Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

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BOOK: Valley of the Shadow

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Chapter Two

The religieux sat on a small boulder by the side of the gushing mountain stream, soaking his feet in the crisp cold water with an expression of bliss on his upturned face. He had his homespun brown wool habit hitched to his knees and his sleeves were rolled up as he sat in the hot summer sunshine, allowing the water to gurgle and froth around his ankles. He was young, and thick-set and wore the
corona spina,
the circular tonsure of St Peter of Rome, on his otherwise abundant head of brown, curly hair.

He suddenly opened his eyes and gazed reprovingly at a second figure standing on the bank of the stream.

‘I believe that you disapprove, Fidelma,’ he said chidingly to the tall, red-haired religieuse who was watching him. The young, attractive woman regarded him with eyes of indiscernible colour, perhaps blue, perhaps green, it was difficult to say. The downward droop of her mouth indicated her displeasure.

‘We are so near our journey’s end that I merely feel we should be moving on instead of indulging ourselves in pampering our bodies as if we had all the time in the world.’

The young man smiled wryly.

‘
Voluptates commendat rarior usus,
’ he intoned by way of justification.

Sister Fidelma sniffed in annoyance.

‘Perhaps the indulgence is rare and thereby the pleasure is increased,’ she admitted, ‘nevertheless, Eadulf, we should not delay our journey longer than is necessary.’

Brother Eadulf rose from his perch with a sigh of reluctance and waded to the bank. His face, however, wore an expression of satisfaction.

‘O si sic omnia
,’ he announced.

‘And if everything were thus,’ rejoined Fidelma waspishly, ‘we would have no progress in life because it would be one long indulgence in bodily pleasure. Thank God that winter was created as well as summer to balance our sensitivities.’

Eadulf dried his feet roughly on the hem of his habit and slipped on his leather sandals.

They had paused in this spot to take a midday meal and fodder their horses on the green grass along the bank of the stream. Fidelma had tidied away the remains of their meal and repacked the saddle bags. It had been the strong midday summer sun that had persuaded Eadulf to cool his feet in the cold stream. He knew, however, that it was not his indulgence that really perturbed Fidelma. He had observed her growing anxiety these last twenty-four hours even though she did her best to keep her apprehension hidden from him.

‘Are we really so near?’ he asked.

Fidelma replied by pointing to the tall peaks of the mountains whose foothills they had entered that morning.

‘Those are the Cruacha Dubha, the black ricks. This is the border of the lands of the clan of Duibhne. By mid-afternoon we should be in the country of Laisre. It is an almost hidden valley up there by that high peak which is reputed to be the highest mountain in this land.’

Brother Eadulf stared upwards at the bald peak which towered among the surrounding heights.

‘Are you regretting that you rejected your brother’s offer to send warriors to accompany us?’ he asked gently.

Fidelma’s eyes flashed a moment and then she shook her head as she realised that Eadulf meant well.

‘What point is there in this entire journey if warriors have to protect us? If we have to spread our teachings and Faith at the point of a sword then those teachings and our Faith must surely not be worth the hearing.’

‘Sometimes men, like children, will not sit and listen until they are made to,’ observed the Saxon philosophically. ‘A stick for the child – a sword for the adult. It helps concentrate the mind.’

‘Something to be said in that,’ agreed Fidelma. She paused and added: ‘I have known you too long to attempt to keep the truth from you, Eadulf. Certainly, I am apprehensive. Laisre is a law unto himself. While honour and duty make him answerable to my brother in Cashel, Cashel might be a million miles away.’

‘It is hard to believe that there is still an area of this land where the Faith is unknown.’

Fidelma shook her head.

‘Not exactly unknown; rather it is known but rejected. The Faith reached these shores scarce two hundred years ago, Eadulf. There are still many isolated parts where the old beliefs die hard. We are
a conservative people who like to hang on to old ways and ideas. You have been educated at our ecclesiastical schools yourself. You know how many cleave to the old path and the old gods and goddesses …’

Eadulf nodded reflectively. Only a month ago he had returned with Fidelma to Cashel after spending a short time in the valley of Araglin where they had encountered Gadra, a hermit, who held staunchly to the old religion. But the Faith was still young in many other lands. Eadulf, himself, had been converted only after he had reached young manhood. He had once been hereditary
gerefa
or magistrate to the thane of Seaxmund’s Ham in the land of the South Folk before he had fallen in with an Irishman named Fursa who had brought the Word of Christ and a new religion to the pagan Saxons. Soon Eadulf had forsworn the dark gods of his fathers and became so apt a pupil that Fursa had sent him to Ireland, to the great ecclesiastical schools of Durrow and Tuam Brecain.

Eadulf had finally chosen the path to Rome rather than Iona. It had been attending the debate between the advocates of the Roman liturgy and the observances of Columba in Whitby that Eadulf had first worked with Fidelma, who was not only a religieuse but an advocate of the Irish courts of law. They had been through several adventures together. And here he was, back in Ireland, as special envoy to Fidelma’s brother, Colgú, king of Muman, on behalf of the new archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore of Tarsus.

Eadulf knew well the extent to which people preferred to cling to old ways and old ideas rather than leap into the untried and unknown.

‘Is this chieftain, Laisre, whom we seek, so fearful of the Faith?’ he inquired.

Fidelma shrugged.

‘Perhaps it is not Laisre who is to be feared but those who counsel him,’ she suggested. ‘Laisre is the leader of his people and will respect caste and status. He is willing to meet with me and discuss the matter of establishing a permanent representation of the Faith in his lands. That is a sign of a liberal attitude.’

She paused and found her mind turning over the events of the previous week; thinking of the day on which her brother Colgú of Cashel, king of Muman, asked her to meet him in his private chamber …

There was no doubting that Colgú of Cashel was related to Fidelma. They shared the same tall build, the same red hair and changeable
green eyes; the same facial structure and indefinable quality of movement.

The young king smiled at his sister as she entered the room.

‘Is it true what I hear, Fidelma?’

Fidelma looked solemn, the corner of her mouth quirked downwards.

‘Until I know what it is that you have heard, brother, I can neither verify nor deny it.’

‘Bishop Ségdae has told me that you have surrendered your allegiance to the House of Brigid.’

Fidelma’s face did not change expression. She moved to the fire and sat down. It was her right to be seated in the presence of a provincial king, even if he had not been her brother, without seeking permission. It was not only her rank as an Eóghanacht princess that gave her this right, though that enforced it, but that she was a
dálaigh,
an advocate of the law courts, qualified to the level of
anruth
and thus could even sit in the presence of the High King himself if he invited her to do so.

‘You have heard correctly from the lips of your “Hawk of the Borderland”,’ she replied quietly.

Colgú chuckled. Bishop Ségdae’s name meant ‘hawk-like’ and he presided at the abbey of Imleach, which name meant ‘borderland’. Imleach was the great ecclesiastical centre of Muman and it vied with Armagh as the chief Christian centre of Ireland. From a child, Fidelma had loved words and their meanings and often delighted in playing word games.

‘Then Bishop Ségdae is right?’ Colgú pressed with some surprise as he realised what this meant. ‘I thought that you were committed to serve the House of Brigid?’

‘I have withdrawn from Brigid’s House at Kildare, brother,’ Fidelma confirmed with a degree of regret in her voice. ‘I could no longer give fidelity to the Abbess Ita. It is a question of … of integrity … I shall say no more.’

Colgú sat opposite her, leaning back in his chair, legs outstretched, and gazed thoughtfully at his sister. Once she had set her mind to something it was little use pressing her further.

‘You are always welcome here, Fidelma. You have rendered several services to me and this kingdom since you quit Kildare.’

‘Services to the law,’ corrected Fidelma gently. ‘I took an oath to uphold the law above all things. By service to the law, I have fulfilled my service to the lawful king and therefore this kingdom.’

Colgú grinned; the same quick urchin grin that Fidelma often acknowledged an amusing point with.

‘I am lucky, then, to be the lawful king,’ he replied dryly.

Fidelma met her brother’s glance with grave humour on her features.

‘I am glad that we are in such agreement.’

Colgú, however, was serious again.

‘Is it your wish to stay in Muman now, Fidelma? There are plenty of religious houses here which would welcome you. Imleach for one. Lios Mhór for another. And should you wish to remain here in the palace of Cashel, you would be more than welcome. This is where you were born and this is your home. I would value your daily counsel.’

‘Wherever I may serve best, brother. That is my wish.’

Her brother glanced at her searchingly for a moment and then said: ‘When Bishop Ségdae mentioned that you had quit Kildare, I confess that I had thought that your reason might be a wish to travel to the kingdom of Ecgberht of Kent.’

Fidelma raised her eyebrow in an involuntary gesture of surprise.

‘Kent? The kingdom of the Jutes? Why so, brother? Whatever made you think that?’

‘Because Canterbury is in Kent and isn’t that the place to which Brother Eadulf must return?’

‘Eadulf?’ Fidelma blushed but raised her chin aggressively. ‘What do you imply?’

‘I hope that I imply nothing,’ returned Colgú with a knowing smile. ‘I simply observe that you have spent much time in the company of the Saxon. I see the way that you and he respond to each other. Am I not your brother and have no reason to be blind to such things?’

Fidelma compressed her lips with an embarrassed expression which she contrived to turn into quiet irritation.

‘That is foolish talk.’ The vehemence in her voice was just a little too artificial.

Colgú regarded her long and thoughtfully.

‘Even the religious have to marry,’ he observed quietly.

‘Not all religious,’ pointed out Fidelma, still flustered.

‘True,’ agreed her brother, ‘but celibacy in the Faith is reserved only for those who follow the lives of aesthetics and hermits. You are too much of this world to follow that path.’

Fidelma had now contained her embarrassment and restored her composure.

‘Well, I have no plans to go to the kingdom of the Jutes, or any other land outside my own.’

‘Then, perhaps, Brother Eadulf will renounce his allegiance to Canterbury and settle among us?’

‘It is not my position to forecast the actions of Eadulf, brother.’ Fidelma replied with such irritability that Colgú smiled disarmingly.

‘You are angry that I am so forward, sister. But I do not raise this matter from idle curiosity. I want to know just how you feel and whether you are contemplating leaving the Muman.’

‘I have answered that I am not.’

‘I would not blame you. I like your Saxon friend. He is good company in spite of being a son of his people.’

Fidelma made no reply. There was silence for a while and then Colgú stretched himself languidly in his chair and his expression became troubled as his mind seemed to turn to another subject.

‘In truth, Fidelma,’ he said at last, ‘I need your services.’

Fidelma’s expression was grave.

‘I was expecting something of the sort. What is it?’

‘You are skilled in problem solving, Fidelma, and I wish to take advantage of that gift once more.’

Fidelma bowed her head.

‘What talent I have is yours to command, Colgú. You know that.’

‘Then I will confess that I did ask you here with a specific purpose in mind.’

‘I had no doubt of it,’ she replied solemnly. ‘But I knew that you would have to approach it in your own way.’

‘Do you know the mountains to the west known as the Cruacha Dubha?’

‘I have never been amongst those mountains but I have seen them from a distance and have heard stories about them.’

BOOK: Valley of the Shadow

10.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub