the abbot said immediately. ‘That is his right, you know, and-’
Fidelma halted as they came up.
‘I have seen and questioned the Venerable Mac Faosma,’ she said shortly.
‘Moreover, it seems that after the etar-suth, the book that he took from the tech-screptra, Cinaed’s political discourse, was deliberately burnt in his study.’
Eadulf’s eyes widened.
‘You mean that he burnt it?’
‘I simply state the fact. I do not accuse anyone — yet.’
Abbot Erc’s harassed expression grew more intent.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma is a scholar. Why would he want to burn a book?’
Fidelma glanced at the abbot pityingly.
‘Mac Faosma was not exactly an admirer of Cinaed,’ she said with a touch of derision. ‘This work, especially, seems to have upset the old man.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ The abbot was tight-mouthed.
‘Nothing, as yet. The Venerable Mac Faosma has adopted an attitude that is totally hostile to my inquiries. But, for the time being, I shall keep an open mind on what has happened here. Anyway, tomorrow we shall be leaving Ard Fhearta to pursue the matter of the missing members of this community.’
The abbot looked almost relieved for a moment and then his expression grew serious.
‘Do you mean that you have given up trying to find the person who killed the Venerable Cinaed?’
Fidelma immediately shook her head.
‘I do not mean that. I mean that I shall seek some other line of investigation to achieve that end. I shall come to your chamber before the evening meal and bring you up to date with our inquiry before we leave.’
Abbot Erc hesitated and then realised that he had been dismissed. He inclined his head briefly and turned and shuffled away.
Fidelma saw that Eadulf was about to open his mouth and raised a finger to her lips with a frown, indicating with her head towards the closed door of the Venerable Mac Faosma’s study. She glanced at Conri.
‘Let us find a more comfortable place to talk,’ she suggested.
Conri pointed along the corridor and led them down it, through a side door and on to the path to the chapel. The chapel was deserted but its gloom was relieved with candles. They seated themselves in a corner on a bench.
‘Well?’ demanded Eadulf.
Fidelma sketched out her interview with the Venerable Mac Faosma.
There was a brief silence before Eadulf said: ‘So you think that this Mac Faosma took Cinaed’s book and burnt it because he disagreed with it?’
‘It is possible.’
‘And if he is capable of that he might also be capable of killing Cinaed?’
Fidelma grimaced in agreement.
‘It is possible again, but we need more than suspicion to proceed. What I do know is that he is an unrepentant supporter of the Ui Fidgente chief Eoganan.’ She turned to Conri. ‘I know that you are desirous of peace between the Ui Fidgente and the rest of Muman. Let me speak, however, as a dalaigh rather than as an Eoghanacht. Even since Eoganan’s death at Cnoc Aine, I presume that many of the Ui Fidgente are still opposed to my brother’s rule?’
Conri looked slightly embarrassed.
‘There are many, lady. All it needs is a strong leader and the people could easily rise up and be led again down the wrong path into more violence and bloodshed.’
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma might be such a leader?’ queried Eadulf.
Conri shook his head.
‘Such a leader would have to be more of a warrior than a scholar. And one born from the line of Brion, one of our great chieftains. Mac Faosma, as his name suggests, is not of any noble line. Since Eoganan was slain,
‘I do not understand.’ Eadulf frowned. ‘I mean, your reference to Mac Faosma’s name?’
It was Fidelma who explained.
‘It means “son of protection”, which implies that he was someone who was adopted because there was no one left in his blood family to raise him.’
‘Exactly. For someone to gain enough authority with the Ui Fidgente to become leader, they have to have a direct bloodline connection with our chief family. Eoganan’s line, as I say, was virtually wiped out.’
‘Then how was this Donennach accepted as your ruler?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘Because the genealogists could trace Donennach’s descent nine generations back to Brion. Eoganan descended from another son of Br on.’
‘So such a leader might exist, someone else descended from this Brion?’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘And Mac Faosma could be the catalyst trying to stir things?’
‘Both are possible,’ admitted Conri. ‘But I fail to see anyone who is popular enough to attempt to overthrow Donennach.’
Eadulf grinned sourly.
‘A few months ago Uaman might have been that man,’ he pointed out.
Conri sniffed.
‘Uaman the Leper, even living, would not have been accepted under our law,’ he reminded him. ‘A chieftain must be a man without blemish, physical or mental.’
‘Anyway, we might be travelling down a wrong road in considering this,’ Fidelma suddenly intervened. ‘Perhaps the argument over the Ui Fidgente between Mac Faosma and Cinaed has nothing to do with Cinaed’s murder. All I have put forward is that some strong emotions existed between Mac Faosma and Cinaed. We should not discount them.’
Eadulf sighed. ‘So where do we turn now in this matter? You told the abbot that we shall be leaving Ard Fhearta. To go where? Where do we start searching for the missing members of this community?’
‘At the place where they disappeared, in the lands of the Corco Duibhne,’ Fidelma replied. ‘I propose to ask Mugron to take us there when he sails. He told me he was due to go there within the next day or so.’
‘Have you given up on the murder of Cinaed?’
Fidelma frowned in annoyance. Abbot Erc had made a similar suggestion and she had wondered, for a moment, whether it had been made with desire.
‘I never give up on a task half finished. You know that, Eadulf. We can leave Ard Fhearta as soon as the weather is good and Mugron is prepared to sail. Meanwhile, I have not, as yet, questioned Sister Sinnchene or Sister Buan.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fidelma sent Conri to see Mugron, the merchant, in order to make arrangements for the voyage to the land of the Corco Duibhne when he was ready. After he had departed on his errand, she and Eadulf went in search of Sister Buan. They found her in the chambers where the Venerable Cinaed had lived and worked. It was soon obvious that these were Sister Buan’s living quarters as well.
Sister Buan was a fairly plain-looking woman, of an indiscernible age, although Eadulf judged her to be about forty years. She was a slight but sharp-faced woman with somewhat rounded shoulders, corn-coloured hair and bright blue eyes. Her features could have been pleasant had she allowed a smile to sit upon them. Now those features were moulded into an expression of sorrow, the eyes red-rimmed. She bore her grief in every line of her face and movement of her body.
When she opened the door to admit Fidelma and Eadulf she showed no surprise and did not question why they had come.
‘I have been expecting you,’ she said simply, as she stood aside to admit them into the chambers. ‘You are the dalaigh from Cashel and you are her Saxon companion. You were pointed out to me last night in the refectory.
