Chalice of Blood

your King. If Abbot Iarnla wishes to withdraw his request for my presence, let him do so and I will return to Cashel and report this insult to the King and his advisers.’

The blood had drained from the face of Abbot Iarnla, sitting at the side of the risen figure of Lugna. He seemed mesmerised, as if he had no part in the scene being enacted before him.

‘There are rules in this abbey-’

‘There are rules everywhere. Usually, the rules are agreed upon by the community and not imposed on them,’ Fidelma cut across him.

‘We are talking about the rules of dress among the religious,’ spluttered Brother Lugna. ‘For you to enter our refectorium in those clothes … that dress …’ He seemed at a loss for words.

‘You object to my dress which distinguishes me as the sister of your King and a dálaigh?’ challenged Fidelma.

‘I object to it as you are a member of the religious and should obey the edicts of the Faith.’

‘Indeed I do. The edict on dress is very clear. The Holy Father wrote to the bishops of Vienne and Narbonne that all the religious should be distinguished by their Faith and not by their clothing. We have it from the Holy Father himself that it does not matter what a person wears but how he lives his life and what his beliefs are.’

Brother Lugna frowned. ‘What Holy Father wrote such words?’ he sneered. ‘Name him!’

‘He was Celestine, the first of his name to sit on the throne of Saint Peter,’ replied Fidelma. Only Eadulf detected the barbed innocence in her voice.

‘Celestine?’ barked Brother Lugna as if she had uttered an obscenity ‘Celestine was but a …’ He struggled to find the words. ‘He was no credit to the throne of Saint Peter. Had it not been for that manipulative woman, the Empress Galla Placidia, he would never have been elected Bishop of Rome. He persecuted many of the True Faith because they held different ideas to himself.’

There was absolute quiet in the refectorium as the brethren tried to understand the meaning of the exchange.

‘I know who he regarded as heretics to the Faith,’ Fidelma replied. ‘And those he regarded as heretics are still regarded as heretics by the current Holy Father in Rome.’

Brother Lugna sat down suddenly in his seat. His mouth snapped shut and a series of emotions chased one another across his features; the predominant one was anger. A hum of voices began to rise across the hall. Fidelma had clearly made some point that had reduced Brother Lugna to silence but no one was sure what point had been made.

Abbot Iarnla took the opportunity to rise to his feet and bang his staff of office on the floor beside him.

‘Tacet!’ He commanded silence. ‘This is a prainntech.’ He flushed, glanced at his steward and corrected himself. ‘A refectorium where we gather to feed our bodies just as we gather in the chapel to feed our souls. It is no place for debates on the Faith.’

‘In view of the objections raised by your steward,’ Fidelma said, not letting the matter go, ‘does the request you sent to my brother, the King, remain your request, or do you wish me to return to Cashel?’

Abbot Iarnla glanced quickly at Brother Lugna before he replied. ‘Fidelma of Cashel, you and your companions are guests here at my invitation as abbot, by special request to your brother, the King, and his advisers. Be seated with your companions but I would urge you, for the future, to seek an accommodation of compliance with the rules of our community.’

Fidelma bowed gravely to the abbot. ‘I will do my best to do so. We will discuss the matter after the meal in your chamber in, of course, the presence of the steward.’

She turned before he could reply and seated herself. Her companions followed suit. Suddenly the silence erupted into loud conversation. Glassán, the builder, was still staring at her open-mouthed. At his side Saor watched her nervously.

‘Are you truly the sister of King Colgú?’ Glassán stammered after a moment or two. ‘Are you Fidelma of Cashel of whom we have heard so many stories?’

‘Yes, this is Fidelma of Cashel,’ Gormán announced proudly before she could answer. ‘And you have also doubtless heard of her companion, Eadulf.’

‘I did not know,’ confessed the builder. ‘I heard only that an advocate of the law was coming to investigate the death here.’

Fidelma was about to say that it was of no consequence, but of course she had made if of consequence in order to find out what she wanted to know. Her action had been overly dramatic but perhaps it would bear fruit in the long run; it had already provided an answer to her suspicion about Brother Lugna.

Glassán now seemed nervous. He glanced at his plate, pushed it away unfinished, then rose quickly and glanced at his assistant, Saor.

‘Forgive us,’ he mumbled, ‘there is something we must examine at the works before the light totally fades.’

He turned from the table. Saor, apparently unwillingly, followed, but not before he had grabbed a piece of bread and a lump of cheese.

Gormán watched them leaving with a broad smile. ‘What a pity we did not tell him who you were on the first evening, lady. We might have been spared the lecture on the joys of being a master builder. He obviously has an aversion to relatives of kings. Maybe his former association with the King of Laighin is to blame.’

Fidelma was looking thoughtful. ‘Perhaps you are right, Gormán. But remember this, there is much to be learned from a conversation with even the most boring of people.’

Eadulf cleared his throat. ‘Speaking of which, I am not sure I learnt anything from your exchange with Brother Lugna. That is, apart from what we had already realised, that poor Abbot Iarnla seems to be totally under his thumb.’

‘The abbot does occasionally show flashes of his old self,’Fidelma replied. ‘We must hope that he has not abandoned himself entirely to Brother Lugna’s control.’

‘But what about this pantomime of your dress? You do not usually assert your rank and authority of birth so blatantly. In fact, you only do so when you feel that the person needs to be put in his place …’ Eadulf paused and smiled. ‘So you were attempting to put Brother Lugna in his place?’

‘Not entirely. But I have a suspicion about Brother Lugna that I wanted to put to the test,’ she replied, helping herself to a bowl of hot vegetable soup.

‘And did that exchange confirm it?’

‘I think it did,’ she said. ‘Between us, my exchange confirmed to me that he is of a heretical sect. But I will keep the detail to myself a while longer. The main thing to remember is that Brother Lugna is a fanatic and tolerates no dissension.’

‘I dislike the man anyway,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘I still think we should be treating him as a suspect.’

‘Dislike him or not, suspect or not, Brother Lugna is steward of the abbey. It is best that he knows where he stands with us.’

After the meal and the blessing from the abbot, Gormán leaned forward.

‘Shall I come with you to see the abbot, lady?’ he asked quietly. ‘You may need …’ He tapped a finger on his belt where his sword should have hung.

Fidelma pretended shock. ‘Heavens, no! I do not mean to start a war. This is simply an essay in diplomacy.’

‘Diplomacy?’ Gormán grunted in surprise. ‘I did not think so, the way you responded to the steward.’

‘Don’t worry, Gormán. If you are needed, I will call you. But Eadulf will be with me.’

Eadulf had no understanding what was in Fidelma’s mind. He felt it better to hold his peace and see what happened rather than show his ignorance by asking her what she intended.

The abbot and the steward had disappeared by the time Fidelma and Eadulf left the refectorium, so Fidelma led the way to the abbot’s chambers. Outside, lurking in the shadow of the building, they found Brother Máel Eoin. The hosteller came forward, until the light of the lantern hanging over the door illuminated his features. He placed a finger against his lips. With outstretched hand he drew Fidelma and Eadulf aside and spoke in a whisper.

‘I just wanted to warn you about Brother Lugna, lady,’ he said. ‘He is not a … nice person. You made an