Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

Valley of the Shadow (14 page)

BOOK: Valley of the Shadow

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‘Indeed, your God taught that if someone struck a man on one cheek, that person should offer the other cheek to be struck, thus courting further injury and oppression and inviting wrong doing. Surely the Brehons teach that those who court oppression share the crime? When men are poor in spirit then the proud and haughty in spirit oppress them. When men are true in spirit and determined to prevent wrong then the people benefit. Do you not agree with that, Brother Solin?’

Brother Solin was furious. His anger made him look pitiful and inarticulate in front of the assembly. Fidelma had already assessed that it needed a finer intellect than Brother Solin to do battle with glib-tongued Murgal. She shook her head slightly and whispered across to Eadulf: ‘The triads of Éireann say three laughing stocks
of the world – a jealous man, a parsimonious man and an angry man. Brother Solin has walked directly into the trap that Murgal has prepared.’

Brother Solin was continuing on, unaware of the impression he was giving.

‘The Christ said – “Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh. Blessed are you that mourn, for you shall be comforted and Blessed be you poor for yours is the kingdom of heaven.”’

‘Nice promises but only to be fulfilled in the Otherworld,’ sneered Murgal. ‘But it is poor teaching for this world. Poverty of person leads on from poverty of spirit. This religion was obviously conceived by a tyrant who wanted to see the poor continue in their poverty while he grew rich and fat on their misery.’

‘Not so, not so …’ cried Brother Solin losing all attempt at composure.

Fidelma stood up abruptly.

She said not a word but the very fact of her rising and her silence caused every voice to fade so that silence gradually permeated the room. She waited until it was so encompassing that even the smallest whisper could be heard.

‘I was misinformed,’ she began softly. ‘I was told that this was to be a negotiation on practical matters. Not a theological debate. Should you have required representatives to discuss theology then you should have told the bishop of Imleach who would have sent you scholars who would match your scholars. I am but a simple servant of the law of this land. I shall commence my journey home to Cashel this afternoon and I shall take back the message that the chieftain of Gleann Geis has been unable to make a decision on this matter. Cashel will not send anyone to Gleann Geis again until it is assured that a decision has been made.’

As she turned, Eadulf rose unsteadily, groaning inwardly at the very idea of commencing such a journey in his condition.

‘An admission of defeat?’ cried Murgal. ‘Do you admit that Christians cannot argue logic with a Druid?’

Fidelma halted and looked in his direction.

‘You are acquainted, I suppose, with the triads of Eireann?’

‘A poor Brehon I would be if I was not,’ replied Murgal complacently.

‘Three candles that illuminate every darkness: truth, nature and knowledge,’ she quoted and then turned away towards the door.

This time she did not even stop when she heard Laisre’s voice call out to her to do so.

The warrior, Rudgal, looking uncomfortable, barred the doorway
as she reached it, resting his hand lightly on his sword hilt. He looked apologetic.

‘My chieftain calls on you to stay, Sister,’ he muttered. ‘He has to be obeyed.’

He was taken aback by the green fire that danced in Fidelma’s eyes.

‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, princess of the Eóghanacht. I stay for no one!’

How she did it not even Eadulf knew but her sheer presence caused Rudgal to fall back a pace and she had swept through the door and out into the courtyard. She did not pause to see if Eadulf was following but walked quickly across the courtyard of the ráth to the guests’ hostel. Inside she made straight for a pitcher of water and poured herself a drink.

Eadulf hastened in after her and closed the door. He looked at her nervously but found that her face was creased with laughter. He shook his head in bewilderment.

‘I do not understand.’

Fidelma was good humoured.

‘Whether this was Laisre’s design or not, this council was a charade. It was set up either to waste time or to distract us from the business we were sent here to conduct. What I have to decide is why and who is responsible. And, further, was that idiot Brother Solin part of this deception?’

‘I still do not understand.’

‘Instead of getting down to the business we were meant to arrange, Murgal deliberately tried to lead us into the time-wasting morass of arguing our differing philosophies. If I had accepted that as the starting point, we would have been arguing here for weeks. Why? What purpose would that serve? The only thing to do was to take the stand I did and to call their bluff.’

‘Will their bluff be called?’ demanded Eadulf.

There came the sound of voices growing nearer.

Eadulf glanced out of the window.

‘It is Brother Solin and his scribe. He does not look in a good mood.’

A moment later Brother Solin burst into the room; his face was still red with mortification.

‘Little you did to support me in spreading the Faith,’ he snapped at Fidelma without preamble. ‘All you have done is insult our hosts and deny any means whereby we might arrange to bring the Faith to this valley.’

‘It is not my task to support you in theological debate,’ Fidelma
returned, causing Solin to blink at her sharpness. If he had expected her to acquiesce to his dominance, he had quickly learnt. She turned to Eadulf. ‘Go and saddle our horses and I shall be along directly. I’ll pack and bring our bags.’

Reluctantly, Eadulf departed on his mission.

Brother Solin looked aghast.

‘You mean to go through with it? You cannot leave here now!’

She regarded him coldly.

‘Who will stop me? And what business is it to you?’

‘You mean to leave here, having insulted the chieftain and his council in such a manner?’

‘The chieftain and his council have insulted me by not discussing the business that had been arranged.’

Brother Solin spread his hands in helpless agitation.

‘But surely there must be give and take to everything? These people want assurances about the Faith and it is our moral duty to give them those assurances. To each, something of the Faith and …’

‘Poor Brother Solin,’ Fidelma said with a harshness in her voice that belied her solicitude. ‘You do not see, or do not wish to, that you were being manipulated into an unending debate, wasting time in arguing small points of theology. I am unsure if you be knave or fool. Why do you wish to waste time which might elsewhere be spent profitably? Did you really think that this was the opportune moment to attempt to convert Murgal and his followers to the Faith? You should have remembered the wise saying
fere libenter homines quod volunt credunt –
men usually believe what they want to believe.’

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Brother Solin said defensively.

She examined his features carefully.

‘Perhaps, perhaps not. I would not like to think that you knowingly played a part in this distraction.’

She turned and ran up the stairs and picked up her saddle bags and then gathered Eadulf’s from his room. Then she returned to the main room.

‘Perhaps our paths may cross again, Brother Solin, but I shall not wish that day will come speedily,’ she said icily and, before he could reply, she had left the hostel and crossed towards the stables.

Eadulf was waiting with their mounts. He looked pale and was clearly not in the best of health. Fidelma felt sorry for him but all depended on what she did now.

‘What do we do?’ he muttered. ‘We are being watched by a group at the council chamber door.’

‘Then we shall depart exactly as we said.’

Fidelma swung up on her horse. Eadulf followed her example and Fidelma led the way to the gates of the ráth. The warriors standing there watched them, nervously glancing towards the door of the council chamber, unsure of what they should do. They finally moved aside and let Fidelma and Eadulf through.

Outside Eadulf groaned.

‘I will not be able to ride far without a rest, Fidelma. I am still ill with the bad wine.’

‘You will not have to,’ she assured him.

‘I wish you would tell me what exactly you have in mind,’ he grumbled.

‘Exactly? That I cannot. For I might have to change my plan as minute passes minute.’

Eadulf stifled another groan. He would do anything for an hour on a bed. Even half an hour.

‘Then you do have a plan?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Of course. Shall I wager a
screpall
to a
sicuil
with you? You see the cluster of houses by the river fork?’

Eadulf glanced ahead and answered in the affirmative.

‘That is the very place where Brother Solin said he walked early this morning,’ Fidelma went on. ‘Well, my wager is that by the time we get there we shall be overtaken by a rider from the ráth who will beg us, in the name of Laisre, to return and crave our forgiveness for the events of this forenoon.’

‘Knowing you, Fidelma,’ sniffed Eadulf, with resignation, ‘I am not likely to take your wager. But at times I wish we could follow some easier path.’

It was Laisre himself who caught up with them just before they reached the wooden bridge which crossed the river to the group of buildings forming the closest settlement to the ráth. The chieftain of Gleann Geis looked suitably chastened.

‘Fidelma of Cashel, I apologise. It was my fault for letting the council get out of hand.’

They had stopped their horses before the bridge and sat astride them facing one another.

Fidelma did not reply.

‘You were right, Fidelma,’ pressed Laisre. ‘You did not come hither to engage in a discourse about philosophy but to discuss some practical arrangements. It was Murgal who allowed his hostility to sweep him away into such …’

Fidelma held up a hand.

‘Are you saying that you wish the council to reconvene to discuss the practical matter?’

‘Of course,’ Laisre agreed at once.

‘Your Druid and council do not seem to be in accord with you on this matter of allowing a Christian church to be built in this valley.’

‘Come back and you shall see.’ Laisre was almost pleading.

‘If I return …’ Fidelma paused significantly. ‘If I return, there would have to be conditions governing this matter.’

Laisre’s expression changed to one of suspicion.

‘What conditions?’ he demanded.

‘Your council will have to meet and make a decision before I enter into any discourse with you; decide, that is, whether you want this church and school or not. If the answer is negative, as it seems to be at this time, then I shall return to Cashel without further waste of my time. If the answer is affirmative, then we can deal with the practical matters. But that negotiation will now be between you and I and no other member of your council. I do not want to provide a theatre for Murgal to display his abilities as play-actor.’

Laisre raised his eyebrows.

‘Is that how you see Murgal?’ he demanded in surprise.

‘Can it be that you do not?’ she retorted.

Laisre looked pained for a moment and then, abruptly, he started to laugh heartily. Finally he shook his head.

‘There is something in what you say, Fidelma. I admit it. But do not underestimate his serious intent.’

‘No,’ replied Fidelma quietly. ‘That I do not.’

‘Then you will agree to return? I cannot guarantee that Murgal will apologise to you.’

‘I do not ask that he does. All I ask is that whatever discussion your council wants to hold on this matter, it does so before I start to discuss practical arrangements with you.’

‘You have my word.’ Laisre thrust out a hand. ‘My hand on it, Fidelma of Cashel.’

Fidelma glanced closely at him but did not take it.

‘Before we conclude, and as we speak in honesty, Laisre, what is Brother Solin of Armagh doing here?’

Laisre looked startled.

‘I thought he was here at your behest? He came bearing gifts from Armagh.’

‘My behest?’ Fidelma controlled herself. ‘Is that what he has told you?’

‘No, but he is of your Faith. I suppose that I presumed …’ He shrugged. ‘Then all I know is that he is a traveller who sought our hospitality. We do not deny him that on grounds that he is of a different faith.’

It was only then that she accepted Laisre’s hand.

‘I accept your word, Laisre. Eadulf and I will return, shortly.’

Laisre appeared puzzled.

‘You will not ride back with me now?’

BOOK: Valley of the Shadow

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