Chalice of Blood

enemy of him tonight in the refectorium. You made him back down in front of the brethren, and he knows they do not like him.’

Fidelma smiled and laid a hand on his arm. ‘Take comfort, Brother Máel Eoin. We are aware of Brother Lugna’s temperament.’

‘Before he came to the abbey,’ the hosteller went on, ‘Abbot Iarnla was strong and independent. Then Brother Lugna came with his strange ideas. Whenever anyone questions them, he says this is done in Rome or that is the rule of Rome. We cannot argue when we are also told that Rome is the centre of the Faith and where the Holy Father dwells. Brother Lugna persuaded sufficient numbers of the brethren to support him in becoming the steward of the community. It was afterwards that things began to change.’

‘And these changes are not liked?’

‘The changes have upset many of us and, I have to be honest, lady, it has been sad to see how he is usurping Abbot Iarnla’s position. The abbot seems unable to stand against him. We feel that it is Brother Lugna who is in control and not the abbot.’

‘Do you know why that should be?’ asked Eadulf.

‘It is as if Brother Lugna has some power over him,’ replied Brother Máel Eoin. ‘What it is, I do not know. But I felt I mustwarn you to be careful, lady. Be very careful.’ The hosteller turned and left them.

After a few moments, they rapped sharply on Abbot Iarnla’s door and entered.

Abbot Iarnla was seated in his usual chair, while Brother Lugna was standing to one side and a little behind him.

‘What was the meaning of your exchange in the refectorium, Fidelma?’ the abbot demanded at once. ‘I have no understanding of it.’

‘I think your rechtaire understands,’ replied Fidelma coolly.

Brother Lugna scowled, shifted his weight but said nothing.

Abbot Iarnla looked up at him with a trace of his old assertive self.

‘Well, Brother Lugna, will you explain?’

When the steward remained silent, Fidelma said, ‘Brother Lugna was kind enough to inform me, when we arrived here, that he did not favour my coming. He believed that this investigation should be an internal matter.’

‘I did not hide my view,’ Brother Lugna said sullenly.

‘You did not,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘But when the abbot overruled your objections and insisted I came here, that should have been an end to the matter, should it not?’

Abbot Iarnla appeared troubled again. ‘Of course that was an end to it. You have complete authority to make your investigation.’

‘Yet I do not think Brother Lugna shares that view.’ Fidelma was looking straight at the steward.

‘Explain,’ demanded the abbot.

Brother Lugna’s mouth was a tight, thin line.

‘What Brother Lugna is going to explain,’ went on Fidelma, ‘is why he went round to those I wanted to question and told them not to cooperate with me. He told them to answer questions as sparsely laden with facts as possible.’

Brother Lugna’s jaw rose aggressively. ‘I suppose the simpleton has been telling you a story,’ he sneered.

‘If you refer to Brother Gáeth, it was certainly not he who revealed this to me. And we find that he is no simpleton. I shall not tell you who it was who told me but be assured it was not Brother Gáeth. I shall not be happy if I hear some punishment falls on him because of such a suspicion.’ There was no belligerence in her quiet voice. She made a statement of fact.

Abbot Iarnla looked scandalised. ‘Of course nothing will happen to Brother Gáeth.’ Then he paused, again uncertain and nervous. He turned to his steward. ‘Are you admitting that what Fidelma says is correct, Brother Lugna? Did you tell members of our brethren not to cooperate with her?’

When the steward hesitated, Fidelma went on, ‘I thought the manner in which the physician responded to my questioning was extraordinary. A physician trying to avoid questioning by a dálaigh of the courts is unprecedented in my experience. I soon found out that he had been told to behave in that manner.’

‘But why, Brother Lugna, why?’ demanded the abbot.

The steward shrugged. ‘My views have not altered since you rejected my advice, Abbot Iarnla,’ he said defiantly. ‘This abbey has no need of outsiders poking their noses into the affairs of the community.’

‘This abbey is not independent of the kingdom,’ Eadulf observed. ‘It has to conform to the laws of the kingdom.’

‘What would you know of this, Saxon?’ The steward’s voice was taunting.

‘Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham is my husband and stands foremost among those whose advice is sought by my brother, the King,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘And he advises correctly. This abbey is not above obedience to the law.’

‘Many abbeys adopt the Penitentials and claim a right to their own rules,’ replied Brother Lugna.

‘The Penitentials again?’ snapped Eadulf. ‘They do not run in this abbey.’

‘There should be no husbands and wives among the religious, ’ retorted the steward.

‘But there are. There is no rule of celibacy in the Faith, even in Rome.’

‘Not yet.’

‘And it is to be hoped there never will be, for that would be to reject our human condition created by God,’ Eadulf returned angrily. ‘And isn’t that an insult to God’s creation rather than a happy acceptance of it?’

Fidelma suddenly smiled and laid a hand on Eadulf’s arm. ‘Indeed,’ she agreed. ‘But we are not talking about how we interpret the Faith. We are talking of the law, of which I am a representative. There is a set list of fines for those who try to conceal evidence from a dálaigh in a case of murder, Brother Lugna.’ Fidelma turned to address the abbot. ‘Perhaps Brother Lugna did not realise that a person who conceals or gives false evidence, or persuades others to do so, according to the Din Techtugad text, loses their honour price. Of course, if Brother Lugna can convince a Brehon that he acted in ignorance, the fines will be halved and he may keep half his honour price.’

Brother Lugna’s mouth was a thin line again, his eyes staring maliciously at her. He said nothing.

Abbot Iarnla spread his hands helplessly. ‘I am sure that if Brother Lugna did do what you accuse him of, he must have acted without appreciating the law of the kingdom.’ The abbot’s voice was almost pleading.

‘I am sure he did,’ Fidelma replied solemnly. ‘No one would be so stupid as to put his honour price in jeopardy. The fact that he went against your ruling as abbot is a matter for your internal discipline. I will accept that it was his adherence to hisbelief that made him think he was above the law and your decisions as abbot. So we will leave it with a simple reminder of the law. But now we would be grateful to Brother Lugna if he would accompany Brother Eadulf and me across the quadrangle to the guesthouse.’

Brother Lugna moved forward unwillingly. Then frowned. ‘Why?’ he demanded.

‘Because,’ Fidelma said softly, ‘a dálaigh has requested you to do so.’

They left the abbot gazing in dismay after them.

The waxing moon was now bright and they had no need of lanterns to cross the stone flags.

‘He is a sweet old man,’ Fidelma remarked as they reached the fountain in the centre of the quadrangle where she suddenly halted. ‘I do not want him to be troubled unduly over this matter of Brother Donnchad’s death. In order to spare him, I am sure you will cooperate with me now that my position here is clear.’

Brother Lugna breathed out slowly as if in resignation.

‘The sooner this matter is resolved, the better,’ he replied.

‘Then a few questions. How did you come to choose Glassán as your master builder?’

Whatever questions Brother Lugna was expecting, it did not appear to be that one. There was a momentary stiffening of his shoulders. He had his back to the moon and it cast too many shadows for them to make out his expression.

‘He was a master builder in my own land, in Connachta,’ he replied firmly.

‘Oh? I thought he was from the Kingdom of Laighin?’

There was an awkward silence.

‘What is it you want, Fidelma of Cashel?’ Brother Lugna asked sharply. It was the first time he had