‘I have spoken with Brother Waldipert, but I need someone to help me. I would rather that no one knew the extent of my interest in this matter.’ Fidelma spoke softly, confidentially. ‘I want to find Hawisa and have a word with her about her son. Presuming that she would speak only the local language, I need someone to act as my interpreter.’
Brother Eolann was astonished. ‘Are you suggesting that I take you to her cabin and translate for you?’
‘That is precisely what I am asking.’
‘There are difficulties.’
‘Which are?’ demanded Fidelma.
‘Getting permission for me to leave the abbey. Aside from the Rule of the community, the abbot would be more strict after what happened to Brother Ruadán and with the stories of rebellion in the land.’
Fidelma thought carefully. ‘You think that he would refuse?’
Brother Eolann chuckled sourly. ‘I am sure he would.’
‘If his permission could be obtained, would you be willing to accompany me?’
‘I think, with all due respect, that I would need to know more. What is the purpose behind this? What is your interest in Hawisa? And why do you approach me, of all the brethren here?’
‘I ask you because you are from Muman. You know thefunction of a dálaigh and the rules connected to that function. And, while I shall tell you that which you ask, before I share that knowledge with you, I must place you under a géis that you must take oath on.’
The young scriptor’s expression was one of surprise. ‘A géis?’ he echoed in astonishment.
Anyone from Hibernia knew the importance of the oath well. It was an ancient sacred bond which, when placed on someone, compelled them to obey the instruction. Any person transgressing or ignoring the géis was exposed to the rejection of society and brought to shame and outlawry.
‘I do not ask this lightly,’ Fidelma assured him.
Brother Eolann was quiet for a while and then slowly nodded his agreement. The words of the ritual were spoken softly and with solemn intent. Afterwards, Fidelma sat back on a stool opposite the scriptor.
‘I will tell you now why I am interested in Wamba’s death, Eolann of Faithleann’s Island, and then you will understand. You see, I believe that Brother Ruadán was murdered …’
Ignoring his shocked expression, Fidelma told Brother Eolann what had transpired when she had seen Brother Ruadán and the nature of the observation which caused her to believe that his death had not been natural.
‘In telling you this, and not keeping my own counsel, I open myself to your trust, for you might argue that the géis has no validity in this land of the Longobards where I am just a stranger.’
Brother Eolann considered what she had said in silence. Then he shrugged in acceptance. ‘I accept the géis in honour and sincerity. If there is murder abroad in this abbey, then it must be stopped.’
‘I need to find this woman, Hawisa, and ask her some questions. You can help me by being my mouth and my ears as to my questions and her responses.’
The door suddenly opened and Brother Wulfila entered, paused and began to back out with an embarrassed look at Fidelma.
‘I am sorry,’ the steward mumbled. ‘I came to collect a book for the abbot and-’
Brother Eolann rose hurriedly. ‘I have it in the copying room, Brother Wulfila,’ he said, in annoyance. ‘Excuse me, Sister, while I deal with this.’
He went through the side door, followed by the steward. Eventually they returned with Brother Wulfila carrying a book, the steward giving a slight bow of acknowledgement to Fidelma as he left.
‘Now.’ Brother Eolann settled himself back on his stool. ‘We would still need an excuse to go up into the mountains and Abbot Servillius’ permission to leave the abbey.’ He contemplated the matter for a few moments. Then a broad smile spread across his features. ‘An excuse is more easy than at first I thought.’
‘How so?’ asked Fidelma.
‘You may tell the abbot that you have been told of the sanctuary which Colm Bán built on top of this mountain. You express a desire to visit it so that you can tell the people at home all about it. You may say that I have offered to guide you there. On our way up the mountain, we shall pass by Hawisa’s cabin.’
Fidelma went to the window behind Brother Eolann and peered up the steep slopes of the mountain. ‘Is it high?’ she asked.
‘It is, but not a difficult climb.’
‘And what is this sanctuary?’
‘Well, it was originally a pagan temple built by the Gauls, a people called the Boii, who once dwelled in this area. Colm Bán had promised the Longobard, Queen Theodolinda, that he would build a sanctuary dedicated to Our Lady where she would be venerated for all the ages to come. So when he settled here and began to build the abbey, he took some of his followers to the top of the mountain — Mount Pénas, it is called — and they reconsecrated the temple on the top into a chapel of the Faith and dedicated it to Mary the Mother of Christ.’
‘Who was this Queen Theodolinda?’
‘She was wife to Agilulfo who gave Colm Bán this land to build his abbey on.’
‘The sanctuary would certainly be worth seeing for its own sake. An excellent excuse to ask for permission to leave the abbey to see it. How long would we need to be away?’
Brother Eolann glanced at the position of the sun through the window. ‘If it were just to see Hawisa, we could reach her cabin and be back within the day. But to go on to the sanctuary, we would have to stay overnight on the mountain. If we left immediately we could be back by tomorrow afternoon. If the abbot gives permission, we have a reasonable excuse for being away overnight.’
‘I shall speak with Abbot Servillius immediately. If I get his blessing, can we set off straight away?’
Brother Eolann seemed amused at her eagerness. ‘If there are no objections from the abbot. Stout shoes are necessary, for there are some places where the ascent is steep and rocky. A bag and a blanket are also advisable, for it can be cold on the summit.’
‘But we will definitely have time to speak with Hawisa and get to the sanctuary?’
‘Of course. I have climbed the mountain before.’
Abbot Servillius looked up from his desk in mild surprise when Fidelma had told him her intention.
‘I did tell you that I wanted to see one or two places in this vicinity associated with Colm Bán that I might take news of this abbey back to the land of his birth,’ she reminded him. ‘Having come all this way, I could not return to Hibernia without seeing this sanctuary.’
The abbot was less than enthusiastic. ‘Of course, I understand that you would want to see the sites connected with our blessed founder, your illustrious countryman,’ he said. ‘But this might not be the best of times to wander the mountains.’
‘But I have no other time, Father Abbot.’ She gave an impression of a tearful pout. ‘I shall be leaving soon, and not to have seen this little sanctuary that Brother Eolann told me so much about … that would be shameful. Perhaps you should have told me about it sooner.’ She thought an implied criticism might help strengthen her argument.
Abbot Servillius blinked. ‘I should have mentioned it,’ he admitted, on reflection. ‘A group of us from the abbey ascend the mountain to the sanctuary every year in order to celebrate the Pascal festival and the martyrdom of the Christ. It was at the sanctuary that Columbanus died during one of his retreats.’
She felt him weakening so she pressed again. ‘I learned of its existence from your scriptor, Brother Eolann, who has offered to show me the sanctuary if we can obtain your permission. He comes from my father’s kingdom and wants me to take good stories of this place back to his brethren.’