sharp-featured man, who replied in a grand tone,‘You are in the presence of the abbot of Cill Ria, Bishop Ultán of the Uí Thuirtrí, envoy from the
archiepiscopus
of Ard Macha.’
Caol continued to frown uncertainly. ‘Dego will see you to your chamber, Abbot Ultán, and then conduct your companions to the hostels set aside for them. The hostel for females is within the fortress but that for males is in the town below.’
The abbot did not move as Dego went forward but the elderly man at his side, glancing uneasily at his master, raised his tone querulously.
‘Does your king not come to the gate to welcome the envoy from the
archiepiscopus
of Ard Macha?’
Caol had begun to return to the stables but now turned with surprise.
‘My king does not even come to the gate to welcome the Comarb of the Blessed Ailbe who brought the Faith to our kingdom, let alone to welcome an abbot from the north who represents someone with a title that I do not recognise,’ he replied shortly.
Even from where he stood, Eadulf could see the saturnine abbot’s brows drawing together in anger. Beside Eadulf, Brother Conchobhar was stifling a chuckle.
‘Now,’ Caol was continuing, ‘should you wish to be received by Colgú before the ceremonies commence, I will convey your greetings to him. But he is, at this time, welcoming the High King, the provincial kings and the princes of these lands in his private chambers.’
He nodded to Dego to continue and began to turn away again.
‘Young man!’
Abbot Ultán’s sharp tones cut through the courtyard, halting Caol, who again turned questioningly to the newcomer.
‘You are insolent, young man. Know you that I am …’
‘An arrogant messenger from an arrogant abbot,’ snapped a new voice.
Eadulf saw another religieux enter the courtyard from one of the buildings and come striding over to stand by Caol. He was broad-shouldered and looked more like a warrior than a leading member of the church, for as such his clothes and accoutrements proclaimed him.
‘That is Augaire, the abbot of Conga,’ whispered BrotherConchobhar. ‘He’s also one of the chief bishops to the king of Connacht.’
Abbot Ultán had turned a venomous gaze on the newcomer.
‘So? You are here too?’ He almost hissed the words.
Abbot Augaire smiled but it was a smile without humour.
‘Oh yes. Everyone who matters is here,’ he replied softly. ‘Even some who do not matter are here.’
‘Including the jumped-up Uí Fiachracha whom some call a king in Connacht?’ sneered Abbot Ultán.
‘Including Muirchertach Nár,’ affirmed the other, calmly. ‘Several of your old friends are gathered here.’
The way the abbot pronounced ‘old friends’ made it clear to Eadulf that the people referred to were anything but friends of Abbot Ultán. He wondered what this exchange really meant.
‘Do not think that they will intimidate me. I shall speak the truth,’ snapped Abbot Ultán.
Abbot Augaire’s smile broadened but it was still without warmth.
‘They would not wish to stop you if ever you decided to speak the truth,’ he replied with acid in his voice.
Abbot Ultán blinked. His expression was suddenly dangerous. He was about to say something but then seemed to change his mind and turned back to Caol.
‘Young man, tell your king that I demand to see him. In the meantime, I also demand that you send a warrior to stand guard at my chamber door to protect me from …’ he glanced at Abbot Augaire, ‘from anyone who might wish to harm a truth servant of the true Faith.’
Caol looked bewildered for a moment and then he shrugged.
‘As I have said, Dego will take you to your quarters. I will convey your request to Colgú,’ he said, and left.
Dego moved forward to oversee the unloading of the luggage from the wagon and to conduct the abbot to his quarters, while another attendant went to see to the rest of the party.
For a few moments, Abbot Augaire stood in the courtyard looking thoughtfully
archiepiscopus
of Ard Macha.’
Caol continued to frown uncertainly. ‘Dego will see you to your chamber, Abbot Ultán, and then conduct your companions to the hostels set aside for them. The hostel for females is within the fortress but that for males is in the town below.’
The abbot did not move as Dego went forward but the elderly man at his side, glancing uneasily at his master, raised his tone querulously.
‘Does your king not come to the gate to welcome the envoy from the
archiepiscopus
of Ard Macha?’
Caol had begun to return to the stables but now turned with surprise.
‘My king does not even come to the gate to welcome the Comarb of the Blessed Ailbe who brought the Faith to our kingdom, let alone to welcome an abbot from the north who represents someone with a title that I do not recognise,’ he replied shortly.
Even from where he stood, Eadulf could see the saturnine abbot’s brows drawing together in anger. Beside Eadulf, Brother Conchobhar was stifling a chuckle.
‘Now,’ Caol was continuing, ‘should you wish to be received by Colgú before the ceremonies commence, I will convey your greetings to him. But he is, at this time, welcoming the High King, the provincial kings and the princes of these lands in his private chambers.’
He nodded to Dego to continue and began to turn away again.
‘Young man!’
Abbot Ultán’s sharp tones cut through the courtyard, halting Caol, who again turned questioningly to the newcomer.
‘You are insolent, young man. Know you that I am …’
‘An arrogant messenger from an arrogant abbot,’ snapped a new voice.
Eadulf saw another religieux enter the courtyard from one of the buildings and come striding over to stand by Caol. He was broad-shouldered and looked more like a warrior than a leading member of the church, for as such his clothes and accoutrements proclaimed him.
‘That is Augaire, the abbot of Conga,’ whispered BrotherConchobhar. ‘He’s also one of the chief bishops to the king of Connacht.’
Abbot Ultán had turned a venomous gaze on the newcomer.
‘So? You are here too?’ He almost hissed the words.
Abbot Augaire smiled but it was a smile without humour.
‘Oh yes. Everyone who matters is here,’ he replied softly. ‘Even some who do not matter are here.’
‘Including the jumped-up Uí Fiachracha whom some call a king in Connacht?’ sneered Abbot Ultán.
‘Including Muirchertach Nár,’ affirmed the other, calmly. ‘Several of your old friends are gathered here.’
The way the abbot pronounced ‘old friends’ made it clear to Eadulf that the people referred to were anything but friends of Abbot Ultán. He wondered what this exchange really meant.
‘Do not think that they will intimidate me. I shall speak the truth,’ snapped Abbot Ultán.
Abbot Augaire’s smile broadened but it was still without warmth.
‘They would not wish to stop you if ever you decided to speak the truth,’ he replied with acid in his voice.
Abbot Ultán blinked. His expression was suddenly dangerous. He was about to say something but then seemed to change his mind and turned back to Caol.
‘Young man, tell your king that I demand to see him. In the meantime, I also demand that you send a warrior to stand guard at my chamber door to protect me from …’ he glanced at Abbot Augaire, ‘from anyone who might wish to harm a truth servant of the true Faith.’
Caol looked bewildered for a moment and then he shrugged.
‘As I have said, Dego will take you to your quarters. I will convey your request to Colgú,’ he said, and left.
Dego moved forward to oversee the unloading of the luggage from the wagon and to conduct the abbot to his quarters, while another attendant went to see to the rest of the party.
For a few moments, Abbot Augaire stood in the courtyard looking thoughtfully