Fidelma let the corner of her mouth twitch in humour.
‘That, at least, is said in honesty, Venerable Mac Faosma.’
There was a knock at the door and Brother Benen returned. He looked nervous, uncomfortable.
‘Master…’ he began and then paused, looking from the Venerable Mac Faosma to Fidelma and back again.
The old man waited impatiently and when the young man did not speak he heaved a sigh of exasperation.
‘Come, come. Where is the book I sent you for? I do not have all day and have wasted enough time on this matter already.’
Brother Benen licked his lips and then tried to form the words.
‘The book… the book of Cinaed… it is… it is…’
The Venerable Mac Faosma frowned.
‘What? Can’t you find it? Where is it? Mislaid?’
Brother Benen shook his head.
‘I think perhaps it would be easier if you came to your study, Venerable Mac Faosma.’
‘Come to my study?’ The old man was indignant. ‘Can I not rely on anyone to carry out a simple errand that I have to go myself?’
‘If you please…’ begged the young man.
Fidelma rose.
‘Obviously something is worrying this young man, Venerable Mac Faosma. Perhaps we should all go…?’
The Venerable Mac Faosma rose abruptly, showing himself to be as agile on his feet as his physique indicated.
‘There is a way to my study through here,’ he said, not going the way that Brother Benen had gone but moving through his living chamber to where a tapestry hung. He drew it aside to reveal a wooden door, which he unbolted. Then he led the way down a narrow stone passageway and through another wooden door into a chamber that resembled a library, with many manuscript books, and a scribe’s tripod book stand. Tables, stools and writing materials littered the room. There were three doors, one opening, Fidelma estimated, on to the passageway in which she had declared her troscud, while the third was on the opposite wall. The remains of a fire smouldered in the hearth.
The Venerable Mac Faosma began to move to the wooden tripod book stand.
‘I left the book here this morning,’ he said with a frown. ‘It is no longer here.’ He turned to the nervous brother. ‘What does this mean?’
‘Master…’ Brother Benen pointed towards the fire.
The old man frowned but followed the line of his finger.
‘God look down upon us!’ he whispered, moving with surprising rapidity
‘I presume that was Cinaed’s book?’ she asked softly.
‘I do not know how it came there, Sister.’ Brother Benen was almost in tears. ‘At noon, the book was on the stand. I saw it there myself after the Venerable Mac Faosma retired for the midday meal. After that he always has a nap before resuming his labours. I touched nothing. I swear it.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma was standing looking down at the burnt papers in his hand with an expression of irritation.
‘Well, someone touched it and destroyed it.’
‘Is it the only copy?’ asked Fidelma.
‘No one has copied it or ever will,’ snapped the old man. ‘It was waiting for young Brother Faolchair to make a copy but now… now there will be no need for me to write a response.’
Fidelma smiled sceptically. ‘That is certainly true.’
The old man frowned and turned to her. ‘What are you implying?’
‘I never imply,’ Fidelma responded quickly. ‘If there is an accusation to be made, I will make it. What is being asserted here is that, between noonday and now, someone entered your study and burnt the Venerable Cinaed’s book. Why would they do that?’
The Venerable Mac Faosma raised his chin sharply.
‘There are plenty in this abbey who would be happy to see this work of treachery destroyed. I am not the only one.’
‘Those same people might go so far as to burn it?’
‘It would seem so.’
Fidelma looked round the room slowly, then went to the hearth and confirmed that the book had been well and truly destroyed. Only a few scorched pages remained, and they were beyond reading except for a few words here and there.
‘There are three doors here. Are they all locked?’
‘My assistant has a spare key to that door, the one that leads into the corridor. The door between my chamber and this room bolts on the inside of my chamber and I always keep my chamber locked so there can be no access from there. That door there,’ he pointed to the third door, ‘leads into the courtyard where I sometimes sit on summer’s days. A key on the inside always locks it. There is no access from there.’
‘You have the only key to that outside door?’
‘I believe so.’ The Venerable Mac Faosma frowned. ‘Anyway, there is no need to make a fuss on my behalf. It is best that the book should be destroyed with its vile insinuations and prejudice. I have no complaint to make.’
Fidelma was about to respond but then thought better of it. She merely commented: ‘I lament every time I see a book destroyed, as it means the loss of human thought if not of knowledge.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma assumed his sneering look again.
‘Then I presume you would be critical of our beloved Patrick to whom we owe so much?’
‘In what respect?’
‘I would have thought that a person with the knowledge you aspire to would have already read the life of Patrick as written by his disciple the Blessed Benignus, who was his successor.’
Fidelma smiled wearily.
‘I suppose you mean the passage in which Benignus admits that Patrick burnt one hundred and eighty books of the Druids because they were not Christian. Indeed, I deplore that destruction, for who knows what knowledge — Christian or not — they would have imparted to us? There has been too much destruction of knowledge simply because someone else disagrees with it. In a civilised world, there is room for all knowledge and the truth will eventually emerge triumphant over prejudice. If we do not believe that, then there is no hope for us. We might as well resort to living as wild animals.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma raised his eyebrows in surprise as her words ended on a note of vehemence.
‘Well, well, you do have a pretension to be a philosopher.’
Fidelma made a cutting motion with her hand to dismiss his words.
‘I have no pretensions to be anything other than what I am and I am content with being what I am. Even if you are not concerned with the destruction of what your own leabhar coimedach, Brother Eolas, believes is a valuable book, I am sure Abbot Erc will consider that a crime has been committed with its burning.’
‘And you, of course, will demand to interrupt my solitude and study by conducting an inquiry into that crime?’ jeered the old scholar. ‘I shall complain to the abbot and I shall protect my right to respect.’
‘Nothing I have done or said has been disrespectful to you, Venerable dalaigh and as sister to King Colgu in whose lands you dwell. I will not seek redress for that out of deference to your age, as you may have forgotten the rights and duties that you owe to the law.’
The Venerable Mac Faosma’s jaw slackened in surprise at her directness and the sharpness of her tone. Before he could frame a response, she had turned and sought the exit through the door into the corridor, which Brother Benen had left unlocked in his haste.
As she closed it behind her, she found Eadulf and Conri accompanied by a harassed-looking Abbot Erc hurrying along the corridor.
‘I am told that you are complaining because the Venerable Mac Faosma does not wish to see you, Sister,’
