allowed here. However, I am told they have been put in abeyance so far as you are concerned. The bishop has been awaiting your arrival with some impatience. Chambers have been set aside for you in our hospitia and you have only to tell me any other requirement you may have.’ He turned to Abbot Ségdae. ‘Bishop Leodegar will obviously want to be informed of the arrival of your compatriots. Would you do so while I conduct them to their quarters?’ Receiving assent, he turned back to Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘Come with me.’
They followed him, having made an arrangement to meet with the abbot after they had rested.
Brother Chilperic led them up several flights of wooden stairs. The abbey seemed as cold and grey on the inside as it had appeared on the outside. But now and then, through the windows they passed, they caught the sunlit vista of green fields and forests and the winding blue strip of the river. They had obviously been taken to the side of the abbey that overlooked the southern walls of the city, on the opposite side to the sprawl of the city itself. Fidelma estimated that the rooms of the hospitia must be on the third level of the abbey–a fact confirmed by the steward. He showed them to a comfortable chamber with walls clad in yew and polished birchwood. It was spacious and there was even an adjoining room prepared for ablutions and toilet requisites.
Brother Chilperic caught Fidelma glancing around with an air of appreciative surprise.
‘This chamber was originally set aside for visiting nobles; kings have stayed here, such as the noble Dagobert and Judicael of Domnonia,’ he said.
Fidelma bowed her head. ‘Then we are truly honoured, Brother Chilperic. We did not expect such comfort.’
‘It is you who honour our abbey, for I am told you are sister to the king of your own land. I shall order water to be heated and some food to be brought to you, and if there is anything else that you require…’
‘Then we shall ask,’ Fidelma finished solemnly.
When the door closed, she turned to Eadulf and grinned. ‘Well, things seem to have improved slightly.’
‘Why is it that I get the feeling that our hosts are a little over-indulgent to us?’ he replied. ‘Altering the Rule of the abbey, providing us with a chamber and service better suited to a king…Can it be that there is something more that they are not telling us about the death of Abbot Dabhóc?’
‘It is no use thinking about that until we have seen Ségdae again and Bishop Leodegar,’ reproved Fidelma. ‘Now, who shall bathe first?’ she asked brightly, knowing that Eadulf had never really taken to the Irish custom of a full body wash once a day.
Some time later, when the eastern sky grew dark, Fidelma and Eadulf were seated in Abbot Ségdae’s chamber, which was but a short distance along the same corridor. One of several set aside for the delegates to the council, it was nowhere near so well presented as their own chamber. It was sparsely furnished and with an economy in fittings, which doubtless meant that the religious visitors to the abbey were expected to share the same frugality of life as the brethren. By comparison, they were being treated as royal guests and Fidelma presumed that Abbot Ségdae had emphasised her status as sister to the King of Cashel. Ordinarily, she would have objected, but had decided to withhold her condemnation until she observed whether such emphasis was help or hindrance.
‘Perhaps you should tell us first of the facts relating to this death?’Fidelma invited, relaxing back in her chair and feeling more comfortable after her bath.
‘As I have told you,’ began the abbot, ‘a week ago, Dabhóc was found with his skull smashed on the floor of Bishop Ordgar’s chamber here. Lying unconscious by his side, having received a blow to his head, was Abbot Cadfan from the kingdom of Gwynedd. Also in the chamber was Ordgar himself, who seemed in a semi-conscious state.’
‘A semi-conscious
They followed him, having made an arrangement to meet with the abbot after they had rested.
Brother Chilperic led them up several flights of wooden stairs. The abbey seemed as cold and grey on the inside as it had appeared on the outside. But now and then, through the windows they passed, they caught the sunlit vista of green fields and forests and the winding blue strip of the river. They had obviously been taken to the side of the abbey that overlooked the southern walls of the city, on the opposite side to the sprawl of the city itself. Fidelma estimated that the rooms of the hospitia must be on the third level of the abbey–a fact confirmed by the steward. He showed them to a comfortable chamber with walls clad in yew and polished birchwood. It was spacious and there was even an adjoining room prepared for ablutions and toilet requisites.
Brother Chilperic caught Fidelma glancing around with an air of appreciative surprise.
‘This chamber was originally set aside for visiting nobles; kings have stayed here, such as the noble Dagobert and Judicael of Domnonia,’ he said.
Fidelma bowed her head. ‘Then we are truly honoured, Brother Chilperic. We did not expect such comfort.’
‘It is you who honour our abbey, for I am told you are sister to the king of your own land. I shall order water to be heated and some food to be brought to you, and if there is anything else that you require…’
‘Then we shall ask,’ Fidelma finished solemnly.
When the door closed, she turned to Eadulf and grinned. ‘Well, things seem to have improved slightly.’
‘Why is it that I get the feeling that our hosts are a little over-indulgent to us?’ he replied. ‘Altering the Rule of the abbey, providing us with a chamber and service better suited to a king…Can it be that there is something more that they are not telling us about the death of Abbot Dabhóc?’
‘It is no use thinking about that until we have seen Ségdae again and Bishop Leodegar,’ reproved Fidelma. ‘Now, who shall bathe first?’ she asked brightly, knowing that Eadulf had never really taken to the Irish custom of a full body wash once a day.
Some time later, when the eastern sky grew dark, Fidelma and Eadulf were seated in Abbot Ségdae’s chamber, which was but a short distance along the same corridor. One of several set aside for the delegates to the council, it was nowhere near so well presented as their own chamber. It was sparsely furnished and with an economy in fittings, which doubtless meant that the religious visitors to the abbey were expected to share the same frugality of life as the brethren. By comparison, they were being treated as royal guests and Fidelma presumed that Abbot Ségdae had emphasised her status as sister to the King of Cashel. Ordinarily, she would have objected, but had decided to withhold her condemnation until she observed whether such emphasis was help or hindrance.
‘Perhaps you should tell us first of the facts relating to this death?’Fidelma invited, relaxing back in her chair and feeling more comfortable after her bath.
‘As I have told you,’ began the abbot, ‘a week ago, Dabhóc was found with his skull smashed on the floor of Bishop Ordgar’s chamber here. Lying unconscious by his side, having received a blow to his head, was Abbot Cadfan from the kingdom of Gwynedd. Also in the chamber was Ordgar himself, who seemed in a semi-conscious state.’
‘A semi-conscious
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