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mischievously.

    ‘Should it have been otherwise, when we journey in the name and under the protection of the one true God?’
    Étain returned her smile.
    ‘At least I journeyed with temporal assistance. I came with some brothers from Durrow. We landed in Rheged and were joined by a group of brethren from that kingdom of Britons. Then, at the border of Rheged and Northumbria, we were officially met by Athelnoth and a band of Saxon warriors who escorted us here. Have you met Athelnoth?’
    Fidelma shook her head.
    ‘I have only arrived here within the last hour myself, Mother Abbess,’ she said.
    Étain pursed her lips and grimaced disapprovingly.
    ‘Athelnoth was sent to greet and escort me by King Oswy and the Bishop of Northumbria. He was outspoken against Irish teachings and our influence in Northumbria to the point of insulting us. He is an ordained priest but one who argues for Rome. Once I even had to prevent one of our brothers from physically assaulting Athelnoth, so blunt is his criticism of our liturgy.’
    Fidelma shrugged indifferently.
    ‘From what I hear, Mother Abbess, the debate over our respective liturgies is causing a great deal of tension and argument. I would not have thought it possible that such emotions would be aroused by a discussion on the correct date of the Paschal ceremony—’
    Étain grimaced.
    ‘You must learn to refer to it here as Easter.’
    Fidelma frowned.
    ‘Easter?’
    ‘The Saxons have accepted most of our teaching of Christian
faith but as for the Paschal feast they insist on naming it after their pagan goddess of fertility, Eostre, whose rituals fall at the time of the Spring equinox. There is much that is still pagan in this land. You will find that many still follow the ways of their old gods and goddesses and that their hearts are still filled with hate and war.’
    The Abbess Étain suddenly shivered.
    ‘I feel there is much that is oppressive here, Fidelma. Oppressive and menacing.’
    Sister Fidelma smiled reassuringly.
    ‘Whenever there is a conflict of opinion, then human tensions rise and give way to fear. I do not think we need worry. There will be much posturing during the verbal conflict. But once we have reached a resolution then all will be forgotten and forgiven.’ She hesitated. ‘When does the debate begin?’
    ‘The King Oswy and his entourage will not arrive at the abbey until noon tomorrow. The Abbess Hilda has told me that, all being well, she will allow the opening arguments to commence in the late afternoon. Bishop Colmán has asked me to make the opening arguments for our church.’
    Fidelma thought she saw some anxiety on the Abbess Étain’s features.
    ‘Does that worry you, Mother Abbess?’
    Étain suddenly smiled and shook her head.
    ‘No. I revel in debate and argument. I have good companions to advise me, such as yourself.’
    ‘That reminds me,’ Fidelma replied, ‘I had Sister Gwid as my travelling companion. An intelligent girl whose looks give the wrong impression. She tells me that she is to act as your secretary and Greek translator.’
    An indefinable expression showed on Abbess Étain’s face
for a split second. Fidelma could not make up her mind whether it was anger or a lesser emotion.
    ‘Young Gwid can be an annoying person. A little like a puppy dog, unassertive and too sycophantic at times. But she is an excellent Greek scholar, though I think she spends too much of her time admiring the poems of Sappho rather than construing the Gospels.’ She sounded disapproving, but then shrugged. ‘Yes, I do have good companions to advise me. But there is something else that makes me feel uneasy. I think it is the atmosphere of hostility and dislike I feel from those of the Roman faction. Agilbert the Frank, for example, who has trained many years in Ireland but has a deep devotion to Rome, and that man Wilfrid, who even refused to greet me when the Abbess Hilda introduced us—’
    ‘Who is Wilfrid? I find these Saxon names