Behold a Pale Horse

own abbeys and religious houses.’

‘It is no hardship for one who is a peregrinus pro amore Christi.’

‘Alas, I am not,’ Fidelma confessed. ‘I am just a messenger, an adviser in law, rather than one who sets out to bring the Faith to the heathen and barbarian. But Magister Ado told me that the Rule of Colm Bán was even harsher than the Rule of Benedict. How can that be so? Our own religious houses, mostly mixed houses, do not agree with such penitential methods.’

‘You forget, lady, that Colm Bán spent many years among the undisciplined Franks and Burgunds before he came among the Longobards.’

‘That is what Sister Gisa said. Then you agree that this shaped his thought?’

‘The society is harsh and barbarous. Crime is violent and punishments are severe. Colm Bán might have tried to establish similar religious houses to those in our own land but found that he needed to control and discipline many of those who flocked to join him. I have seen something of the laws of the places in which he dwelled — the wergelds — it was not unusual for infractions of the law to result in physical punishments. Half of Colm Bán’s Rule was devoted to punishments of the community.’

Fidelma was shaking her head in sad disbelief. ‘What sort of punishments?’

‘From fasting, confinement in one’s cubiculum to the saying of additional prayers and …’ he hesitated ‘ … even to physicalpunishments such as the use of the scourge. He listed two hundred blows, given at twenty-five blows at one time, as the punishment for some infractions. Confessions had to be made in public before the abbot and the entire community.’

‘I cannot believe such a Rule would be proclaimed by someone of our land.’

‘True, alas. The Rule also declared celibacy was the perfection — a goal one must make every wholehearted effort to attain by making the body a temple of virtue. He had declared a code of behaviour of asceticism and austerity. He claimed that the austere spirit had to be totally obedient and that obedience would win merit in the eyes of God. That was the ultimate aim of the life of the religious.’

‘It is amazing. I thought our people were so imbued with the essence of our law that they would never descend to such philosophies. How could Colm Bán believe that he could command the love and allegiance of his followers in this way?’

‘He did not. Many left this abbey during the time when his Rule prevailed,’ replied Brother Eolann. ‘However, his Rule lasted only a decade after his death before the abbey sought the milder form of governance as given by Benedict. I think it is Colm Bán’s myth rather than the reality which commands the present love and allegiance.’

Fidelma swallowed as she contemplated the picture that had been painted. Then she shook herself slightly. ‘And this Arianism? How does that affect the brethren here?’

‘We try to ignore it.’

‘But others do not?’

Brother Eolann gave a sad sigh. ‘It is good to have someone here from one’s own land. There are others of the Five Kingdoms here but not many that one is able to talk with.’

‘How do you mean that?’

‘Well, I mean to converse with intelligence. I do not wish to denigrate anyone … but, well, you have spoken to Brother Lonán? He only comes alive when speaking of herbs and plants. While that is laudable and I do not doubt his knowledge, his conversation on other matters is limited. He would not know the poems of our great poet Dallán Forgaill, nor even the poems of Colm Bán himself, any more than the works of Sophocles or the history of Polybius.’

Fidelma hid a smile. ‘Literature is only one form of knowledge, ’ she rebuked.

‘But these books,’ Brother Eolann waved a hand towards the ranks of shelves around the room, ‘these books open roads to all knowledge.’

‘So you would prefer to speak to scholars rather than gardeners?’

‘Is that wrong?’

‘Much may be learned from both, depending on what you want to know.’

‘I am told you spoke with Brother Ruadán last night.’

‘He was why I came here — to see him. He was my teacher when I was young,’ Fidelma replied, wondering at the sudden change of subject.

‘I suppose they would let you see him,’ Brother Eolann said reflectively.

‘Why would they not let me see him?’ Fidelma was puzzled.

‘Brother Hnikar allows no one to see him. They certainly won’t let me near him, and I would claim that I was closer to Brother Ruadán than anyone else in this abbey.’

Fidelma examined him curiously. ‘Are you saying that you were expressly forbidden to visit him?’

‘I was told that he is too poorly. Sad that, at his age, he should be so violently attacked for preaching the true Faith.’

‘Were there any witnesses to this attack?’

‘No one saw it. He was found outside the gates of the abbey early one morning. I was told that he had been preaching at Travo, which is further down the valley. I can only repeat the common knowledge which is that he was found at the gates, badly beaten, with a paper on which the word haereticus was pinned to his bloodstained robe.’

‘Heretic,’ nodded Fidelma. ‘I have been told.’

‘Those of the Arian Creed denounce us as heretics, even as we denounce them. Poor Brother Ruadán, he must have barely made it back to the gates of this abbey before he collapsed. God gave him strength. He is an old man but he survived until he reached here.’

‘So no one saw the attack nor can blame anyone in particular for it?’

‘With Bishop Britmund absolving any who attacks a heretic, as he calls us, who would bring these attackers to justice?’ Brother Eolann’s tone was grim. ‘The law of the Longobards is not like our own law, lady. The will of their lords and the Arian bishops are all the law that is to be found outside these walls.’

‘But on the matter of the conflict in this valley, what is your opinion of Radoald? Is he to be trusted?’

‘Lord Radoald of Trebbia? Trust is not something that I am prepared to offer any of these Longobards. Radoald appears to be an affable fellow. He is a supporter of King Grimoald who, as you have heard, is a follower of Arius but liberal in allowing everyone to follow their own path. Radoald vows friendship for the abbey but if the pressures were strong enough, perhaps his ardency would lessen.’

Fidelma was quiet for a moment. Brother Eolann was providing a good source of information. ‘You have no reason to suspect any other motive behind the attack on Ruadán than this conflict of religious views?’

‘Goodness, no — why?’ Brother Eolann was clearly astonished at the question. ‘Brother Ruadán had no enemy in the world other than those miserable creatures misled by Bishop Britmund.’

‘I just wanted to make sure, that is all,’ Fidelma said quickly. ‘It is still hard to believe that a different view about whether something is created or begotten could lead men to murder one another.’

‘Such is the nature of mankind, lady,’ replied the librarian sadly. He rose suddenly and was looking along a line of books. He found the one he wanted and laid it on the desk before her. ‘Wasn’t it this that you wanted to see, lady? The text of the Matthew Gospel? Read it at your leisure. I have to make sure my copyists are at their work.’

She turned to the papyrus scroll that he had put before her and began to unroll it. The hand was clear and the Latin easy to follow. It took some time, however, before she encountered the passage she was looking for. She had been so shocked at the words which Lady Gunora had quoted the previous night that she was determined to check if they had really existed. She was aghast to find that Gunora had quoted them almost word perfectly.

Nolite arbitrari quia venerim mittere pacem in terram non veni pacem mittere sed gladium …

She had always been taught that the message of the Christ was peace, not war. Now she found the Christ Himself admitting that He had come to the world not to speak for peace but war. To bring a sword. What shocked her was thestatement that His followers must not love their fathers and mothers, nor daughters or sons, more than Him — for if they did so, they would not be worthy of Him. It was contrary to the laws and philosophies of her people, where love and respect for one’s parents and one’s children were considered of premier importance. That one had to reject this was tantamount to destroying society, especially the kin-based society of her people. That