you of the way this abbey is governed and my aspiration to keep it governed by the Penitentials.’

Having found a formula of words which suited her, Fainder’s voice was now back to its gentle reassuring level. Fidelma distrusted the tone immediately.

‘Then I have your leave to see Brother Eadulf and conduct my enquiry?’

Abbess Fainder waved to the seat which Fidelma had recently vacated.

‘Reseat yourself, Sister, and let us discuss the matter of this Saxon. Why does he concern you?’

‘Justice concerns me,’ replied Fidelma, hoping that the hotness she felt in her cheeks was not mirrored by a flush of embarrassment at the question.

‘So you know this Saxon? Of course,’ again came the parting of the lips in a smile. ‘I heard that in Rome you were in the company of a Saxon Brother. Ah, perhaps he was the same person?’

Fidelma reseated herself and regarded the abbess with an even gaze.

‘I have known Brother Eadulf since the conference at the Abbey of Whitby. This last year he has served as an emissary from Theodore of Tarsus, the Archbishop of Canterbury in the land of the Saxons, to my brother, the King of Cashel. I was sent by my brother to conduct his defence.’

‘Defence?’ Abbess Fainder sniffed. ‘You must have been informed that he has been found guilty and will be punished under the retribution laid down for his crime? The Penitentials prescribe execution which will be at noon tomorrow.’

Fidelma leaned forward a little.

‘As he was an emissary of a King and a Bishop, he has rights under our laws which may not be violated. I have been given leave to investigate the case against him to see if there are grounds for appealin law, although obviously no appeal can be made against the desire I seem to feel in this place for vengeance.’

Again Abbess Fainder’s face was set, controlling any reaction she might have had to Fidelma’s thrust.

‘Perhaps you do not know the nature of the terrible crime of which this Saxon has been found guilty?’

‘I have been told, Mother Abbess. The Brother Eadulf that I know could not have done the thing of which he has been accused.’

‘No?’ The dark face of Abbess Fainder was mocking. ‘How many mothers, sisters … lovers … of murderers have said as much before now?’

Fidelma stirred uncomfortably. ‘I am not …’ she began. Then she raised her chin defiantly, determined not to be provoked. ‘I would like to start my enquiry as soon as possible.’

‘Very well. Sister Étromma is the stewardess of the abbey and she will assist you.’