and not just a divinity that was created but a deity of himself — that caused some of the early philosophers to conceive the idea of the triune God. As I understood it, the creed that was adopted at Nicaea simply accepted the idea of Blessed Gregory the wonder-worker from Neocaesarea.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma was nodding.
‘Challenging those learned Fathers of the Faith is to imperil the soul. Cinaed wrote blasphemous rubbish!’ he snapped. ‘ Qui vult ergo salvus esse, ita de Trinitate sentiat. He, therefore, that will be saved must thus think of the Trinity. Cinaed was wrong. Utterly wrong. Rome has declared that there are neither three gods nor three modes of God but that they are co-equally and co-eternally God.’
Fidelma bowed her head.
‘Of course, that must be the logical outcome otherwise the concept of trinity would deviate from the uncompromising monotheism of the religion of Abraham which Christ gave us a new interpretation of.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma stared at her in irritation.
‘We must accept the Creed that the Blessed Bishop Athanasius of Alexandria has given us, for it is specifically stated that except one believe faithfully, they cannot be saved. And will go down into everlasting fire… qui vero mala, in ignem aeternum!’
Fidelma smiled softly.
‘I would like to think that such a supreme deity would look more kindly on the beings he created with minds to question. I remember that the Venerable Cinaed also questioned the belief that this Creed was even penned by Bishop Athanasius three centuries ago. He claimed that the Creed is Latin in its symbolism and had Athanasius really been the author he would have written it in Greek. He argued that we have enough of Athanasius’s work to see the absence of the phrases that were dear to him. Athanasius would have used words like homoousion for essence or substance and not subsantiam, which is a Latin usage.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma gave a sneering laugh.
‘So, Sister, you claim to be a scholar of language as well as philosophy?’
‘I claim nothing of the sort. I have simply read the Venerable Cinaed’s discourse on the Trinity. All I claim to be is a dalaigh investigating his murder.’
‘And what has his death to do with me?’
‘When did you last see him?’
The question was suddenly sharp and caused the old man to blink rapidly.
‘The day before his body was discovered. I passed him in the tech — screptra. We did not speak. I have no reason to speak to a person whose views are beyond the orthodoxy of the Faith unless in public debate.’
‘You never saw him again?’
‘I have said as much. My servant, Brother Benen, came to me on the following day to say that Cinaed’s body had been discovered. That is all I know about the matter.’
‘So you last saw him in the library.’
‘I have said so.’
‘Speaking of the library, I believe that you borrowed one of Cinaed’s discourses.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma sucked in his breath, a soft sound, between his teeth.
‘You have been busy, Sister. Have you been asking questions about me?’
‘I was searching for that particular book,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Since you did borrow the book, you might be able to tell me why you did so?’
‘We speak of an evil text,’ replied the old man venomously. ‘More insidious than Cinaed’s usual prattling on religion.’
Fidelma folded her hands in front of her and leant back.
‘An evil text?’ she prompted. ‘I am told that this was a discourse on politics.’
‘Cinaed was an Ui Fidgente. This land gave him birth and its colleges gave him education and opportunity. Like a cur, he turned on that birthright.’
‘I think that you must explain what you mean.’
‘You are an Eoghanacht and therefore you will have no understanding.’
‘I am a dalaigh before I am an Eoghanacht just as you should be a
The Venerable Mac Faosma sat silently watching her, his expression fixed. Then he made a gesture with his shoulders. It was as if he had been struggling to respond and then decided he would let the matter pass.
‘Very well. Cinaed wrote an argument denouncing the chiefs of the Ui Fidgente, as he claimed, for betraying their true ancestry as Dairine by claiming to be Dal gCais, descendants of Cormac Cas brother of Eoghan Mor… I am sure that you, as an Eoghanacht, will know the genealogy of the family? Cinaed argued that it was the duty of the chiefs to pay fealty to Cashel and honour the Eoghanacht kings and not try to overthrow them.’
There was humour in Fidelma’s smile. ‘To an Eoghanacht, it sounds a reasonable judgement.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma scowled angrily. ‘To an Ui Fidgente, it is treason.’
‘Not so. Times have moved on since Eoganan raised his clans in rebellion and marched on Cashel.’
‘Our king,’ he emphasised the word, ‘our king Eoganan raised his clans to throw off the curse of Cashel.’
‘And met his end in rebellion on Cnoc Aine. Times move on. The current chieftain has made peace with Cashel and his choice of warlord, Conri, is proof that we can build a new life together and in peace.’
The old man snorted in disgust. ‘That remains to be seen.’
‘So you have borrowed Cinaed’s book which would welcome in this new era of peace. Why?’ Fidelma went on. ‘It was written some time ago and you must have read it before.’
‘Why would any scholar seek to obtain the book of another scholar?’
‘Perhaps you will tell me?’
‘I am currently writing a corrective to his arguments by showing that the Ui Fidgente are truly descendants of Cas, brother of Eoghan Mor, and of the bloodline of the true kings of Cashel.’
‘So you still support the rebellion of the Ui Fidgente?’ Fidelma’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Rebellion is your word, not mine. As you said earlier, Fidelma of Cashel, my duty is merely to the truth. I am not concerned to what use the truth is put.’
‘The truth as you see it,’ muttered Fidelma with emphasis. Then she
The old man sat silent for several moments, for so long that Fidelma wondered whether he was simply making a silent defiance. Then he raised his head.
‘Brother Benen!’ he called.
The door opened and the young muscular religieux entered.
‘Go to my study and fetch the book of Cinaed that you will find there on my reading table. Bring it to me here.’
‘At once, Venerable Mac Faosma.’
The old man turned back to Fidelma as the young monk hurried away on his errand.
‘After this, I trust I will be left in peace?’
‘Nothing is guaranteed in this life, Venerable Mac Faosma,’ she replied quietly. ‘I have to continue along the path towards the solution of this mystery no matter where it leads and whom I have to meet along it.’
The old man snorted again.
‘I will be honest with you…’ he began.
‘I trust that you have been honest with me from the start,’ she riposted.
‘I will tell you frankly that I have no sorrow in me that Cinaed is dead. Either he was a fool or, as I believe, he was recreant — a renegade and a scoundrel. The world is better off without such mischief-makers.’
Fidelma examined the old man carefully.
‘Such views can rebound on those who utter them,’ she said softly.
‘I thought you wanted honesty,’ replied the old man sarcastically.
‘Very well. You have been honest. Continue to be so and answer me this… did you personally encompass, or did you cause to be encompassed — by word or deed — the death of Cinaed?’
For the first time, the old man chuckled. It was a dry, rasping sound.
‘Now if I had done so, would I tell you? There is a limit to virtuousness, Sister Fidelma. If everyone were so honest, what need would we have of the likes of a dalaigh and from where would you get your stimulation and satisfaction in solving such conundrums as this murder?’
