‘And you never returned to our home after that?’

  ‘Once more. Do you remember my old friend, Botulf? He, too, converted to the Faith and went to serve at the Abbey of Aldred. Five years ago, Fidelma and I went to see Archbishop Theodore at Canterbury, and while there, we received a message from poor Botolf. He wanted to see me urgently. We went to the Abbey of Aldred, but arrived too late. Botulf had been murdered and we had to discover the culprit. Thankfully, the forest around Rendel’s Ham proved a sanctuary for Fidelma and me when we were in danger of our lives. That was the last time I enquired for you.’

  ‘And what were you told?’

  ‘People who remembered you assumed that you had gone away to serve as a warrior in the King’s army. A local farmer, Mul…’

  ‘Mul? Mad Mul of Frig’s Tun?’ Egric chuckled. ‘He never would convert to the New Faith! He swore that he had followed Woden all his life and would never change his allegiance.’

  ‘That was he,’ confirmed Eadulf. ‘He remembered me, but didn’t remember you converting to the Faith.’

  Egric shrugged. ‘I did not stay in Seaxmund’s Ham after I decided to follow the Faith, nor did I return as you did. But you say that you have not been there for five years now?’

  Eadulf shook his head. ‘I am settled here and happy.’

  Egric was cynical. ‘Truly happy? A foreigner in a strange land?’

  ‘I am accepted,’ Eadulf replied defensively. ‘My wife is here, my son is here. I have friends. Is that not enough?’

  ‘There is no longing in you to see the places of your childhood and youth?’

  ‘Those places remain in the memory only. It cannot be otherwise, for the motion of the days continue and things must change with them. Is it not said that there are no footsteps that go backwards?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Egric said softly. ‘But if that is what you want, brother, so be it. I mean no insult to your decision. It is just strange to meet up after so many years and find our life paths have diverged so widely. In spite of all, I trust you are happy.’

  ‘It seems our paths have not diverged so widely. You have also become a religieux. Also, oddly, you seem to have grasped some of the tongue of these people in your travels and, indeed, here you are in Cashel. A curious coincidence.’

  ‘It is a coincidence nevertheless,’ his brother said curtly.

  Eadulf paused to glance out of a window. The rain had ceased. It was still cloudy but the clouds were lighter in shade and beginning to move quickly as the wind gathered strength.

  ‘Alas, I have matters to attend to, Egric. I will introduce you to one of the King’s bodyguards, a warrior called Dego. He was one of those who found you on the river. He will show you the township below the palace and explain something about this place and its history since you are a newcomer.’

  The truth was that Eadulf had no matters to attend to. He felt guilty that he had suddenly made the excuse to leave his brother’s company and tried to reason why. Of course, it was easy to explain that the great changes in Egric since Eadulf had last seen him were a cause for the alien feelings that now caused him unease. The eager young man, who enjoyed life, had an ambition to be a warrior – albeit as all young men do at a certain age – who enjoyed the company of girls, feasts and dancing, seemed to have vanished. Eadulf was not sure he liked the surly self-contained man with his unfriendly look and his open condemnation of Eadulf’s chosen lifestyle. Yesterday, Eadulf had been happy to find his long-lost brother. Now he was trying to avoid his company.

  Later, Eadulf met Fidelma crossing the main courtyard.

  ‘You look troubled,’ she greeted him.

  ‘And you look as though you have a problem,’ he said in an attempt at a light-hearted deflection of his thoughts.

  Fidelma decided the matter in hand should have priority. ‘Yesterday, it seemed no one saw anyone near the chapel, yet now we have several sightings. I find that strange.’

  ‘I told you that I saw old Brother Conchobhar and Deogaire,’ Eadulf pointed out.

  ‘But now we have Abbess Líoch and an unknown religieux, who might have been Brother Madagan, close to the chapel. Deogaire said he saw Brother Madagan while Sister Dianaimh saw an unknown religieux while she was standing waiting for the abbess inside the gates. It might have been the same person.’

  Eadulf raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘I presume that you are still suspicious of the abbess?’

  ‘I never discount anyone until all the facts are in, Eadulf,’ she replied. ‘I need a word with Brother Madagan. Maybe he can confirm that the unknown religieux was himself.’

  ‘I saw him enter the main door of the chapel just now.’

  ‘Excellent. Where is your brother, by the way? I thought you were introducing him to our little Alchú?’

  ‘I don’t think he is much good with children. I’ve left Alchú with Muirgen and have asked Dego to take Egric to see the township.’

  ‘Something is wrong, I can tell. What is it?’

  ‘Let’s say Alchú did not seem too enamoured with his new uncle. Not that the boy was to blame. Egric just seemed awkward. That was all.’ Eadulf did not want to go into his own inexplicable feelings.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’ She tried to give him assurance. ‘After all, it must be a shock for him – that is, arriving in the manner he did. His companion killed and then rediscovering his brother after all these years. A brother with a child…’

  ‘And married to the sister of a foreign King,’ Eadulf finished. ‘You think this is why he seems so tense?’

  ‘I am sure of it. When was the last time you said you saw him?’

  ‘Over ten years ago.’

  ‘There you are, then. You cannot expect to regain those lost years in one evening. Give him time. He has much to learn about you, and you about him.’

  Eadulf was uncertain for a moment and then he grimaced dismissively. ‘I suppose you are right. Maybe I was expecting too much, too soon.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she smiled. ‘So, let us now go and find Brother Madagan.’

  They made their way across the courtyard to the main entrance of the chapel.

  It was dark inside and, of course, the weather did not help with its grey, shadowy clouds. A small lantern lit the entrance beyond the doorway and two candles spluttered on the altar although they did not give out any meaningful light.

  Fidelma and Eadulf stood by the entrance waiting until their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. At first there seemed no one in the chapel. Everything was so still that even the steady beat of raindrops came like the sound of noisy pebbles on the roof above.

  ‘Brother Madagan?’ called Fidelma softly, her voice echoing in the vaulted tranquillity of the chapel. Her voice came back to her as a soft sighing echo.

  At once there came the sound of a throat being cleared. A shadow moved from behind a pillar at the far side of the dark interior.

  ‘Sister Fidelma?’

  The figure was still shrouded in the gloom but they recognised Brother Madagan, the rechtaire or steward of Abbot Ségdae, by his voice.

  ‘But no longer a Sister of the Faith, as you should know,’ replied Fidelma gravely.

  ‘Forgive me, lady. I had heard that you left the religious to pursue the law more vigorously.’

  ‘How is your chill, Brother Madagan?’

  ‘Much improved, lady; though it was sad that I had to miss the meal last night.’ He peered closer towards her. ‘Is that Brother Eadulf with you?’

  ‘Indeed, it is,’ replied Eadulf, stepping forward.

  ‘I was going to make myself known to your brother. Where is he?’

  ‘He has gone to the township in the company of Dego.’

  ‘I am anxious to hear what happened when he was attacked on the river. I hear a senior cleric of Rome was killed. Has he told you much about it?’

  ‘Little enough. But didn’t you see him at the funeral last night?’

  ‘I missed him in the darkness, especially after the intervention of the mad nephew of Brother Conchobhar.’

  ‘Do you think he is mad?’ intervened Fidelma.

  ‘It was certainly madness that spoke last night,’ Brother Madagan declared.

  ‘You mean Deogaire making his prophecy?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘That is exactly what I mean,’ confirmed the steward with some vehemence. ‘Sacrilege. The young man should be punished. You know the old saying – woe to him who considers his opinion a certainty! Woe to the bringers of warnings and prophecies!’

  ‘Is not the Holy Scripture full of warnings and prophecies?’ replied Fidelma gently.

  ‘Not with sacrilegious pagan nonsense,’ the man snapped.

  ‘You mean because he used terms from the Holy Scripture?’

  ‘That he chose a funeral to utter his warning was blasphemous, as it was also disrespectful.’

  ‘As I recall, discretion was not a virtue with Deogaire. But it is not of him that I wish to speak.’

  Brother Madagan sniffed in disapproval. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Let us sit awhile.’ Fidelma pointed to a bench by the pillar, where light from a window illuminated the area. When they were seated, she went on: ‘I was told you were passing this chapel just before Brother Cerdic’s body was found. Did you see anyone at that time – anyone emerging from the chapel?’

  Brother Madagan paused for a moment, as if trying to recall. ‘I saw no one. However, I did hear some shouting. I glanced back and saw Brother Eadulf calling to old Brother Conchobhair and Deogaire. Was that when the body…?’

  ‘I had just found the body,’ Eadulf explained unnecessarily. ‘Brother Cerdic came to the Abbey of Imleach and then accompanied you and the abbot here. I was wondering whether, during that time, he said or did anything which might have indicated that he had made an enemy, or mentioned anything which could have suggested he would be victim to this lethal assault?’

  Brother Madagan gave a derisive snort. ‘He was a most arrogant fellow, who would have done well to remember that he was not among his own people and their customs!’

  ‘I am told that you nearly lost your temper with him when he came to Imleach,’ Eadulf said in a mild tone.

  Brother Madagan was indifferent. ‘That is true. He provoked me with his conceit.’

  ‘I had not realised that you spoke my tongue, Brother Madagan,’ Eadulf went on.

  ‘Did you not? It is a matter of little importance except that Brother Cerdic had no word of our language. His Latin was indifferent and his Greek was non-existent. That was why Brother Rónán of Fearna had to act as his guide and interpreter.’

  ‘Where did you learn the Saxon tongue?’ It was Fidelma who posed the question this time.

  ‘I spent some time in the town of Láirge, the harbour on the coast. Many travellers from foreign places, especially those who come to study at our colleges, make their landfall there. I spent two summers there teaching students from the kingdoms of the Saxons before they travelled on to colleges like Darú.’

  ‘Let us return to Brother Cerdic,’ Eadulf said. ‘I understand you were in attendance when he and Brother Rónán told the abbot about the nature of their business.’

  ‘Of course. As rechtaire it was my duty.’

  ‘So tell me, exactly how did he explain the purpose of this deputation led by Bishop Arwald?’

  Brother Madagan sighed. ‘That was the problem. He did not. He simply said that this deputation was coming to Cashel and required the attendance of the abbot. It was nothing short of an order.’

  ‘Did he mention that he had called at Cill Náile and requested the presence of Abbess Líoch?’

  ‘That he did not mention. I later heard it from Brother Rónán.’

  ‘And what did Brother Rónán have to say?’

  ‘I think he was as frustrated as we were. He had not been privy to the discussions with Bishop Arwald when the deputation was at Fearna. So he could not even tell us what had been discussed. I think he was grateful when, having guided Brother Cerdic to Imleach, he was able to set out to return to Fearna.’

  ‘And Brother Cerdic was not forthcoming at all on his journey with you and the abbot?’

  ‘When he spoke, it was as if he were commanding servants to do his bidding. That was what caused my anger.’

  ‘So he had the ability to anger people?’ pressed Eadulf.

  ‘Had he been killed anywhere outside of Cashel, I would not have been surprised.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘Simply that some people might have taken offence at his manner, as did I.’ Brother Madagan was gloomy. ‘Let us pray that this bishop is not as hateful as his messenger.’

  ‘Did Brother Cerdic have anything to say about Bishop Arwald?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘Little enough. He was more concerned about some cleric who was accompanying the bishop.’

  ‘Some cleric? Can you be more specific?’

  ‘It was the cleric from Rome. He told us that it was some scholar.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Ah, I have the name now. His name was Verax. That’s it – the Venerable Verax, son of Anastasius of Segni.’

  Eadulf drew in his breath sharply, causing Fidelma to glance at him in surprise.

  ‘Are you sure of the name?’ he asked.

  ‘Such a foreign name does stick in one’s memory,’ asserted Brother Madagan. ‘Why?’

  ‘I … It’s just that I have heard the name spoken of when I was in Rome,’ Eadulf replied lamely. ‘That is all.’

  Fidelma cast a thoughtful glance at him before turning back to the steward of Imleach.

  ‘Why do you think Brother Cerdic was concerned with him?’

  ‘Difficult to say, lady. His voice had a tone of respect when he mentioned Verax’s name. I think he was in awe of this aged and renowned scholar. That’s all.’

  ‘Brother Cerdic gave you absolutely no idea of the purpose of the coming of this Venerable Verax and Bishop Arwald?’

  ‘Only that it was to be an important discussion which Abbot Ségdae must attend in the presence of the King of Cashel.’

  ‘I do not like it,’ Eadulf commented.

  Brother Madagan nodded. ‘I agree with you, friend Eadulf. I feel there is something afoot. Something…’

  Fidelma sniffed deprecatingly. ‘In another moment, you will be echoing Deogaire’s prophecy by saying that you believe that this is the devil’s deputation.’

  Brother Madagan flushed indignantly.

  ‘Anyway,’ Fidelma rose abruptly, ‘all I needed to know was whether you had seen anything unusual as you passed the chapel yesterday. You have made it clear that you did not.’

  ‘That is true,’ the steward of Imleach confirmed, also rising to his feet, with Eadulf following his example.

  ‘Then we will trouble you no more. Thank you, Brother Madagan.’ Fidelma turned for the door of the chapel.

  Outside, she halted and addressed Eadulf accusingly.

  ‘The name of Verax meant something specific to you, didn’t it?’ she demanded.

  ‘Not Verax on its own but the Venerable Verax, son of Anastasius of Segni,’ corrected Eadulf carefully. ‘That is the name that meant something to me. You will recall I spent some time in Rome after we had resolved the mystery of the death of Wighard, the Archbishop-designate of Canterbury? You had left on your return journey to Cashel. During the time I remained in Rome I was to counsel the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore, because he was a Greek from Tarsus and knew nothing of my people.’

  Fidelma restrained her impatience. ‘I know all this. But what about the name?’

  ‘I spent much time in the Lateran Palace…’ Eadulf said reflectively.

  ‘Eadulf!’ Fidelma was becoming impatient.

  ‘The Bishop of Rome is named Vitalian.’

  Fidelma almost ground her teeth in exasperation. ‘I know it. So?’

  ‘Vitalian is son of Anastasius of Segni.’

  It was a few moments before a startled expression crossed her features. ‘Are you saying that this Venerable Verax is…?’

  ‘He must be brother to Pope Vitalian himself and therefore a foremost prince of the Church.’

  ‘Brother to the Bishop of Rome? Brother to the Pope of the Faithful?’ Fidelma breathed.

  It was only in recent times that the Bishop of Rome had adopted and been acknowledged by the Latin title of Papa – the child’s name for ‘father’. It was still unusual for members of the churches of the Five Kingdoms to use that title. Now Fidelma was using it as a means of emphasis. She focused her piercing green eyes on Eadulf.

  ‘If a person of that rank is coming here, this makes the reason for this deputation even more mysterious.’

  ‘And makes it even more essential for us to resolve the murder of Brother Cerdic before his arrival,’ claimed Eadulf. ‘Brother Cerdic would have been his emissary, not the messenger of Bishop Arwald.’

  ‘Colgú must be told of the importance of this guest.’

  ‘And I think I should question my brother further. Surely his companion, the Venerable Victricius, was coming here in connection with this deputation. He must have been a leading Roman cleric, judging by his senior form of address and will have known that he was meeting the Venerable Verax in this place.’

  ‘But why wouldn’t he tell your brother of his mission?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘I do not know,’ Eadulf said hesitantly. ‘Perhaps Egric…’ He left the thought unarticulated.

  ‘Are you saying that your brother was not telling us the truth?’ guessed Fidelma.

  Eadulf admitted unwillingly, ‘He does seem to be holding something back. I am thinking that there are possibilities. Firstly, that he was told not to say anything in view of the identity of the Venerable Verax. This could mean that if he found out that we have learned of that identity – and it was only by chance I knew, because of the time I spent in Rome – then he might now be more forthcoming.’

  ‘And the other possibilities?’

  ‘That he simply does not know. Or that he knows and will not say because of some ulterior reason. I still find some of the things he says to be strange for one in the religious.’