saying? The Venerable Cinaed was my friend. Surely we can all hold different opinions without resorting to physical anger?’
‘That, indeed, is the objective we should strive for,’ agreed Fidelma calmly. ‘Alas, mankind often finds it easier to settle disagreements by showing who is physically stronger. Do we not have a saying that might will prevail over right?’
Abbot Erc sniffed. ‘So you think that the Venerable Cinaed was murdered because someone disagreed with his teachings?’
‘I did not say that,’ Fidelma replied. ‘On the other hand, such a theory cannot yet be discounted. Not until we have all the facts gathered in can
we begin to speculate. It is the facts that I want.’ She paused. ‘Now, who were Cináed’s friends in the abbey?’
The young rechtaire said quickly: ‘Everyone was friendly with the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘He was a very popular man and the sort of man who, in spite of his scholastic status, was humble and approachable by everyone, from the cowherd to his fellow scholars,’ affirmed the abbot.
Fidelma sighed with impatience.
‘I am, of course, talking about particular friends,’ she said pointedly.
The abbot shrugged. ‘I was his friend, of course. We two have been longest in this abbey.’
‘Anyone else? Particular friends, that is?’
‘I knew him well in my capacity as rechtaire,’ offered Brother Cú Mara, ‘but I cannot say I was a close friend. And, of course, Sister Buan. She attended his wants for he was slightly frail. She cleaned and ran messages for him.’
Fidelma nodded. ‘Anyone else?’
‘I take it the Venerable Mac Faosma was not considered a friend?’ observed Eadulf.
Abbot Erc sighed impatiently. ‘Let it be said that Cinaed and Mac Faosma were like chalk and cheese. Cináed was grounded in his philosophy while Mac Faosma preferred law and history. They both had views on each other’s subjects and argued them. They did not mix much within the abbey except at times of discussion and debate.’
‘Anyone else?’ repeated Fidelma.
‘Brother Eolas, naturally.’
‘Who is Brother Eolas? And why “naturally”?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘He is our librarian, the keeper of all the books we hold here.’
‘You mentioned a Sister Buan who attended to his wants. Who is she?’
A looked of disapproval formed on the face of the abbot and it was the rechtaire who replied.
‘One of our community.’ He seemed to hesitate, unwilling to expand further under the annoyed gaze of his abbot. ‘She … she is … was … a companion of the Venerable Cináed,’ he ended lamely. ‘As well as helping him, she often travels the surrounding countryside to trade the goods made at the abbey.’
‘Isn’t that your business as steward?’
‘My business is to attend to the smooth running of the abbey. We
have good craftsmen here, making items from gold and silver and the precious stones, the rocks and crystals, that are found in the surrounding countryside. Sister Buan meets with merchants like Mugrón to purchase the gold and silver for our craftsmen and then to sell the goods they make.’
Abbot Erc continued to look uncomfortable and suddenly rose from his seat.
‘Since we have raised the subject, I am reminded that Sister Buan found something in the grate of the Venerable Cinaed on the day after the murder. It was a piece of burnt paper and she thought it might be a clue.’ He bent to a chest and took something from it. ‘I kept it just in case,’ he said.
The paper was scorched and torn. He handed it to Fidelma.
The only readable matter she could make out was ‘ … midnight. Orat … alone … Sin …’.
Eadulf peered at it over her shoulder and shook his head.
‘It makes no sense. It could mean anything. Why would this Sister Buan think it was significant?’
‘She said that the Venerable Cinaed must have burnt it on the night he went to the oratory.’
‘Well, we will doubtless have a word with this Sister Buan,’ Fidelma said.
‘That, indeed, is the objective we should strive for,’ agreed Fidelma calmly. ‘Alas, mankind often finds it easier to settle disagreements by showing who is physically stronger. Do we not have a saying that might will prevail over right?’
Abbot Erc sniffed. ‘So you think that the Venerable Cinaed was murdered because someone disagreed with his teachings?’
‘I did not say that,’ Fidelma replied. ‘On the other hand, such a theory cannot yet be discounted. Not until we have all the facts gathered in can
we begin to speculate. It is the facts that I want.’ She paused. ‘Now, who were Cináed’s friends in the abbey?’
The young rechtaire said quickly: ‘Everyone was friendly with the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘He was a very popular man and the sort of man who, in spite of his scholastic status, was humble and approachable by everyone, from the cowherd to his fellow scholars,’ affirmed the abbot.
Fidelma sighed with impatience.
‘I am, of course, talking about particular friends,’ she said pointedly.
The abbot shrugged. ‘I was his friend, of course. We two have been longest in this abbey.’
‘Anyone else? Particular friends, that is?’
‘I knew him well in my capacity as rechtaire,’ offered Brother Cú Mara, ‘but I cannot say I was a close friend. And, of course, Sister Buan. She attended his wants for he was slightly frail. She cleaned and ran messages for him.’
Fidelma nodded. ‘Anyone else?’
‘I take it the Venerable Mac Faosma was not considered a friend?’ observed Eadulf.
Abbot Erc sighed impatiently. ‘Let it be said that Cinaed and Mac Faosma were like chalk and cheese. Cináed was grounded in his philosophy while Mac Faosma preferred law and history. They both had views on each other’s subjects and argued them. They did not mix much within the abbey except at times of discussion and debate.’
‘Anyone else?’ repeated Fidelma.
‘Brother Eolas, naturally.’
‘Who is Brother Eolas? And why “naturally”?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘He is our librarian, the keeper of all the books we hold here.’
‘You mentioned a Sister Buan who attended to his wants. Who is she?’
A looked of disapproval formed on the face of the abbot and it was the rechtaire who replied.
‘One of our community.’ He seemed to hesitate, unwilling to expand further under the annoyed gaze of his abbot. ‘She … she is … was … a companion of the Venerable Cináed,’ he ended lamely. ‘As well as helping him, she often travels the surrounding countryside to trade the goods made at the abbey.’
‘Isn’t that your business as steward?’
‘My business is to attend to the smooth running of the abbey. We
have good craftsmen here, making items from gold and silver and the precious stones, the rocks and crystals, that are found in the surrounding countryside. Sister Buan meets with merchants like Mugrón to purchase the gold and silver for our craftsmen and then to sell the goods they make.’
Abbot Erc continued to look uncomfortable and suddenly rose from his seat.
‘Since we have raised the subject, I am reminded that Sister Buan found something in the grate of the Venerable Cinaed on the day after the murder. It was a piece of burnt paper and she thought it might be a clue.’ He bent to a chest and took something from it. ‘I kept it just in case,’ he said.
The paper was scorched and torn. He handed it to Fidelma.
The only readable matter she could make out was ‘ … midnight. Orat … alone … Sin …’.
Eadulf peered at it over her shoulder and shook his head.
‘It makes no sense. It could mean anything. Why would this Sister Buan think it was significant?’
‘She said that the Venerable Cinaed must have burnt it on the night he went to the oratory.’
‘Well, we will doubtless have a word with this Sister Buan,’ Fidelma said.
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