seen that these libraries contained not only works in the native language but books in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. As he followed Fidelma into the room he paused in astonishment at the rows and rows of racks with their pegs from which hung leather book satchels, the tiaga liubhair which not only were employed to carry books from place to place, being slung from the shoulder by one or more straps, but provided an excellent means of keeping the books in good condition in the libraries. Eadulf estimated that there were many hundreds, hanging along the racks.
There were also shelves on which stood many obviously valued volumes in elaborately wrought and beautifully ornamented leather covers, some of which were kept in lebor chomet or book holders made partly or wholly of metals. Eadulf had noticed that special books were kept in very ornate and valuable metal and wood boxes, which were piously called book shrines. He noticed that the tech-screptra had several of these set to one side.
In the centre of the library was a row of desks occupied by the copyists and scribes. Each had a wooden chair and a desk of yew wood, a plinth topped by a frame on which the book or manuscript page rested. A maulstick was used to steady the hand of the copyist. Half a dozen men now bent to their task using quills from geese or swans and writing on vellum or parchment. Other scholars, simply researching from the books, were using the standard writing tablets, wooden frames in which melted wax had been allowed to set. These could then be a temporary means of
making notes with a raibh , a sharp-pointed stylus of metal. After the notes had been used, or transcribed into the vellum books, the wax could be melted again and remoulded into the tablet to be used again.
A round-shouldered man, his arms folded before him in the sleeves of his robe, came shuffling forward as they entered. He seemed smaller than he actually was because of his hunched appearance. It was obviously the product of many years bent to his literary endeavours. He peered from one to another.
‘I am the leabhar coimedach ,’ he intoned in a whisper. ‘How can I be of service?’
‘I am Fidelma of—’
‘The dálaigh from Cashel?’ interrupted the librarian, still whispering. ‘You are most welcome, lady. I saw you and your companion, Brother Eadulf, at the evening prayers yesterday. I know why you are here. The tech-screptra is at your disposal.’
‘Thank you. I take it that you are Brother Eolas?’ When the man bowed his head in acknowledgement of the fact, she went on, ‘I am interested in the works of the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘The Venerable Cinaed? Come this way.’ He led them to a corner of the library. ‘This is the section of original books and writings made by our brethren. We have had many scholars who have contributed to our library during the many decades of our history. See, there, that book contains the hymns of Colman moccu Clusaig who stayed here during the year of the Yellow Plague. He wrote many of his hymns here, including Sén Dé, the Blessing of God. Our master of song, Brother Cilln, became a great friend of Colman. If you have an interest in music, you must speak to Brother Cilln about his own songs before you leave. And in that volume,’ pointing, ‘we have some letters which the abbot of Iona, Cuimine Ailbhe, wrote to the Venerable Cinaed arguing about the dating of the Cásc.’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘You Saxons call it Easter. I believe you insist on retaining the feast of your goddess of fertility?’ There was disapproval in his voice. ‘Abbot Cuimine has accepted the new dating that Rome has adopted. However, like many of our great scholars, the Venerable Cinaed disagreed with him and believed that Rome was wrong in its calculations. But Abbot Cuimine Ailbhe remained a friend of the Venerable Cinaed and sent him his own work De Poententiarum Mensura as a gift which is now in the book shrine there’ — he gestured to it — ‘as one
There were also shelves on which stood many obviously valued volumes in elaborately wrought and beautifully ornamented leather covers, some of which were kept in lebor chomet or book holders made partly or wholly of metals. Eadulf had noticed that special books were kept in very ornate and valuable metal and wood boxes, which were piously called book shrines. He noticed that the tech-screptra had several of these set to one side.
In the centre of the library was a row of desks occupied by the copyists and scribes. Each had a wooden chair and a desk of yew wood, a plinth topped by a frame on which the book or manuscript page rested. A maulstick was used to steady the hand of the copyist. Half a dozen men now bent to their task using quills from geese or swans and writing on vellum or parchment. Other scholars, simply researching from the books, were using the standard writing tablets, wooden frames in which melted wax had been allowed to set. These could then be a temporary means of
making notes with a raibh , a sharp-pointed stylus of metal. After the notes had been used, or transcribed into the vellum books, the wax could be melted again and remoulded into the tablet to be used again.
A round-shouldered man, his arms folded before him in the sleeves of his robe, came shuffling forward as they entered. He seemed smaller than he actually was because of his hunched appearance. It was obviously the product of many years bent to his literary endeavours. He peered from one to another.
‘I am the leabhar coimedach ,’ he intoned in a whisper. ‘How can I be of service?’
‘I am Fidelma of—’
‘The dálaigh from Cashel?’ interrupted the librarian, still whispering. ‘You are most welcome, lady. I saw you and your companion, Brother Eadulf, at the evening prayers yesterday. I know why you are here. The tech-screptra is at your disposal.’
‘Thank you. I take it that you are Brother Eolas?’ When the man bowed his head in acknowledgement of the fact, she went on, ‘I am interested in the works of the Venerable Cinaed.’
‘The Venerable Cinaed? Come this way.’ He led them to a corner of the library. ‘This is the section of original books and writings made by our brethren. We have had many scholars who have contributed to our library during the many decades of our history. See, there, that book contains the hymns of Colman moccu Clusaig who stayed here during the year of the Yellow Plague. He wrote many of his hymns here, including Sén Dé, the Blessing of God. Our master of song, Brother Cilln, became a great friend of Colman. If you have an interest in music, you must speak to Brother Cilln about his own songs before you leave. And in that volume,’ pointing, ‘we have some letters which the abbot of Iona, Cuimine Ailbhe, wrote to the Venerable Cinaed arguing about the dating of the Cásc.’ He glanced at Eadulf. ‘You Saxons call it Easter. I believe you insist on retaining the feast of your goddess of fertility?’ There was disapproval in his voice. ‘Abbot Cuimine has accepted the new dating that Rome has adopted. However, like many of our great scholars, the Venerable Cinaed disagreed with him and believed that Rome was wrong in its calculations. But Abbot Cuimine Ailbhe remained a friend of the Venerable Cinaed and sent him his own work De Poententiarum Mensura as a gift which is now in the book shrine there’ — he gestured to it — ‘as one
Similar Books
