Fidelma had almost forgotten that, as an Irish foundation, there would be others from the Five Kingdoms, apart from Brother Ruadán, in the abbey. As Brother Faro hurried off in search of Brother Wulfila, she crossed the courtyard with a feeling of relief at the idea of seeing and speaking to some of her countrymen again. She was so filled with the thought that she had entirely forgotten about the disappearance of Lady Gunora and her charge, Prince Romuald.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brother Lonán turned out to be a disappointment. He was an excitable little man whose sole interest appeared to be in the herbs that he grew in a walled garden at the back of the abbey complex. With careful questioning, Fidelma managed to extract the fact that he had originally studied at Cluain Eidnech, the Ivy Meadow, a territory whose chiefs gave nominal allegiance to the King of Muman but, because of its position on the eastern borders, next to the Kingdom of Laighin, that allegiance often vacillated depending on what gain was offered.
‘How many of the brethren here are from Hibernia?’ she asked as he turned his attention to some shrubs she did not recognise.
‘At the moment there are twelve of our compatriots among the brethren,’ he replied absently. ‘I suppose I have been here the longest now. Of course, all of the original founders have passed on.’
‘Do many of our people pass through here on their way to Rome or elsewhere in the south? I am told that many of our peregrinatio pro Christo have established themselves in this land.’
The question met with a shrug that indicated he was either uninterested or unconcerned. In fact, all of her questions about life at the abbey and personalities were met with similar indifference, while questions about herbs and other plants were greeted with little bursts of enthusiasm, albeit coupled with longwinded responses. Within half an hour, Fidelma had grown bored and decided to end her visit.
It was while she was making up her mind what excuse she could offer to cut the examination of the herb garden short that another member of the brethren passed by and greeted Brother Lonán in his own language. She turned to examine him. He was a young man with thin pale features, light blue eyes and flaming red hair, almost like her own.
‘I recognise your accent, Brother,’ she greeted him. ‘You are from Muman.’
The young man halted and then apparently recognised her.
‘I am Brother Eolann, lady,’ he replied. ‘I am the scriptor here. And you are Sister Fidelma. I saw you in the refectorium. It is said you are the daughter of the King at Cashel.’
‘My father was Failbe Flann who died when I was young. My brother is Colgú who is now the heir apparent to my cousin, Cathal.’
‘Do you bring recent news from my native Muman?’
‘Alas, I have been away from Muman for many months, Brother Eolann.’
He sighed. ‘I have been away from Muman many years and so whatever news you have, even though out of date, will be news to me. Come, join me in my daily walk and tell me what there is to know of home.’
Fidelma was thankful that the scriptor of the abbey might be a more interesting conversationalist than Brother Lonán. The gardener had already wandered off with trowel in hand,seemingly intent in the pursuit of his horticultural tasks. Fidelma turned to the young man. ‘Where do you come from, Brother Eolann?’
‘From Faithleann’s Island — do you know it?’ he replied as they fell in step.
‘But of course. It is a little wooded island in Loch Léin. Is not your chieftain, my own cousin, Congal of the Eóghanacht? You are a long way from home, as am I. How came you here?’
‘That is a story simple to tell, lady. I was a scholar in the abbey on Faithleann’s Island and was chosen to take some books to the library of the Abbey of the Blessed Gall.’
‘Gall?’
‘He was one of the disciples of Colm Bán, whom they called Columbanus here. Indeed, Gall is also called Gallen. But instead of accompanying Colm Bán to Bobium, Gall, and some of his comrades, decided to stay at a place further north beyond the great mountains. They established an abbey there by a great lake, the Lacus Brigantius, as Pliny called it.’
‘Brigantius?’ queried Fidelma. ‘That seems to be a name I should be familiar with.’
‘It was a Gaulish territory with a city called Brigantium. It is a name familiar in many parts, even in Britain during Roman times. Now it is a territory of the Alemanni, where both Colm Bán and Gall preached for a while. Like Bobium, the community has grown magnificently. I spent a little while there before making my way south, learning the language of the Longobards and eventually arriving in Bobium. That was over two years ago. So instead of returning home, I have remained here as scriptor. I have not seen Muman in four years or more.’
‘Ah, then you have indeed been away longer than I have,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘There is little news to give, apart from a list of deaths.’
‘The Yellow Plague has been ravaging this country, so doubtless it has also spread to the Five Kingdoms?’
‘It has. It has created a long and miserable list of deaths and is still ravaging the land. The plague affected many communities and not even prelates have escaped. Abbot Ségéne, one of the successors of Colm Bán at the Abbey of Beannchar, died of it last year. You might know of Colmán, who was chief professor of Finnbarr’s school in Corcaigh? Before I came away, I heard that he had fled with fifty of his pupils to one of the western islands in order to escape the plague.’
Brother Eolann assumed a sad expression. ‘I studied under Colmán before I went to Faithleann’s Island. Your cousin, Congal, had just become Lord of Locha Léin at that time. But Máenach mac Fingin was still King of Muman.’
‘Cathal Cú-cen-maithair succeeded him two years ago, and that was when my brother, Colgú, became his tánaiste — his heir apparent,’ Fidelma told him.
‘Are there any other changes?’
‘There is relative peace among the Five Kingdoms under the sons of Aedo Sláine.’
The two sons of Aedo Sláine had succeeded as joint High Kings of Éireann ten years before and had presided over a peaceful decade.
‘There are times when I would give up the privilege of my position here to see the still blue waters of the Lake of Léin again,’ the young man admitted.
They had already circled the garden.
‘Would it impose too much upon you, Eolann of Faithleann’sIsland, if I asked you to show me the scriptorium?’ Fidelma suddenly asked. ‘I am more than interested in such matters. I especially want to look at the text of the Gospel of Matthew.’
‘You are most welcome there any time, lady,’ replied Brother Eolann without hesitation. He continued to use the term of respect for her as the daughter of a king of his land rather than her position as a religieuse. ‘Come. We have an excellent copy of the Blessed Eusebius’ translation of that Gospel into Latin.’ He led the way from the herbarium back across the courtyard towards the main abbey buildings.
‘I hear there are many good scholars here,’ Fidelma continued, ‘such as Venerable Ionas and Magister Ado. You must have much talent to be appointed scriptor.’
The young man made a gesture of deprecation. ‘There is often a difference between the talent of a scholar and a scriptor. My talent is in taking care of books, not in the writing of them. I was lucky, for when I arrived here the scriptor was ailing and needed an assistant. He died and thus I was made scriptor.’
‘I am told that you have a fine collection of books here?’
Brother Eolann affirmed the fact with immediate enthusiasm. ‘We have one of the largest collections of work of the Faith anywhere in Christendom. Soon after I came here I set up a special group of copyists so that, over the years, copies may be made and sent to the libraries in our other lands.’