Chalice of Blood

She turned back to the chair she had risen from, near the fire.

‘Close the door, Eadulf. Come and sit down.’ She waited until he was seated before continuing. ‘I am sure,’ she said simply. ‘This is what I must do.’

‘The status of a religious is not to be abandoned lightly,’ Eadulf observed with some sadness.

‘You know that I have never had any inclination to be a proselytiser of the Faith, to preach or teach, nor to spend my days in isolated contemplation or worship. I am a lawyer, Eadulf. That is my role in life.’

‘But being of the religious gives one security and status,’ he protested in a half-hearted fashion, aware that they had had this conversation many times.

For a moment her eyes flashed. ‘I am a princess of the Eóghanacht. I am a dálaigh of the law courts of the Five Kingdoms. You know that I am no longer in need of such status.’

Eadulf nodded slowly. ‘And soon you will be claiming the office of Chief Brehon of your brother’s kingdom.’

‘Who told you that?’ Fidelma’s voice was sharp.

Eadulf smiled briefly, without real expression. ‘If you have taught me nothing else, you have taught me how to make a logical deduction. Once I heard that Brehon Baithen was ill and that the Council of Brehons will soon meet to discuss his successor, well …’ He ended with a slight motion of his left shoulder as if to dismiss it. ‘Has Abbot Ségdae given you his blessing?’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘Not immediately. He suspects my leaving might have something to do with us.’

Eadulf’s brow wrinkled. ‘With us? I do not follow.’

‘Because we have separated he thinks …’ It was her turn to shrug.

‘He looks for cause and effect,’ Eadulf reflected. ‘That is logical.’

‘But not accurate,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Anyway, whether I have his approval or not, and whether I secure the office of my brother’s chief legal adviser or not, I am determined to follow my career in law.’

‘I suppose it was silly of me to think that I could change you,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘During these last weeks, I have cometo realise that the cause of most of the problems in this world is the desire to change other people, to make them think as we think, or behave as we do. Quid existis in desertum videre … hominem mollibus vestitum?’

It took her a moment before she realised that he was paraphrasing the Gospel of Matthew: ‘What went you out into the wilderness to see? A man clothed in soft raiment?’ In other words, one shouldn’t judge others by one’s own standards.

‘I will not attempt to put any further constraints on you, Fidelma,’ he went on. ‘You must do what you think best. And I … I must give thought to what I must do to fulfil my path in life.’

She stared at him in surprise. And suddenly she felt sorry for him. He looked very tired and resigned.

Then she mentally shook herself. She did not want to go down the path of discussing what thoughts he might have — at least, not yet.

‘Have you seen my brother yet?’

‘I have seen him and Abbot Ségdae.’

‘And you were interested enough in their proposal to come back to Cashel?’

‘Your brother is King and his proposal was more of a summons than a request. I think I have been able to reassure Ségdae that his suspicion was wrong. That your decision to leave the religious was made a long time ago.’

‘So what do you think of their plan that we undertake the investigation at Lios Mór?’

‘At first I was inclined to think that your brother was hatching some plot to bring us together but apparently the news of the murder of Brother Donnchad of Lios Mór is true.’

‘There still might be a motive in my brother’s thinking.’ Fidelma grimaced. ‘Nevertheless, you are right. It is true that Brother Donnchad has been murdered and the abbot hasrequested help in resolving the matter.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you prepared to work with me on this mystery?’

‘I came here in answer to your brother’s summons,’ said Eadulf. ‘But whether I work with you or not is entirely your decision. I have told him that I will not impose myself where I am not wanted.’

She glanced at his determined features and suddenly smiled softly. ‘In these matters, we have always worked well together, Eadulf. I am not averse to your aid; in fact, I would more than welcome it.’

There was a moment of embarrassed silence.

‘Then I shall accompany you,’ Eadulf said after a while. ‘If we are to set out for Lios Mór tomorrow at first light, I must find somewhere to sleep.’

‘Muirgen will fix you up a bed in little Alchú’s chamber,’ Fidelma replied. ‘He has been asking for his father this last week and will be pleased to see you. Did you come here by foot or by horse?’

‘By horse, as it was the King’s summons.’

‘A good horse? It is a long ride tomorrow and, as you will recall, there are some steep mountain roads to climb before we reach Lios Mór.’

‘You know me and horses, Fidelma,’ Eadulf returned. ‘I had a loan of this animal from a local farmer to whom I have promised to return it.’

Eadulf knew that Fidelma was an expert horsewoman. She had ridden almost before she had begun to walk, and so he was happy to leave the matter in her capable hands. Eadulf was never comfortable riding, although he had greatly improved in recent years but he still knew little about horses.

‘Then you go to see Alchú and tell Muirgen to make you up a bed. I will go to the stables to look at your animal. We have several horses that can replace it if it is not suitable.’

They rose together and Fidelma went to the door and opened it. She paused and suddenly turned with a quick smile.

‘I am glad that you are coming with me,’ she said softly.

For the first time in weeks Eadulf felt happy. He realised that he felt comfortable, at ease, being back in the familiar apartments they had shared for so long. He had a momentary feeling of having come home. That was stupid, he reminded himself. Cashel was not his home. Yet there was no denying how he felt. He regretted the argument that he had had with Fidelma, which had developed out of proportion to what he had wanted to say to her. Yet once heated words were exchanged, matters seemed to be out of his control. In the years he had been with Fidelma he had come to realise that she would never do what she did not want to do, what she thought was wrong. He regretted his attempt to make her do so. He had felt contrition for his action almost from the moment he left Cashel.

What had it all been about?

Pride, he supposed. He had never fully accepted that he was not considered equal in law with Fidelma in her own land. He had once been an hereditary gerefa, son of a magistrate of his own people, the Angles, and Fidelma would not have been considered his equal in the land of the South Folk, had they settled there. He had known this long before he entered into a relationship with her and had been happy to make the decision that they would settle in her brother’s kingdom. But that pride, that resentment, had become a small quibbling voice at the back of his mind. He had begun to think that if they retreated into some religious community where all were regarded as equal, this would resolve matters.

Of course it would not. He should have known that better than anyone. Fidelma was not a person to be constrained in any community with rules and regulations. How many times hadhe seen her chaff against such confines when she encountered them? And he had been trying to confine her. That was stupid. He just hoped it was not too late to make amends.

He turned towards the door that led to little Alchú’s room with a lighter heart than he had felt for a long time. He was looking forward to seeing his son again — their son.

CHAPTER THREE