Chalice of Blood

Fidelma continued to examine the scene carefully. When she had seen everything she wanted to see, she finally turned and picked her way from the area of the doorway. Glassán followed her. As they came to the edge of the new building, she saw the young boy, Gúasach, hurrying round the corner. He saw them and smiled a greeting to Fidelma and then spoke to Glassán. ‘Good morning, aite. Where am I to work this morning?’

Fidelma gazed at him in surprise. The term aite was one that denoted foster- father.

Glassán answered gruffly, telling him to report to Saor. The lad nodded, turned and hurried off across the building works.

‘You have young workers here, Glassán,’ commented Fidelma.

‘The boy is my dalta, my apprentice, under fosterage,’ the master builder replied. ‘In another six years he may be able to leave fosterage and start a career of his own in this art.’

‘Has he been with you long?’

‘Since he was seven, as the law prescribed.’

Most male children were sent away to fosterage, or altram, between the ages of seven and seventeen, when they reached the togu aismir, the age of maturity, when they had full responsibility under the law. ‘Fosterage’ was a keystone of society and practised in all the Five Kingdoms since remote times and by all social ranks. Fosterage in this context denoted education, since the fosterers were supposed to teach their charges the skills necessary for their adult life. Some were fostered for affection, usually because they were kin, and some for payment determined by law, depending on what class and degree the child was.

‘He seems a bright boy. Is he a relative?’

‘I am paid an iarraith, a fee, for his fosterage,’ Glassán said shortly. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, lady.’

Fidelma nodded and turned to make her way back to Brother Seachlann’s little hospital. Gormán was still there, sitting anxiously by Eadulf’s bedside; the physician was mixing some potion at the table.

‘I doubt if he will be awake before midday,’ the physician said as she entered. ‘Better to let him sleep naturally and deeply. Do not worry. I shall take care of him. After a good sleep he will be able to go back to his own cubiculum this evening.’

Fidelma motioned to Gormán to accompany her and left the physician with Eadulf.

‘Have you found out what happened?’ asked the warrior.

‘Only that something took him to the building site last night, that he tripped and hit his head on a post, knocking himself unconscious.’

They were making their way across the quadrangle when Abbot Iarnla came hurrying across to them.

‘I have just been told of Brother Eadulf’s accident. Terrible! Terrible!’ The elderly abbot was distraught. ‘How is he?’

‘Your physician tells us that he will make a good recovery after rest. There are no bones broken,’ replied Fidelma.

‘Deo gratias,’ intoned the abbot. ‘But how did it happen? I am told he was on the building site in the middle of the night.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Brother Lugna. I think he was told by Brother Máel Eoin.’

She was about to speak again when she saw Brother Lugna himself approaching.

‘I am distressed to hear the news of Brother Eadulf. I trust he is recovering well,’ he greeted them. His voice was entirely without emotion.

‘He is,’ Abbot Iarnla replied impatiently before Fidelma could respond.

‘That is good,’ Brother Lugna replied, still looking at Fidelma. ‘But what was he doing at that place in the middle of the night? Doesn’t he understand that it is dangerous to be wandering about such a construction site?’

Abbot Iarnla nodded in agreement. ‘That is just what I was asking.’

‘We think that Eadulf was looking for something and fell, that’s all.’

Brother Lugna was puzzled. ‘Looking for something? In the middle of the night and on the building site?’

‘I can only say that Eadulf had good reason to be there.’ She felt compelled to defend Eadulf. ‘You must indulge us while we investigate.’

‘I fail to see what stumbling about the new buildings in the middle of the night has to do with the death of Brother Donnchad.’ Brother Lugna’s tone was critical.

‘By time everything is revealed,’ smiled Fidelma, airing the old proverb.

Brother Lugna seemed about to speak further but then compressed his lips into a thin line and turned away.

Abbot Iarnla looked anxiously after him. ‘I hope you will be able to come to some conclusions soon, Fidelma.’

‘One cannot hurry truth, Abbot Iarnla,’ she replied in a philosophical tone. ‘There is more to be done and more to be asked.’

The abbot stood hesitantly. ‘You will keep me informed as soon as you know anything positive?’

‘You will be informed,’ she assured him solemnly.

As they watched Abbot Iarnla walk across the courtyard to the main abbey buildings, Gormán heaved a deep sigh.

‘I would say that he is a worried person, lady,’ he remarked softly.

‘I would agree, Gormán,’ she replied. ‘I think there is much to be worried about in this abbey. Keep your eyes open, Gormán. It might be helpful if you can pick up any gossip from the builders’ encampment. I am going into the scriptorium as I have a mind to ask a few more questions of Brother Donnán.’

She walked towards the abbey library. Behind her the work on the new buildings had recommenced. The crash of hammers against stone, the sawing of wood and the shouts of men filled the air. Inside the wooden scriptorium the noise was barely muffled and the scriptor Brother Donnán was wringing his hands in despair. He came forward quickly as the door opened but the hope on his face faded a little when Fidelma entered.

‘I was expecting Brother Lugna so that he could order the workmen to stop awhile. My copyists and scholars cannot concentrate at all. I have had to send them all away.’

Fidelma gazed around the empty library room. ‘So I see, Brother Donnán.’

Brother Donnán seemed almost about to burst into tears. ‘This is frustrating. Brother Lugna has made it a rule that no book or manuscript should be removed from the library so that I cannot ask my copyists to carry on the work elsewhere.’

‘But finding you here alone is good for me.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘I wanted a further word with you on your own.’

‘Is everything well?’ The scriptor’s tone was suddenly anxious. ‘Brother Máel Eoin came by and told me the news of Brother Eadulf. I hope he is not badly hurt.’

‘He is resting. He has a bad gash and bruises, but that is all.’

‘Well, that is bad enough but thanks be that he is no worse. It will be good for all of us when this building work is finished. It is so dangerous. But you wanted to speak with me?’ He gestured to a nearby chair and took another facing her.

‘Dangerous?’ asked Fidelma, sitting down. ‘In what way?’

‘During recent weeks there have been several accidents on the site. Indeed, I heard that Brother Lugna had to remonstrate with Glassán to take more care that no harm came to any of the brethren.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘What sort of accidents?’ she asked.

‘Falling timbers. Timbers that were not secured. Oh, and a stone fell from a wall and nearly hit Glassán himself. He was very angry.’

‘He was not hurt?’

‘No, but the stone narrowly missed him.’