Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

‘So what now?’

‘Now there are some things that I have neglected, having been sidetracked by Brother Tuaman. To accomplish them, we must return to the guest-hostel where Segdae was killed.’

Eadulf’s eyes brightened suddenly. ‘You mean that even now, you have not completely condemned Gorman as guilty?’

‘There are other ways of interpreting his flight from this fortress,’ she said.

‘Then you feel that there might be a way into Abbot Segdae’s chamber through which a killer could have entered in the manner Gorman claimed?’

‘Not as such, but it behoves us to take a look.’

There was no one about in the guest-hostel, not even a guard outside, when Fidelma and Eadulf entered. She paused and called loudly, just in case Brother Tuaman was in his room on the next floor. Before climbing the wooden stairs she took advantage of everyone’s absence to glance quickly into the rooms on the ground floor where the two scribes had their quarters. It took only a few moments to see that they contained nothing of interest. Having checked, she ascended to the next floor with Eadulf behind her. To his surprise she went directly to Brother Tuaman’s room and tapped on the door. There was no answer and so she tried the handle. It was locked.

‘He seems to be a cautious man,’ observed Eadulf.

‘He might have reason to be,’ Fidelma replied enigmatically. ‘He said he was returning to transcribe some notes. He is certainly not doing so here.’

She turned and moved along to Prior Cuan’s room, and again she paused to knock before entering. Nothing appeared to have changed since their earlier visit. Fidelma went to the table, picked up the book she had noticed previously, and opened it to glance at the title page. She gave a gasp of surprise.

‘It seems he reads Greek, for there is an inscription in it. Ah – and guess what this is a copy of?’

‘I am afraid that construing Greek is beyond me,’ Eadulf said. ‘I sometimes even struggle with the Latin in which the ancients put down their wisdom. I can cope with the colloquial form better.’

‘The text is in Latin but another hand has written an inscription in Greek,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘So why the surprise?’

‘Firstly, the book is Paenitentiaele Theodori .’

‘What? You mean Theodore of Tarsus? Has he written a book of Penitentials?’ Eadulf asked.

‘It is some years since you escorted Theodore the Greek from Rome to the Kentish kingdom where he was installed as eighth archbishop and claimed jurisdiction of all the churches of the Jutes, Angles, Saxons and also the Britons – even though the Britons rejected him. He was an ambitious cleric because he also started sending deputations to the Irish abbots to claim jurisdiction over them. Here his ambition met with stronger resistance.’

Eadulf remembered the tall ascetic Greek appointed by Vitalian, Bishop of Rome, to succeed Wighard, who had been murdered in Rome. His murder had been solved by Fidelma and Eadulf. Eadulf had then been appointed to escort Wighard’s successor, Theodore, to his new seat in the town of the Cantware, as the people of Kent were called. He had never been comfortable with the man, who seemed to consider all the western churches as outlanders who should be brought firmly under his control.

‘That was six or seven years ago,’ reflected Eadulf. ‘Thankfully, Theodore, to my good fortune, sent me here to bring messages to Abbot Segdae of Imleach, which led to our being reunited and …’

But Fidelma was still peering at the volume. ‘It doesn’t surprise me that Theodore of Tarsus would support the adoption of the Penitentials, but it is an interesting choice of reading for our frugal prior in the circumstances.’

‘Do you mean because he claims to stand against the Penitentials? Well, reading such a book is not incompatible to his views. Remember the saying of the Romans? Nosce hostem tuum – know your enemy.’

Fidelma gave an irritated shake of her head. ‘A good point, Eadulf, but that is not what I am reading from the Greek inscription here.’

‘As I said, my Greek is not good enough to construe it. What does it say?’

‘It says – “Theodore, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ, to my faithful brother in Christ, Cuan, scholar of Cluain Eidnech, since we rejoice in your faith in Christ Jesus and the word of truth”.’ Then she paused and added, ‘The phonetics of the Irish names are spelled in Greek form but they are clear as to the meaning of the names.’

Eadulf was shocked. ‘Then how did Prior Cuan come by such a book? He must have been known to Theodore of Tarsus to have deserved such an inscription, but how …?’

‘A personal gift,’ Fidelma mused. ‘I knew Cluain Eidnach had a reputation for its scholarship but I did not think it extended far, even within the Five Kingdoms. I can recall only one Cuan named as a meritorious scholar but he was an abbot of Lios Mor. He died when I was a child.’

‘Prior Cuan may have been on a mission to the kingdom of the Cantware,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘You know how many of your countrymen still take the word of the Faith to the kingdoms of the Angles and the Saxons?’

Fidelma replaced the book carefully on the table without further comment and glanced round the room.

‘It is strange that there is little sign of writing materials for such a literate man, even a stylus and a ceraculum to make notes on, especially during what was a debate of some magnitude,’ Eadulf said, interrupting the silence.

‘Maybe the notes were taken by one of the scribes or Brother Tuaman,’ suggested Fidelma. ‘In which case, he would not need his own writing materials.’

‘Perhaps,’ conceded Eadulf. ‘Anyway, we are still left with the evidence that only Gorman could have killed Abbot Segdae. So how does investigating Prior Cuan help us?’

‘Perhaps it does not, although it is important for both Imleach and my brother to know more about our friend Cuan and how he was appointed the praepositus or prior, as he likes to call himself. Still, we have learned enough here. Let us examine the other matters.’

They moved on to the chamber which was directly next to the one the abbot had occupied. They had not examined it before, nor did it help them. Its lay-out was almost an exact replica of the others, except that it was devoid of any furnishing. It had but one window and that, like its neighbour, was barred; when tested by Fidelma, she found the iron was immovable. She looked around carefully and even examined the wall separating the room from that of Segdae’s chamber for signs of weakness.

‘We have to conclude that there was no other way into the abbot’s chamber but through the one door,’ she finally admitted.

‘So what now?’ prompted Eadulf.

‘Now we still have a problem to resolve.’

Eadulf hunched his shoulders in a helpless gesture. ‘It is a problem only if we accept Gorman’s story – but what if he is not innocent after all? As incredible as it might be to us, that is a logical conclusion. The more we have considered the alternative, the more we come across the fact that Gorman’s story is impossible.’

‘Things are always impossible until they are achieved,’ Fidelma said dryly, turning from the room and moving down the stairs.

Brother Mac Raith was standing at the door of one of the rooms on the lower floor, about to enter it. He looked up in surprise as they descended. ‘Good day, lady … brother,’ he greeted them.

Fidelma returned the greeting and asked his name. He told her, then said, ‘Can I help, for I do not think there is anyone here?’

‘I need to ask you a few questions,’ Fidelma replied.