‘I see you still open the library to scholars of the church,’ she said approvingly as she joined him and they moved on. The great library of Cashel was the personal property of the kings of Muman.
‘It will not be otherwise while we are of the Faith,’ Colgú replied firmly.
‘Yet I have heard some stories that certain narrow-minded members of the Faith have been burning the ancient texts, the “rods of the poets”, on the grounds that they were written by idolatrous pagans. In Cashel, there are many such books. Do you still preserve them from such intolerance?’
‘Surely intolerance is incompatible with the Faith, little sister?’ Colgú observed wryly.
‘I would say so. Others might not. I am told that Colman of Cork has suggested that all pagan books should be destroyed. Yet I say that we have a duty to ensure that the treasures of our people are not incinerated and lost because of fashionable intolerance.’
Colgú chuckled dryly.
‘The matter is academic anyway. Colmán of Cork has fled this kingdom for fear of the plague. His voice no longer counts.’
Colgú continued to lead the way beyond the Tech Screptra and through the tiny family chapel. There were many stories handed down in Fidelma’s family of how the Blessed Patrick himself had arrived at Cashel and had proceeded to convert their ancestor, King Conall Corc, to the new Faith. One story told how he had used the meadow trefoil, the seamróg, to demonstrate the idea of the Holy Trinity to Conall. Not that it was a difficult concept to understand, for all the pagan gods of ancient Ireland were triune gods, being three personalities inthe one god. Fidelma had always carried a sense of time and place with her.
They passed beyond the chapel to the private chambers of the family and their immediate retinue, which were placed beyond the more generally accessible reception rooms.
A chamber had been prepared for her, with a newly lit fire blazing in the hearth. It was the very room in which she had been born and where she had spent the early years of her life. It had hardly changed.
Before the fire, a table had been set with food and wine.
Colgú waved his sister to a chair.
‘Let us eat, and as we eat I will attempt to explain why King Cathal called you hither.’
Fidelma did as he bid her. She realised that her journey had been long and uncomfortable and that she was ravenous.
‘Are you sure our cousin is too ill to see me?’ she queried, still hesitating before the meal. ‘I do not fear the Yellow Plague. These last two years I have crossed its path in safety many times. And if I do succumb, well, then surely it will be God’s will.’
Colgú shook his head despondently.
‘Cathal is no longer in a state to even recognise me. His physician says he may not last this night. In fact, the arrogant Forbassach of Laigin was right. It is now my duty to reply to his demands.’
Fidelma compressed her lips as she realised what that meant.
‘If Cathal dies this night then you will be …?’
She paused, realising that it was improper to voice the thought while their elderly cousin was alive.
Colgú, however, finished the sentence for her with a bitter laugh.
‘That I shall then be king of Muman? Yes, that is exactly what it means.’
The Eóganacht kings, like all Irish kings and chieftains,were elected into office by the derbfhine of their families. On the death of a king, his family, that is the living descendants of the male line of a common great-grandfather, called the derbfhine, would gather in assembly and vote for one among them who would next take the throne. Sons did not necessarily, therefore, inherit from fathers. Failbe Fland, the father of Colgú and Fidelma, had been king in Cashel. He had died twenty-six years before, when Fidelma and Colgú were only a few years old. Even to be considered for any office in the land, a candidate had at least to be at the ‘age of choice’, which was fourteen years for a girl and seventeen years for a boy. Failbe Fland’s cousins had succeeded him in office until Cathal mac Cathail had been chosen as king of Muman three years before.
It was the custom and law to also elect the heir-apparent, or the tánaiste, during a king’s lifetime. When Cathal had become king of Cashel, Fidelma’s brother, Colgú, had been chosen as his tánaiste.
So now if Cathal died, Fidelma realised suddenly, her brother would be king of Muman, the biggest of the five kingdoms of Éireann.
‘It will be a heavy responsibility, brother,’ she said, reaching forward and laying a hand on his arm.
He sighed and nodded slowly.
‘Yes; even in good times there would be many weighty responsibilities with this office. But these are bad times, Fidelma. There are many problems facing the kingdom. None more so than the problem that arose a few days ago and why, when he was not so ill, Cathal chose to send for you.’ He paused and shrugged. ‘Since you have been away from here, little sister, your reputation as a Brehon, an advocate of the courts and a solver of mysteries, has spread. We have heard how you have performed services for the High King, the King of Northumbria and even the Holy Father in Rome.’
Fidelma made a deprecating gesture.
‘I was in those places at the time when my talent wasneeded,’ she replied. ‘Anyone with a logical mind could have resolved the problems. There was nothing more to those problems than that.’
Colgú smiled quickly at her.
‘You were never given to conceit, my sister.’
‘Show me a conceited person and I will show you a mediocre talent. Which does not get us any nearer the reason that I was sent for. What does this have to do with Forbassach of Fearna?’
‘Let me tell you in my own way. King Cathal believed that you could resolve a mystery which has threatened the safety of the kingdom. Indeed, it threatens the peace of the five kingdoms of Éireann.’
‘What mystery?’ prompted Fidelma as she started to help herself to some of the food that had been prepared.
‘Have you heard of the Venerable Dacán?’
Fidelma allowed an eyebrow to raise slightly as she recognised the name.
‘Who has not?’ she replied quickly. ‘He is already spoken of in some quarters as a saint. He is a teacher and theologian of no mean ability. Of course, his brother is the Abbot Noé of Fearna, the king of Laigin’s personal advisor and supposedly as saintly as his brother. Both brothers are widely respected and beloved of many. Stories are told of their wisdom and charity in many corners of the five kingdoms.’
Colgú nodded his head slowly at Fidelma’s glowing recital. His face assumed a weary expression as though he did not like what he was hearing but expected no less.
‘You know, of course, that there has been some enmity recently between the kingdoms of Muman and Laigin?’
‘I have heard that since the old king, Fáelán, died of the plague a few months ago, the new king, Fianamail, has been examining ways of enhancing his prestige by trying to pick quarrels with Muman,’ she agreed.
‘And what better way to enhance his prestige than to find anexcuse to demand the return of the petty kingdom of Osraige from Muman?’ Colgú asked bitterly.
Fidelma formed her lips in a soundless whistle of astonishment.
Osraige was a small kingdom which had long been a source of bad relationships between the two major kingdoms of Muman and Laigin. It stretched along the banks of the River Feoir from north to south. Hundreds of years before, when the kings of Muman held the High Kingship over all five kingdoms of Éireann, Osraige was under the tutelage of the kings of Laigin. When Edirsceál of Muman became High King, the men of Laigin contrived to assassinate him so that Nuada Necht of Laigin could assume the kingship. The king was murdered but the culprits discovered. Conaire Mór, the son of Edirsceál, eventually became High King and he and his Brehons met to agree what honour price the kingdom of Laigin should pay in compensation to Muman for their infamous act. It had been decided that the kingdom of Osraige should be forfeited by Laigin. Henceforth, Osraige would be part of the kingdom of Muman and its petty-kings would pay tribute to Cashel and not to Fearna, the capital of Laigin.