Bishop Forbassach had recovered something of his old self and scowled at the bó-aire.
‘You are in a minority in the council of the King of Laigin, Coba. You made your views known when the King and I made our decision on the validity of the punishments asked for by Abbess Fainder. That should have been an end to it.’
‘That could not have been an end to it,’ Coba replied spiritedly. ‘The matter should have been held over until the next great festival of Tara when it could have been raised in the convocation on the law of the five kingdoms. The decision should have been left to the kings, lawyers and laymen of all five kingdoms as every other major law is laid before them and debated before being enacted.’
Abbot Noé intervened quietly. ‘My brothers in Christ, calm yourselves. It will not benefit anyone to waste time in debate. Surely you both have business to attend to? If you do not, then I surely do.’
Bishop Forbassach glowered for a moment before giving them a curt farewell, hurrying from the inn followed by the warrior Mel, who managed to give Fidelma an apologetic glance as he left.
Coba regarded Fidelma sadly.
‘I thought I was doing the right thing, Sister Fidelma.’ He sounded sheepish.
‘Are you sure that Brother Eadulf knew the limitations of the maighin digona?’ she asked. ‘Although he has spent much time in our land, he is still a stranger and our ways may be confusing to him.’
Coba shook his head sympathetically.
‘I cannot hold out that explanation for his actions, Sister,’ he replied. ‘When we arrived at my fortress yesterday, I explained to him most carefully the consequences that would follow should he attempt to leave it. I followed the procedure carefully and sent a messenger to the abbey last night to inform the abbess of what I had done.’
‘The abbess knew last night that Eadulf had been taken to your fortress?’ broke in Abbot Noé.
‘I told you,’ repeated Coba, ‘I followed the procedures of the law most carefully. I am certain that the Saxon understood. I only wish I could give you comfort in that matter, Sister.’
Abbot Noé muttered: ‘Ignorantia legis neminen excusat.’
Coba glanced at the religious. ‘But surely, ignorance of the law in aforeigner may be argued as a mitigation?’
‘It is unlike Eadulf to take such an action,’ Fidelma said softly, almost speaking to herself.
Abbot Noé’s face was grim.
‘According to you, Sister, it is unlike the Saxon to have raped and murdered a young novitiate. Perhaps you do not know this Saxon as well as you like to think you do?’
Fidelma raised her head to meet the eyes of her old antagonist.
‘Perhaps there is a truth in that,’ she admitted. ‘But if there is no truth in it, as I do believe, then there is something curious happening in this place. I mean to reveal every aspect of this matter.’
The abbot smiled but without humour.
‘Life is curious, Sister. It is the cauldron of God in which we are placed to test our souls. Ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes viros.’
‘Fire tests gold, adversity tests the strong,’ repeated Fidelma softly. ‘The line of Seneca has much wisdom in it.’
Abbot Noé suddenly rose and moved to stand in front of Fidelma. He peered at her with an intense expression in his eyes.
‘We have clashed in the past, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he observed softly.
‘That we have,’ she agreed.
‘The guilt or innocence of your Saxon friend aside, I want you to know that I care about the Church in this kingdom and do not want to see it damaged in any way. Sometimes the Abbess Fainder can be overly enthusiastic in the cause of the Rule of the Penitentials; she is a zealot, if you like. I say this in spite of the fact that she is a distant cousin of mine.’
His statement caused Fidelma to glance up in curiosity.
‘Abbess Fainder is your cousin?’
‘Of course, that is why she is qualified to be in charge of the abbey. Anyway, she sees things in simple terms of right and wrong; of white and black, without any subtle shades of grey. You and I both know there is more in life than such extremes.’
Fidelma frowned at him.
‘I am not sure that I know what you mean exactly, Father Abbot. If I recall correctly, you were never a supporter of Rome’s rules.’
The thin-faced abbot sighed momentarily and inclined his head.
‘A man can be won to an argument,’ he admitted. ‘I have spent many years in contemplation of the arguments. I followed the debate at Whitby very carefully. I believe that Christ gave the keys of heaven to Peter andtold him to build his Church and that Peter built that Church in Rome where he suffered martyrdom. I now make no pretence of that. What I am saying is that people may choose different paths to their objective. Sometimes people have to be won by argument and not by order. I was won by years of meditating on the arguments. Others should follow the same path and not be ordered to change. Alas, I am a lone voice in these councils.’
He left the inn without another word.
Coba stood looking confused for a moment and then he glanced at Fidelma.
‘I must return to my fortress. I have organised a search for the Saxon. I am sorry about your friend, Sister. In trying to help, I have only made matters worse. There is the old saying that friends should keep clear of an unfortunate man. We may be well advised to heed that saying. I am truly sorry that things have turned out this way.’
After he had left, Fidelma heard a gentle cough behind her.
Dego and Enda had come down the stairs.
‘Did you hear all that?’ she asked.
‘Not all,’ confessed Dego, ‘but enough to know that the elderly man, Coba, gave Brother Eadulf sanctuary and now he has fled from that sanctuary. That is not good.’
‘No, it is not,’ agreed Fidelma solemnly.
‘What about Gabrán?’ demanded Enda. ‘What was said about him?’
Fidelma quickly repeated what she had been told about the river-boat man.
They breakfasted for the most part in silence. There was no one else in the inn or at least no one who came to breakfast while they were there.
Chapter Fourteen
It was midday and Eadulf began to feel a gnawing pang of hunger. It was still very cold but the frost had dispersed, and the morning sunshine spread a pleasant warmth in the unshaded areas. The warmth was deceptive however because the moment a cloud crossed the face of the sun, or a tall tree blocked its rays, the cold became sharp again. Eadulf eased the cloak around his shoulders and thanked God that he had had the sense to remove it from his assailant.
He had followed the banks of the broad river north through a valley for about a kilometre or so, away from Cam Eolaing, until the river began to narrow. The hills rose steeply on all sides, black, brooding peaks in spite of the pale sun. A little further on he came to a curious intersection of waters. The river was fed on either side, though not exactly at the same point, by two gushing smaller rivulets; one flowed from the south-east and the other from the west, tumbling down from the surrounding hills through smaller valleys.
Eadulf looked cautiously around before deciding to rest a moment, perching himself on a fallen tree. The log was bathed in the bright rays of the sun.
‘It is time for decisions,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Which way to go?’
If he crossed the main river and headed through the easterly valley, he presumed that he would eventually strike the sea. It could not be more than ten kilometres away. At the coast he could seek safety on a ship sailing for home. It was very tempting to head that way, to find a ship and leave Laigin — but Fidelma was uppermost in his thoughts.