‘You and your finite mind, you cannot understand the great mystery of the universe,’ snapped Father Gormán.
‘We will not be able to understand it if we choose to obscure the path to that universe by creating myths. This is where I stand with the teachings of Pelagius who was a man of our people, and why Rome has always attacked our churches not only here but among the Britons and the Gauls who share our philosophies. We are a people who question all things and only through our questions can we hope to arrive at the Great Truth and we must stand by the Truth even if we stand against the world.’
She rose abruptly.
‘I thank you for your time, Father Gormán.’
Once outside she exchanged a glance with Eadulf.
‘So a tiny bit of the mist begins to clear away,’ she said with satisfaction.
Eadulf pulled a face. He was bemused.
‘About Pelagius?’ he hazarded.
Fidelma chuckled.
‘About Father Gormán,’ she reproved.
‘You suspect Father Gormán of some involvement?’
‘I suspect everyone of something. But you are right. It is clear that Gormán was, or is, passionately devoted to Cranat.’
‘At their age?’ Eadulf was indignant.
Fidelma turned to her companion in surprise.
‘Love between people can be felt at any age, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
‘But a woman of her years and a priest …?’
‘There are no laws forbidding priests from marrying, not even Rome prohibits it, though I admit that Rome disapproves of it.’
‘Are you saying that Father Gormán might have had reason for wishing Eber dead?’
Fidelma’s expression was almost impassive.
‘Oh, he had a reason right enough. But did he have the means of fulfilling his wish or arranging for its fulfilment?’
Chapter Nine
That evening they bathed and ate their meal alone. Crón had not invited them to dine in the hall of assembly, as protocol would naturally dictate. Eadulf was not particularly surprised at their isolation. When he considered the day’s events he realised that if Fidelma had made a friend of anyone in the
It was a nervous young girl who brought the trays of food to the guests’ hostel. She was dark-haired, about sixteen years old, almost unnaturally pale and seemed afraid of them. Fidelma did her best to reassure her by making friendly overtures.
‘What is your name?’
‘I am Grella, sister. I work for Dignait in the kitchens.’ Fidelma smiled encouragingly.
‘Are you happy in your work, Grella?’
The young girl frowned slightly.
‘It is the work I do,’ she said simply. ‘I was raised in the kitchens of the chieftain. I have no parents,’ she added, as if this would explain everything.
‘I see. You must have been saddened by the death of your chieftain, then, having been raised in his house.’
To Fidelma’s surprise the girl shook her head vehemently.
‘No … no, but I was saddened by the lady Teafa’s death. She was a kind lady.’
‘But Eber was not kind?’
‘Teafa was kind to me,’ the girl replied anxiously, apparently not wishing to speak ill of the dead chieftain. ‘The lady Teafa was kind to everyone.’
‘And Móen? Do you like Móen?’
Grella looked puzzled again.
‘I was uneasy when he was about. Teafa was the only one who could tell him what to do.’
‘Tell him?’ Fidelma immediately seized upon the phrase. ‘How did she tell him?’
‘She had some way of communicating with him.’
‘Do you know what it was?’ interrupted Eadulf eagerly.
The young girl shook her head.
‘I have no idea. Some form of finger-tapping it was said that both understood.’
Fidelma was intrigued.
‘Did you ever see it? Did Teafa ever tell you how it was done?’
‘I saw her doing it many times but I did not understand it. Perhaps it was just the familiar touch of a hand which calmed him.’
Fidelma was disappointed.
Grella held her head to one side in thought, as if dredging her memories. Then she smiled briefly.
‘I recall; she said that it was Gadra who taught her the art.’
‘Gadra? Who is Gadra?’ Hope sprang up again.
Grella shuddered and genuflected.
‘Gadra is a bogeyman. They say he steals the souls of naughty children. Now I must go or Dignait will be looking for me. I shall be in trouble.’
When she had gone they ate, for the most part in meditative silence. Eventually Eadulf felt courage enough to chance her displeasure by raising the matter which had long been troubling him.
‘Is it wise,’ he asked reflectively, ‘to purposefully arouse the ire of everyone?’
Fidelma raised her head from a contemplation of the food on her plate.
‘I hear the sound of disapproval in your tone, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ she observed solemnly, although there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Eadulf grimaced as if in apology.
‘Forgive me, but I feel that sometimes a little tact and discretion might achieve the same ends as …’
‘You think I am unduly rude?’ interrupted Fidelma earnestly, like a pupil seeking the advice of a master.
Eadulf felt awkward. He did not trust Fidelma in such a mood and shook his head negatively.
‘My mother once told me that you cannot unpick a piece of embroidery with an axe.’
Fidelma stared at him in genuine surprise.
‘You have never mentioned your mother before, Eadulf.’
‘She no longer lives. But she was a wise woman.’
‘I accept her wisdom. Sometimes, however, when you find a thick wooden door of arrogance closed against you, you have to take the axe and splinter it before you can talk to the person inside. Often common courtesy is mistaken by arrogant people for weakness and even sycophancy.’
‘Have you really splintered your way through to the truth?’
Fidelma held her head to one side.
‘I have managed to get nearer the truth than I would otherwise have done if I had allowed the doors to remain shut. Yet I would agree that the complete truth is still very far away.’
‘Then how is it to be reached?’
‘When we have finished our meal I shall seek out Dubán. Perhaps we can find out whether this bogeyman, Gadra, truly exists. If he does and is able to show me a means of communicating with Móen then we may be that much nearer the truth. If we can discover what Móen knows …’
