The Leper's Bell Read online

  ‘When there are no logical paths to follow,’ Fidelma observed in a tight voice, ‘the only thing to do is follow the paths that are open, however illogical they may seem.’

  Colgú glanced at her with a frown. ‘What have you in mind, sister?’

  ‘I will ride to Imleach and question those religious travellers. It may be that they heard or saw something on their travels.’ She glanced towards Finguine and smiled apologetically. ‘I am sure that you observed them well and questioned them diligently, but I would feel better if I did so as well.’

  Finguine answered with a polite smile and the suggestion of a shrug. ‘It is your prerogative, cousin.’

  ‘I think it will be a wild goose chase,’ Brehon Dathal asserted.

  ‘It is the only goose there is to chase,’ Fidelma returned shortly.

  Colgú rose and, respectfully, they all rose with him.

  ‘This council has ended. Finguine, you may dismiss the witnesses to their homes, but organise a company of our best warriors to search the countryside once more. Lead them yourself.’

  Capa made to intervene indignantly, for the command of the warriors should rightly be his and he wanted to protest that he and his men had already scoured the countryside with no result. However, Colgú spoke before he could articulate his protest.

  ‘I have a special task for you, Capa. Take the opportunity to tell your wife that you will be away for a few days and then choose two trusty men. You will accompany my sister.’ He turned swiftly to Fidelma. ‘Remain with me a moment. You as well, Eadulf. We will discuss this matter in private.’

  The king waited in silence until the rest of them had left the chamber before returning his worried gaze to his sister and Eadulf.

  ‘Come to the fire and sit down,’ he instructed. ‘Some mulled wine?’

  They sat but neither felt in the mood to drink. Fidelma still had the sickly taste of Eadulf’s sleeping brew in her mouth. Alcohol on that would surely make her nauseous.

  ‘Are you absolutely determined to set out after these pilgrims?’ Colgú began, helping himself to a goblet of wine and stretching before the blazing hearth.

  ‘I have said as much,’ Fidelma replied shortly.

  ‘And you agree?’ Colgú turned to Eadulf. ‘You will go as well?’

  ‘Of course,’ Eadulf was about to add that he felt insulted that such a question should even be posed but compressed his lips. Colgú knew how he felt about Fidelma and must know how he felt about his lost child. ‘We must take any opportunity, however slight, of tracking down those responsible for the disappearance of Alchú and returning him to our care.’

  The king inclined his head in silence for a moment.

  ‘Go then you must,’ he sighed. He glanced quickly at Fidelma. ‘You do not look well.’

  The beginning of an angry frown crossed her face and then she carefully controlled her expression.

  ‘There is nothing wrong that some sleep or simple relaxation will not cure. Have no concern for me, brother. I have vented my emotion and am now in control, and will remain in control until I have come to a resolution of this matter.’ She looked quickly at Eadulf, almost in reproof, before turning back to her brother. ‘Whatever you have heard, I am capable of investigating this matter. My mind is now clear and ordered. My feelings are restrained until such time as I can indulge them.’

  Colgú hesitated and then shrugged.

  ‘Very well. But there are many aspects of this matter that give me concern and you need a clear mind to consider them.’

  Fidelma examined her brother with a frown.

  ‘Then there is something worrying you? I do not simply mean your immediate concern for Alchú. Something else worries you.’

  ‘I think Brehon Dathal can be a fool at times,’ Colgú said unexpectedly.

  Fidelma could not repress a quick grimace. ‘Have you only just reached such a conclusion?’

  Colgú almost smiled. ‘I begin to think he is growing more eccentric as he ages. However, in truth, sister, I fear that this is some extraordinary plot either against you personally or against our house in general. Why, or who is behind it, I cannot guess at the moment. I think that you both share my feeling - this is neither an infant being randomly snatched by someone wanting a child, as Dathal fondly believes, nor, apparently, a means to some financial recompense.’

  Fidelma looked thoughtfully at her brother. ‘I thought that I was alone in that view.’

  Eadulf compressed his lips in annoyance at being excluded. ‘You will remember that I pointed this out when Brehon Dathal was—’

  ‘The point is,’ cut in Colgú, ‘that you have both made enemies, both within and without this kingdom. There are many who might like to seek revenge on you.’

  ‘I think we are well aware of it,’ Eadulf said softly. ‘I would say that anyone engaged in the enforcement of law is open to those who nurse grudges. You cannot gain the reputation that Fidelma has without creating enemies - and often in high places.’

  ‘This is true,’ agreed the king. ‘But there are other areas from which danger might come, and not just from enemies that you have made in your pursuit of the law. Enemies with a personal grudge. You should consider these as well.’

  Fidelma’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘I presume that you mean danger from those who object to my liaison with a foreigner?’ she demanded.

  Colgú shot an apologetic look at Eadulf and shrugged.

  ‘Do not take this the wrong way, Eadulf, but we must examine all possibilities. Fidelma is of the royal house of the Eóghanacht, a daughter of a king and a sister of a king. Do you know what this means to us, Eadulf? Not just to our family, but to those of our culture?’

  Eadulf’s jaw rose a little. He spoke coldly.

  ‘In my own land, Colgú, the lineage of our Saxon kings is held sacred. Each king of the Angles and the Saxons traces his descent from one or other of the seven sons of Woden. Many Angles and Saxons still believe in the divinity of Woden, chief of the raven clan, the All-Father of our people. My people have worshipped Woden from time immemorial, whereas the New Faith has only been accepted among us for a generation or so, far less in many places.’

  Colgú smiled at the soft tone of belligerent pride in Eadulf’s voice.

  ‘Then you will appreciate it when I tell you that the Eóghanacht trace their lineage back to the beginning of time. Our bards, the Keepers of the Word, hail me as the ninety-sixth direct generation from the loins of Adam, the eightieth generation from Gaedheal Glas, son of Niul, who led the children of the Gael out of the Tower of Babel. I am the fifty-ninth generation from Eibhear Fionn son of Milidh who brought the children of the Gael to this land.’

  ‘What is the point you are making, brother?’ asked Fidelma softly.

  ‘The point is that there are many, and many I suspect within our own family, who, as you say, object to you being the ben charrthach of a Saxon - and one of lower rank than you.’ He held up his hand as Fidelma and Eadulf made to speak at once. ‘I am merely pointing out a fact, not commenting upon it. It would not do to blind yourselves to this fact. Many would be outraged when you became mother to Eadulf’s child.’

  ‘You need not tell us that,’ Eadulf replied quickly. ‘It is not something that I am liable to forget or be allowed to forget.’

  Fidelma glanced at him, surprised at his tone. The words were spoken softly, and there was no obvious bitterness in them, but she felt the suppressed anger behind them. She was on the verge of saying something then closed her mouth firmly. Her face became a mask.

  ‘I presume that these are just general observations, brother? You have no immediate suspicions?’

  Colgú regarded her for a moment without expression and then shook his head.

  ‘I cannot point to anyone and accuse them. I believe that everyone within our household behaves with proper etiquette but feelings can often be hidden, secret things. There may be some who think that a daughter of the Eóghanacht should be the mother of a son of Éire
ann and not a son of Saxony.’

  ‘Alchú has … will have … a choice of cultures and lands,’ replied Fidelma. ‘His is the choice that will determine his own future. We will not presume to do that for him. And in this Alchú is in no way unique. Did not Oswy, king of Northumbria, have a child with Fina, daughter of the old High King Coimán Rímid? His name is Aldfrith and I hear he is a promising young scholar in Beannchar but is at home both in his mother’s culture and in that of his father.’

  The king smiled, a little sadly. ‘You have good intentions. But again, I am not commenting, merely pointing out things that you should both be aware of. And there is something else.’

  ‘Something else?’ Eadulf mused cynically. ‘I thought that we had enough to be meditating on.’

  ‘It will not have escaped your notice that, apart from the considerations of nationality, you are both members of the religious. You have decided to pursue your talents primarily in the service of the New Faith. It was not so long ago that all our learned folk, whether judges, lawyers, bards or physicians, were accepted among the orders of druids. We accept that the New Faith has replaced the druids in most corners of the five kingdoms. Now, those following the New Faith do so without diminishing their personal lives. We accept that, like the druids before them, the religious of the New Faith can marry and bear children. There are mixed houses. You, Fidelma, were trained in the conhospitae of Kildare, the double-house founded by Abbess Brigid and Bishop Conlaed.’

  Fidelma frowned. ‘What are you trying to say, Colchú? Have you been converted by this new movement within the religious that argues that those who serve Christ should not be married nor consort with others of the opposite sex? Not even the Bishop of Rome has agreed that this should be a dogma of the Faith. It would be unnatural to forbid relationships between men and women. It is only small groups of ascetics here and there that argue thus. There have always been such people in all religions, who believe that they show faith and loyalty to the Deity by sublimating all human desires.’

  ‘You may rest assured that I have not been converted, Fidelma. But several in the five kingdoms have,’ Colgú said defensively. ‘There are many who feel that they can best serve their Faith by the path of celibacy…’

  ‘And they have my good wishes, even though I think it is unnatural. But it is one thing to follow one’s own personal belief and another thing to force those ideas on everyone else as a dogma and the only path to take to serve God,’ responded Fidelma.

  ‘What I am trying to say, Fidelma,’ went on Colgú patiently, ‘is that there are now many religious within the five kingdoms who are taking vows of celibacy. Their movement is gathering strength and power. The fact that you, a princess of the Eóghanacht, have married a Saxon monk and given birth to a child, thus setting an example to your fellow religieuses, might be perceived as provocation by such groups. This might be another area where enemies may lurk.’

  ‘Nonsense! It is—’ began Fidelma, but Eadulf interrupted.

  ‘I understand exactly, Colgú,’ he said quietly but determinedly. ‘Before we left for Rath Raithlen, I had an argument with Bishop Petrán on this very subject. And—’ He stopped suddenly and his eyes widened. ‘Where is Bishop Petrán? I have not seen him since we returned.’

  Fidelma looked at Eadulf in surprise.

  ‘Come, Eadulf. He is an old man with strong views but you don’t suggest that he…? Why, I have known him since I was a child.’

  Colgú leant forward with sudden suppressed excitement.

  ‘But Eadulf’s point is exactly that which I am making. Tell me more about this argument that you had with Bishop Petrán?’

  ‘It was on the day that you asked us to meet your cousin, Becc of Rath Raithlen. You must remember that, Fidelma? It was nothing much but it irritated me. I have heard the arguments a hundred times before. He believes that we should follow the decision made at Whitby and accept the full authority of Rome in the matters of liturgy, tonsure and the dating of Easter. I believe that, too. I have never made a secret of it. Indeed, I supported the argument at the Council of Whitby. Yet Petrán goes further and argues that we should accept the principles laid out at the second Council of Tours - that clerics found in bed with their wives should be excommunicated for a year. He hopes that the next major council of the western bishops will decree that all clerics should take a vow of celibacy.’

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘It would be best not to ignore Petrán,’ Colgú finally observed in a soft voice. ‘It is well known that he is a woman-hater as well as the leading advocate of the idea that the clergy of the New Faith should be celibate. When he heard that there were women in the hinterlands of the kingdom, as in Gaul and Britain, who were still being ordained as priests of the Faith, he demanded I lead a crusade to destroy the ungodly. I pointed out that who is ordained and who is not is a matter for the bishops of the New Faith and not for a secular authority such as myself.’

  Eadulf raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘I thought that three centuries had passed since the Council of Laodicea decreed that women were not to be ordained as priests to conduct the Mass?’

  ‘What is agreed in principle and what is done in practice are often two different things,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘Brigid herself was not only ordained priest by Mel, son of Darerca, sister of Patrick, but had episcopal authority conferred on her. Hilda, whom you met at Whitby, was also ordained bishop. And there are still many women in Gaul who are ordained to conduct the Mass.’

  ‘One should not ignore Bishop Petrán’s rage. He may be old but he has influence and followers,’ added Colgú.

  ‘It is hard to ignore someone so pugnacious as Petrán,’ Eadulf admitted ruefully. ‘I openly admit that I am a supporter of the Petrine theory - I attended the Council of Whitby on behalf of the pro-Roman school. However, I do not support this group of ascetics who follow those who first gathered at the Council of Elvira and considered that celibacy should be enforced on all the clergy.’

  Colgú frowned. ‘Petrine theory?’ he queried.

  ‘It is the argument that the Bishops of Rome, Innocent and Celestine, first put forward two centuries ago: that it was the right of Rome to rule over all the Christian churches. That is why the Bishop of Rome is addressed as the Father of the Faithful, the Papa, as it is in Latin,’ Fidelma explained.

  ‘I support that idea for the very reasons accepted at Whitby,’ added Eadulf. ‘We are taught that Peter was the rock on which Christ placed the responsibility for His church on earth and it was in Rome that, we are told, Peter founded that church. Rome has the right…’

  Fidelma did not suppress her exasperated sigh.

  ‘This is no time for such theological arguments. My brother is stating that people like Bishop Petrán may have cause to hate us and hate our child because of their religious attitudes. Is that right?’

  Colgú nodded. ‘I hasten to say that I do not point the finger at Petrán but simply at people who think like him and might harbour hatred and take that hatred to extremes. There are always fanatics about.’

  Eadulf grimaced morosely. ‘Petrán is fanatic enough. Our argument nearly came to physical blows.’

  ‘Why so?’ Fidelma frowned, leaning forward suddenly. ‘You did not mention that.’

  ‘It was when he was declaiming on the piety of the Bishops of Rome in connection with his celibacy argument. I could not help but point out that if the Blessed Hormidas, Bishop of Rome, had not slept with his lady, then Rome would not have had his son the Blessed Silverius sitting, as his successor, on the throne of Peter. He was almost bursting with anger in attempting to deny that any Bishops of Rome married, let alone had children. Why,’ Eadulf warmed to his theme, ‘even Innocent, the first of his name to be Bishop of Rome, and who expounded the Petrine theory, was the son of Anastasius who had also been Bishop of Rome, and—’

  ‘Is Bishop Petrán still at Cashel?’ interrupted Fidelma, cutting Eadulf’s enthusiastic argument short.

 
Colgú shook his head. ‘Bishop Ségdae sent him on a tour of the western islands. He left over a week ago.’

  ‘So that eliminates Petrán,’ Fidelma said with satisfaction.

  ‘But Petrán has followers, and it is precisely because he has strong views and leads a group who are fanatic about their ideas that such things should not be overlooked. I will ask Finguine to check the religious quarters of the palace as a matter of course.’

  Fidelma shrugged. ‘I doubt whether it will reveal anything, because, if such a plot was envisaged, exacting minds such as Petrán and those around him would not leave any evidence of it in their quarters,’ she said, as if dismissing the matter.

  ‘That is true, but even the most clever mind can sometimes overlook the obvious,’ commented Colgú.

  ‘I think we should set out before the day is older.’ Fidelma rose abruptly from her chair.

  ‘You still wish to catch up with the pilgrims at Imleach?’ Colgú demanded.

  ‘There is still no other path to follow.’

  ‘Then, in view of what I have just said, I am sending Capa, my commander of the guard, with you. I told him to stand ready.’

  Fidelma exchanged a glance with Eadulf.

  ‘Are you are concerned, brother, that we are really in some tangible danger?’ she asked softly.

  ‘For the very reasons that we have just been discussing, sister,’ Colgú replied solemnly.

  For a moment or two, Eadulf thought that Fidelma would argue with her brother. He knew she hated to be accompanied by armed warriors, even for her own protection. But Fidelma simply shrugged.

  ‘Then make sure that Capa is at the gates within the hour, for Eadulf and I will depart for Imleach before the noonday bell has finished striking.’

  They left the king’s apartments, passing Capa as he entered to receive his instructions. They were passing down the corridor back to their own chambers when a young warrior halted them by the simple expedient of standing in their way in the narrow corridor.

  ‘Forgive me, lady,’ he began awkwardly.

  He was a youthful man with a shock of raven-black hair, a fair skin and eyes to match the colour of his hair. He was well muscled, and a scar on his arm showed that he had already served in combat. In spite of his youth, he wore the golden torque of the élite bodyguard of the king and his clothes were well cared for. His features were pleasant and seemed vaguely familiar to Fidelma. She presumed that she must have seen him about the palace. His eyes held a look of anxiety, and she controlled her impatience at being waylaid.