The Devil's Seal (30 page)

‘Some of them. Why do you ask?’

‘For example, you must know Abbot Ségdae well?’

‘Of course.’

‘I am told that he maintains that his church was founded before the Blessed Patricius brought the Faith here.’

‘That is the history among the people here. The Abbey at Imleach was founded by Ailbhe, son of Olcnais of the Araid Cliach. It is said that a bishop from Rome named Palladius was sent to propagate the Faith here, and it was he who baptised Ailbhe into the New Faith – and that was many years before Patricius arrived. Ségdae is Ailbhe’s successor, chosen and elected by the people of the abbey who are regarded in legal terms as his family.’

‘But I am told that he is also related to the ruling family – so is he related to King Colgú?’ asked Bishop Arwald.

‘He is. That is usually the way it works in this country,’ said Eadulf.

‘So there would be resentment in this kingdom against the claims of Ard Macha to be the senior church here, on the basis that it is in a different kingdom?’

‘Naturally. It is not the first time that such resentment has boiled over among the leading churches of each of the Five Kingdoms.’

‘But there is a High King who rules over all the Five Kingdoms. Doesn’t he control the petty-kings?’

‘The High King is High King mainly out of courtesy. Governing power is retained by the provincial Kings, who then agree who will be High King.’

‘But the son of a High King becomes High King, surely?’

‘Kingship does not work here like it does among your people. Here, a King is elected by three generations of his family – the
derbhfine
– and chosen because he is best qualified to undertake the task.’

Bishop Arwald gave a puzzled shake of his head. ‘A strange custom. But I was wondering whether Abbot Ségdae had ever thought to make representations to Rome for recognition of his abbey, as he says it pre-dates that of Ard Macha?’

Eadulf was amused. ‘You should ask Abbot Ségdae, as he stands but a short distance away,’ he said, nodding to where the abbot stood in the feasting hall. ‘But I would doubt that he is interested in what Rome thinks.’

‘Why would that be?’ Bishop Arwald reared up.

‘Most of the churches of the Five Kingdoms see themselves as independent of any distant authority, either from Rome, Constantinople, or Alexandria. People here are not concerned with this idea of having a Chief Bishop.’

Bishop Arwald raised his eyebrows. ‘But I know even the Britons and the Irish have recognised the authority of Rome.’

Eadulf found it interesting that Bishop Arwald was going over the same ground as the Venerable Verax.

‘There is a difference between recognising Rome as having a special place in the propagation of the Faith and in accepting that it has authority over all things. You already know that the Five Kingdoms have often rejected the attempts by Rome to dictate rules and even laws; these laws are called Penitentials. Now some of the short-sighted abbots are accepting them and coming into conflict with the native laws here . . .’

‘Ah yes. I believe that you can talk of these laws from knowledge. I find it amazing – as should you, being from the Kingdom of the East Angles – that a mere woman can go around questioning, judging and pronouncing the law.’

Eadulf’s eyes narrowed. ‘You mean my wife?’

‘I mean any woman who is a lawgiver in this strange land. However, let us return to our friend Abbot Ségdae. Do you maintain that he would not wish to seek Rome’s favour to be considered as Senior Bishop in all these kingdoms?’

‘I cannot speak for Abbot Ségdae, but I would find it unlikely.’

‘You don’t think he would be interested in achieving the rank of Archbishop – Senior Bishop over all the bishops of these kingdoms – and acquiring some symbol to show it? Perhaps he might even
pay
for such a token . . . even from Rome?’

Eadulf examined Bishop Arwald suspiciously. ‘What are you suggesting?’

Bishop Arwald immediately backed down. ‘I suggest nothing. I am trying to ascertain how serious the bishops in this land are about this matter of the role of an Archbishop.’

‘I think that if you wish to seek any more information, you should put your questions directly to Abbot Ségdae,’ Eadulf replied coldly.

‘I do not wish to offend you, Brother. As an Angle in this strange kingdom you have a unique position to tell me what people feel without my confronting them and causing them insult where no insult was intended. Please accept my apologies if you felt otherwise.’

Eadulf hesitated; being apologetic was not a natural trait of this man. Then he shrugged. ‘So long as you understand that people set high store by frankness.’

‘Then I thank you for
your
frankness, Brother Eadulf.’

Bishop Arwald turned and made his way towards a group surrounding Abbess Líoch. Eadulf stared after him for a moment before finding Sister Dianaimh at his elbow. She was also staring bleakly after the bishop.

‘You don’t like our guest?’ Eadulf ventured, interpreting her scowl.

The girl started. ‘Does it show that much?’

‘It does.’

Sister Dianaimh sighed. ‘Then there is no use denying it.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘I did not enjoy my time in the Abbey of Laestingau. I don’t like the men of Mercia that I encountered.’

‘Is that all?’

‘What else should there be?’

‘Why did you go to Oswy’s Kingdom? Were you Abbess Líoch’s companion then?’

The girl shook her head. ‘I only met her when I went to Laestingau. That was after the Great Debate at Streonshalh at which I understand you and Fidelma were present.’

‘What made you go to Laestingau?’

‘In spite of the decision of Oswy to follow Rome, which caused many of the missionaries of our land to return home, small bands of teachers continued to go to the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons, to convert and teach. I was one of a small band.’

‘From what abbey did you join them?’

‘I served at the Abbey of Sléibhte.’

‘Ah yes, I remember. That is beyond Osraige Territory, isn’t it?’

‘It is in Uí Dróna territory,’ confirmed the girl. ‘Fiacc, son of MacDara, Prince of the Uí Bairrche, being converted to the New Faith before Patricius came to this land, founded it. The Uí Bairrche once ruled Laighin before the Uí Cennselaig overthrew them.’

‘Who is the abbot there now?’

‘Aéd of the Uí Bairrche. The abbey is regarded as an Uí Bairrche stronghold; it gets scant recognition from King Fianamail of Laighin who, of course, is descended from the Uí Cennselaig. Therefore, there were tensions there. That was when I decided to join the small band of pilgrims going to Laestingau.’

‘And is that where you met Abbess Líoch?’

‘Yes, although she was not an abbess then. It was after she returned here and went to Cill Náile that she became Abbess. She asked me to join her and I became her
bann-mhaor
, her female steward.’

Eadulf decided to seize the opportunity to press the question that still puzzled him and Fidelma. ‘What I cannot understand is why Brother Cerdic especially asked for Abbess Líoch to attend here. The Venerable Verax tells us that they are only investigating claims for recognition of an Archbishop over the Five Kingdoms. If so, what role would the Abbess of Cill Náile play?’

‘I would not know.’ The girl looked uncomfortable.

‘I presume Cill Náile isn’t claiming to be regarded as a primacy?’ he joked.

Sister Dainaimh looked startled for a moment and then realised that Eadulf was not serious so did not reply.

At that moment Brother Madagan joined them and made an excuse to draw Sister Dainaimh aside to talk to her while Eadulf went to look for Fidelma. She was seated talking with Abbess Líoch. He wondered if they had made up after their previous argument. Fidelma welcomed him with a smile.

‘We were just talking about Brother Cerdic,’ she commented, as he obeyed her gesture to sit down.

‘What about him?’

‘I was telling Fidelma that I am still no wiser as to why he wanted me to come here,’ the abbess explained. ‘There is nothing that these visitors have raised which is of any interest to me.’

‘I must admit that it is strange, if we are to believe what the Venerable Verax tells us is the purpose of this deputation,’ Fidelma agreed.

‘You have reason not to believe it?’ asked the abbess.

‘When Brother Cerdic came to Cill Náile to ask you to come here, how exactly did he phrase the request?’ Fidelma enquired, ignoring her question.

‘Just as I have told you. He said it would “be in my interest” to come.’

‘And that was it?’

‘Yes. But as I said, I have heard nothing that is in my interest so far.’

‘I was speaking to Sister Dianaimh a moment ago,’ Eadulf said. ‘I had not realised that she had been at Laestingau with you. I wondered whether she had encountered Brother Cerdic before?’

The abbess shook her head quickly. ‘No – she would have told me. She came to Laestingau some time after the attack on that abbey. I had not known her before. I think you are aware that she came from the Abbey of Sléibhte?’

Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘It is just hard to understand why Brother Cerdic would ask you to come here.’

Eadulf chuckled. ‘Well, as I said to Sister Dainaimh, it is not as if Cill Náile would be one of those places to claim authority over all the other abbeys in the Five Kingdoms.’

‘A silly idea,’ the abbess replied, taking him seriously. ‘Our churches are independent; they look to the protection of the kings and princes of the territory, and not to some over-lordship within the religious. Why, that would mean the religious themselves would be creating bishops and abbots who saw themselves as temporal princes. Next thing, they would be raising their own armies to protect their abbeys, which then became fortresses. We would have to start paying tribute to bishops instead of to kings.’

The abbess then excused herself, rose and moved off. Eadulf watched her go with a troubled expression. ‘There must have been
some
purpose in the mind of Brother Cerdic,’ he observed quietly.

‘I saw you talking with Bishop Arwald,’ Fidelma remarked. ‘Did he say anything further that might cast a light on the matter?’

‘He did not. He seemed to want reassurance that Abbot Ségdae was not interested in obtaining approval from Rome for claiming the primacy for Imleach.’

‘How curious. I thought Abbot Ségdae had made himself clear earlier.’

‘Do I hear my name mentioned?’

They turned to find Abbot Ségdae about to join them. He sat down.

‘We were speaking about our strange visitors and their purpose,’ explained Fidelma.

‘A strange deputation, indeed,’ confirmed the abbot. ‘I would feel better if I could understand why their emissary, Brother Cerdic, had been killed. That alone makes their mission perplexing.’

Eadulf glanced at Fidelma, wondering whether to mention the links with the attack on the Venerable Victricius and his brother. She had obviously decided the time was not right.

‘If I had been charged with such a mission,’ continued the abbot, ‘I would have gone first to the Kingdom of Midhe, to the seat of the High King himself, and then called a council of the chief bishops of all the Five Kingdoms and let each put forward their arguments. But this seems such a surreptitious means of sounding us all out. First to Laighin, then to Muman – and then where? Presumably to Connachta?’

Eadulf saw a certain expression on Fidelma’s face which meant that the abbot had said something of importance. It was a fleeting expression that Eadulf knew well and which perhaps only he could interpret: the droop of the eye, the muscle twitching at the corner of her mouth.

‘Deogaire did warn us,’ Eadulf smiled, thinking to deflect the topic. ‘Remember the night of Cerdic’s funeral? You said something to Brother Madagan about the dangers of prophecy.’

Abbot Ségdae actually chuckled. ‘My steward claimed to be having dreams. Some silly notion of digging up the tomb of the Blessed Ailbhe who founded our abbey.’

‘Brother Madgan is usually such a phlegmatic person,’ observed Fidelma. ‘For what purpose does he dream of digging up Ailbhe’s tomb?

‘He said, in his dream, the tomb would reveal that the Abbey of Imleach’s destiny was to become the greatest centre of the Faith in the Five Kingdoms. He believed it was a prophecy. After Deogaire’s outburst, I remarked to Madagan that soothsayers and prophets are not taken seriously. Ah, I want a word with Bishop Arwald. Excuse me.’

Fidelma turned to Eadulf and motioned him aside, then murmured, ‘Talk to the Venerable Verax and try to ask him why he was in Canterbury and what the purpose of his journey was. Would the Bishop of Rome really send his own brother on such a journey to our kingdom, merely to hear gossip? I believe there is a deeper purpose at work and that it has something to do with Canterbury.’

Eadulf raised his eyebrows a little. ‘He did start off by asking us what we thought about Theodore of Canterbury extending his religious authority over the Five Kingdoms.’

‘That answer would surely be known before the question was asked.’

Eadulf rose and examined the company. The Venerable Verax was in the company of Brother Conchobhar. He grimaced at Fidelma, before making his way over to them. The old physician looked almost relieved as Eadulf approached and it was clear that he was not happy with the conversation he was having with the Roman prelate. As he drew nearer, Eadulf understood why.

‘Let now the astrologers, the stargazers, the prognosticators, stand up and save themselves from those things that shall come upon them,’ thundered the Venerable Verax, obviously quoting from something. ‘That is what is written in the scripture of Isaiah. Behold they shall be as stubble, the fire shall burn them and they shall not deliver themselves from the pain of the flames.’

Eadulf felt sorry for the old physician who, indeed, practised divination from the stars as was common among the people. But Eadulf knew that some in the New Faith were against the ancient science even though the birth of the Christ, according to the scriptures, was foretold by astrologers who then came to pay homage to Him. Eadulf glanced with sympathy at Brother Conchobhar, who mumbled some excuse and left them. Then Eadulf smiled at the Roman cleric.