Master of Souls Read Online Free PDF Page B

Rome.
    The small band continued on their way towards the grey stone and wooden buildings of the abbey. They rode along a wide avenue between
stone hedges, passing a tall standing stone to the west, and across the valley floor where the sound of the sea was not so prominent, being deflected by the hills. A drover moving a small herd of goats hastened to get the animals out of their way, apparently recognising and saluting Conrí, while giving an inquisitive glance at the warlord’s companions.
    As they made their way up the incline towards the walls of Ard Fhearta, the wooden gates opened and a young man emerged. He stood awaiting their approach with ill-concealed excitement on his features.
    ‘God be with you this day, Brother Cú Mara,’ said Conrí, reining his horse to a standstill in front of the open gates.
    ‘God and Mary protect you, Conrí son of Conmáel.’ The young man gave the ritual response. Then he turned to greet the others and his eyes suddenly narrowed as they beheld Fidelma.
    ‘Brother Cú Mara is the rechtaire of the abbey,’ Conrí said.
    ‘Welcome to Ard Fhearta, lady.’ The coldness of his tone did not match the words.
    Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘You seem to know who I am?’
    The young man inclined his head slightly. ‘Who does not know of Fidelma, sister to Colgú, King of Muman? Your reputation as a dálaigh has spread in all five kingdoms of Eireann.’
    Fidelma glanced accusingly at Conrí. ‘I thought you said that you had not warned anyone here that I would be coming?’
    Before Conrí could speak, Brother Cú Mara intervened.
    ‘I only knew myself a moment ago when I recognised you.’ He spoke in a curiously disapproving tone.
    ‘Then you have seen me before?’
    ‘I studied the art of calligraphy under Abbot Laisran at Durrow, lady. I saw you several times there.’
    Fidelma smiled. Durrow - the abbey of the oak plain. It seemed an age since she had last been there. The genial Abbot Laisran had looked upon Fidelma as his protégée, having persuaded her to join the religious after she had won her degrees in law at the great school of the Brehon Morann. Dear, kindly Abbot Laisran, and his infectious humour.
    Brother Cú Mara had turned to Eadulf with the same serious scrutiny.
    ‘And you are … ?’
    ‘This is my companion, Brother Eadulf,’ said Fidelma.
    The young monk’s expression did not alter.
    ‘Of course,’ he said shortly. He turned back to Conrí. ‘The abbot will
doubtless be eager to speak to you, lord Conrí, especially when he knows the identity of your companions.’
    Fidelma could still hear the disapproval in the young man’s tone.
    ‘I will see him directly, then,’ Conrí assured him. ‘I presume there is no word from the missing religieuse?’
    The steward’s expression turned into an unpleasant grimace.
    ‘No word from them, lord Conrí. However, the abbey has received a further tragic blow.’
    ‘Then do not keep us in suspense, Brother,’ Conrí replied shortly.
    ‘Three days ago, the Venerable Cinaed was found dead in the oratory.’
    ‘The Venerable Cináed?’ It was Fidelma who asked the question. ‘Would that be Cinaed the scholar?’
    ‘Do you know his work, lady?’ The steward seemed surprised.
    ‘Who does not know of his treatises on philosophy and history?’ she responded at once. ‘His work was renowned throughout the five kingdoms of Eireann. Do I judge that he was elderly? I hope he died a peaceful death?’
    Brother Cú Mara shook his head. ‘He was elderly, just as you say, lady, but he died violently. A heavy blow apparently crushed the back of his skull.’
    Conrí gasped while Fidelma’s eyes widened a little.
    ‘I presume, from your choice of words, that this was no accident?’ she pressed.
    ‘His body was found behind the altar in the oratory and there was no sign of the implement which caused the death blow.’
    ‘Has the culprit been discovered?’ Conrí demanded. He glanced to Fidelma and added: ‘This