‘Well, there is little we can do since Laisre has already set the time for the negotiations. Colla will be on his way at that time.’
Fidelma raised a shoulder and let it fall in an eloquent shrug.
‘I fear whatever report he brings back will not add to our knowledge. There is something more immediate that concerns me. The presence of this cleric from Armagh. It is curious that he has suddenly appeared in this place at this particular moment. And where is he and his young scribe at this moment? Is he in discussion with Laisre on some matter to which I am not privy and, if so, why?’
‘Surely his presence cannot mean anything sinister?’ Eadulf was surprised at her suggestion.
‘Surely it can,’ replied Fidelma seriously. ‘This is an isolated community which usually shuns the representatives of the Faith. Yet now they not only send for a representative from Imleach, which is the main centre of the Faith in Muman, but we find a cleric from Armagh here as well. Not just a cleric but Ultan of Armagh’s own secretary. You already know that Armagh is the main centre of the Faith in Ulaidh. Thirty years ago Cummian, who was the bishop there, sought Rome’s blessing to call himself archbishop and principal bishop of all the five kingdoms. Imleach does not recognise that office. True that Ultan is recognised as Comarb, or successor, of Patrick but Armagh has no right here. And I have no liking for this man Brother Solin. We must be on our guard for I fear there is something amiss.’
Eadulf was surprised at her attitude but did agree that Brother Solin was not a person to be liked.
‘He is not a pleasant man. He is a sly person.’
‘Sly? In what manner?’ Fidelma demanded quickly. ‘Do you have some reason for saying so?’
‘He spoke to me in the council chamber while you were engaged with Laisre.’
‘So I noticed. I saw that you stepped away from him as if you had been insulted.’
Eadulf knew Fidelma too well to comment on the sharpness of her vision.
‘He tried to persuade me that my loyalty should lie with Armagh as the supreme authority of the Faith in the five kingdoms. He claimed kinship with me by virtue of the fact that we both wear the tonsure of St Peter of Rome.’
Fidelma chuckled softly.
‘And what did you say to that?’
‘Little enough. I thought I would let him have his say in order to find out what he was about. He was very concerned to try to make me accept that Ultan of Armagh was the chief bishop of all Ireland.’
‘As I have said before, Armagh is not supreme, though its bishop affects the title “archbishop”. The title our people accord to the bishop of Armagh is Comarb of Patrick; that is, the successor of Patrick, just as the bishop of Imleach is accorded the title of Comarb of Ailbe. Both Armagh and Imleach are coequal among the centres of the Faith here.’
‘Brother Solin seems to think that is not so. He told me that anyone who bears the tonsure of Rome should shun the company of those who do not accept the authority of Armagh.’
Fidelma was annoyed.
‘I know that Ultan has ambition for his
Eadulf thrust out his chin.
‘I restrained myself from telling him what I felt. I merely pointed out that Theodore, the archbishop of Canterbury, has sent me as emissary to the court of Colgú of Cashel and to no other king or bishop in the five kingdoms.’
Fidelma smiled briefly.
‘And how did Brother Solin react to that?’
‘He inflated his cheeks like a fish and his face grew red with mortification. It was then I stepped away from him and ended the discourse.’
‘Strange, though, that he should have thought he could speak to you in such a fashion,’ she mused.
Eadulf coloured a little.
‘I think he wanted to separate us,’ he confided.
‘In what way do you mean?’
‘I believe that he did not realise that we were old friends and thought that I was merely travelling with you. I think that he hoped to isolate you in your mission here.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘I am not sure. I believe that he was actually trying to warn me that it would be better if I travelled on alone rather than be with you.’
Fidelma was intrigued.
‘He made a threat?’
‘I do not think it was a threat … not exactly.’
‘Exactly what, then?’
‘He spoke in hypothetical abstractions so that I was unsure of his true meaning. All I know is that he means you no good.’
‘We will keep a close watch on Brother Solin, then. We must discover what he is up to.’
‘That he is up to something there is no doubt, Fidelma,’ affirmed Eadulf.
There was a short silence before Fidelma spoke again: ‘This feast this evening will be a formal affair so I am told. You know that there is a priority of places at such gatherings?’
‘I have been in Eireann long enough to know this,’ he acknowledged.
‘Very well. I shall be seated with Laisre and his immediate family simply because I am sister to the king of Cashel. I would imagine Brother Solin will be seated with the
‘I will do what I can, Fidelma. Leave that to me.’
Fidelma paused for a moment, pursing her lips in thought.
‘I thought this negotiation was going to be a simple matter, Eadulf. Now I am not so sure. There is something odd going on here, something beneath the surface that we must uncover. I can feel it.’
A hollow cough interrupted them. They had been so intent in their discussion they had failed to notice that a fair-haired warrior had approached them. The man stood a few yards away regarding them quizzically. It was the same warrior who had greeted Orla at the gates of the fortress.
‘I noticed you and the Brother standing here, Sister, and wondered if there was anything that you needed?’ he ventured.
‘No, we were merely taking the evening air before the feast,’ Eadulf explained.
Fidelma was looking at the warrior with interest, taking in his features for the first time. He was a strong- looking man, the fair hair was the colour of harvest corn and his eyes were light blue. He was in his early thirties. He wore an old-fashioned lengthy moustache on his upper lip which came past the sides of his mouth to his jaw bone, adding years to his age. He carried himself well.
‘Why do you address me as “Sister”?’ Fidelma suddenly asked sharply. ‘Those who do not follow the Faith do not usually do so.’
The warrior let his eyes meet hers for a long moment, cast a quick look at Eadulf and dropped them again. Then he glanced along the walkway as if fearing to be overheard, before placing his hand inside his shirt and pulling out something on the end of a leather thong. It was a small bronze crucifix.
Fidelma regarded it thoughtfully.
‘So, you are a Christian?’
The man nodded quickly and put the crucifix back into his shirt.
‘There are more of us here than Murgal the Druid likes to admit, Sister,’ he answered. ‘My mother came here to marry a man from Gleann Geis and when I was born she raised me secretly in the Faith.’
‘So when Laisre said that he wanted a church and school for the Christian community here, for those already raised in the Faith,’ mused Eadulf, ‘he was not telling a lie?’
The fair-haired man shook his head.
‘No, Brother. For many years our community has pressed our chieftain and his council to allow us a priest to
