the ancient ritual. The troscud was a means of fasting to assert one’s rights when faced with no other means of obtaining redress. It was made clear in the law tract De Chetharslicht Athgabala that, having given notice, she could sit outside the door of the recalcitrant philosopher. If he did not come to arbitration, if he allowed the protester to die on hunger strike, then the moral judgement went against him. Shame and contempt would be his lot until he made recompense. If he failed in this he was not only damned by society but damned in the next world. He would be held to be without honour and without morality.
It was an ancient Irish law that stretched back into antiquity and not even the coming of the New Faith had eliminated it. Even Patrick himself had used the ritual fast, or hunger strike, to assert his rights and the Blessed Cairmmin of Inis Celtra had declared a troscud when King Guaire Aidne of Connacht infringed his rights. Within the memory of some, the population of the kingdom of Laghin had declared a troscud against Colmcille troscud when their rights were challenged.
She had barely settled herself into her position when the door opened and the young Brother Benen re- emerged. He was red-faced and embarrassed, his eyes not focusing on her.
‘He will see you, Sister. He will see you under protest. But he will not see the Saxon brother. On that he is adamant.’
Fidelma slowly rose to her feet.
‘In that case, you may tell Brother Eadulf to wait here for me.’ She knew when to compromise. It was information that she was after and not dominance over the reluctant old man.
The Venerable Mac Faosma was, indeed, elderly but certainly not frail. He was a robust man with a shock of snow-white hair and a fleshy, red face. Had he been given to smiling, he could have been described as cherubic, but his features were sternly drawn with deep frown lines. The lips, though also fleshy, were petulant, with the lower lip stuck out aggressively. The eyes were a strange pale colour that seemed to change like the sea, one moment green, the next blue, the next no colour at all. His large frame reclined in a carved oak chair to one side of a smouldering turf fire set in a large hearth.
He watched Fidelma from under shaggy white eyebrows as she crossed the room towards him. He made no attempt to rise in deference to her status.
Fidelma did not register her feelings but went to a chair on the opposite side of the hearth and sat down.
A low, long whistling sound escaped from the old man.
‘You forget yourself, Sister.’
The voice was deep, used to commanding or questioning students; a voice that boomed throughout the room, resonating in the corners.
Fidelma was not cowed.
‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, sister to Colgu, dalaigh qualified to the level of anruth. What have I forgotten?’
She kept her voice mild but the challenge was unmistakable.
She had reminded the Venerable Mac Faosma that she was not merely a religieuse, but sister to his king, and holder of a position that allowed her to sit even in the presence of provincial kings without asking permission first. In this way, she also reminded the Venerable Mac Faosma that it was his place to rise when she entered a room.
The Venerable Mac Faosma cleared his throat to disguise either his annoyance or his embarrassment.
‘I have nothing to discuss with you, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he finally said.
‘But I have something to discuss with you, Venerable Mac Faosma,’ she responded evenly.
‘Nothing is so powerful in drawing the spirit of a man downwards as the caresses of a woman,’ snapped the old man.
For a moment Fidelma was nonplussed and then her lips began forming angry words but the Venerable Mac Faosma raised his hand, palm outward as if to placate her.
‘I quote the wise words of the Blessed Augustine of Hippo who argues that to administer the Faith we cannot and should not have intimacy with women.’
‘I am aware of those who preach this idea,’ replied Fidelma, controlling her irritation. ‘Nevertheless, it is a fact that the majority of priests here and even in Gaul and Frankia are married. Was it not Pelagius, the second of his name to be called the Holy Father, who decided less than a century ago that there was no harm in the religious being married so long as they did not hand over church property to their wives or children? In the inheritance of property lies the real reason for this idea that men and women who take to the religious life should not naturally join with one another and have children.’
Venerable Mac Faosma returned her bold gaze from beneath a lowering brow.
‘Nevertheless, there is a growing number of us who believe that light and spirit are good, and darkness and material things are evil, and that a person cannot be married and be perfect. Was it not the Holy Father Gregory the Great who pronounced that all sexual desire is sinful in itself?’
Fidelma snorted in disgust.
‘You mean that such a natural desire is therefore evil? Is it then suggested that the God we worship created such an evil?’
Mac Faosma made to speak but Fidelma interrupted him with a gesture of her hand.
‘While such theological discourse is entertaining, Venerable Mac Faosma, this has little to do with the reason I am here.’
‘I wish to make it clear that I am of the body that believes that we of the religious should live in celibacy,’ replied the old man stubbornly. ‘I adhere to the ruling of the Council of Laodicea that women should not
‘You have made your views known,’ replied Fidelma patiently. ‘But now let us speak of the matter which has brought me here.’
‘And that is?’
‘I believe that you are interested in the work of the Venerable Cinaed who was murdered in this abbey a few days ago?’
‘Interested?’ The word was a sneer. ‘The man was a charlatan and, moreover, a traitor!’
‘I believe that you often debated your views in public.’
‘If his ramblings could be held worthy of debate. I merely put the correct view lest he corrupted the minds of the youthful students at this place.’
‘In what way do you claim that he led his students into error?’
‘In what way…? In ways that you would not be able to comprehend because it requires someone who has studied philosophy to come near to such an understanding.’
Fidelma kept her features immobile as she sought to control her own temper at the arrogance of the old man.
‘Someone qualified to the level of anruth is not entirely devoid of intelligence, Venerable Mac Faosma,’ she said quietly.
‘Someone qualified as an ollamh might think differently.’ The old man sneered but scored a point for an ollamh was the highest degree available in the secular and ecclesiastical colleges of the five kingdoms. ‘What would you know of the argument of the concept of the Holy Trinity?’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed at the challenge.
‘I know that the term denotes the doctrine that God is a unity of three persons — the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit — and that Tertullian coined the term three centuries ago. I know that it has become an official doctrine in the Creed…’
‘Quicunque vult salvus esse…’ The Venerable Mac Faosma made the opening words into a question, challenging Fidelma to continue. ‘Whosoever will be saved… What is the prime article of the Faith?’
‘… ut unum Deum in Trinitate, et Trinitatem in unitate veneremur
…’ continued Fidelma in Latin. ‘That we worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity, neither confounding the Persons nor dividing the substance.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma regarded her carefully for a moment or two.
‘So you possess some basic intelligence?’ he said sourly. ‘Very well. Cinaed was a monotheist. Do you know what that is?’
‘That he believed in one God and not in the three. As I understand it, he would argue that Holy Scripture makes no explicit statement of the trinity. It was the acceptance of Christ as a divinity, at the Council of Nicaea —
