Eadulf shook his head slowly. ‘And that was all? No other explanation?’

  ‘It was enough,’ fumed the abbot. ‘It was sheer arrogance. In fact, I found their emissary, this Brother Cerdic, arrogant in his manner of relaying his message to me.’

  ‘They came from Fearna?’ pressed Eadulf. ‘Is this some new evil scheme from Laighin?’

  Fearna was the main abbey of the neighbouring Kingdom of Laighin, whose kings had long plotted against Muman.

  ‘That was my thought at first,’ Colgú confided. ‘Yet Abbot Ségdae has had private assurance from Brother Rónán that Abbot Moling of Fearna was to emphasise that Laighin are not involved. Brother Rónán said the delegation had arrived at Fearna without prior warning. They had some inconsequential discussions and then asked whether Abbot Moling could supply a guide and interpreter for Brother Cerdic to come here. Abbot Moling also gave an assurance that King Fianamail has no interest in this matter.’

  ‘Do we trust Abbot Moling?’ asked Eadulf, adding, ‘I heard that he was born and raised in Sliabh Luachra. My recent experiences prejudice me against people from that territory.’

  ‘That is true,’ agreed the abbot, ‘but I think we can trust his word. Brother Rónán has fulfilled his task and returned straightway to Fearna. So Fearna are not represented here.’

  ‘It sounds very strange,’ Eadulf reflected.

  ‘Certainly the attitude of the Saxon religieux is unwarranted,’ the abbot grumbled. ‘My steward, Brother Madagan, and this Brother Cerdic very nearly came to blows.’

  Eadulf’s eyes widened. ‘Knowing Brother Madagan, I find it hard to believe he would be in danger of losing his temper.’

  ‘Then you will gauge the conceit of this Brother Cerdic. And how arrogant he is to bring such a message to this Kingdom! Brother Rónán had tried to modify the language as he interpreted him, but Brother Madagan knows some of the Saxon tongue and immediately understood the high-handed nature of his words.’

  Eadulf was reflective. ‘Are you sure that there was no mistaken emphasis in the translation? Perhaps this group are merely coming to make arrangements for some bigger council in the future. There may be some misunderstanding of the intention of their embassy.’

  Abbot Ségdae snorted with indignation. ‘The message was perfectly clear. I was thankful that Brother Madagan had arrived back at the abbey to receive Brother Cerdic. The intention needed no interpretation. Besides which, Brother Madagan exchanged some words with Brother Rónán, who confirmed that even the King of Laighin felt that the Saxons were disrespectful.’

  Eadulf was surprised to hear that Brother Madagan had some fluency in Saxon. During the times he had met the steward of Imleach, they had never conversed in Eadulf’s own language.

  ‘Yes, the message was clear enough, friend Eadulf,’ Colgú said in support of the abbot.

  Eadulf was still puzzled. ‘But a council on religious affairs would best be held at the abbey, with scholars on hand to give advice. So why are they coming to your palace? Why insist that you, the King, preside over it?’

  ‘I agree that this is the point of curiosity, Eadulf,’ Colgú said. ‘This is why we are consulting you.’

  ‘There have surely been enough councils at which delegates from many strange lands have attended and tried to change our laws and ways of proceeding!’ Abbot Ségdae was obviously irritated by the affair. ‘Only the laws of hospitality require that we receive them, otherwise I would advise the King to turn them away.’

  ‘You say that this deputation is currently staying at the Abbey of Fearna?’ Eadulf enquired.

  ‘I am told that while the leaders of the deputation stayed with King Fianamail at his fortress at Dinn Ríg before commencing their journey here, Brother Cerdic was sent to give us advance warning. They have probably already crossed into the Land of the Osraige and could be with us any day now,’ sighed Abbot Ségdae, relapsing into gloom.

  ‘Brother Cerdic says this deputation is from my people?’ Eadulf frowned. ‘East Anglia is but a small kingdom, and one which many of the other Kingdoms of the Angles and the Saxons have claimed jurisdiction over. Its abbots are not so influential as to lead deputations outside their own domains. Why, it was only in my childhood that it was converted from the Old Faith of my people and…’

  Abbot Ségdae stopped him with an impatient gesture of his hand. ‘When I said “your people”, I meant that they have come from one or other of the Kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons,’ he explained, as if the difference was a trifle. ‘Whoever they are, Brother Cerdic says that they come with the authority of the Bishop of Rome, Vitalian. The Roman faction has made many attempts to force our churches to follow their rules. They should give up their endless councils and arguments, and leave us to proceed according to our beliefs.’

  Colgú stirred uncomfortably and glanced at his Chief Bishop.

  ‘Except, as I have heard it, several of our abbots and bishops, especially in the Northern Kingdoms, seem to have already accepted the rituals of Rome,’ he said. ‘Apparently, many are now following the teachings of Cumméne Fota of Connacht.’ Catching Eadulf’s perplexed expression, he added by way of explanation: ‘He died not so long ago and was bishop and lector at Cluain Ferta. He became converted to the Roman liturgy and propagated their doctrine.’

  Abbot Ségdae sniffed. ‘I’ll grant Cumméne was an intelligent man and a diligent scholar, but he was misled. We should abide by our own doctrines.’

  Eadulf did not want to become embroiled in an argument on liturgy. ‘I still cannot see what role you expect me to play in this matter,’ he said, raising his hands in a hopeless gesture. ‘What is it that you wish of me?’

  ‘Do not the ancient philosophers have a saying – nam et ipsa scientia potestas est?’ Abbot Ségdae asked dryly.

  Eadulf nodded. ‘I’ll grant you that knowledge is power. But knowledge of what, exactly?’

  ‘Brother Cerdic has told us that the name of the man who leads this deputation is a Bishop Arwald. Perhaps you might know something of him so that we can assess how best to treat him. He comes, we are told, in the company of a Roman cleric named Verax and they are under the authority and blessing of Vitalian, Bishop of Rome, and that of Theodore, the Archbishop of Canterbury, whom I believe you know.’

  ‘Theodore? Indeed I do,’ affirmed Eadulf. ‘I was in Rome when he was appointed Chief Bishop to the Anglo-Saxon Kingdoms in place of Wighard, who was murdered in Rome. Fidelma and I solved the mystery of his murder. As Theodore was a Greek from Tarsus, it was requested that I should instruct him in the ways of the Angles and Saxons before he took office. Later, it was Theodore who sent me into this kingdom as an emissary. And here I have chosen to remain.’

  Colgú smiled softly. ‘We know your story, Eadulf. So now we are hoping you will be able to provide us with information. As we said, we hope that you may know something of the leader of this deputation so that we can learn something of his purpose. Have you encountered this Bishop Arwald of Magonsaete?’

  ‘Of Magonsaete?’ Eadulf raised his head sharply in surprise.

  Colgú caught the movement. ‘Then you do know this man?’

  ‘I do not know him,’ Eadulf said quickly, ‘but I do know Magonsaete. I would have thought it the last place to be able to appoint a bishop to discuss church matters with this kingdom or, indeed, any other kingdom.’

  Colgú was intrigued. ‘Tell us what you know. Where is this place?’

  ‘It has recently come into being; a hybrid kingdom, neither of the Angles nor of the Britons. It is situated betwixt and between the two peoples. It came into existence when Penda of Mercia – Mercia is one of the major kingdoms of the Angles – joined forces with some of the Britons to extend his western borders. Among the Britons fighting for Penda was a warrior called Merewalh – the name means “illustrious foreigner”. I am afraid I do not know his real British name. Twenty years ago, Penda made him sub-King over this newly acquired territory which was called Magonsaete. That was in reward for his services.’

  Colgú rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Are you telling us that this is a kingdom of Britons which owes its allegiance to a kingdom of Angles? I am confused.’

  ‘That is not exactly the situation. The Angles from Mercia began to settle in this new kingdom, displacing the native Britons who fled westward. Merewalh is a Briton, but he rules over the new settlers. Merewalh married one of Penda’s daughters. He has forsaken his own people.’

  Colgú struggled to understand the politics of the situation. ‘So you are saying that this Briton has the authority of Rome and Canterbury to send his bishop to debate with us?’

  ‘It seems scarcely credible,’ agreed Eadulf solemnly. ‘It was only ten years ago that Merewalh was converted to the faith of Christ.’

  ‘But surely all the Britons were Christian?’

  ‘Maybe Merewalh had originally been of the Faith but changed it when he made his alliance with the Mercia King. Penda was no Christian. He believed in the ancient gods of our people, like Woden.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about his kingdom. Yet it is not connected with your own. How is this?’

  ‘Penda was an Angle but he was the most ruthless and ambitious of the kings,’ explained Eadulf. ‘He sought to subdue my own Kingdom of the East Angles and slew our great King Anna when I was only a lad. Even after Penda died – I was about twenty years of age then – Penda’s son, Wulfhere, continued to exert his will over our small kingdom. So we were always aware of the Mercian threat.’

  Colgú shook his head in frustration. ‘With due respect to you, Eadulf, I find all these foreign names very confusing. I have no understanding of any of these kingdoms of the Angles and the Saxons. Have they no High King governing them as we have here?’

  ‘Such an idea is growing among my people,’ Eadulf conceded. ‘But there are eleven major kingdoms of Angles and Saxons, and all their rulers are often at war with one another. I doubt whether we will ever see unity among them. Anyway, the conflict among them is not even about uniting the kingdoms – but about claiming the title to be conqueror and ruler over the Britons.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The title that is claimed is Bretwalda – wielder or ruler over the Britons. Don’t forget that the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons were carved out of the lands of the Britons when our ancestors first landed on the island of Britain two centuries ago. But the title is meaningless for the Britons have not submitted.’

  Colgú remarked sadly, ‘Your people seem to be very warlike, always intent on conquest.’

  ‘I regret that it is so, Colgú,’ nodded Eadulf. ‘But perhaps, as the New Faith takes firmer hold, we may become calmer and more content. Our kingdoms were born in bloodshed and conquest. Therefore it may take us some time to recover from those years.’

  ‘So what are we to make of this Bishop Arwald of Magonsaete?’

  ‘It is hard to make anything of him until we know him. You say he comes here on the authority of the Bishops Vitalian and Theodore?’

  ‘So far as we are told.’

  ‘Then I have little understanding of it,’ Eadulf said. ‘Why would Rome and Canterbury send any delegation to Cashel, even if it was to discuss matters of the Faith?’

  ‘It is a mystery which we were hoping you could enlighten us on before this delegation arrives,’ sighed Abbot Ségdae.

  ‘I can only tell you what I know. What did you say were the names of the other members of the delegation?’

  ‘There is this Roman cleric named Verax,’ offered the abbot.

  ‘The name is common enough among clerics,’ Eadulf shrugged. ‘It means “the truthful one”.’

  ‘And, of course, this Brother Cerdic.’

  ‘Well, it does sound as if Cerdic comes from Magonsaete,’ mused Eadulf. Then, seeing their baffled looks, he told them: ‘Cerdic comes originally from a name popular among Britons – Ceretic. With the mixture of Britons and Angles in Magonsaete, it is not unusual to see such a name. It is now adopted by the Angles.’

  ‘So it seems that we can do nothing except wait for the arrival of this deputation before we can discover their intention,’ commented Colgú.

  And then, to Eadulf’s surprise, Colgú suddenly grinned. It was the mischievous smile that he shared with his sister when a humorous thought came to his mind. ‘Unless, Abbot Ségdae, you want to consult with Deogaire?’

  Abbot Ségdae’s brow gathered in an angry frown before he saw the smile on the King’s lips.

  ‘I certainly do not,’ he replied tightly.

  ‘Excuse me?’ asked Eadulf. ‘Who is Deogaire?’

  ‘A person to avoid,’ snapped Abbot Ségdae. ‘Especially with your prejudice against Sliabh Luachra.’

  ‘I referred to Deogaire of Sliabh Luachra,’ Colgú explained. ‘Unfortunately, if we did not have concerns enough, he has chosen this time to make one of his infrequent visits to Cashel. He claims to have a gift of prophecy.’

  It was only a short time before that Eadulf had found himself on the borders of Sliabh Luachra, the territory of the Luachair Deaghaidh, and witnessed the killing of their chieftain, Fidaig, by the chieftain’s own son! Eadulf suppressed a shiver, remembering the forbidding mountains that made the territory a fortress against outsiders. It was a grim and frightening land.

  ‘This Deogaire,’ Eadulf went on after a moment or two, ‘is he of the chieftain’s family? Why would he be able to answer your questions?’

  It was Abbot Ségdae who responded. ‘It is the King’s humour. Deogaire is a wild man, a man of the hills and mountains. As the King says, Deogaire claims to be able to foretell the future; he calls himself a wizard, a soothsayer. Every so often, he comes out of his mountain fastness and sells his prophecies to the gullible – credulous people who do not trust the Faith.’

  ‘Deogaire has a talent for creating arguments, especially among the brethren,’ added Colgú.

  ‘Then why is he allowed in the palace?’

  Colgú sighed. ‘It is hard to refuse him. He is the nephew of old Brother Conchobhar; the son of his sister.’

  There was little need to explain further because Eadulf knew that Brother Conchobhar was the physician and apothecary who had tended and been mentor to both Colgú and Fidelma since childhood. Even before they were born, he had served their father Failbhe Flann. If there was one person in Cashel that Eadulf had come to trust implicitly, it was this bright-eyed old man.

  However, Colgú was moving on. ‘Eadulf, I will want you to attend this coming council as my adviser, for you will be valuable in that role.’

  ‘Surely Fidelma will make a better adviser?’ he protested.

  Colgú shook his head. ‘You are from the land of these people; you know their language and the way their minds work. I need that knowledge. As for Fidelma, Aillín is my Chief Brehon and it will be his role to advise on legal matters as it is Abbot Ségdae’s role to advise on matters of the Faith.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ intervened the abbot, ‘I was surprised to learn that Brother Cerdic insisted on visiting Abbess Líoch of Cill Náile and suggesting it was in her interests to attend here.’

  ‘I recall that the abbess is an old friend of Fidelma,’ Eadulf said. ‘Now I am completely in the dark as to the intention of this deputation, as there are more senior religious in the kingdom than Abbess Líoch who should attend any council.’

  ‘It could be that Brother Cerdic was asked to invite her because of her knowledge of your people – I mean, the Angles,’ Colgú suggested. ‘Some years ago, Abbess Líoch joined a party of missionaries to the Kingdom of Northumbria and spent time at an abbey called Laestingau. So she knows something of your people and their ways.’

  Abbot Ségdae nodded. ‘It would be good to have her expertise at this meeting as well as your own.’

  ‘I have no objection,’ Eadulf agreed, knowing full well that the abbot was not asking him if he objected or not. ‘I have not met the abbess before.’

  Cill Náile, he knew, was an easy ride east of Cashel, but he had never visited the small religious community there. Líoch, so Fidelma had told him, had been one of her companions when she set out to join the group of Irish delegates journeying to the Great Council of Streonshalh. As far as he recalled, Líoch had not attended the council. She remained at Laestingau, some days’ ride west of Streonshalh.

  ‘Where is Brother Cerdic now?’ he asked the abbot. ‘I understand that he came with you to Cashel.’

  Abbot Ségdae’s face became glum. ‘He did. He is here awaiting the arrival of the rest of his deputation.’

  ‘Then perhaps I should go and speak with him? I might be able to pick up some further information.’

  ‘I was hoping you would,’ Colgú said. ‘It is hard to get any understanding of what is going on. This whole matter makes me uneasy.’

  ‘You should find him in the chapel,’ offered the abbot. ‘He is someone who appears to prefer to keep himself to himself.’

  Eadulf was crossing the courtyard towards the chapel building when Fidelma came riding in through the main gates on her short-necked grey stallion, which she had called Aonbharr after the horse ridden by the old God of the Oceans, Mannanán Mac Lir. Alongside her, smiling broadly astride his piebald pony, was their four-year-old son, Alchú, with his mop of bright red hair. Behind, keeping careful watch, rode Aidan, one of the élite warriors of Cashel.

  Eadulf paused for a moment to admire his wife. After the years during which she had been Sister Fidelma, clad in the robes of a religieuse, he had not fully become used to seeing her as ‘Fidelma, Princess of the Eóghanacht’. Her red hair was plaited in three braids, held in place with silver circlets on her head. She wore a tunic that fitted tightly to the waist and then billowed over her upper legs, which were encased in tight-fitting triubhas, or trousers, that fitted into leather boots that came just above the ankles and were of a matching blue. From her shoulders hung a short cloak, with a beaver-skin collar, clasped together by a silver brooch. Each garment was patterned in designs picked out in gold and silver needlework.