The Devil's Seal (25 page)

Both Bishop Arwald and the Venerable Verax were clad in rich robes, and there was no disguising the fact that they were men of rank and importance. At the moment, their richly embroidered cloaks bore a film of dust from their journey but the quality of them was evident. Bishop Arwald wore a cross of silver around his neck and the Venerable Verax a cross of gold, which was more elaborately ornamented. Eadulf glanced towards Colgú and hoped he remembered that it was the Venerable Verax who was the real leader of the deputation. The question arose: why did Verax pretend that Bishop Arwald was the senior of the group?

Behind the two men, at a respectful distance of two paces, stood a nondescript young man. Clad in a simple dyed-brown woollen robe, with what appeared to be a bronze cross, he kept his head and gaze lowered, even when Gormán announced him as Brother Bosa, a scribe. To Eadulf’s eye, he looked anything but a scribe. He was muscular, and moved with the precision of a warrior. The more he tried to make himself invisible, the more incongruous he appeared.

There was a momentary silence after Gormán finished introducing the deputation. Bishop Arwald had still made no move to acknowledge the King and so Gormán cleared his throat and declared: ‘You stand in the presence of Colgú, son of Failbhe Flann, King of Muman, scion of the Eóghanacht of Cashel, Lord of Tuadmuma, Aurmuma, Desmuma and Iarmuma . . .’

Ordinarily, Colgú would have told him to cut the ritual short but he let it run on as it gave him the opportunity to inspect his guests more closely. Finally, however, he raised his hand to indicate that Gormán should bring his listing of his ancestry and territories to a close.

As Gormán was giving his recitation, the young scribe came forward and was whispering to Bishop Arwald and the Venerable Verax. It was clear that he was not only acting as scribe but as translator. Colgú finally realised that the scribe was translating into Latin.

‘Most of us here speak Latin,’ he interrupted. ‘We may continue in this language.’ The young scribe stepped back at a gesture from the Venerable Verax. Colgú continued: ‘You are welcome here.’

It was Bishop Arwald who then spoke. ‘I trust we are so.’ His voice was brittle. ‘Have your slaves bring chairs for us, for our journey through this savage land has been arduous.’

There were gasps of astonishment from the assembly, and even Colgú’s eyes widened in spite of the years he had been taught to control his feelings when in council.

Gormán stepped forward nervously, a hand dropping automatically to the hilt of his sword. His tone was sharp and emphatic.

‘I remind you that you stand in the presence of Colgú, King of Muman, who is the fifty-ninth direct descendant of Eibhear Fionn, the son of Golamh, who led the children of Gaedheal Glas to this land in the time before time; Eibhear Fionn, who was given this land to rule by the . . .’

Colgú raised a hand and motioned him to silence. His eyes had not wandered from the face of Bishop Arwald since the man had spoken.

‘Our guests are strangers, and perhaps they have no understanding of the protocol that prevails in this place.’ He spoke softly, as if addressing Gormán but looking directly at Bishop Arwald. ‘In our uncivilised ways, we still place great store in courtesy and the observance of rules. It is custom to acknowledge the King when you are brought before him. If a King invites you, then you may sit in his presence. It is also important to learn that we have no slaves here. The only people you will find who have restrictions on their freedom are criminals of various classes, and hostages.’

Bishop Arwald’s sallow skin had taken on a paler hue. His thin red lips seemed to disappear entirely in a slit. The muscles in his jaw were working, as if he were trying to find expression for his rage. But Colgú was now looking at the Venerable Verax.

‘In view of your exhaustion, having been forced to travel through our uncivilised countryside, we invite you, Venerable Verax and your companion, Bishop Arwald, to be seated while we speak of what brings you to face the hardships and difficulties that obviously beset your journey.’

The Venerable Verax took a step forward, his features formed into a masklike smile.

‘It will not be necessary, Colgú of Muman. You will excuse us for our lack of knowledge of your customs.’

‘Yet they are the same customs that prevail in the Kingdom of Laighin, where you surely must have been guests of Fianamail the King?’ It was Fidelma who, in her irritation, could not suppress the observation.

Bishop Arwald turned swiftly, eyes narrowed as if noticing her for the first time.

‘And who are you?’ The tone was almost a sneer.

‘This is the lady Fidelma, my sister,’ Colgú replied in an icy tone. Clearly, Bishop Arwald was not one to be immediately cowed. ‘Beside her is Brother Eadulf, who is from your own country but who has made his home here, having married my sister. He is a respected friend and adviser of this court.’

‘Eadulf – from my country?’ queried Bishop Arwald. He looked at Eadulf with great suspicion, then glanced at the Venerable Verax with a look that seemed full of meaning.

‘Not exactly your country, Arwald of the Magonsaete,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I am from Seaxmund’s Ham, in the Land of the South Folk, of the Kingdom of the East Angles.’

‘Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham?’ Bishop Arwald examined him carefully. ‘I believe that you have only recently arrived here.’

Eadulf wondered at the sinister tone in the other’s voice. ‘I have not. Why do you ask?’

‘Were you not in Canterbury only a short while ago?’

‘You are mistaken,’ Eadulf replied. ‘The last time I was in the Kingdom of Kent was during the winter of five years ago.’

Bishop Arwald did not seem satisfied. ‘Yet I heard a story that you departed Canterbury in the company of an elderly man only a few weeks ago. In Laighin we were told that you were seen landing in the country with that same man at one of the southern ports.’

Eadulf blinked in astonishment and exchanged a look with Fidelma. Was Bishop Arwald mistaking him for his brother? If so, what was the meaning of that undertone in the bishop’s voice? He was about to put the question when Colgú, oblivious to the tension, interrupted.

‘I can assure you that our friend Eadulf has been here these many years and, with my sister, has carried out many missions for me.’

The dark eyes of Bishop Arwald swivelled to him. ‘Missions? What missions – and why with a woman?’

It was the second time that a general feeling of astonishment spread, that this stranger should dare to question the King in such a tone. Once more Colgú decided to answer, overlooking the breach of protocol.

‘Is it possible that you have not heard of my sister, the lady Fidelma who, with her husband, Eadulf, has represented my interests in many parts of the Five Kingdoms and beyond? My sister is a
dálaigh
, a legal advocate and adviser in law to me.’

This time the information had an effect on the Venerable Verax. He turned to look at Fidelma more closely and exclaimed: ‘Of course! I have heard the Venerable Gelasius extolling her wisdom. Did she not perform valuable service in Rome when Wighard, the Archbishop Designate of Canterbury, was murdered in the Lateran Palace? Oh yes, now I have it. The same Fidelma was part of the delegation arguing against the changes made by His Holiness which were debated at Streonshalh and later at the council in Autun. Oh yes, we have heard of
her
.’

Eadulf picked up a warning note in the last sentence, but was unsure whether it was aimed at Bishop Arwald or at Fidelma.

Colgú relaxed back in his chair. ‘Well, let us hope you will hear many tales from my bards of their deeds while you are here. But now . . . we hope that your immediate needs after your journey have been met?’

Bishop Arwald was still staring at Eadulf and seemed reluctant to change the subject of the conversation but at a look from his companion, he addressed Colgú with his customary belligerence.

‘We have an escort of four warriors provided for our personal protection by King Fianamail and the Abbot of Fearna. Your own warriors refused them entrance into this place.’

Gormán coughed to attract the attention of the King. ‘Four warriors of the Clan Baiscne escorted the religious here. I have issued instructions that they be given quarters in Rumann’s tavern in the town below.’

‘That is so,’ Bishop Arwald confirmed, obviously annoyed. ‘I strongly protest. The warriors should be quartered here so that I can call when they are needed.’

‘I trust you do not imply that you will need protection while guests under the King’s roof?’ Abbot Ségdae could not restrain himself from speaking. He had already taken exception to the man’s arrogance.

Bishop Arwald glanced angrily at him. ‘When we arrived, I was told that my emissary, Brother Cerdic, not only came into danger within these walls but has been murdered. I do not think I need
imply
anything.’

‘We are investigating that matter,’ Colgú assured him quickly.

‘What?’ Bishop Arwald feigned surprise. ‘Has no one been seized and executed for this outrage? Then the murderer is still at large – and yet you say there is no cause for alarm! I am most displeased, for Brother Cerdic was but newly joined to the . . . to my group of pilgrims. He had volunteered to come here alone to prepare you for our arrival. Why was he killed?’

‘Investigations take time.’ Colgú was irritated that he had been put on the defensive. ‘Here we are governed by our ancient laws and so do not seize and execute people without just cause. I have appointed my sister and her husband to investigate.’

The sneer broadened in the voice of the bishop. ‘Ah! Then it is understood why there has been no resolution.’

Colgú raised his eyes at Fidelma, signalling to her not to react to the provocation, before he began to address the newcomers in a severe tone: ‘Since you are strangers, we will explain why your armed escort are not allowed within the confines of this palace. Relations between the Kingdoms of Muman and Laighin have not been of the closest. Sometimes, warfare can be the result of mistakes or arrogance, leading to quickening tempers. It is a custom now, between us, that no armed warriors of Laighin may be admitted within the walls of this palace of Cashel, especially none of the Baiscne, who are Fianamail’s élite bodyguards, just as the Nasc Niadh are mine. Nor would I expect any of my warriors to be admitted with their arms into the Laighin fortress at Dinn Ríg or even Fearna.’

Once again, as it seemed Bishop Arwald was about to respond angrily, it was the Venerable Verax who spoke in a conciliatory tone.

‘Then we would not wish to interfere with this custom and provoke any antagonism.’

‘My guard will always be at hand during your stay, so that you need have no fear,’ Gormán added coldly.

‘There are quarters for special guests here in my palace and these have been provided for you,’ Colgú went on.

Abbot Ségdae leaned close to Colgú and whispered into his ear in their common language: ‘Let us find out what these arrogant prelates want before we are all too exasperated to even speak with them.’

Thankfully, Brother Bosa did not appear to hear the remark. Colgú inclined his head in agreement. ‘Now, we are sure you will want to rest from your long journey. However, before you do so, and so that our Chief Bishop, Abbot Ségdae, may be prepared for the coming discussions, perhaps you can indicate to us the reason of your coming. What is it that you wish to discuss?’

The Venerable Verax turned to examine the abbot. ‘We have heard much about Abbot Ségdae. By accounts given to us he is an influential and powerful ecclesiastic. Why is he content to be merely an abbot?’

Receiving a nod from Colgú, Abbot Ségdae replied: ‘I am afraid that, once again, you are not aware of the customs of this country. Here, we deem an abbot of
higher rank
than a bishop.’ He stared directly at Bishop Arwald as he spoke, ignoring the man’s angry gaze.

‘Yet there is much talk about a primacy among bishops among your people. There is a bishop – or is it abbot? – at a place called Ard Macha, who claims that it was there that Patricius the Briton first taught the Faith in this land, and thereby this abbot should be appointed Archbishop, chief of all the bishops and abbots on this island.’

‘We will disagree on many points, Venerable Verax,’ replied Abbot Ségdae. ‘This will be one of them. Is it to discuss this that you have come all this way?’

The Venerable Verax was silent for a moment. ‘Perhaps it is one point where we might usefully exchange views,’ he conceded.

Abbot Ségdae shook his head. ‘Poor Brother Cerdic made no mention of the subject that has caused your visit. He merely summoned me from my abbey at Imleach and, it seems, he summoned Abbess Líoch from Cill Náile, who also stands before you. Naturally, we are all curious to learn what brings such distinguished prelates into this kingdom.’

The Venerable Verax turned with interest to examine Abbess Líoch.

‘Do you also refute the claims of this Abbot of Ard Macha and make claim for your own abbey?’ he asked.

‘My abbey was established only a few years ago,’ replied the abbess. ‘I make no such claims.’

Brother Bosa had moved forward and whispered in the prelate’s ear. The Venerable Verax nodded slowly and continued to address the abbess. ‘I am told that you were some years in Oswy’s Kingdom?’

‘Were you there?’ returned Abbess Líoch, speaking directly to the scribe. ‘I do not know you.’

Brother Bosa obviously felt that he should answer. ‘I have not been there but am told that you were once spoken of as having spent time in the Abbey of Laestingau.’

A flush came to the abbess’ cheeks. ‘Then perhaps
you
can tell me why Brother Cerdic summoned me to this curious meeting?’ she said impatiently.

The Venerable Verax intervened. ‘Perhaps we will be able to discuss matters later? We have only just arrived and need some time to recover from our wearisome journey. We will resume the discussion when we are rested.’

‘So the purpose of your coming here remains obscure?’ Colgú replied in annoyance.

‘Let it remain so until we can sit relaxed and discuss it in more detail,’ the Venerable Verax said smoothly – but there was no questioning the determination in his voice.