‘Tell me, Berran, have you ever heard any rumours or stories about robbers in this area? Was this the first time you have been attacked in this fashion?’
The young man’s lips twisted in a spasm of pain before he answered. ‘I have heard nothing of merchants being attacked in this area of Bro-Waroch. There were stories of some attacks on farmsteads when we entered the peninsula two days ago. But there has never been any trouble before.’
‘Forgive me asking you again, Berran, but can you tell us anything more about the identity of these attackers? Apart from their leader, a slim man clad in white, you say?’
‘That is all I can recall.’
‘And you have no idea of where they came fr-’
‘Enough!’ The voice at the door was harsh.
They swung round to see Abbot Maelcar gazing angrily from the doorway.
‘Did I not make myself clear, Sister Fidelma?’ His eyes narrowed on her. ‘You are not welcome in the abbey precincts and certainly
Brother Metellus took a step forward. ‘It is my fault, Father Abbot. The people who attacked Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf at sea are the same that attacked Biscam and his men. I felt that she should hear what Berran had to say.’
Abbot Maelcar sniffed disapprovingly. ‘You dare disobey me? You knew my orders!’
‘Isn’t it more important to discover who these murderers are, than keep strictly to the rules of the community?’ Brother Metellus asked defiantly.
Abbot Maelcar’s features reddened. His eyes flashed with fury.
‘You still defy me?’ His voice rose sharply.
‘Abbot Maelcar,’ Fidelma spoke quietly. ‘We are in the presence of a sick man in the infirmary. If you wish to raise your voice, then we should repair outside and away from this place.’
The Abbot’s mouth opened in astonishment and he seemed at a loss for a moment at what he considered her impudence.
Eadulf knew that she was doing no more than obeying the law that appertained in her own land. The laws of how hospitals were run were very precise, and nothing that disturbed the peace of the patients was to be allowed within a certain area of the house where the sick were being nursed — no barking dogs or noisy people. He moved forward, slightly in front of Fidelma, facing the Abbot, and spoke softly but firmly.
‘I suggest that we leave poor Berran in peace and continue this discussion outside. It is too important a matter to argue over the dogma of rules when lives are at stake.’ He turned to the worried-looking physician attending him and smiled to indicate his thanks, although Eadulf felt that his anxiety was more for the wrath of the Abbot than care for his patient.
The Abbot turned on his heel. He was waiting for them outside, his expression angry.
‘I defer only to the sick man,’ he said, his tone harsh.
‘That is all we were asking you to do,’ replied Eadulf. Fidelma was surprised by his tone. He did not usually assume a belligerent manner. ‘As to the matter in hand, this man had important information about the people who attacked and killed the merchant’s company. From his description, it was the same thieves who attacked our ship and killed the Prince of Cashel, the cousin of the Lady Fidelma here.’ For the first time Eadulf had abandoned the religious title to emphasise that she was sister of the King of Muman. Before Abbot Maelcar could reply, Eadulf continued: ‘That means these murderers and robbers are based in this vicinity. And
But Abbot Maelcar did not seem concerned.
‘Nonsense. Why would they, whoever they are, attack this abbey?’
‘There are many reasons why an abbey is attacked,’ pointed out Brother Metellus. ‘For the precious icons, the riches of the goods bestowed on them and offered in praise of the Christ.’
‘No robber would dare attack the Abbey of Gildas,’ snapped the Abbot.
‘If they would dare attack and kill merchants bringing goods to the abbey and within proximity to the abbey, then why not attack the abbey itself?’ Fidelma’s voice was still soft but her delivery was studied. ‘If they would dare attack a ship sailing under the protection of a King’s envoy, why bother about a remote abbey? This matter should be brought to the attention of your lord, or his deputy, so that he may extend his hand in protection here in case of attack.’
‘Nonsense!’ Maelcar said irritably. ‘How do we know that what this man,’ he gestured to the infirmary, ‘says is the truth? A wounded man comes to the abbey with a story that starts a panic — who knows what his motivations are?’
Fidelma considered him with surprise.
‘I presume that you have already sent someone to the spot where this attack took place to ascertain the facts and see if there were other survivors too badly wounded to move?’
The Abbot raised his chin stubbornly.
‘I am not to be panicked into any course of action until I know the facts.’
‘You will not learn the facts by sitting here and quoting rules!’ Fidelma admonished him. ‘There might be wounded men out there dying for lack of attention. We must go to where this attack took place and discover the facts.’
‘I know the place that Berran was speaking about,’ said Brother Metellus. ‘It’s less than a kilometre east from here in a wooded area. It would be ideal for the sort of ambush that Berran spoke of.’
Abbot Maelcar was staring angrily at Brother Metellus.
‘I forbid you to leave this abbey,’ he said.
‘You may forbid Brother Metellus but you will certainly not forbid us from proceeding,’ Fidelma rapped out. ‘As sister to the King of my land, whose cousin, his envoy, was murdered, I invoke my right to claim the hazel wand of office from him and track down his murderer.’ As she spoke, Fidelma drew forth the hazel wand that she had been carrying in her girdle since she had picked it up from the deck where Bressal’s lifeless hand had dropped it. ‘I will appeal to the King of this land, who recognised the embassy of my cousin, and who was duty bound to protect him. I will assert my right. Now, if Brother Metellus will point us along the right path…?’
Brother Metellus was gazing defiantly at the Abbot.
‘Not only will I give you directions but I will take you there myself,’ he said, addressing Fidelma while continuing to gaze at the Abbot.
Abbot Maelcar seemed shocked.
‘Have you not learned humility yet, Brother Metellus?’ he asked. ‘Were you not sent to Hoedig to reflect and learn humility?’
‘Humility has nothing to do with this matter,’ Brother Metellus said.
‘The first degree of humility is obedience without question,’ returned the Abbot in a voice like thunder. ‘Does not the Rule of the Blessed Benedict say that as soon as anything has been commanded by the Superior of the abbey, no delay in the execution of that order is permitted. The order must be obeyed as if God Himself had commanded it. You will obey me without question.’
‘Obedience is never blind, Maelcar,’ the Brother said quietly. ‘Obedience requires the use of prudence in accepting rights and obligations. Decisions can only be made with knowledge, a free choice to do good and avoid evil. To ignore what has happened is to go down the path of evil and I will not tolerate it!’
‘Not tolerate…!’ exploded the Abbot, but Brother Metellus had turned to them and pointed the way.
‘It will not take us long to follow the path.’
They left the red-faced Abbot opening and closing his mouth like a floundering fish and not knowing what to do.
With Brother Metellus leading the way, Fidelma and Eadulf fell in step behind him. They said nothing, merely exchanged a glance as the monk strode before them, the hunching of his shoulders and bent head showing the angry tension in his body. For some time they walked on in silence until, finally, Fidelma remarked: ‘This will put you in bad standing in the Abbey.’
Brother Metellus looked sideways at her and his angry expression broadened into a smile.
‘It puts me in bad standing with Abbot Maelcar and those sycophants who obey him without question. I am not of their number. I believe in rules, that the religious life should be bound by constraints and authority, and I
