Atonement of Blood(119)
Conrí issued the orders while Fidelma gathered her party, which consisted of Marban, Temnén and the still silent Gláed, escorted by Artgal and Socht, with Eadulf, Gormán and Conrí. Ensuring that Conrí’s men had secured their positions, Fidelma instructed Brother Cuineáin to lead the way to the abbot’s chamber. As they did so, the steward noticed that Temnén was being followed by his hound, Failinis. He immediately began to protest again.
‘You can’t bring that creature into the House of the Lord. It is an affront and a sacrilege!’
Fidelma was in no mood to allow any further protests. ‘Do you then deny Holy Scripture, Brother Cuineáin?’ she snapped. ‘Nimirum interroga iumenta et docebunt te. Ask the animals and they will teach you … in God’s hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.’
Eadulf smiled. ‘The words of Job,’ he said, and added, ‘the creature has as much right to be here as you do.’
Brother Cuineáin gave an angry exclamation as they marched through the stone corridors towards the chamber of the abbot.
Abbot Nannid rose from his chair, his outrage obvious, as they crowded into his chamber. Before he could speak, however, Fidelma pre-empted him by holding up her wand of office.
‘Look closely on this, Abbot Nannid. I am here first to speak with the voice of the law and then with the voice of the King of Muman.’
‘You do not speak with the authority of the Church,’ snapped Abbot Nannid. ‘You have no authority within these abbey walls. You have admitted that you are no longer a member of the religious. You come here by the power of the sword – so I refuse to acknowledge your right to be here!’
‘You will find that I also act by the authority of Ségdae, Abbot of Imleach, comarb of the Blessed Ailbe and Chief Bishop of this kingdom.’ Eadulf’s voice rang out as he moved forward and, to Fidelma’s surprise, produced a small round, silver object from his leather bag. He laid it on the table before the abbot. ‘I carry the seal of Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, Chief Bishop of Muman. So the authority of the Church is upheld. Do you recognise it?’
Brother Cuineáin made one last effort to challenge them. ‘You did not present these authorities before,’ he began. ‘Why—’
It was Conrí who answered this time. ‘You were told that brigands had robbed the lady Fidelma and her companions. Thankfully, my men encountered the thieves and thus we were able to return these symbols of authority.’
The abbot was still staring at the silver seal. Then he looked from Eadulf to Fidelma, and then at those who had crowded into his chamber, sweeping them with a puzzled gaze. He did not even question the presence of Temnén’s large hound, who now sat patiently by the foot of his master.
‘What do you want here?’ he asked Fidelma.
‘To prevent a plot that would provoke civil war among the Uí Fidgente,’ she replied evenly. ‘To stop a war that will cause bloodshed throughout all Muman. To resolve the unlawful bloodshed that has already marred this kingdom, and to identify the culprits.’
The abbot raised his arms a little way then let them fall in a hopeless gesture. ‘I know nothing of such things,’ he said. ‘When you were here last, you claimed it was Brother Lennán who tried to assassinate your brother, the King. But Brother Lennán had been dead these many years. Have you now managed to resurrect him? Do your powers extend that far?’ Somehow the abbot found the courage to be sarcastic.
‘You hold a key to the door of a certain room,’ Fidelma said, ignoring the abbot’s gibes. ‘You will unlock it for me.’
Abbot Nannid shook his head. ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’
Fidelma turned to Brother Cuineáin. ‘If the abbot has no knowledge of the room of which I speak, I am sure that you do. It is the room in which the items are stored that are kept in remembrance of Cnoc Áine.’
The steward started nervously and glanced at the grim-faced abbot.
‘You have acknowledged my authority,’ Fidelma said forcefully. ‘You do not need the abbot’s permission to respond to my request.’
Abbot Nannid leaned back in his chair with a sigh. ‘That room?’ There was a thin smile on his lips. ‘Come, come, lady. There is nothing in that room that needs such suspicion as I see on your face. Brother Cuineáin may unlock it if he will, but I can tell you already what is in there. Some years ago, I authorised Brother Cuineáin to gather some of the sad debris that was left on the battlefield of Cnoc Áine. We have placed it there as a reminder of the evils of war. Isn’t that correct, Brother Cuineáin? It is a shrine.’