‘I have heard no whispers in my travels across the territory. I know Prince Donennach has gone to pay tribute to the High King in Tara. Indeed, the wounds of the war are such that I do not think anyone would contemplate a renewal of it, especially in Mungairit.’
‘Why do you say that – especially in Mungairit?’ Eadulf picked up on the point.
‘I was speaking to one of the scribes when I first arrived here. That was over a week or so ago. Maolán was his name. He told me that the abbot kept a small chamber containing a shrine to the memory of the Uí Fidgente defeat at Cnoc Áine. The room is filled with swords and shields, spears and battle helmets, even emblems of the warriors gathered from the battlefield. This was done so that the battle could be remembered.’
Fidelma was not impressed. ‘A strange thing to do. What is it, a shrine to be worshipped?’
The young man shook his head. ‘Shrine was not perhaps the best word, for I understand that the abbot has ordered the door to be kept locked; only he and the steward have the key to it. It was created, we are told, to remind the abbey of the evil consequences of war.’
‘How does this Maolán know of this shrine if it is kept locked?’
‘That I am not sure.’
‘I would like a word with him.’
‘He is no longer in the abbey. He left a day or so after I arrived. I think he said he was going east where his calligraphical talent was needed. I don’t think he was expecting to return.’
‘Well, let us hope that there is no conspiracy at all. Nevertheless, my brother lies close to death and the Chief Brehon of Muman is dead. Whether this is an isolated case of vengeance or part of something more widespread and serious, we must find an answer.’
‘I trust you will.’ Brother Cú-Mara’s face suddenly brightened. ‘But if you are leaving shortly and going towards An Mháigh, we will be taking the same road. Perhaps we can travel together as far as the ford, where I continue on towards Ard Fhearta?’
Fidelma agreed as she rose. ‘It is always good to have companions on the road. And now Eadulf and I must make our farewells to Abbot Nannid. Gormán will go and ready our horses.’
Brother Cú-Mara also rose. ‘Then I will accompany Gormán here to the stables for I have to collect my own beast.’ He chuckled. ‘Only an ass, I am afraid. Religious without rank do not have the privilege of riding on horses unless by special dispensation.’
Fidelma and Eadulf made their way to the abbot’s chamber and found Abbot Nannid closeted with Brother Cuineáin. The abbot seemed nervous and preoccupied.
‘We have come to say our farewells,’ Fidelma announced.
Almost at once there was a change in the man’s features.
‘Are you leaving us already?’ The regret in his voice was so obviously feigned that Eadulf felt embarrassed.
‘I am afraid we must,’ he said.
‘So where do you go now?’ asked Brother Cuineáin.
‘Why, we shall head west with Brother Cú-Mara,’ Fidelma replied, but she did not elaborate further.
Abbot Nannid seemed surprised. ‘I thought you had not known that Brother Cú-Mara was visiting us until you arrived here?’
‘Correct – but what a lucky chance that he was here. He probably told you that Eadulf and I spent some time at the Abbey of Ard Fhearta a few years ago.’
‘He did. Indeed, a coincidence.’
‘We offer you and the abbey our condolences over the demise of poor Brother Ledbán. He obviously led a long and active life so I suppose death came as no surprise.’
‘Death is the one event that is inevitable in all our lives,’ Abbot Nannid intoned. ‘However, we are sorry to hear the news of the death of Chief Brehon Áedo as we are shocked at the attempt on the life of the King, your brother. They will both be remembered in our prayers, but especially, we will pray for the recovery of your brother.’
‘Please accept our gratitude for your hospitality,’ Fidelma said politely.
‘May you find God on every road you travel,’ replied the abbot.
Thus dismissed, they followed Brother Cuineáin out of the abbey buildings and into the courtyard. Gormán was already there with their horses and nearby, Brother Cú-Mara was standing with his patiently waiting ass.
The farewell from Brother Cuineáin was less effusive than from his abbot and, as they passed through the gates of the abbey and turned westward along the road, Eadulf was uncomfortably aware of the steward standing watching them intently until the trees and shrubs that grew alongside the road hid him from sight.