He led the way through an arch and into the walled abbey garden which was called the lúbgort, from the words lúb, a herb, and gort, a fenced-in cultivate plot. Even this late in autumn, various odours pleasantly assailed Fidelma’s senses. She always felt at peace in gardens, especially herb gardens, for the scents put her into a tranquilmood. There was no sign of anyone within the enclosure and Brother Ségán led her to a stone seat in a tiny arboretum. On the other side of the arboretum was a well head. A small round stone wall protected it while a wooden beam on pillars supported a rope on which a bucket could be attached.
‘They call this Fachtna’s holy well,’ explained Ségán, observing as Fidelma examined the well. ‘It was the original well of the community when Fachtna chose this site but, alas, the community has far outgrown its supply. There are now other wells in the abbey but, for us, this well remains the sacred well of Fachtna.’
He motioned her to be seated.
‘Now,’ he said briskly, ‘ask away with your questions.’
‘Did you know Dacán before he came to Ros Ailithir?’ she began.
Ségán shook his head with a smile.
‘I had heard of his great reputation, of course. He was a learned man, an ollamh who was a staruidhe. But if you are asking whether I had ever met the man then I must reply that I had not.’
‘So he was a professor of history?’ Fidelma had no knowledge that Dacan was anything more than a master of divinity.
‘Oh yes. History was his speciality,’ confirmed Ségán.
‘Did you know why Dacan came to Ros Ailithir?’
The chief professor grimaced.
‘We do have a reputation, sister,’ he replied with some amusement. ‘Among our numerous students are many from the Saxon kingdoms and even from among the Franks not to mention Britons and those from the five kingdoms of Éireann. ’
‘I do not think Dacan came here simply because of the reputation of Ros Ailithir,’ observed Fidelma candidly. ‘I think he came here for a specific need.’
Ségán reflected for a moment or two.
‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ he admitted. ‘Forgive my vanity, for I would like to think that our reputation for learning was the only reason. The simple answer is that he undoubtedly came here to plunder our library for knowledge. For what particular purpose that was, I do not know. You will have to consult our librarian, Sister Grella.’
‘Did you like Dacán?’
Ségán did not reply immediately, apparently gathering his thoughts. Then he held his head to one side and chuckled softly.
‘I do not think “like” is an appropriate word, sister. I did not dislike him and, in academic terms, we seemed to get along well together.’
Fidelma pursed her lips a little.
‘That in itself seems unusual,’ she commented.
‘Why so?’
‘Because, by those I have already questioned, I have been told that Dacan was universally disliked here. Perhaps that was a motive for murder? I gather that he was austere, cold, unfriendly and an ascetic.’
Ségán now laughed openly, a rich rather comfortable laugh.
‘These are hardly attributes for which to condemn a man to hell fire. If we went around killing everyone we disliked then by the time each of us were through there would be no one left to people the earth. Certainly Dacán was not a man possessed of humour, nor was he given to playing the clown. But he was a serious scholar and, as such, I respected him. Yes “like” is not an exact word but “respect” is, perhaps, a better term to describe my attitude to him.’
‘I am told that he taught here as well as studied.’
‘That is so.’
‘Presumably he taught history?’
‘What else? His interest was in the early stories concerning the coming to Éireann of our forefather Míl Easpain and theChildren of the Gael and how Mil’s brother Amergin promised the goddess Éire that the land would henceforth be known by her name.’
Fidelma was patient.
‘That path seems innocuous enough,’ she commented.
Ségán chuckled again.
‘Surely, sister, you were not seriously considering that Dacán was murdered because someone did not like his personality or his interpretation of history?’
‘It has been known,’ replied Fidelma solemnly. ‘Scholars can be like savage animals when they disagree with one another.’
Ségán bowed his head in agreement.
‘Yes, we are guilty as charged, sister. Some historians are as trapped in history as history is trapped in them. Dacán was, certainly, a man of his people …’
‘What do you mean by that?’ queried Fidelma quickly.
‘He was a man who was intensely proud of Laigin, that’s what I mean. I remember that he and our chief physician, Brother Midach, once …’
He suddenly compressed his lips and looked uneasy.
‘Tell me,’ prompted Fidelma. ‘Anything, no matter how unimportant, is of value to my investigation.’
‘I do not want to spread alarm, especially where there is no cause to spread it.’
‘Truth is always a good cause, chief professor,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘Tell me about Brother Midach and Dacán.’
‘They once had a row in which they nearly came to blows, that is all.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened.
Here, at last, was something positive.
‘What was this fierce argument about?’
‘A simple matter of history. That’s all. Dacán was boasting about Laigin, as usual. Midach apparently call the men of Laigin no more than foreigners. He claimed that they weresimply Gauls who arrived in the province which was then called Galian. The Laigin came as mercenaries to help the banished Labraid Loinseach seize the throne of his uncle Cobhthach. Midach argued that the Gauls carried broad-pointed spears of blue-green iron called laigin and when they had set Labraid on the throne of Galian the kingdom became known by this name; Laigin — after their spears which had won the victory for him.’
‘I have heard something of that story before,’ Fidelma confessed. ‘An innocuous argument, as you say. But I was given to believe that Midach himself was from Laigin?’
‘Midach? From Laigin? Whoever told you that? No, Midach is contemptuous of Laigin. But he did come from somewhere along its border. Perhaps that accounts for his prejudice. Yes, that’s it. He was from Osraige.’
‘Osraige?’ Fidelma groaned inwardly. Osraige and Laigin! No matter which way one turned there always seemed some connection with Osraige and Laigin. They appeared to permeate this entire mystery.
‘Why don’t you ask him?’ countered the chief professor. ‘Midach will tell you soon enough.’
‘So Midach insulted Laigin to Dacán’s face,’ went on Fidelma, without replying to the question. ‘What did Dacán say to that?’
‘He called Midach an ignorant fool and knave. He said the kingdom was older than Muman and that it had taken its name from a Nemedian, the descendant of Magog and Japhet, who had come to this land from Scythia with thirty-two ships. He argued that Liath, son of Laigin, was the hero who founded the kingdom.’
‘How did such an academic discussion get out of hand?’ Fidelma was curious.
‘Both argued their case in voluble tones and neither gave way even when the argument transferred into personal abuse. It was only when I and Brother Rumann intervened that eachwas persuaded to return to his own chambers and take oath not to bring the discussion up again.’
Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.
‘Did you have any clashes with Dacán yourself?’
Ségán shook his head.
‘As I said, I respected the man. I left him to run his classes and I think most of his students appreciated his knowledge though, it is true, there were some reports of disharmony and antagonism among a few of them. Abbot Brocc apparently took the disharmony seriously. I think he even asked Brother Conghus to watch that Dacán did not cause serious dissension. But to be truthful, I spent little time with him.’