Chalice of Blood

‘What else can there be?’ she demanded petulantly.

Abbot Ségdae’s voice was sorrowful. ‘That, my child, is what I am attempting to find out. You and Eadulf had hardly returned here, to Cashel, when he left to go to the abbey of Rúan, while you remained here with your son, Alchú.’

‘Is there anything wrong with a desire to spend some time with my son?’ Fidelma’s voice was fierce.

The abbot ignored her aggressive tone and continued in an even voice. ‘Then you come to me and tell me that, after these many years, you wish to leave the religieuse. You must forgive me for thinking that these matters may be connected.’

There was an uneasy silence between them.

‘We have known one another a long time, Fidelma,’ the abbot began again. ‘I know that you are possessed of a sharp mind and it is your questioning ability that stands you in good stead as an advocate in your profession. I know, too, that it often leads you to question some of the tenets of the Faith. The Faith is not something that you can question and always achieve a rational answer — that’s what makes it a faith and not an art or science. It is not something that can be proven by evidence as in your law textbooks or even by rational thought.’

He saw Fidelma’s lips compress in a stubborn line.

‘I have told you, I accept the Faith,’ she said softly. ‘I am not questioning the Faith.’

‘Have you spoken of this matter with your brother, the King?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have. My brother Colgú has come to rely on my advice more often than before. It is known that the Chief Brehon of Muman, Baithen, is ill with a wasting sickness and has expressed his wish to withdraw into private life.’

Abbot Ségdae’s eyes widened a little. ‘And you would aspire to be Chief Brehon of your brother’s kingdom?’

Fidelma’s chin rose a little. ‘Not only aspire,’ she replied sharply. ‘I feel that the Council of Brehons would support me in that office.’

‘Baithen was of the rank of ollamh, the highest degree possible in law. Yet you-’

‘I am of the rank of an anruth, the second highest degree to an ollamh,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘That has never excluded me from being consulted in legal matters even by the High King, let alone provincial kings.’

‘I meant no disrespect, my child,’ replied Ségdae. ‘It is just that there are many others qualified as ollamh among the Council of Brehons of Muman. What will be their thoughts at being surpassed in office if your brother nominates you? Would they not say, ah, she is the King’s sister, and that is why we have been overlooked? Would that not sow seeds of dissension within the kingdom?’

Fidelma regarded him stubbornly. ‘If my brother is happy with the nomination, I cannot see why his people should dissent.’

The abbot once more gave a sad shake of his head. ‘There are times, my child, when you surprise me.’

‘I have come to you to announce my intention of withdrawing from the religieuse and to pursue my future as a lawyer unencumbered by other interests. As Chief Bishop of the kingdom, do I have your blessing or not?’

‘It is not so simple,’ the abbot replied firmly. ‘I must consult about this; I must talk to your brother, the King. To be truthful,I am not certain that I have been placed in possession of all the facts.’

Fidelma flushed, her body stiffened. ‘I do not tell untruths.’

The abbot held up a hand as if to pacify her. ‘I did not say that you have told me anything which is not true, merely that you may have withheld some information which, perhaps, might have made me understand your reasoning better. Perhaps you are withholding that knowledge even from yourself.’

Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘I have told you that which is pertinent to my request, and if that is not sufficient, then I can do nothing further. By your leave, Ségdae, I will withdraw, but let me say this: I have told you my intention and, with your blessing or no, I will fulfil my design.’

Without another word, she turned and left.

Abbot Ségdae sat motionless for a few moments, staring at the door she had slammed behind her. Then he stirred and, not for the first time, sighed deeply.

‘You heard that?’ he asked softly.

The curtain hanging over the door-like aperture into the guestroom’s sleeping quarters stirred and was pulled aside.

The abbot’s steward entered. Brother Madagan was a tall man with thin, serious features and dark, brooding, deep-set eyes.

‘I did.’

‘And what is your comment?’

‘I have a great aversion to placing a wild bird in a cage.’

The abbot frowned and then, as he understood what his steward meant, he smiled at him.

‘We have known for many years that Fidelma was her own person. She will not be constrained by anyone. Once she makes up her mind as to the correctness of the course she undertakes, then there is little to be done.’

‘Just so.’

‘But what if she is choosing the wrong path?’ queried the abbot. ‘Do we not have a duty to dissuade her?’

‘Better that she chooses it than she has a path chosen for her, which she then resents and comes to resent those who chose it. If it is the wrong path, she will find out soon enough and return. If it is the right path … well, why should we not encourage her?’

‘You are ever a good counsellor, Brother Madagan. I wonder if she has heard that most of the Council of Brehons favour Brehon Aillín of the Eóghanacht Glendamnach as the new Chief Brehon?’

‘I do not think that will disturb her ambition.’

Abbot Ségdae sat in thought for a moment or two before making a small grimace. ‘I still feel that something is not quite right here. I believe there is more to her decision to leave the religious than a simple ambition to pursue her profession in law.’

‘You refer to this separation between her and Brother Eadulf?’

The abbot shifted his weight in the chair. ‘Sometimes I think that those esoteric theologists who try to persuade us that celibacy is the best form of life for those who would pursue the religious cause are right. Sometimes relationships within the communities can lead to problems.’

‘Fidelma and Eadulf have shown not only their love and devotion to one another over the years but they work so well together on mysteries that would have baffled many. I need hardly remind you how they helped me when Brother Mochta and the holy relics of the Blessed Ailbe disappeared and-’

‘If there is anyone more indebted to Fidelma, and to Eadulf, than myself, I have yet to meet with them,’ Abbot Ségdae interrupted heavily. ‘I am well aware of the debt I owe her. It is that indebtedness that makes me worried. If there is some problembetween them, of which this declaration is a manifestation, then I must do what I can to see if a resolution can be found.’

‘How will you do this?’

‘I shall consult the King again. We have heard worrying news from Abbot Iarnla of Lios Mór that might become a solution to this problem.’ He paused, and then smiled as if in relief at his decision. ‘Indeed, that is what I shall do.’

Colgú, King of Muman, the most southwesterly and largest of the Five Kingdoms of Éireann, ran a hand through his crop of red hair and gazed at his sister with a troubled expression.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Abbot Ségdae is well within his rights to ask you to explain why you wish to leave the religieuse.’

‘And I have answered him,’ snapped Fidelma, pausing as she paced up and down in front of her brother, who was seated in his private chamber. ‘He should accept my statement and not start prying into my private affairs.’

‘You gave him your reason but even you must admit that there has been much public speculation since you