‘But here, wood is plenty and varied. I know that the community is expanding, but to bring in a professional builder and his men is surprising. Glassán was right when he said that the law lays down strict rules, regulations and fees for professional builders and craftsmen. If the community here can afford to pay those rates, it means they have the finances to do so. How have they achieved such wealth in so short a time?’
‘Perhaps Glassán and his men are donating their work to the Faith,’ suggested Eadulf.
‘You heard him speak of his fees. I don’t think he will forgo them for the sake of the Faith.’
‘Well, perhaps that is something we should ask Abbot Iarnla about.’
Fidelma nodded absently. ‘Anyway, we have more to concern us than how the abbey has raised the means to pay craftsmen to construct stone buildings.’ She opened the door of her chamber, then turned back to him with a smile. ‘Sleep well, Eadulf. We have much to do in the morning.’
For a moment Eadulf stood gazing moodily at the closed door. Then with a deep sigh he turned and walked slowly to his own allotted chamber.
If Fidelma was so convinced of her future, Eadulf knew that difficult times lay ahead for him. There would be no easy
reconciliation, no easy getting back together, as it seemed Fidelma’s brother had hoped.
Eadulf lay down on the straw palliasse of the wooden framed cot and drew a blanket over himself, but it was a long time before sleep came to him.
CHAPTER SIX
T he next morning the sky was cloudless and the sun bright.
‘It is going to be a hot day,’ announced Brother Lugna, moodily, after he had greeted Fidelma and Eadulf. They had just emerged from the refectorium , where they had taken a light breakfast.
‘In that case, we should avail ourselves of the early morning freshness to begin at once,’ Fidelma replied.
They had emerged to a cacophony of sound at odds with the usual meditative quiet of an abbey. They could hear the ringing of hammers on stone, the grating of wood being sawn and the harsh shouts of men issuing instructions.
‘That’s the building work,’ explained Brother Lugna. ‘The disturbance of our peace is but a small penance for the reconstruction of the abbey into a monument that will last forever.’
He led them across the stone-flagged quadrangle, past the tipra , the small fresh-water fountain splashing in a basin carved from limestone. Facing them on the eastern side of the quadrangle was the large three-storey stone building which contained Brother Donnchad’s cell. Brother Lugna told them that the cubicula , or individual cells, of all the senior members of the community would eventually be housed in the building.
‘So it is a very new building,’ Fidelma commented, observing the still immaculately polished stonework.
‘Less than a year old,’ Brother Lugna agreed. ‘It was the second of the new buildings to be finished. The first, of course, was our chapel. I regret that the tech-oíged , the guesthouse, will be the last building to be replaced in stone as it is the least important of the complex. But I hope the current building is comfortable enough for you.’
Fidelma wondered whether there was some humour behind his words. But she did not think that Brother Lugna was given to humour.
‘Comfortable enough,’ replied Fidelma. ‘So comfortable that I wonder why the abbey should spend so much on replacing buildings that are well built and still fairly new anyway?’
‘It is the ambition of the abbey that Lios Mór should become one of the greatest centres of the Faith and of learning not only in the Five Kingdoms but beyond the seas as well. The abbey of Darú claims that this year they have attracted pious students from eighteen different nations. To achieve our ambition it was decided that our buildings should reflect our abilities. Great structures of stone will last longer than poor buildings of wood.’
It was the first time they had seen the
‘Perhaps Glassán and his men are donating their work to the Faith,’ suggested Eadulf.
‘You heard him speak of his fees. I don’t think he will forgo them for the sake of the Faith.’
‘Well, perhaps that is something we should ask Abbot Iarnla about.’
Fidelma nodded absently. ‘Anyway, we have more to concern us than how the abbey has raised the means to pay craftsmen to construct stone buildings.’ She opened the door of her chamber, then turned back to him with a smile. ‘Sleep well, Eadulf. We have much to do in the morning.’
For a moment Eadulf stood gazing moodily at the closed door. Then with a deep sigh he turned and walked slowly to his own allotted chamber.
If Fidelma was so convinced of her future, Eadulf knew that difficult times lay ahead for him. There would be no easy
reconciliation, no easy getting back together, as it seemed Fidelma’s brother had hoped.
Eadulf lay down on the straw palliasse of the wooden framed cot and drew a blanket over himself, but it was a long time before sleep came to him.
CHAPTER SIX
T he next morning the sky was cloudless and the sun bright.
‘It is going to be a hot day,’ announced Brother Lugna, moodily, after he had greeted Fidelma and Eadulf. They had just emerged from the refectorium , where they had taken a light breakfast.
‘In that case, we should avail ourselves of the early morning freshness to begin at once,’ Fidelma replied.
They had emerged to a cacophony of sound at odds with the usual meditative quiet of an abbey. They could hear the ringing of hammers on stone, the grating of wood being sawn and the harsh shouts of men issuing instructions.
‘That’s the building work,’ explained Brother Lugna. ‘The disturbance of our peace is but a small penance for the reconstruction of the abbey into a monument that will last forever.’
He led them across the stone-flagged quadrangle, past the tipra , the small fresh-water fountain splashing in a basin carved from limestone. Facing them on the eastern side of the quadrangle was the large three-storey stone building which contained Brother Donnchad’s cell. Brother Lugna told them that the cubicula , or individual cells, of all the senior members of the community would eventually be housed in the building.
‘So it is a very new building,’ Fidelma commented, observing the still immaculately polished stonework.
‘Less than a year old,’ Brother Lugna agreed. ‘It was the second of the new buildings to be finished. The first, of course, was our chapel. I regret that the tech-oíged , the guesthouse, will be the last building to be replaced in stone as it is the least important of the complex. But I hope the current building is comfortable enough for you.’
Fidelma wondered whether there was some humour behind his words. But she did not think that Brother Lugna was given to humour.
‘Comfortable enough,’ replied Fidelma. ‘So comfortable that I wonder why the abbey should spend so much on replacing buildings that are well built and still fairly new anyway?’
‘It is the ambition of the abbey that Lios Mór should become one of the greatest centres of the Faith and of learning not only in the Five Kingdoms but beyond the seas as well. The abbey of Darú claims that this year they have attracted pious students from eighteen different nations. To achieve our ambition it was decided that our buildings should reflect our abilities. Great structures of stone will last longer than poor buildings of wood.’
It was the first time they had seen the
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