Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

‘Where is Gorman?’ Fidelma demanded immediately, barely glancing at Abbot Nannid.

It was the steward, Brother Cuineain, who replied. ‘Where he should have been all this time. In a cell awaiting punishment.’

‘You have no right to hold him in the abbey,’ Brehon Faolchair told them. It sounded as if he had raised the point before.

Abbot Nannid rose to his feet. ‘Since you have been negligent in pursuing the interests of justice by allowing a base murderer to escape, it behoves me to protect our people, both physically as well as spiritually,’ he declared.

‘Does your spiritual and physical protection involve dealing with a bunch of brigands, thieves and cut-throats?’ Fidelma decided to get straight to the heart of the matter. ‘There are witnesses to your meeting with Glaed of Sliabh Luachra at the Hill of Truth. Following that meeting, Glaed handed you his prisoner, Gorman, and you came here with four of Glaed’s ne’er-do-wells as your escort.’

There was a moment’s silence and then, to everyone’s surprise, Abbot Nannid started to chuckle. Even Brother Cuineain looked puzzled for a moment and then, as the abbot continued to laugh, he seemed to feel that he should join him with a wan smile.

Brehon Faolchair finally leaned forward and said firmly: ‘This is a serious charge, Abbot Nannid. Glaed is not only a thief and killer but he is an enemy to the Ui Fidgente and a threat to the peace of this princedom. Do you admit that you met with him and his marauders and had dealings with him?’

Abbot Nannid said, ‘I mean no disrespect to you, Prince Donennach. I am simply amused by the feeble attempts of the sister of the King of Cashel who, a few years ago, waded in the blood of the Ui Fidgente on Cnoc Aine, to claim that I am an enemy to my own people!’

Prince Donennach raised his head to look long and hard at the abbot. ‘You deny that you met Glaed and had dealings with him?’

‘I have every intention of telling you the truth of that encounter.’

‘Then before you do,’ intervened Brehon Faolchair, ‘let me say that it is not merely the lady, Fidelma of Cashel, who brings evidence of this event but Conri, warlord of the Ui Fidgente, who was with Fidelma and her companions as a witness.’

Brother Cuineain made a lewd sound. ‘It is well known that lord Conri of the Ford of Oaks has been an intimate of the lady Fidelma for many years.’

Eadulf was on his feet amid the gasps of disapproval from those present. He was so enraged that he ignored the protocol that he could not speak until invited.

‘I could forget I wear the cloth of the New Faith long enough to disobey the ruling of Our Lord and not turn the other cheek,’ he snarled.

Abbot Nannid rose to his feet and threw out a protective arm as if to shield his steward from attack.

‘Peace, Brother Eadulf,’ he said mockingly. ‘You misinterpret the words of poor Brother Cuainean. Let us put it down to your Saxon lack of fluency in our good tongue.’

It was Conri himself who responded. ‘I did not misinterpret the words, Nannid, so do not accuse me of a lack of fluency in my mother’s speech. Also, friend Eadulf speaks our tongue as well as any native of the Five Kingdoms.’

‘I would also point out once more that I am an Angle, not a Saxon,’ Eadulf hissed. ‘I am an hereditary gerefa of the Land of the South Folk in the Kingdom of the East Angles.’

At this point, Abbot Nannid gave his steward a slight but meaningful nudge and the man reluctantly stood up.

‘Forgive me for my poor use of words, Conri of the Ford of the Oaks,’ he said, trying to sound sincere but only succeeding in sounding sycophantic. ‘I meant no offence to you. But is it not well known that you have often helped the dalaigh from Cashel? Did she not win your friendship when she solved the murder of your brother, Dea, and the murders at Rath Raithlen many years ago? Did you not help her when the Venerable Cinaed was murdered in the Abbey of Ard Fhearta? And were you not on hand when she came here in pursuit of a would-be assassin of her brother, the King-’

‘Whose assassin came from the Abbey of Mungairit,’ Eadulf interrupted, angered further by being omitted from the apology.

‘… when she discovered a conspiracy against Prince Donennach,’ Conri continued. ‘A conspiracy that came out of Mungairit and involved Glaed.’

Abbot Nannid’s eyes narrowed at the implication but he allowed his steward to respond.

‘The point I was making in my own clumsy fashion,’ he blustered, ‘is that you may be considered biased under law.’

‘Under whose law?’ Conri asked pleasantly. ‘The law of the Five Kingdoms – or that of Abbot Nannid?’

Abbot Nannid turned to Prince Donennach with a smirk on his face that Eadulf would have liked to remove with his fist.

‘I am sure that this company will accept that my steward spoke without thought,’ he said in oily fashion, ‘not realising his words could be misinterpreted.’

Prince Donennach waved an impatient hand. ‘Nevertheless, Abbot Nannid, it does not answer the fact that Conri was a witness. Do you deny that you met Glaed, leader of the brigands of Sliabh Luachra, and from him secured the prisoner to bring him back to Dun Eochair Mhaigh with the help of his men?’

‘I do not deny it,’ replied the abbot, unperturbed.

Fidelma felt Eadulf look at her. It was obvious that the abbot had some excuse ready but she could not see what, and this put her at a disadvantage.

Brehon Faolchair was clearly troubled. ‘As you do not deny this, perhaps you will explain.’

‘Of course,’ the abbot said coolly. ‘That has been my intention all along until we were sidetracked on a matter of ego.’

‘Proceed,’ Brehon Faolchair instructed quickly, aware that Conri had clapped a hand to his sword hilt.

‘When I left this fortress, after the murderer of Abbot Segdae demonstrated his guilt by absconding from his cell and fleeing with the woman, Aibell, my only intention was to go to Cnoc Firinne, the Hill of Truth, on a church errand to meet with a Brother Feradach. He has a chapel on the slope of the hill.’

‘What urgent need did this Brother Feradach have that you had to leave here with your steward?’ Fidelma asked.

Abbot Nannid hesitated but Brehon Faolchair said: ‘It is relevant information to your story.’

‘Brother Feradach served me at the Abbey of Mungairit. You may know that I have remained here, at the Abbey of Nechta, for a while. I have presided over its transformation from a loose group of believers in the New Faith to an enclosed community which will one day become influential and will bring prestige and wealth to this place. However, I am still aware of my duties as Abbot of Mungairit. Therefore, I have been collecting the dues owed to my abbey and took a small amount of gold and silver to Brother Feradach, who was going to carry it on safely to Mungairit. This was to save me making the arduous journey myself.’

It was Fidelma’s turn to sound amused. ‘Are you trying to tell us that you went to this Brother Feradach’s chapel on the Hill of Truth bearing gold and silver for him to take on to Mungairit? That, purely by chance, you fell in with Glaed, whom you already knew from the conspiracy at Mungairit? Glaed with forty or fifty marauders from Sliabh Luachra whom you just happened to meet? Did they greet you as an old friend and give you charge of their prisoner with warriors to guard him because they believed in the law?’

‘It does not sound plausible,’ Prince Donennach sighed.

‘Put in such a way as the honey-tongued advocate from Cashel likes to paint the story – and, of course, she does it for effect – it is not plausible,’ Abbot Nannid agreed carelessly. ‘Nevertheless, truth is often implausible. But it is a simple story. While I was at the Hill of Truth, Glaed and his warriors did arrive by chance. They had a prisoner, Gorman of Cashel, whom they were determined to kill. I intervened, explaining the circumstances as to why I sought him, and asked that the prisoner be released into my custody.’