‘Now,’ Caol was continuing, ‘should you wish to be received by Colgú before the ceremonies commence, I will convey your greetings to him. But he is, at this time, welcoming the High King, the provincial kings and the princes of these lands in his private chambers.’
He nodded to Dego to continue and began to turn away again.
‘Young man!’
Abbot Ultán’s sharp tones cut through the courtyard, halting Caol, who again turned questioningly to the newcomer.
‘You are insolent, young man. Know you that I am. .’
‘An arrogant messenger from an arrogant abbot,’ snapped a new voice.
Eadulf saw another religieux enter the courtyard from one of the buildings and come striding over to stand by Caol. He was broad-shouldered and looked more like a warrior than a leading member of the church, for as such his clothes and accoutrements proclaimed him.
‘That is Augaire, the abbot of Conga,’ whispered Brother Conchobhar. ‘He’s also one of the chief bishops to the king of Connacht.’
Abbot Ultán had turned a venomous gaze on the newcomer.
‘So? You are here too?’ He almost hissed the words.
Abbot Augaire smiled but it was a smile without humour.
‘Oh yes. Everyone who matters is here,’ he replied softly. ‘Even some who do not matter are here.’
‘Including the jumped-up Uí Fiachracha whom some call a king in Connacht?’ sneered Abbot Ultán.
‘Including Muirchertach Nár,’ affirmed the other, calmly. ‘Several of your old friends are gathered here.’
The way the abbot pronounced ‘old friends’ made it clear to Eadulf that the people referred to were anything but friends of Abbot Ultán. He wondered what this exchange really meant.
‘Do not think that they will intimidate me. I shall speak the truth,’ snapped Abbot Ultán.
Abbot Augaire’s smile broadened but it was still without warmth.
‘They would not wish to stop you if ever you decided to speak the truth,’ he replied with acid in his voice.
Abbot Ultán blinked. His expression was suddenly dangerous. He was about to say something but then seemed to change his mind and turned back to Caol.
‘Young man, tell your king that I demand to see him. In the meantime, I also demand that you send a warrior to stand guard at my chamber door to protect me from. .’ he glanced at Abbot Augaire, ‘from anyone who might wish to harm a truth servant of the true Faith.’
Caol looked bewildered for a moment and then he shrugged.
‘As I have said, Dego will take you to your quarters. I will convey your request to Colgú,’ he said, and left.
Dego moved forward to oversee the unloading of the luggage from the wagon and to conduct the abbot to his quarters, while another attendant went to see to the rest of the party.
For a few moments, Abbot Augaire stood in the courtyard looking thoughtfully after Abbot Ultán even when he had vanished through one of the entrances to the main building. He was unaware that Eadulf and Brother Conchobhar were still watching him. The expression on the abbot’s face was not a pleasant one. Then, with a shake of his head, he was gone.
Eadulf turned to Brother Conchobhar. ‘Well, what is to be made of that?’
Brother Conchobhar pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Have you not heard of Abbot Ultán?’
‘I seem to have heard his name recently.’ Eadulf frowned. ‘Ah, he was coming to protest against our wedding.’
‘I have never seen him before but I have heard many stories about him, none of them to his credit. He is not a man whom I would pronounce as fit for the company of saints.’ For once Brother Conchobhar looked serious. ‘Beware of Abbot Ultán. He is full of ambition, and pays homage to nothing save power.’
‘Ultán? Who speaks of Ultán?’
Eadulf swung round and found Brother Berrihert on the steps behind them. He smiled in warm greeting.
‘So you have come to join us? That is good. This is Brother Conchobhar.’
Brother Berrihert nodded curtly at the old man but his eyes did not leave Eadulf’s face. ‘The name of Ultán was spoken. Abbot Ultán of Cill Ria?’
‘The same,’ agreed Eadulf, worried at the intensity in the young Saxon’s voice. Then he remembered that it was Berrihert who had first mentioned the name of the abbot to him.
‘Is he here?’
‘He is. I am told that he has come here to protest against my wedding.’
Berrihert drew in a deep breath as if facing some momentous decision. Then he let it out slowly.
‘Then I give fair warning, Eadulf. Make sure that his path does not cross mine or that of my brothers, for I fear the worst.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘I fear that one of us might kill him,’ replied the young man sharply. He turned and strode off, leaving Eadulf staring in surprise.
Brother Conchobhar stood looking thoughtfully after him.
‘Alas, it seems that Bishop Ultán’s circle of acquaintances ever widens,’ he said.
‘I do not understand it,’ Eadulf replied with a shake of his head. ‘While yesterday Brother Berrihert told me of how this Abbot Ultán split the community in which he and his brothers served on Inis Bó Finne, and how they came south for independence and peace, he mentioned nothing that would give rise to some mortal hatred of Ultán. Certainly he gave no indication of animosity to the extent that his death might be encompassed.’
‘The emotions of mankind are strange, my Saxon friend. You should know that above all people. You have seen enough violence in your investigations with our lady Fidelma. What angers one person, amuses another. What causes harm to one, causes benefit to someone else. Whatever slight your friend believes he has suffered might not seem much to you but will mean the world to him.’ Brother Conchobhar clapped Eadulf on the shoulder and chuckled. ‘At least you may give thanks to the arrival of Abbot Ultán for one thing.’
Eadulf did not understand.
‘His arrival has caused you to forget your personal concerns about your fitness to go through with the ceremony tomorrow. You will be too preoccupied with watching Abbot Ultán and waiting for the trouble that he will undoubtedly cause.’
CHAPTER FOUR
It was a sombre group that gathered that evening in the private chamber of Colgú, king of Muman. The handsome, red-haired king sprawled moodily in his carved oak chair before the fire. Fidelma sat upright opposite him with Eadulf standing behind her, one hand resting on the back of her chair. Caol, the commander of the bodyguard, stood discreetly with his back to the door, as if on guard, while a chair had been brought for Abbot Ségdae, newly arrived from the abbey of Imleach, and another for Baithen, the brehon of Muman.
‘It is upsetting, I know, lady,’ Baithen finally said, voicing the consensus of the group.
Fidelma returned his concerned gaze with a smile. ‘I had a premonition that the arrival of Abbot Ultán would not bring happiness to this place. Yet we have heard these arguments so many times before. Is that not so, Eadulf?’
The Saxon inclined his head in agreement.
‘You will remember the violent opposition of the old Bishop Petrán to our trial marriage?’ he said. ‘So violent was the argument that when he died a natural death soon after, I was even accused of his murder.’
There was an uncomfortable silence. It had been the prejudice and incompetence of Dathal, the former
