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families.’
    Eadulf was silent knowing, from his years in Ireland, that she spoke truthfully. The ancient laws of the Fenechus administrated by the Brehons, or judges of Ireland, were, he knew, a code by which the sick did not fear illness nor did the destitute fear starvation. The law provided for all.
    ‘It is sad that so many have to beg to live in the shade of such affluence, especially when the opulence is dedicated to a god of the poor,’ Fidelma continued. ‘Those bishops and clerics who dwell in such splendour ought to read more closely John’s epistle in which he said: “But whoso hath this world’s riches and sees his brother has need, and closes his heart and his ears to him, having no compassion, how can he say that he loves God?” Do you know this passage, Eadulf?’
    Eadulf bit his lip. He glanced around, worried for the outspoken Irish religieuse.

    ‘Careful, Fidelma,’ he whispered, ‘lest you be accused of following the Pelagian heresy.’
    Fidelma snorted in annoyance.
    ‘Rome considers Pelagius a heretic not because he forsook the words of Christ but because he criticised Rome for disregarding them. I simply quote from the first epistle of John, chapter three, verse seventeen. If that is heresy then I am indeed a heretic, Eadulf.’
    She paused to rummage in her pocket, dropping a coin in the outstretched hand of a small boy who stood apart from the other beggars, gazing into space with sightless eyes. The hand closed over the coin and a small grin split the pock-marked and ravaged face of the child.
    ‘Do et des,’ Fidelma smiled, uttering the ancient formula. ‘I give that you may give.’ She walked on, glancing at Eadulf who fell in step beside her. They were passing through a quarter of slum dwellings, which lay at the bottom of the Esquiline Hill, the highest and most extensive of the seven hills of Rome with its four summits. Fidelma crossed the Via Labicana and turned along the broad thoroughfare of the Via Merulana which led up to the summit known as the Cispius. ‘“Give to the person that begs from you, and do not refuse a person who would borrow,” ’ she quoted solemnly at Eadulf who had watched disapprovingly as she had given to the beggar.
    ‘Pelagius?’ Eadulf asked, troubled.
    ‘The Gospel of St Matthew,’ replied Fidelma seriously. ‘Chapter five, verse forty-two.’
    Eadulf gave a deep and restive sigh.
    ‘Here, my good Saxon friend,’ Fidelma halted in mid-stride and laid a hand on his arm, ‘you see the fundamental nature of our argument between the rule of Rome and the rule which
we in Ireland and, indeed, the kingdoms of the Britons, follow?’
    ‘The decision to follow the rule of Rome has been taken by the Saxon kingdoms, Fidelma. You will not convert me. I am but a simple cleric and no theologian. So far as I am concerned, when Oswy of Northumbria made his decision at Streoneshalh to follow Rome, that was the end to any argument. Don’t forget I am now the archbishop’s secretary and interpreter.’
    Fidelma regard him in silent amusement.
    ‘Have no fear, Eadulf. I am simply amusing myself for I have not yet agreed that Rome is correct in all its arguments. But, for friendship’s sake, we will discuss the subject no more.’
    She continued her walk down the wide road with Eadulf falling in step beside her. In spite of their differences of attitude, Fidelma had to admit that she felt some comfort in being with Eadulf. She could tease him over their contrasting opinions and he would always rise good-naturedly to the bait but there was no enmity between them.
    ‘I understand that Wighard has been well received by the Holy Father,’ she commented after a while.
    Since arriving in Rome seven days ago Fidelma had hardly seen Eadulf. She had heard that Wighard and his main entourage had already arrived a few day’s previously in the city and had been invited to lodge at the Lateran Palace as personal guests of the Holy Father, Vitalian. Fidelma