Chalice of Blood

‘He is stabbed twice in the back but the body is lain on the bed in a position of repose. The door is locked and there is only one key that locks the door and that is found by the body.That poses the question of how did the murderer enter and how did they exit taking, we presume, the manuscripts?’

‘That is so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Then we have to consider the reason Donnchad gave for requesting a lock on his door with only one key, which you have mentioned. He was fearful someone might rob him of these valuable manuscripts. Yet no one ever saw them …’

‘Except Lady Eithne,’ pointed out Eadulf. ‘Why would she lie?’

‘Therefore we presume that the murderer stole them but how?’

‘And so we shall question the scriptor of this abbey as, if anyone in the abbey knows about such things, it would be the librarian.’

Fidelma rose and turned to the door of the refectorium with Eadulf following. To their surprise they found Abbot Iarnla waiting outside the door for them. He seemed a little self-conscious.

‘How did you get on with Brother Gáeth?’ he asked anxiously.

‘As you thought, he could tell us little,’ Fidelma answered. ‘It seems he has not been in the position of a soul friend since Brother Donnchad’s return.’

‘I thought he would have little to add,’ said the abbot. He stood awkwardly, looking at the ground, as if he wanted to say something more.

‘Brother Gáeth seems to have led a sad life,’ supplied Eadulf when the silence became awkward.

‘Ah.’ Abbot Iarnla looked up and sighed. ‘He told you he was of the daer- fudir?’

‘I was under the impression that once a person passes through the portals of a community, such distinctions no longer existed. A king who abdicates to enter an abbey is regarded as being on the same level as a céile, a free clansman, or a daer-fudir. There is no difference in class between them.’

‘Not exactly so, Brother Eadulf,’ returned the abbot. ‘Fidelmawill confirm this. An abbey comes under the patronage of nobles and the kings, who present the community with the land on which they build. It cannot be alienated and if the community seek to dispense with it, they can only do so with the permission of the noble or king who granted it to them. In this, as in all things, they are subject to the Law of the Fénechus and the judgement of the Brehons.’

‘Yet there is a new movement developing,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘The adoption of Roman ideas, where communities take the land in full ownership and are bound by the Penitentials rather than our own law. Abbots often regard themselves as powerful as kings within these communities.’

Abbot Iarnla flushed. ‘My abbey obeys the laws of this kingdom, Sister, in spite of …’ He was obviously about to say ‘Brother Lugna’s rules’ but he stopped himself. ‘You may assure your brother, the King, of that fact. When Brother Gáeth entered this community, he was released into our charge by the Lady Eithne as a daer-fudir. She said that the initial judgement came from the Uí Liatháin and it must stand; that was the condition. Only Gáeth’s death will absolve him from the liability that his father placed on him.’

‘Or by dispensation of the abbot,’ pointed out Fidelma.

‘Who can only act with the approval of the lord of the territory. ’

‘Doesn’t Brother Gáeth resent the fact that he continues to be condemned by Lady Eithne and yourself?’ asked Eadulf.

‘He told you that?’ asked the abbot sharply, for the first time showing anger.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘We detected a certain resentment but he did not say so outwardly. I think he may have hoped that his life would change when he entered the abbey, as it has for so many others.’

‘You were told his story? How his father Selbach slew a chiefof the Uí Liatháin and how he fled to Lord Eochaid of An Dún from whom we received this land?’

‘He told us.’

‘The Lady Eithne, the widow of Eochaid, allowed him to come here at the earnest request of her son Donnchad, but the law still applies. I have tried to treat him with understanding as I would any other brother here, but clearly he continues to feel resentful.’

‘Can you expect any other attitude given the circumstances?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘I suppose not,’ Abbot Iarnla reluctantly agreed.

‘And you say you cannot change his status because of Lady Eithne.’

‘She will not discuss it.’

‘Couldn’t a daer-fudir be given work other than digging the fields and similar drudgery? He seems sensitive enough.’

‘Sensitivity is not education.’

‘He says that he reads and writes and has some Latin.’

‘We have tested him and, alas, he is not proficient enough to undertake anything more responsible.’

‘Have you given him an opportunity to improve his ability?’

Abbot Iarnla nodded. ‘We are not insensitive ourselves, Fidelma. Indeed, we have tried. He has reached the level that we expect in a young boy. His ability to read is impaired. Beyond a simple level, he does not proceed. He used to get frustrated. Sometimes he threw tantrums like any child would. Brother Donnchad used to be able to calm him.’

‘He did tell us that Brother Donnchad taught him his basic reading and writing,’ said Eadulf.

‘You must have been worried that Brother Donnchad determined on Gáeth as a soul friend,’ Fidelma remarked.

‘It did seem strange that a man as intelligent and scholarly as Donnchad would insist on such a person as his spiritualguide,’ admitted the abbot. ‘But then they had been boys together and playmates. But I saw no benefits in Gáeth being able to give spiritual guidance to Donnchad.’

‘It seems a curious relationship. Did Cathal ever enter it?’

‘Cathal was older than Donnchad and did not have much to do with Gáeth.’

‘What happened when Cathal and Donnchad left on their pilgrimage to the Holy Land?’

‘What happened?’ The abbot did not understand.

‘What was Brother Gáeth’s reaction at the loss of his friend Donnchad? How was Gáeth managed if he had tantrums that could only be calmed by Brother Donnchad?’

‘Ah, I see. Certainly we had some trouble with him. He continued moody and uncommunicative. Once or twice I even thought he might try to abscond from the community. But Gáeth has been constrained by the law and by tradition most of his life, and in the event he knew he could not break with it.’

‘You mean he just accepted the legal obligations of being a daer-fudir?’ Eadulf asked incredulously.

‘I think he knew his place in the scheme of things.’

Eadulf was about to say something else when he caught a warning glance from Fidelma.

‘I am interested, Abbot Iarnla, as to why you seemed concerned that we should talk to Brother Gáeth,’ she said.

Once more, Abbot Iarnla became embarrassed. ‘I wanted you to have a chance to meet and discuss matters with Brother Gáeth.’

‘And now that we have?’ demanded Fidelma sharply, when he hesitated again.

‘Now that you have, did he mention when he last saw Brother Donnchad?’

Fidelma saw that there was some meaning behind the question.

‘He said it was two or three days before Donnchad’s death,’ Eadulf answered.

‘Then he did not tell you the truth. It was the day before Brother Donnchad died,’ said the abbot. ‘I saw him hurrying away from Donnchad’s cell. Brother Lugna wanted to start allocating the accommodation to some of our senior clerics here and I felt that I should inspect them. I was in the next cubiculum but one to Brother Donnchad’s when I heard his door open. I heard Brother Donnchad’s voice say, “I rely on you, Gáeth.” Then I heard Gáeth exit into the passage.’

‘Did Brother Gáeth reply?’ asked Eadulf.

‘He did. He said, “It shall be put in the place of the dead. Have no fear. It will be just as you say.” Then I