A Prayer for the Damned

brehon,’ Eadulf pointed out.

‘A Saxon telling the king of Ulaidh how to obey his own law?’ sneered Brother Drón.

‘A dálaigh asking why the law was not obeyed,’ intervened Fidelma irritably.

‘That is something that the king of Ulaidh may answer and not I. In many places the Penitentials are displacing the old law and bringing our people into a true relationship with God’s holy ordinances.’

Eadulf looked nervously at Fidelma, knowing her fierce commitment to the law. But she said nothing for a moment or two. Then she asked: ‘Just to clarify this matter, Abbot Augaire made various representations to Abbot Ultán on behalf of the king of Connacht? When was the last representation made?’

‘Several years ago. And he was, as I have said, simply Brother Augaire at that time.’

‘And so the matter was forgotten?’

‘So far as we at Cill Ria were concerned.’

‘And is this argument the cause of the animosity shown yesterday between Abbot Augaire and Abbot Ultán?’

‘Being on different sides in an argument did not endear them to one another. Abbot Ultán considered that Augaire used his witnessing of the girl’s death to ingratiate himself with Muirchertach and his wife. Because of this matter he rose to the position of abbot at Conga. Abbot Ultán had two enemies here — Augaire and Muirchertach.’

Fidelma stood up slowly. ‘That will be all for the time being, Brother Drón. I shall probably want to see you later. I may also want to see Sister Marga and Sister Sétach.’

‘Why would you want to see them?’ demanded Brother Drón belligerently.

‘Why would you ask questions of a dálaigh conducting an investigation?’ snapped Fidelma. ‘This is not the first time that I must reprimand you on your attitude. You are in Cashel and we do not operate under your Penitentials.’

Once again Brother Drón swallowed and hesitated, and then he shrugged. After he had gone there was a silence for a few moments and then Fidelma glanced at her companion and smiled.

‘You are exceptionally quiet, Eadulf.’

Eadulf returned her smile and indicated with his head towards the closed door. ‘He is a vain, narrow and prejudiced little man. It is hard to hold a dialogue with such people.’

‘You are doubtless right, Eadulf. But at least we begin to build up a picture of this doughty prelate. It would seem that Brother Drón confirms that he was a bigot who could attract hate.’

‘I still do not understand how Abbot Ultán refused to answer the summons of a brehon. Surely the Penitentials cannot take any preference over the law of the five kingdoms?’

‘You remember what happened to you in Laigin?’ asked Fidelma softly.

Eadulf shuddered and nodded.

‘More and more we find some local chiefs and even provincial kings giving in to abbots who take it on themselves to adopt an alien system of laws that come in from the dregs of what was once the empire of Rome. They are harsh, with often physical punishments. I believe this is what is happening in the northern kingdoms of the island. Certainly, at some time, I will ask to speak to Blathmac of Ulaidh about it.’

She paused for a while, her fingers drumming on the armrest of her chair.

‘What now?’ prompted Eadulf.

‘Now?’ Fidelma paused and regarded him as if with some surprise. ‘I think a word with Abbot Augaire.’ He seems a central figure in the cause of this conflict between Muirchertach and Ultán.’

Eadulf raised his eyebrows for a moment as she moved towards the door. ‘You don’t want him sent for?’

Fidelma glanced back. ‘He is an abbot and is entitled to a little more dignity in treatment than Brother Drón.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

As they left the library to find Abbot Augaire, they were halted in the corridor by an earnest-looking young man. He was well dressed, of average height, with carefully groomed sandy hair and features that, while not of themselves unpleasant to look upon, were formed into an expression which forced the word ‘conceit’ to come to Fidelma’s mind.

‘I believe that you are Sister Fidelma?’ he demanded, the voice inquisitorial as if he were interrogating her.

Fidelma faced him with a grave smile. ‘I am Fidelma of Cashel,’ she said gently, reminding him of her other rank. It was a trick of hers that she only used when she felt someone was trying to be overbearing with her. ‘And this is Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

Even had the stranger been sensitive to this warning sign, he chose to ignore it.

‘Just so. When will you be ready with your defence? We cannot delay long and keep the Chief Brehon and the High King waiting.’

Fidelma’s eyebrows arched a little in her surprise at the question and she glanced at Eadulf. He grimaced at her to indicate his amusement at the man’s officiousness. She turned back to him.

‘And you are?’ she asked with icy sweetness and a slight smile.

The man blinked as if astonished that the question should be asked of him. ‘I am Ninnid, of course.’

Fidelma’s smiled broadened.

‘Of course,’ she replied gravely.

‘No need to apologise,’ went on the man in a confident tone.

‘I was not. .’

Ninnid waved his hand in dismissal. ‘We have not met, of course, so I suppose you would not recognise me.’

Eadulf had turned away to hide his face. He seemed to be trying to stifle a cough. Then he turned back, frowning as though trying to remember something.

‘Ninnid? Ninnid? I seem to have heard the name before.’

Fidelma was also trying to keep her face straight.

‘There was a Ninnid Lámhderg who was ode of the disciples of the Blessed Finnian of Clonard,’ she suggested.

‘But this young man is not old enough to have known Finnian, for surely he has been dead a century or more?’ replied Eadulf gravely.

Ninnid was clearly someone without humour for his face was irritated.

‘I am Ninnid the brehon of Laigin,’ he explained.

‘Oh.’ Eadulf put on a patronising smile. ‘You are surely young to be a brehon, even of Laigin.’

The young man looked uncertain yet he seemed not to know that he was being humorously rebuked for his arrogance. Fidelma realised that if he did not understand that, then it was pointless continuing the exercise.

‘What is it you wish, Ninnid?’ she asked seriously.

‘I am ready to prosecute Muirchertach,’ the brehon replied. ‘Are you prepared to defend him?’

‘I shall be ready to do so, but only after I have investigated the circumstances fully.’

‘No need. I have already done so. There is a case for Muirchertach to answer. The facts are clear and there are eyewitnesses. All you have to do is relay to the court what reason in mitigation Muirchertach has to offer.’

Fidelma swallowed hard. ‘Are you telling me what I, as a dálaigh, should do?’

Ninnid did not seem to recognise the warning tone in her voice.

‘I am sure that you would appreciate some advice from someone with experience of these matters,’ he replied calmly.

‘Really?’ Fidelma retained her temper with an obvious effort. ‘With due respect, no witness saw