The Devil's Seal (31 page)

‘And are you finding your visit to this land enlightening, Venerable Verax?’

The old man sniffed disparagingly. ‘What went you into the wilderness to see? A man dressed in fine clothes?’ he replied, misquoting the text of Matthew. ‘I did not expect to find more than I have.’

Eadulf blinked in surprise. ‘Do you consider this a wilderness?’ he asked, trying to keep the astonishment from his voice.

‘Do you not find it so? Oh, I know you have formed an attachment here, but you have been to Rome, lived and studied there. This is a desert by comparison.’

‘We could discuss such points but, I hope, with more retention of diplomacy than Bishop Arwald uses,’ Eadulf commented.

‘I come to bring the Faith and civilisation,’ replied the other, oblivious to his tone. ‘Diplomacy is a tool to gain trust. I can speak to you, Eadulf, for you are intelligent. I see from your tonsure that you support Rome.’

Eadulf was about to correct Verax’s view of him but then he realised the display of good fellowship might be a means to getting the information he was after.

‘Rome is certainly a different world,’ he agreed.

‘I have no illusions when I come among the barbarians,’ went on the Venerable Verax affably. ‘Do I not remember how the great historian Strabo described how these people were cannibals who thought it an honourable thing to eat their dead fathers. He also wrote that they openly had intercourse with their mothers and sisters.’

Eadulf could not help grinning at this.

‘You disagree?’ snapped Venerable Verax, seeing his reaction.

‘I think you will find that Strabo was misinformed,’ Eadulf replied diplomatically. ‘Have you seen any such proof of this since you have been here?’

The Venerable Verax shrugged. ‘Because I have seen no such proof, it does not mean that such proof does not exist.’

‘And you have been here . . . how long?’ Eadulf seized the chance.

‘We arrived on the half moon of the first quarter – our boatmen took advantage of the neap tide. So now we are in the third quarter.’

‘You landed in Laighin, of course. I have been there,’ Eadulf confided. ‘At which port did you land?’

‘It was a port called the height of something or other. I cannot recall.’

‘Ard Ladrann,’ supplied Eadulf. ‘That is a port on the eastern coast of the kingdom. I suppose you travelled directly west to Fearna?’

‘We were greeted by the bishop of that place, Bishop Moling, who then escorted us to the King. He is a man much given to airs and graces, as also is the King of this place.’

Eadulf thought he would overlook that remark but come nearer to the point.

‘From Canterbury to Ard Ladrann is a long journey,’ he said sympathetically. ‘You must have been exhausted!’

‘Indeed, it was nearly seven days’ ride from Canterbury to where we embarked by ship for this country. Truly, it was tiring – but each time we had to stop, members of the brethren gave us hospitality.’

‘And before that, it seems you came all the way from Rome! The journey from Rome to Canterbury is not without fatigue and also dangers,’ went on Eadulf, dropping his voice. ‘I myself have made that very journey to and from Rome twice.’

‘Many people have made it,’ the Venerable Verax replied airily. ‘How much more dangerous was it centuries ago, when Rome’s great generals marched their armies to take possession of the island of Britain? They had hostile armies of barbarians to face.’

‘I made the journey with Theodore after he was appointed Archbishop by your brother. Then he asked me to come here as an emissary and here I have remained, more or less. How is Archbishop Theodore?’

The Venerable Verax became confidential. ‘In health, he is hearty. But many problems oppress him in dealing with the politics of the kingdoms that fall under his authority. That was why—’ The old man suddenly pressed his lips together as if he had said too much.

‘Was Brother Cerdic in your party when you travelled from Canterbury to Ard Ladrann?’ Eadulf asked, pretending not to notice the awkward moment.

The Venerable Verax’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you ask about him?’

‘Colgú explained to you that I and Fidelma are trying to resolve the matter of his death. Brother Cerdic arrived here with someone called Brother Rónán, who has now returned to Laighin. I was wondering at what stage he left your party to come on here alone in order to warn us of your arrival?’

The prelate considered the question for a moment. ‘Brother Cerdic accompanied Bishop Arwald and myself from Canterbury; so did Brother Bosa. When we arrived in Laighin, we stayed for a time at the Abbey of Fearna and then for a few days at King Fianamail’s fortress . . . a place called Dinn Ríg. Brother Cerdic volunteered to come here and prepare the way for us. Brother Rónán was appointed by Bishop Moling to accompany him as his translator and guide.’

‘So he was asked to go to Imleach and ask Abbot Ségdae to come here. But why meet here?’

‘I was told that Cashel was the seat of the King. It was King Fianamail of Laighin who felt that our enquiries were better discussed in front of the King of each territory.’

‘I suppose that there is logic in that,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Yet I am told Brother Cerdic also called at the Abbey of Cill Náile and suggested to the abbess that
her
presence was required.’

The Venerable Verax smiled softly. ‘Hardly required. But you surprise me. Of course, Bishop Arwald knew that the abbess had been in Oswy’s Kingdom for a while and maybe she was known to Brother Cerdic. But we certainly did not
require
her presence.’

‘That’s interesting. So Brother Cerdic might have known her?’

‘That knowledge is beyond me. Why is it of importance?’

‘Anything which might help with solving Brother Cerdic’s death is worth considering,’ Eadulf told him. ‘However, I am sorry that this long journey that you have made has been so fruitless and has cost the life of one of your deputation. We will do our best to discover why he met his death, and by whose hand, before you depart.’

‘You will have our gratitude, Brother Eadulf,’ acknowledged the cleric. ‘Well, I have told you all I know. Brother Cerdic left us at Dinn Ríg, the fortress of the King of Laighin, went to Sléibhte and came on here. That’s all I can tell you.’

Eadulf had been about to turn away when he realised the extra information that the Venerable Verax had added. ‘Did you say that Brother Cerdic went to Sléibhte?’

‘I am told there is an old abbey there which he wanted to visit,’ agreed the Venerable Verax before giving a nod of his head and moving away.

Eadulf remained a moment or two, locked in thought. Then he returned to Fidelma, who was now in conversation with her brother.

‘I was just saying to Fidelma,’ Colgú greeted him, ‘that after all our expectations, we have found the matter exceedingly boring. I have suggested that our guests rest here another day and then, if they wish to persist with what I believe is a pointless enquiry, they should take the road for the Abbey of Cluain Mic Noise.’ He shrugged. ‘However, they will be told the same story there as we have told them here. Ard Macha’s claims are not recognised by the bishops of the Five Kingdoms. As for accepting the religious jurisdiction of Theodore of Canterbury . . .’ He ended in a bark of laughter.

‘There is still the matter of the death of Brother Cerdic to be resolved,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘Are you still holding Deogaire for the attempt on your lives?’ her brother asked. ‘Surely we can get a confession from him. Isn’t his guilt obvious?’

‘That is what is troubling me,’ Fidelma said. ‘Surely a guilty person would be able to come forward with a better excuse than the one he gave us?’

‘The facts should speak for themselves,’ her brother maintained.

‘But often facts can be seen from a distorted perspective so that they appear entirely contrary to what they really are.’

‘I don’t quite see what you mean.’

‘Perhaps I shall be able to demonstrate the point as time progresses.’

‘But there is not too much time, Fidelma. Remember, Brother Cerdic’s death occurred in my palace and I am responsible for that death under the law. I will have to pay the Venerable Verax compensation and receive the judgement of fines. That would be a mark against my character. There are many who would be willing to use that against me. Some would even claim that I am not worthy of kingship, and try to unseat me from the throne.’

‘You have in mind Brehon Aillín,’ Eadulf observed. ‘That man could do much to stir malcontents who would use such methods.’

‘Just find the killer of Brother Cerdic before the Venerable Verax departs and all else will follow for the good,’ Colgú said tightly. ‘And now it grows late. I see the Venerable Verax coming this way and I suspect he will be offering his excuses so that he might retire for the night.’

Fidelma drew Eadulf aside as Colgú went to speak with the Roman prelate. ‘Did you learn anything from Verax?’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘Nothing we did not already know. Although I did gather that Brother Cerdic had been to the Abbey of Sléibhte before he went to Cill Náile and then on to Imleach.’

‘Why on earth would he go to Sleibhte?’

‘Venerable Verax told me that Brother Cerdic had heard that it was an ancient abbey and simply wanted to take a look at it. The interesting thing is that at Sleibhte they have a claim to be older than Ard Macha, and Sister Dianaimh once studied there.’

Fidelma gave a brief sigh of frustration. ‘I wonder if it is true, after all, that this is a means of testing whether Theodore of Canterbury could claim ecclesiastical jurisdiction over these kingdoms as well as the Saxon kingdoms? It just does not feel right.’

‘I agree that it seems odd that such a high-ranking person as the Venerable Verax, brother of the Bishop of Rome, should then be sent all this way to test the views of these kingdoms which have already been made perfectly clear to Rome.’

‘I cannot help feeling that there are lies being told,’ Fidelma said.

‘Everywhere there seems to be a wall in front of us.’

‘But on a practical level, there is still Beccan to question about Deogaire’s story,’ Eadulf reminded her. ‘Afterwards, I am not sure where we should turn from there. One thing I do agree with you about is that I don’t believe this suave prelate from Rome – even if he is the brother to Pope Vitalian.’

T
he morning was dry but a blustery wind and heavy dark clouds promised wet weather to come. Fidelma and Eadulf were taking their morning meal, scarcely speaking to one another as each engaged with their own reflections about the previous evening. When Muirgen entered to clear the table, she said: ‘I hear Beccan has returned this morning.’

The announcement caused both of them to look up.

‘This morning?’ Fidelma glanced towards the window. ‘He must have arrived early.’

‘I went down to the kitchens to get hot bread and saw him coming through the main gates,’ confirmed the elderly nurse.

Fidelma was already rising from the table. ‘We should have a word with him at once.’ She was at the door when Eadulf, snatching a last piece of bread which he had coated liberally in honey, joined her. They reached the courtyard and were crossing it towards the main building when they encountered Abbess Líoch, hurrying towards the chapel.

‘Have you seen my steward?’ she asked Fidelma as they came abreast of one another.

‘Sister Dianaimh?’ Fidelma shook her head. ‘We have only just arisen. I am afraid we are up late today.’ She peered more closely at the other woman. ‘You look worried.’

‘It is only that I needed to consult her on something,’ the abbess said distractedly. ‘She is nowhere to be found.’

‘She has probably risen early and is about the palace somewhere. If not, then the guard would tell you whether she has passed through the gates,’ Eadulf offered.

‘I have already spoken to the guard. She has not left the palace grounds.’

‘There are few places in the palace she can have gone,’ Fidelma assured her. ‘You were on your way to the chapel, weren’t you? She might well be there.’

Abbess Líoch did not seem convinced but continued on her way towards the chapel.

‘Now,’ Eadulf said tightly, ‘let’s see whether Beccan supports this strange story that Deogaire would have us believe.’

They found the steward, looking contrite, in the palace kitchens. He was speaking with Dar Luga. On seeing them, he immediately approached, wringing his hands.

‘I have heard the news, lady. It’s my fault. All my fault.’ His voice was almost like a child’s wail. ‘Luan told me – he was on guard at the gates when I arrived.’

Fidelma and Eadulf exchanged a puzzled glance.

‘What is your fault, Beccan?’ Fidelma asked calmly.

‘Being absent at the very time important guests arrive.’ He was practically in tears. ‘I have told the King that I am ready to take the consequence. I should never have—’

‘And have you been told about Deogaire?’ interrupted Eadulf. Seeing the steward’s baffled look, Fidelma swiftly enlightened him.

‘My fault again,’ he bleated. ‘I should never have allowed Deogaire to use a room in the guest chambers.’

‘Calm yourself, Beccan,’ Fidelma said, as the man seemed on the verge of hysteria. ‘Just tell us – slowly – what happened in relation to Deogaire.’