and Eadulf returned from the kingdom of the Bretons.’ He saw Fidelma’s lips thin and the fire come into her eyes, and rather than wait for the storm to erupt, he continued, ‘You know it is true. It is no wonder Abbot Ségdae questions why you have made this request now.’
For a moment or two Fidelma seemed to be about to give vent to her anger but then abruptly she heaved a sigh and sank into a chair opposite her brother.
‘It has nothing to do with it,’ she said quietly. ‘At least, nothing directly to do with it.’
Colgú was very fond of his fiery sister and he had been increasingly concerned during the past two weeks about her apparent separation from Eadulf. He had also grown fond of the Anglefrom Seaxmund’s Ham. It saddened him to see an apparent rift in the relationship between his sister and Eadulf.
‘Can’t you tell me what the problem is?’ he asked softly.
Fidelma made a motion of her shoulder, a half shrug, but said nothing.
‘Since our parents died when you were little, you would always confide your problems to me,’ pressed Colgú.
‘As far as I am concerned … ’ began Fidelma sharply. Then she halted, compressed her lips for a moment before continuing in a more reasonable tone. ‘If you must know, Eadulf wishes to pursue his life as a religieux. He has accepted many of the teachings of Rome and his idea, when we returned here, was to enter a community and settle. He no longer wanted to be involved in my pursuit of law. He wanted us to settle and raise little Alchú in the service of the Christ.’
Colgú nodded thoughtfully. ‘He is set on that course?’
‘You know he has a good mind and yet he does not realise that he is not suited for a life of contemplation and piety. But he is stubborn. He will become bored with such a life, I know it.’
‘And it was over this disagreement of your opinions that he left you and went off to the community at the abbey of the Blessed Rúan?’
‘We argued,’ Fidelma agreed simply. ‘But I told him to go. Better he find out sooner than continue in resentment.’
Her brother grimaced wryly. ‘You told him to go? An order to a man such as Eadulf …’ He left the comment unfinished.
‘You know as well as I do that it was our cousin Laisran who persuaded me to join the religious,’ she said. ‘I am not interested in being committed to spreading the Faith but in spreading the concept of truth and justice under the law and obedience to it. With me, the law comes first and Faith comes second. That is why I have decided to withdraw from the religious and pursue my duties as a Brehon.’
Her brother smiled. ‘In the expectation that I shall nominate you as my Chief Brehon when the Council meet next week?’
Fidelma flushed indignantly. ‘I shall not try to persuade you to do so. You know what work I have done, so I shall let my reputation be my advocate.’
‘And what did Eadulf say to this?’
‘As I have said, he wanted me to give it up and go to the community of the Blessed Rúan with him. I told him that if that was all he cared about, then he should go on his own. He should respect my wishes.’
‘And what of Eadulf’s wishes? Should those not be respected?’
‘That is not the same thing.’
‘Not the same?’ Colgú queried sadly.
‘Law is the only thing that has really interested me since I reached the
‘If, Fidelma? Then what?’ Her brother smiled. ‘You are the last person to start playing the “if” game. Have you not said before that with an “if” you could put Tara and the High King’s palace in a bottle?’
Fidelma did not respond to her brother’s humour and moved her hand in a gesture of dismissal.
‘It does not alter the facts. I want to devote myself to the pursuit of legal matters. It has been my ambition since a child, what I was trained to do and what I have proved myself adept at. I shall leave the religious with or without Abbot Ségdae’s blessing.’
‘And with or without your husband’s approval?’
Fidelma gazed at her brother, the fire blazing in her eyes.
‘If that is the way it must be, then so be it,’ she said firmly.
There was a silence and then Colgú stirred reluctantly androse, turning towards the fire in the hearth. For a moment or two he stood staring down into the flames, one hand on the stone mantel. Then he looked at her over his shoulder.
‘Very well. I must tell you that I have discussed the matter with Abbot Ségdae. You are too good an advocate to be allowed to waste your talents. But that does not mean that I am certain to support you in your bid to become Chief Brehon. I will remain neutral and it will be up to the Council of Brehons to make the final decision.’
Fidelma was unable to resist a broad smile.
‘I will take the chance that they make the right decision,’ she replied.
Colgú frowned sternly. ‘Their decision is their decision. Meanwhile, there is something more important to think about.’
Fidelma was already turning for the door but paused now and looked expectantly back at her brother.
‘There is a condition that Abbot Ségdae and I have agreed should be put to you.’
‘A condition?’ Fidelma returned from the door with suspicion on her features.
‘You are well acquainted with the abbey of Lios Mór.’ It was more of a statement than a question, for Colgú knew the answer.
‘Of course. I have sat in judgement in the abbey on minor matters when Brother Cathal was in charge in Abbot Iarnla’s absence.’
‘But you know old Abbot Iarnla?’
‘I do, but not well. I have only met him briefly.’
‘This morning Abbot Ségdae and I received a messenger from him asking for assistance.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘What type of assistance?’ she asked.
‘Some years ago you may recall that you advised on accusations that were being made against Brother Cathal and Brother Donnchad of Lios Mór.’
‘Indeed. The Prince of the Déisi, Maolochtair, had begun to see conspiracy in every quarter. But he was old, though none would dare declare him feeble of mind. He accused Cathal and his brother of conspiracy to overthrow him. Cathal and his blood brother Donnchad were of a princely family of the Déisi. I advised that they should leave on a pilgrimage and not return until a more opportune time. They left for the Holy Land and Maolochtair died while they were away. I remember it very well. I hear that Donnchad returned earlier this summer, while Cathal decided to settle in some city south of Rome.’
‘That is so. Brother Donnchad has returned to Lios Mór.’
‘So what is Abbot Iarnla’s problem?’
‘Brother Donnchad was found yesterday dead in his cell. He had been stabbed twice in the back. Yet he lay on his bed, on his back, as if in repose, and his door was locked from the inside. The abbey is in uproar.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened a fraction at the news.
Colgú continued, ‘Ségdae and I have sent a message, telling Abbot Iarnla that you will be setting out tomorrow for Lios Mór.’
Fidelma did not conceal her sudden excitement. During these last weeks she had found nothing to pit her intellect against and she found herself bored with doing nothing. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at dismissing her daily play with Alchú as ‘nothing’. But it was Muirgen who usually nursed the child. She had also gone riding, of course, and for the occasional swim, but — she had to admit it — without Eadulf, there seemed little enjoyment in these diversions. She had even taken to asking Brehon Baithen if there were any courts in which she could sit. That was when she had learned that Colgú’s Chief Brehon was ill and was resigning his office. In eighteen days, the King and his Council of Brehons would meet to make a decision on hissuccessor and Fidelma had decided that she would put herself forward for the office. Now she could hardly contain her excitement at being offered such an investigation; if handled well, it could only enhance her reputation.
