Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

Fidelma flushed slightly. ‘Such conflict has never been of the Eoghanacht making,’ she replied defensively.

Airmid put out a hand to lay it on Fidelma’s arm for a moment.

‘My dear, I meant no rebuke to you. But it is the truth that I am telling. The wars that we have been engaged in have achieved nothing but more bloodshed. Many, like my brother, want to avoid war among our own people at any cost. Others believe that my brother’s policy of conciliation with Cashel is wrong.’

‘You appear to place yourself as a neutral in this matter, lady,’ observed Fidelma. ‘Yet you are the heir apparent to your brother. You must have a say on his council.’

Airmid threw back her head and laughed. ‘My brother tolerates my presence since there is no other heir to his bloodline. The council always look to a man to lead them.’

A look of annoyance crossed Fidelma’s face. ‘The law is clear on that: women can fulfil any role.’

‘But not usually fulfil the role of kingship.’

‘On the contrary, as you wander the kingdoms and princedoms of this island you will find several women leaders among them, and not only leaders of their people but commanders of war. Did not Macha of the Red Tresses rule all the Five Kingdoms from Tara in ancient times?’

Airmid smiled thinly. ‘I do not possess your passion or your knowledge, lady,’ she replied. ‘I simply know that I, like my brother, would prefer peace.’

‘Is your brother not joining us this evening?’ queried Fidelma.

Airmid shook her head. ‘There is much on his mind this evening,’ she replied.

‘Much on everyone’s mind,’ Prior Cuan said bluntly. ‘There’ll be no peace if we abandon the laws that have been with us since the time before time, and just accept these alien concepts coming from Nannid.’

‘For my own part,’ Airmid sighed, ‘I want nothing more than to be allowed to carry on as a practitioner of the arts of healing. But I suppose Nannid could argue that there is a difference between abandoning our old laws and abandoning our old religion?’

Prior Cuan frowned. ‘I am unsure what you mean, lady.’

‘Simple enough. We were once firm in the Old Faith. We worshipped the gods and goddesses as, indeed, our people had done since the time when Feinius Farsaid led us out of the primeval mists. We remained constant to our gods and goddesses, who shaped our lives for century after century. Then some of our people heard stories of a new God, a single God worshipped among a people in the east. This God, they were told, had sent His Son to bring them to the Faith. Some of our people believed in the New Faith – Ailbe, Ciaran, Declan and others and then, eventually, the leader of this Faith in Rome sent a former hostage of the Ui Neill to convert us.

‘It was two centuries ago that the High King, Laoghaire, son of Neill of the Nine Hostages, decided to leave the Old Faith, abandon the gods and goddesses that we had worshipped for millennia, and accept this strange New Faith from the east. So, having abandoned our own Faith, a New Faith has shaped and sustained us. We abandoned our old Faith, so what would be wrong with abandoning our old laws? What is the difference?’

There was a silence after Airmid had spoken.

‘Put in that form, lady,’ Fidelma said eventually, ‘it is an interesting comparison in support of what Nannid argues now. Are you in favour of his Penitentials?’

Airmid gave a quiet laugh. ‘If it were left to me, I would be content with both the old religion and the old law. What has worked for centuries seems hardly worthwhile amending, much less spilling blood over. But I thank the powers that it is not my responsibility. All I do is point out that times change and often we have to change with them. But left to myself, I am certainly no reformer.’

Brother Tuaman looked up from where he still sat at the fidchell board.

‘I am sure that Abbot Nannid would agree that the road to what is right and proper is a righteous one to tread, and it is worth sacrifices to attain an end to it. It is right and proper that we have cast away our superstition for the light of knowledge of the True Faith. We have attained much but we must seek more and come nearer to the Great Truth. That is why I entered into the life of the religious.’ He paused and glanced round, realising they were staring at what, for him, was an outburst. Then he gave a shrug. ‘Indeed, that is why I entered the great Abbey of Imleach and was proud to serve Abbot Segdae as I will now be proud to serve his successor.’ He dropped his gaze back to the fidchell board.

Airmid looked at Brother Tuaman in amusement for a few moments before saying to Fidelma, ‘So what will you do now, lady?’

‘Now?’

‘Now all is lost here, I mean. I suppose you will head back to Cashel tomorrow. Will you attempt to persuade King Colgu that my brother had no choice but to act as he did? I mean, by not interfering in the execution of his warrior.’

Fidelma pursed her lips in a thoughtful expression before speaking. ‘I suppose I would start by saying that perhaps, all is not lost until it is lost. But certainly I will report to my brother, Colgu, and his Chief Brehon, what I have seen here.’

Prior Cuan leaned forward slightly, his brow creased in perplexity. ‘We must do all in our power to prevent any thoughts of vengeful bloodshed, lady. If we must face the consequences of tomorrow, let us hope we can persuade Colgu not to seek reparation on the field of battle.’

Fidelma suddenly felt mischievous. ‘Alas, is there not an old proverb which says that there was never a more just judge than the field of battle?’ she said dryly.

Prior Cuan looked at her in disapproval. ‘It must be a very old saying – from barbaric days. I, for my part, will be riding straight for Cashel tomorrow to admit that my poor scholastic knowledge was unable to move Nannid, who is equally firm in his beliefs. But Fidelma, I will be telling your brother, the King, that he must remember that vengeance is to be left in the hands of God.’

‘Waiting for divine vengeance is a tedious process,’ Airmid said tartly. ‘I recall that in the past, the Eoghanacht have shown us the efficacy of acting more swiftly in such matters.’

Fidelma knew it was a provocation and a reflection on the long history of rivalry between their two families for the Kingship of Muman.

‘We believe it is the King and his council who will make a response once all the facts are known,’ she said quietly.

Airmid seemed surprised. ‘Are they not already known? Do you still insist there should be yet another hearing after the warrior admitted his guilt by fleeing from here before you had time to offer a defence for him?’

‘It would seem that not all the facts have been allowed to come to light,’ Fidelma replied, but she did not elaborate.

Prior Cuan rose from his chair and reached for his stick. ‘It is time I retired,’ he announced.

Fidelma crossed to his side. ‘I need some exercise before I retire,’ she told him. ‘A walk across the courtyard of the fortress will be sufficient. I will accompany you as far as your quarters, if I may, Prior Cuan?’

As they moved towards the door of the hallway, Fidelma glanced at his stick. She frowned, trying to remember something about walking sticks. ‘You seem to have changed your stout blackthorn. Have you lost it?’

Prior Cuan chuckled. ‘I indulge myself by carrying two different sticks when I travel, lady. This one is good for use when I am within the abbey buildings or places such as this. It’s made of chestnut wood. But sometimes I use the other one. To be honest, it often depends which I have left nearer the door of my chamber when I leave it.’

As they left the hall, Prior Cuan glanced back in disapproval at Brother Tuaman, who was indulging in a goblet of some strong liquor as he gazed down at his fidchell pieces. Airmid re-seated herself opposite him, toying with her own drink. Outside, the prior paused and said: ‘I do not think that drinking intoxicating liquids figures in the austerity plans of those who subscribe to the Penitential rules.’