side.
In the centre of the library was a row of desks occupied by the copyists and scribes. Each had a wooden chair and a desk of yew wood, a plinth topped by a frame on which the book or manuscript page rested. A maulstick was used to steady the hand of the copyist. Half a dozen men now bent to their task using quills from geese or swans and writing on vellum or parchment. Other scholars, simply researching from the books, were using the standard writing tablets, wooden frames in which melted wax had been allowed to set. These could then be a temporary means of raibh, a sharp-pointed stylus of metal. After the notes had been used, or transcribed into the vellum books, the wax could be melted again and remoulded into the tablet to be used again.
A round-shouldered man, his arms folded before him in the sleeves of his robe, came shuffling forward as they entered. He seemed smaller than he actually was because of his hunched appearance. It was obviously the product of many years bent to his literary endeavours. He peered from one to another.
‘I am the leabhar coimedach,’ he intoned in a whisper. ‘How can I be of service?’
‘I am Fidelma of-’
‘The dalaigh from Cashel?’ interrupted the librarian, still whispering. ‘You are most welcome, lady. I saw you and your companion, Brother Eadulf, at the evening prayers yesterday. I know why you are here. The tech- screptra is at your disposal.’
‘Thank you. I take it that you are Brother Eolas?’ When the man bowed his head in acknowledgement of the fact, she went on, ‘I am interested in the works of the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘The Venerable Cinaed? Come this way.’ He led them to a corner of the library. ‘This is the section of original books and writings made by our brethren. We have had many scholars who have contributed to our library during the many decades of our history. See, there, that book contains the hymns of Colman moccu Clusaig who stayed here during the year of the Yellow Plague. He wrote many of his hymns here, including Sen De, the Blessing of God. Our master of song, Brother Cill n, became a great friend of Colman. If you have an interest in music, you must speak to Brother Cill n about his own songs before you leave. And in that volume,’ pointing, ‘we have some letters which the abbot of Iona, Cuimine Ailbhe, wrote to the Venerable Cinaed arguing about the dating of the Casc.’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘You Saxons call it Easter. I believe you insist on retaining the feast of your goddess of fertility?’ There was disapproval in his voice. ‘Abbot Cuimine has accepted the new dating that Rome has adopted. However, like many of our great scholars, the Venerable Cinaed disagreed with him and believed that Rome was wrong in its calculations. But Abbot Cuimine Ailbhe remained a friend of the Venerable Cinaed and sent him his own work De Poententiarum Mensura as a gift which is now in the book shrine there’ — he gestured to it — ‘as one of the great works we hold and-’
‘But the works of the Venerable Cinaed themselves…’ Fidelma
‘Of course,’ Brother Eolas replied, a little cestfallen. ‘Here they are.’ He indicated a shelf and picked up a writing tablet. ‘In fact, I have been making a catalogue of his works here.’
Eadulf glanced at the tablet. ‘It seems a rather long list.’
Brother Eolas smiled in satisfaction. ‘The Venerable Cinaed was one of our best scholars. He had many interests. I think that you would call him eclectic. He even wrote a discourse entitled De ars sordida gemmae, denouncing the local trade in precious stones, which he handed to Brother Faolchair to copy just a short time before his death. But his Disputatius Computus Cummianus is a classic and-’
‘And De Trinitate Interpretatio Perversa?’ Eadulf asked.
The librarian looked a little shocked. ‘You have read that?’
‘I know people who have,’ admitted Eadulf truthfully, trying not to look at Fidelma.
‘It is not well liked in some quarters of this abbey,’ the librarian said shortly. ‘He wrote far better things. His poems in our native tongue, for example, and his setting down of some of our old tales and historic traditions are regarded as excellent and-’
‘What of his Scripta quae ad rempublicum geredam pertinent?’ Fidelma asked sharply.
Brother Eolas gave a shake of his head.
‘You appear to be interested in his most controversial works. Ah well, we have them all here but, while the Venerable Cinaed had his followers, he also had his enemies as well.’
‘So we have now begun to learn,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘Do you have any thoughts as to why he should have been murdered?’
The librarian looked shocked.
‘Are you implying that… that he was killed by someone who did not like what he wrote? That is ridiculous. In this land scholars are treated with respect even when they are in dispute with others. Each has the right to speak their mind freely, to write their thoughts and discuss ideas without rancour, as have others to disagree whether in private or in public. Learning is not a matter to kill over.’
‘There is nothing that instils deep rage so much as a scholar’s views,’ pointed out Fidelma. It was something her mentor, Brehon Morann, used to say.
‘I refuse to believe that,’ replied Brother Eolas.
‘Never mind. Let us get down to the task in hand. I would like to read this work on government by the Venerable Cinaed. Where is it?’
Brother Eolas consulted his wax tablet and turned to the shelf.
‘It should be along here…’
He paused and frowned. Then he checked again.
‘It seems to be missing. And another of his works is not here.’
‘Missing?’ Fidelma used the word so sharply that several of the scholars in the library looked up to see what was amiss.
Brother Eolas frowned in admonition at her and raised a finger to his lips. Then he turned and waved to a youth who was carrying a pile of vellum to a scribe on the far side of the library. He caught the boy’s attention. The boy deposited his burden with the scribe before turning to join them. He was young and eager, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old.
‘Brother Faolchair, two of our books are missing.’ He pointed to the spaces. ‘They should be on the shelf there but they are not. Who has taken them?’
The boy looked at the titles that his superior indicated.
‘The one on trading precious stones is the one I have for copying. The other has been taken from the library, Brother Eolas.’
The librarian’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Taken from…’ he began. ‘How can this be? Only the abbot and… Who has taken it?’
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma sent Brother Benen for it yesterday morning. He has the authority to do so, Brother Eolas.’
The librarian paused and then shrugged.
‘Very well. Be about your duties.’ The boy hesitated, looking anxious. The librarian relented. ‘You are right, Brother Faolchair. He does have the authority to take the book out of the tech-screptra.’ He waved the youth back to his work before turning to Fidelma to explain. ‘In normal circumstances, no one is allowed to borrow books from the library. They are only allowed to sit here and read them. There were three exceptions… well, three until the death of the Venerable Cinaed…’
‘So the abbot and the Venerable Mac Faosma can remove books from the library?’
‘Just so.’
‘So if we want to see this book we should go to the chamber of the Venerable Mac Faosma?’
The librarian looked a little awkward. ‘He is reclusive and does not receive visitors.’
Eadulf chuckled. ‘From what I hear, the man is not reclusive enough to refuse to take part in scholastic debates in front of hundreds of students.’
‘Taking part in a debate on a platform is not the same thing as receiving people in intimate surroundings,’ pointed out the librarian.
‘It is a fine point that you are making. Is the behaviour of this man so strange?’ Eadulf smiled.
The librarian shrugged. ‘Let me say that all great men are entitled to peculiarities.’
‘And the Venerable Mac Faosma is, in your estimation, a great man?’ Eadulf asked pointedly.
Fidelma gave a warning glance at him before smiling at the librarian.
‘We are grateful for your help and may seek it again. You have a great library here, Brother Eolas, and I
