Shroud for the Archbishop

by Peter Tremayne

  Wulfrun’s face was now the colour of snow. Her hand was clutched around her neck. Her eyes were wide with horror as she gazed at Fidelma. There was no sound; no movement as the abbess stood watching the Irish religieuse.

  The spell was broken by Gelasius who, like most of the others in the room, had no understanding of what Fidelma was talking about. Only Brother Ine sat smiling in enjoyment of the abbess’ discomfiture.

  ‘This is a laudable tale,’ Gelasius said irritably. ‘But what has it to do with the matter we are examining? How many freed slaves have made their way to greatness within the church? It is surely not a matter for comment, least of all in the middle of our deliberation about Wighard.’

  ‘Oh,’ Fidelma pursed her lips, her sparkling eyes never leaving the unfathomable orbs of the abbess. ‘I merely wanted to add that the sin of pride can destroy the best intentions. On the feast of Saturnalia, I am told it was the custom for slaves to dress in the clothes of their masters and mistresses. This freed slave had been generously called “sister” by her mistress and she tried to make that a reality for she felt ashamed of her slave’s background. But the result was that she treated everyone around her as slaves, pretending a royal rank, instead of treating everyone with justice and humility.’

  Eadulf swallowed with amazement as he slowly realised what the meaning of the curious by-play with Wulfrun meant. He examined the haughty abbess with a new light as the tall woman sat back on her chair abruptly, her eyes bulging with a terrified expression.

  So Wulfrun had been a slave? She had always fingered the scarf at her neck nervously. Would the removal of that scarf reveal the scars left by a slave’s collar? Then Eadulf turned back to Fidelma wondering how she would follow up this revelation, but it seemed none of the others had understood what Fidelma had meant; certainly not Gelasius.

  ‘I am having difficulty following this,’ Bishop Gelasius was saying. ‘Can we return to the assassin who told Ronan Ragallach this story?’

  Fidelma nodded emphatically.

  ‘By all means. Ronan heard the man’s confession before the assassin died. Shortly afterwards Ronan left the kingdom of Kent and came to Rome. He never betrayed that confessional or the name of the cleric who had sought a position in the church by the destruction of his family. That was until he saw Wighard here in Rome and not only as a mere pilgrim, but archbishop-designate of Canterbury, an honoured guest of the Holy Father, lauded and about to be ordained by him. Ronan felt that he could no longer keep the terrible secret to himself. So he told Osimo Lando, who was his anam chara, or “soul friend” as you would call it. In our church, you see, we confess our sins and problems to “soul friends” but Osimo Lando was also Ronan’s lover. It was that confession which led to a terrible vengeance being visited on Wighard.’

  Fidelma paused to take another sip of water.

  ‘The next step was when Cornelius sought Osimo’s assistance for his plan. Osimo asked that Ronan should be brought into it for he knew Ronan would not have any scruples about relieving Wighard of his wealth. When Cornelius asked Osimo to explain, Osimo could not keep Ronan’s secret and he told Cornelius in order to explain why Ronan would come happily into the conspiracy.’

  ‘And Cornelius felt obliged to tell Puttoc,’ interrupted Eadulf, leaping ahead. ‘Cornelius felt it was sacrilege that such a man could benefit by high office in the church and he urged Puttoc to protest to the Holy Father … as if Puttoc would need to be urged. Puttoc himself coveted the archbishop’s throne at Canterbury.’

  Gelasius stared at him for a moment and then turned to Fidelma with a look of understanding.

  ‘You see, Gelasius,’ Fidelma went on, before he could speak, ‘I realised that you had been informed that Wighard had been married because you told us so yourself.’

  Gelasius nodded slowly as he remembered. ‘Abbot Puttoc told me that Wighard had been married with two children. He presented the information as something which might debar Wighard from the episcopacy of Canterbury. When the matter was taken up with Wighard, he offered me assurances that his wife and children had died many years ago in a Pictish raid on the Kentish kingdom.’

  ‘Doubtless Puttoc would not have let the matter remain there. He would have eventually revealed more of the information Cornelius had supplied him with,’ Eadulf said.

  ‘But events overtook him,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘And here we have one of those coincidences which happen in life more frequently than they are given credit for.’

  Her eyes were resting on Sebbi. The Saxon cenobite suddenly smiled as realisation came to him. He threw back his head and chuckled. His merriment caused the others to stare at him in surprise.

  ‘Surely you don’t mean that Puttoc had saved Wighard’s son from a hanging?’ he chortled, trying to control his humour.

  Fidelma regarded him in seriousness.

  ‘The assassin, having sold Wighard’s children into slavery in the kingdom of the East Saxons, had departed back to Kent. The children grew up as slaves on the farm to which they had been sold. The assassin confessed to Ronan Ragallach the name of the farmer who had bought them. I shall, at this time, write down that name and give it into the safe keeping of the Superista, Marinus.’

  She gestured to Eadulf whom she had advised to bring clay tablets and stylus. He handed them to her. She wrote rapidly and handed the tablet to Marinus, telling him not to examine it. Then she turned back to Sebbi.

  ‘Sebbi, I want you to repeat for the company the story you told me about how Puttoc bought the freedom of Brother Eanred. How Eanred had garrotted his master and was about to be hanged.’

  Brother Sebbi quickly explained the story in roughly the same words as he had originally told Fidelma.

  ‘So,’ concluded Fidelma, ‘Eanred had been raised on a farm as a slave with his sister ever since he was four years old. When Eanred’s sister came to puberty and their master, the farmer, raped her, Eanred garrotted him. Only Puttoc’s intervention freed him from the inevitable consequence under Saxon law. Eadulf will hand you a clay tablet, Sebbi. I want you to write down the name of the farmer who was killed by Eanred. Then give the tablet to Marinus.’

  With an air of curiosity, Sebbi did as he was bid.

  ‘Does this charade lead anywhere?’ demanded Marinus gruffly as he accepted the second tablet.

  ‘In a moment, we will come to a conclusion,’ Fidelma assured him.

  ‘Your conclusion being,’ interposed Gelasius, ‘that Eanred was the son of Wighard.’

  It was Eadulf who responded with positive eagerness to affirm the conclusion.

  ‘That being so,’ Gelasius said, ‘then surely Eanred was the killer?’

  Fidelma looked annoyed.

  ‘It is true that the names written on those tablets will demonstrate that the farmer to whom Wighard’s children were sold and the farmer Eanred slew were one and the same. Thus Eanred was Wighard’s son. However, it does not mean that Eanred was the slaughterer of his father or of Ronan and Puttoc.’

  ‘Then I don’t see …’ began Gelasius, raising his hands helplessly.

  ‘Patience, bishop,’ insisted Fidelma, ‘for we are nearly through.’

  She turned to the Abbess Wulfrun, standing in front of her and staring down at her pinched, white face.

  ‘Do you think these written names will reveal one and the same person, Abbess of Sheppey?’ Fidelma asked innocently.

  ‘How would I know?’ grated the woman, but she was somehow deflated, all her pomp and arrogance had vanished.

  ‘How indeed?’ wondered Fidelma. ‘You were raised in the kingdom of the East Saxons, weren’t you?’

  All eyes turned on the abbess with curiosity.

  ‘Yes. I am … I was …’

  Eadulf suddenly saw where Fidelma’s previous talk about Saturnalia was leading them. He stared at Wulfrun in surprise. Wulfrun, a former slave. Wulfrun … the lost sister of Eanred?

  ‘Are you saying that Wulfrun is …?’ he began.

  Wulfrun was ab
out to rise from her chair, her face contorted in consternation when Fidelma abruptly turned away from her.

  ‘As I said earlier, Wighard had two children,’ she explained, ‘a son and a daughter.’

  ‘I am note …’ cried Wulfrun, reaching forward as if to catch Fidelma and her headdress fell from her neck, where she had been fondling it. There was a telltale scar around her neck. The mark of a slave collar.

  But Fidelma was ignoring Wulfrun. Instead her bright eyes were resting on the dowdy figure of Sister Eafa.

  ‘You were a slave on a farm, weren’t you, Eafa?’

  The girl blinked but made no reply.

  ‘I will not insist that you remove your headdress, Eafa. Simply confirm what I know we will see there. Like Wulfrun, you bear the scar of a slave collar, don’t you?’

  The light-brown eyes of the girl were peculiarly animated. They stared at Fidelma with a strange fire.

  ‘If you know, why ask? Yes, I was raised as a slave on a farm in the land of the East Saxons.’

  ‘And it was on that farm that the Abbess Wulfrun found you and bought your freedom, taking you to her abbey on Sheppey to be a servant to her.’

  The anchoress simply shrugged.

  ‘Would you like to tell us the name of the owner of that farm and its location?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Or should we ask Abbess Wulfrun here?’

  Sister Eafa bit her lip. Then she said quietly, ‘It … it was the farm of Fobba, at Fobba’s Tun.’

  Fidelma’s features broadened into a smile.

  ‘Marinus, would you mind reading the name on the two tablets you hold?’

  The military governor took up the two tablets and, squinting, read them out, ‘Fobba of Fobba’s Then.’

  ‘Because she was raised on the farm of Fobba, it does not necessarily mean anything more than that,’ interposed Wulfrun, trying to recover some of her lost authority.

  ‘But it does, for Eafa herself told me during questioning that she was originally from Kent, taken to the land of the East Saxons as a child. She neglected to say that she was taken there as a slave. She is Eanred’s sister and the daughter of Wighard.’

  The girl raised her head, her eyes blazing with anger.

  ‘It is no crime to have been Eanred’s sister.’

  Fidelma smiled sadly.

  ‘No, that was no crime. And if the similarity of the light-brown eyes you share with Eanred were not proof enough, I think I knew that you were brother and sister when I saw you in intimate conversation in the chapel of Helena. The way you embraced …’

  ‘Eafa was the woman in the chapel?’ cried Furius Licinius, astounded. ‘But you did not say you recognised her.’

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it, Eafa?’ pressed Fidelma.

  Eafa shrugged. Her expression admitted the truth of what Fidelma said.

  ‘I suspected as much, but I was not sure,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘When a brother and sister kiss it is different from a lover’s kiss. Eanred was protective of his sister, wasn’t he? Kind and anxious to keep you safe. When your mother had been slain and the two of you sold into slavery, he had assumed the role of your protector. He stood near you while you both grew from childhood into young adults. When Fobba raped you, he demanded an eye for an eye. Only Puttoc’s intervention saved him from the gallows and he was taken off to Stanggrund. You never saw him again until you arrived in Rome.’

  ‘That is true. I will not hide it,’ confessed the girl with quiet dignity. ‘But where is the crime?’

  ‘You continued to work on the farm for the heir of Fobba until, as the fates would have it, some months later Abbess Wulfrun came by looking for an intelligent slave to take to her abbey, someone who would obey her readily. She bought your freedom.’

  Fidelma glanced at Abbess Wulfrun who was sitting shaken and bewildered. Her glance demanded verification and Wulfrun gave it with a curt nod.

  ‘I did not know that Eafa was the daughter of Wighard,’ she added in a confused tone.

  ‘Of course not. But then neither did Eafa at this time,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘In fact, both Eanred and Eafa had been raised with such a dim memory of their past that neither knew that they were the children of Wighard nor that their father had ordered them to be killed, together with their mother, simply to enhance his career within the church.’

  ‘Then how … ?’ began Marinus.

  ‘Will you tell us when and from whom you first learnt about your dark secret, Eafa?’ asked Fidelma, cutting the Superista short.

  The young religieuse stuck out her chin defiantly. Fidelma took this to be a negative. She waited a moment more and then went on: ‘Abbot Puttoc was a highly intelligent man but he had one fault. He indulged in what Rome would call the sins of the flesh. His greatest sin was forcing his attention on women whether they desired that attention or not.’

  Eafa was looking really shaken now as she struggled to keep calm.

  ‘He knew Eanred’s story, and how he had killed his master to protect his sister. Puttoc knew that Eanred’s master had been Fobba of Fobba’s Tun. From something which Wulfrun dropped in conversation he had also placed Eafa at Fobba’s Tun and he realised that she was none other than Eanred’s sister …’

  ‘But how could they be linked to Wighard?’ demanded Sebbi, intervening in the conversation.

  ‘Simple,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Ronan Ragallach knew the name of the man who had bought Wighard’s children. He told Osimo, who then told Cornelius and Cornelius …’

  ‘Told Puttoc!’ ended Eadulf triumphantly.

  ‘And Puttoc told you, didn’t he, Eafa?’ demanded Fidelma, turning to gaze down at the girl, whose face was working with a strange variety of emotions. ‘Shall I tell you why?’

  The girl suddenly exploded in anger at Fidelma. Her whole frame and being was transformed into a raging fury.

  ‘No need. He attempted to seduce me and when I rejected him the pig became angry and told me all about … all about, my father!’ The last word was spat out like unpalatable venom.

  ‘So you knew Wighard was your father?’ demanded Gelasius in amazement.

  ‘I challenged Wighard that evening after the cena. I waited until he was walking in the garden alone and I challenged him to deny it …’

  ‘I saw you there,’ Brother Sebbi agreed, ‘but did not recognise you, only Wighard.’

  ‘What happened?’ Fidelma urged the girl. ‘Did he deny it?’

  ‘He seemed shocked. But he recovered and told me to come to his chambers later that evening,’ Eafa replied. ‘He did not deny or confirm it.’

  ‘But you knew,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘You knew that Wighard was your father and you told Eanred. It was not the first time that Eanred had garrotted someone on your behalf. Eanred kept that appointment, didn’t he? He went to Wighard’s chamber and killed him before he went on to the Colosseum.’

  She turned with assurance to Bishop Gelasius.

  ‘Eanred had garrotted Fobba and now he garrotted his own father, Wighard, because of what Wighard had done to his mother and to Eafa and himself.’

  ‘And then he killed Ronan Ragallach in the same way,’ interposed Eadulf, suddenly seeing the line of thought. ‘Puttoc had told Eafa that the information had come from Ronan Ragallach and neglected to mention that it had come by way of Osimo and Cornelius. Therefore, Eafa thought that Ronan was the only other person to know … apart from Puttoc. At her behest, both Ronan and Puttoc were also garrotted by her brother!’

  He ended with a smile of triumph at the final simplicity of the matter. Then he realised the weakness of the deduction. Eanred had gone to the Colosseum after the evening meal. He had then remained with Cornelius drinking. Ine had seen Wighard much later. Eanred could not have …

  He saw Fidelma was grinning at him and suddenly knew she was laying a trap.

  ‘No! That is not true!’

  Eafa’s vehement cry was so strong that they all turned to look at her. She was standing now, her frail body trembling.

  ‘My brother Eanred was a k
ind person. He was simple and believed in the sacredness of life. He loved animals and would do anything for the people he met. He would do anything for me …’

  ‘Even kill?’ sneered Licinius. He turned to Gelasius. ‘I think you have been presented with the true facts …’

  ‘Stop!’ It was Abbess Wulfrun whose piercing shriek caused them to start in consternation. Momentarily distracted by her, they now turned back to see Eafa slipping to the floor as if in slow motion. A bright red stain was spreading rapidly across the front of her stola.

  Fidelma reached forward hurriedly and caught the girl as she reached the floor.

  The haft of the knife clutched into Eafa’s bosom told its own story.

  Wulfrun was moaning softly, completely in shock.

  ‘Why?’ demanded Fidelma, as they moved forward in a semicircle around the girl.

  Eafa blinked and tried to focus on Fidelma. Her face grimaced in pain.

  ‘Bless me … for I have sinned …’

  ‘Why did you do this?’ urged Fidelma again.

  ‘To save Eanred’s soul,’ grunted the girl.

  ‘Explain yourself,’ Fidelma pressed gently.

  Eafa started to cough blood.

  ‘I am not afraid …’ she whispered. Then her brown eyes suddenly cleared and focused. ‘You were wrong, Fidelma. You see, I went to his room that night.’

  ‘So it was the girl he was expecting,’ muttered Ine, hovering at the back of the circle. ‘That was why he did not want my help that night to prepare for bed.’

  It was clear that Eafa had not long before death took her.

  ‘You went there?’ Fidelma asked, turning back to Eafa. ‘You went to see Wighard?’

  The girl had another spasm of coughing.

  ‘I did … Again, I told him what I knew. I told him that Eanred and I were his children and that we knew that he had paid to have us and our mother slain.’