The Dove of Death

Domnonia claimed the kingdom. In fact, Judicael claimed kingship of all the Bretons and also descent from Waroch. So he named the kingdom as Bro-Waroch, the country of Waroch.’

‘I thought Alain Hir was King of the Bretons?’ Fidelma said.

‘He is the son of Judicael,’ Brother Metellus confirmed. ‘Judicael died about ten years ago, but it was he who merged the two kingdoms of Domnonia and Bro-Warwoch into one.’

‘You sound disapproving?’

‘I am a Roman. It matters not to me the machinations of these kings. I care only for the souls of the people. Meanwhile I am content with the simple life I lead. Alain Hir is a good King, so far as kings go.’

Fidelma smiled slightly. ‘If you have so little time for kings, perhaps you have little time for authority — hence your problem with your Abbot?’

‘Not so.’ Brother Metellus grimaced sourly. ‘Kings are, perhaps, a necessary evil. Before my own people sank into the stupidity of emperors, they had a good system — res publica, “affairs of the public”. Every year the people elected consuls from the Senate to rule them.’

‘And who were the people who comprised the comitia centuriata who elected the consuls, my Roman friend?’ Fidelma asked sweetly.

Brother Metellus stared at her in surprise. ‘Why, the citizens of Rome.’

‘But wealth governed a man’s ability to be part of this Roman democracy,’ countered Fidelma. ‘As the vote had to be made in Rome itself, the rural people never had a chance to participate. What’s more, the rich always voted first and separately — and as the declaration of the result was made on a simple majority as soon as the first section voted, the poor hardly ever voted at all. And consuls could only be chosen from the Senate, whose membership for life was already made from those patrician families. No citizen was free to address that assembly without the consent of the magistrates and tribunes, and they alone had the right to debate matters.’

Brother Metellus’ surprise turned into an expression of amazement. Fidelma felt moved to explain.

‘I spent a period in Rome and occupied my time — well, some of it, that is — in studying some of your legal texts, ancient as well as modern.’

‘You are saying that you believe our imperial system was better?’ queried the Roman.

‘Not at all. In fact, there were faults with both systems. Who your father was and what wealth he had acquired should be no gauge of your own ability.’

‘Yet you are the sister of a king,’ Brother Metellus pointed out, meaningfully.

Fidelma shrugged as if it were of no consequence.

‘Presumably you were the daughter of a king as well?’ he pressed.

‘It so happened that my father, Failbe Flann, was indeed a king. He died when I was a small child.’

‘So your brother succeeded him? Where is the merit in that?’

She tried to explain. ‘That is not how kings are chosen in my land. Our system also relies on who is most able in the family — man or woman — to be head of the family and assume the role of King. During a king’s lifetime, the derbhfine of the family have to meet and elect from their number the successor. They could be sons, brothers or cousins. My brother was the fourth ruler since the death of our father, chosen only after thirty years had passed and he had grown to manhood. No one who is not of mature age and reason can be a king.’

‘What happened to the others? Were they murdered by their successors?’ There was almost a sneer in Brother Metellus’ voice. ‘That was usually how it happened among our emperors. That is why I believe in the old res publica system.’

‘Death overtook them. The Yellow Plague caused much death in our lands.’

Brother Metellus was not convinced, scoffing, ‘And you claim that even a woman could succeed to be head of the family in your land?’

‘It is so.’

‘It would not be allowed in Rome.’

‘So I learned,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘In your republic, a man had complete control over his wife and family, like property. A woman could not conduct business but a man had to be guardian over her, although married women did not have to live in seclusion and could take meals with their families inside their houses.’

‘And your ways are better?’ challenged the Brother.

‘Our ways are different,’ conceded Fidelma, ‘but, on balance, I would argue that life for our people is, in many ways, better. But each society has to develop according to their beliefs and conscience. My argument with Rome is that what is good for Rome is not good for the rest of the world, whether imposed by the military legions that dominate the world or by the Church in Rome that tries to tell people how to behave even in lands far distant, with different customs and ways of looking at the world.’

The monk frowned ominously. ‘That sounds like heresy, Fidelma of Cashel.’

Eadulf grew suddenly nervous at his tone.

‘The churches of Éireann and of the Britons have different ways of looking at things, Brother. You must know that,’ he intervened, trying to mollify the Roman. ‘It does not mean to say that they hold beliefs that are opposed to the orthodox doctrines of the Faith, or beliefs which have been specifically denounced by the Church.’

‘Our Lord told Peter that he would be the one to found the Church. Peter came to Rome and was martyred there. So the Christian Church was founded in Rome. Rome is the centre of the Church and must be obeyed,’ replied Brother Metellus stubbornly.

‘That is not the way the churches of the east see things,’ observed Fidelma quietly. ‘Nor how the churches of the western islands see things. The Bishop of Rome is regarded as having a primacy of honour among the bishops of the faith, but not a primacy of power.’

Brother Metellus reddened in annoyance.

Eadulf glanced quickly at Fidelma and tried to indicate a warning. He knew that she loved discussion, intellectual argument, but if Brother Metellus was taking this as an insult to his beliefs, then Eadulf envisaged that they might be stuck on this island for a long while. However, Fidelma was oblivious to his attempt to calm matters. She was merely pleased to concentrate her mind away from the events of the last day.

‘What I mean is that the Church of Constantinopolis claims the same apostolic succession, celebrates the same sacrament and follows almost the same theology. Its own Chief Bishop is called the Patriarch whose title is from the Greek pater-archon — the “father leader”. That is almost the same title as given to the Bishop of Rome. He takes the name from the Greek pápas, or father, as well. Other places like Alexandria also have their Patriarchs who do not consider themselves under obligation to obey Rome. They believe in their independence. Are all the eastern churches in heresy?’

Brother Metellus thrust out his jaw pugnaciously. ‘During the last hundred years, the Bishops of Rome excommunicated the patriarchs of Constantinopolis from the Faith,’ he ground out. ‘Indeed, they have excommunicated the patriarchs of Alexandria and Jerusalem.’

‘And doubtless the patriarchs have done the same to the Bishop of Rome,’ countered Fidelma in good humour. ‘What does that mean? It shows they are all, sadly, too human. Instead of sitting down to debate their differences and come to a resolution, they resort to rituals of the supernatural as a means of exerting their will.’

Brother Metellus stared at her in disbelief for a moment and then, to the surprise of both of them, he burst out laughing.

‘I swear that I have not had a good discourse with a woman on the Faith in many years,’ he finally said, wiping his eyes. ‘You are truly learned, Fidelma of Cashel. I am glad I decided to fish you out of the sea…both of you, that is. I don’t agree with you, but I enjoy discussion. May we have many more arguments.’

‘Rather exchanges of ideas,’ corrected Fidelma solemnly, ‘for without exchanging ideas, how can there be any learning or progression?’

Brother Metellus glanced at the cloudy sky outside.

‘It will soon be time for the evening meal,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll see how the weather shapes for tomorrow. In the meantime, there are services to perform in my poor chapel. I would invite you to join me, unless your rituals would prevent you?’

Fidelma gave a small mischievous smile. ‘There is little difference in intent, and while we prefer to conduct