Patrick
himself, but was made famous by the Blessed Mongan the Wise who gathered one thousand five hundred religious to worship at a complex that boasted six churches. A saying had entered the language: to be ‘as wise as the women of Mungret’. She suddenly smiled as she remembered the story she had been told in her childhood. The wisdom of the scholars of Mungret had become so proverbial that the scholars of another college grew jealous, and challenged the scholars of Mungret to a debate. On the day of the arrival of the challengers, the scholars of Mungret decided to play a joke. They set out disguised as washerwomen, placing themselves at the ford across the river that bordered their territory, where the challengers would have to cross.
The challengers came upon the ‘washerwomen’ at work by the stream. When the challengers found out that the ‘washerwomen’ could speak excellent Latin and Greek and could debate easily with them, they decided they should withdraw. If the washerwomen of Mungret were so learned, what hope had they of debating with the scholars of Mungret?
‘Something amuses you, Sister?’ snapped Abbot Erc.
Fidelma drew herself back to the present.
‘Just a story I had heard,’ she replied.
‘These debates provoked no animosity?’ queried Eadulf.
‘None at all,’ said the abbot. ‘The Venerable Mac Faosma attended many. You may ask him.’
Fidelma raised her head sharply.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma of Magh Bhile? What do you mean? Does he dwell in this abbey?’
‘Indeed he does. Do you know him?’ replied the abbot in surprise.
‘I know of him. He was spoken of with the same reverence as the Venerable Cinaed. It is astonishing that you have … had,’ she corrected herself, ‘two great philosophers at your abbey.’
The old abbot gestured as if dismissing the point.
‘Ard Fhearta is the home of many good scholars,’ he said shortly.
‘Of course,’ Fidelma replied with a smile. ‘But what is a man of Ulaidh doing here in the country of the Uí Fidgente?’
Once more, to cover the old abbot’s ill composure, it was Brother Cú Mara who answered her.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma came here three years ago. This was the country in which he had been born. He trained here and then the peregrinatio pro Christo took him to study at Finnian’s great school at Magh
Bhile. He returned to live out the rest of his days among his own people and to contemplate the mysteries of the Faith.’
‘So he is not teaching here?’
‘Indeed, he does so now and then. As the abbot says, he took part and even presided in many of our scholastic debates.’
‘How was his relationship with the Venerable Cinaed?’
Brother Cú Mara suddenly looked uncomfortable and glanced at Abbot Erc.
‘He did not agree with everything that the Venerable Cinaed taught.’
Fidelma actually smiled mischievously at the formula of the words.
‘As, indeed, your abbot confesses was his attitude. Well, I do not doubt it. I cannot see room for agreement here with the Venerable Cináed’s argument for monotheism and his dismissal of the triune godship. That would have been anathema to the Venerable Mac Faosma.’
Abbot Erc seemed surprised by her knowledge but allowed his steward to reply.
‘There were some lively arguments …’ the young steward acknowledged. He caught sight of the abbot’s frown and added: ‘I mean, lively discussions between the two of them.’
Eadulf hid a smile. ‘So not everyone saw this Venerable Cinaed in terms of sweetness and light?’
Abbot Erc cast an irritable look at him. ‘What are you implying, Brother? That the Venerable Mac Faosma killed him because of a disagreement on the subject of the Holy Trinity?’
‘The choice of the term Holy Trinity implies that you, too, did not favour the Venerable Cináed’s argument for monotheism?’ Fidelma could not resist the mischievous impulse to tease the stern-faced abbot.
Abbot Erc looked startled. ‘What are you
himself, but was made famous by the Blessed Mongan the Wise who gathered one thousand five hundred religious to worship at a complex that boasted six churches. A saying had entered the language: to be ‘as wise as the women of Mungret’. She suddenly smiled as she remembered the story she had been told in her childhood. The wisdom of the scholars of Mungret had become so proverbial that the scholars of another college grew jealous, and challenged the scholars of Mungret to a debate. On the day of the arrival of the challengers, the scholars of Mungret decided to play a joke. They set out disguised as washerwomen, placing themselves at the ford across the river that bordered their territory, where the challengers would have to cross.
The challengers came upon the ‘washerwomen’ at work by the stream. When the challengers found out that the ‘washerwomen’ could speak excellent Latin and Greek and could debate easily with them, they decided they should withdraw. If the washerwomen of Mungret were so learned, what hope had they of debating with the scholars of Mungret?
‘Something amuses you, Sister?’ snapped Abbot Erc.
Fidelma drew herself back to the present.
‘Just a story I had heard,’ she replied.
‘These debates provoked no animosity?’ queried Eadulf.
‘None at all,’ said the abbot. ‘The Venerable Mac Faosma attended many. You may ask him.’
Fidelma raised her head sharply.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma of Magh Bhile? What do you mean? Does he dwell in this abbey?’
‘Indeed he does. Do you know him?’ replied the abbot in surprise.
‘I know of him. He was spoken of with the same reverence as the Venerable Cinaed. It is astonishing that you have … had,’ she corrected herself, ‘two great philosophers at your abbey.’
The old abbot gestured as if dismissing the point.
‘Ard Fhearta is the home of many good scholars,’ he said shortly.
‘Of course,’ Fidelma replied with a smile. ‘But what is a man of Ulaidh doing here in the country of the Uí Fidgente?’
Once more, to cover the old abbot’s ill composure, it was Brother Cú Mara who answered her.
‘The Venerable Mac Faosma came here three years ago. This was the country in which he had been born. He trained here and then the peregrinatio pro Christo took him to study at Finnian’s great school at Magh
Bhile. He returned to live out the rest of his days among his own people and to contemplate the mysteries of the Faith.’
‘So he is not teaching here?’
‘Indeed, he does so now and then. As the abbot says, he took part and even presided in many of our scholastic debates.’
‘How was his relationship with the Venerable Cinaed?’
Brother Cú Mara suddenly looked uncomfortable and glanced at Abbot Erc.
‘He did not agree with everything that the Venerable Cinaed taught.’
Fidelma actually smiled mischievously at the formula of the words.
‘As, indeed, your abbot confesses was his attitude. Well, I do not doubt it. I cannot see room for agreement here with the Venerable Cináed’s argument for monotheism and his dismissal of the triune godship. That would have been anathema to the Venerable Mac Faosma.’
Abbot Erc seemed surprised by her knowledge but allowed his steward to reply.
‘There were some lively arguments …’ the young steward acknowledged. He caught sight of the abbot’s frown and added: ‘I mean, lively discussions between the two of them.’
Eadulf hid a smile. ‘So not everyone saw this Venerable Cinaed in terms of sweetness and light?’
Abbot Erc cast an irritable look at him. ‘What are you implying, Brother? That the Venerable Mac Faosma killed him because of a disagreement on the subject of the Holy Trinity?’
‘The choice of the term Holy Trinity implies that you, too, did not favour the Venerable Cináed’s argument for monotheism?’ Fidelma could not resist the mischievous impulse to tease the stern-faced abbot.
Abbot Erc looked startled. ‘What are you
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