Absolution by Murder sf-1

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘There is no need for me to say what a debt this abbey, indeed, this kingdom, owes you both.’

  Fidelma saw the sadness behind the abbess’s face.

  ‘It was a little service,’ she replied softly. ‘I wish we could have concluded the matter sooner.’ She frowned. ‘Shall you leave Northumbria now, like Colmán?’

  Abbess Hilda blinked at the unexpected question.

  ‘Me, child?’ she responded. ‘I have spent fifty years here and it is my country. No, Fidelma, I shall not go.’

  ‘But you supported the rule of Columba,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Now that Northumbria has turned to Rome will you still find a place here?’

  The abbess gently shook her head.

  ‘It will not turn Roman overnight. But I will accept the decision of the synod to follow Roman ecclesiastical custom, although my heart sympathises with Irish usage. Yet I will remain here at Streoneshalh, at Witebia – the pure town – and hope it remains pure.’

  Brother Eadulf stirred uncomfortably and wondered why he continued to feel sad. After all, his side had won the great debate. The unitas Catholica had triumphed. Rome’s rule now extended across the Saxon kingdoms. Why, then, should he feel that something had been lost?

  ‘Who will take over from Colmán now as bishop?’ he asked in an attempt to rid himself of his melancholy.

  Abbess Hilda smiled sadly.

  ‘Tuda, although educated in Ireland, has accepted Roman orthodoxy and will be bishop of Northumbria. But Oswy has promised that Eata of Melrose will become abbot of Lindisfarne and so that shall be.’

  Eadulf was puzzled.

  ‘But Eata also supported the rule of Columba.’

  Hilda nodded agreement.

  ‘He now accepts Rome according to the decision of the synod.’

  ‘And what of the others? What of Chad, Cedd, Cuthbert and the others?’ Fildema asked.

  ‘They have all decided that their duty lies in Northumbria and they will abide by the decision of the synod. Cedd has gone to Lastingham with his brother, the abbot Chad. Cuthbert is to accompany Eata to Lindisfarne as the prior.’

  ‘So the changes have been tranquil?’ mused Fidelma. ‘No religious war threatens Northumbria?’

  Abbess Hilda shrugged.

  ‘It is too early to say. Most of the abbots and bishops have accepted the decision of the synod. That is for the best. Though many have chosen to accompany Colmán back to Iona and perhaps on to Ireland to form a new settlement. I do not believe that the peace of the kingdom is threatened from any religious quarter. Oswy’s army dealt swiftly with Alhfrith’s rebels. While Oswy mourns the death of his first-born son, he is more secure in his kingdom than ever.’

  Eadulf raised an eyebrow laconically.

  ‘But there is still a threat?’

  ‘Ecgfrith is young and ambitious. Now that his elder brother, Alhfrith, is dead, he is demanding that he be made petty king of Deira under his father. But his eyes are already on Oswy’s throne. And we are surrounded by hostile nations, Rheged, Powys, the kingdom of the Picts – all are eager to be at our throats. And Mercia always stands ready to take revenge. Wulfhere the king does not easily forget that Oswy slew his father Penda. He is already establishing Mercian domination south of the Humber. Who knows where danger will threaten from?’

  Fidelma regarded her sadly.

  ‘Is that why Oswy departed so soon to join his army?’

  Abbess Hilda suddenly gave an uncharacteristic wry grin.

  ‘He goes to join his army just in case Ecgfrith entertains the notion that his father is as weak as Alhfrith once claimed.’

  There was an awkward silence. Then Abbess Hilda gazed thoughtfully at Eadulf.

  ‘The bishops have chosen Wighard for the new Archbishop of Canterbury. I understand Wighard will shortly set sail for Rome. Are you accompanying him?’

  ‘He needs a secretary and interpreter. I have been to Rome and will be joyful to visit the city again. I shall, indeed, go with him.’

  Hilda turned inquisitive eyes to Fidelma.

  ‘And you, Sister Fidelma. Where do you go now?’

  Fidelma hesitated and then shrugged.

  ‘Back to Ireland. I need to take the news of Étain’s death and the decision of the synod back to Kildare.’

  ‘A pity that your talents will be separated,’ observed Abbess Hilda slyly, glancing from Fidelma to Eadulf. ‘Together you have made a formidable pair.’

  Brother Eadulf’s face reddened and he coughed nervously. ‘The talent was entirely with Sister Fidelma,’ he said brusquely. ‘I did little but lend physical assistance when needed.’

  ‘What is to happen to Sister Gwid?’ cut in Fidelma brusquely.

  Abbess Hilda’s eyes hardened.

  ‘She has been dealt with in our Saxon way.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘She was taken out and stoned to death by the sisters of the abbey as soon as Oswy made his decision known.’ Abbess Hilda rose abruptly before Fidelma could reply and articulate her sudden feeling of revulsion.

  ‘We will see each other again before you depart on your separate journeys. Go with God. Benedictus sit Deus in donis Suis.’

  They bowed their heads.

  ‘Et sanctus in omnis operibus Suis, ’ they responded as one.

  Outside Fidelma turned on Eadulf, her anger boiling over. The Saxon monk reached out a hand to catch her arm.

  ‘Fidelma, Fidelma. Remember that this is not your land of Ireland,’ he said hurriedly to quell the hot-tempered words that welled in her. ‘Here things are done differently. A murderess is stoned to death, especially one who kills for such a shameful crime as lust. This is the way it must be.’

  Fidelma bit her lip and turned away. She was still too full of resentful belligerence to articulate the sudden distaste she felt.

  It was not until the following day that she saw Brother Eadulf again in the refectory as the bell finished tolling for the serving of the jentaculum, the breaking of the fast.

  Even before she was seated, the elderly domina Sister Athelswith came hurrying up to her.

  ‘A brother from Ireland has just arrived in search of you, sister. He is in the kitchens for his journey has been long and he is dusty and famished.’

  Fidelma glanced up with interest.

  ‘He has come from Ireland? Searching for me?’

  ‘From Armagh itself.’

  Fidelma stared in amazement before she rose and went in search of the traveller.

  The man was exhausted and covered in the dust of travel. He was seated in a corner of the abbey kitchens tearing hunks of bread and slurping milk as if he had not eaten for many a day.

  ‘I am Fidelma of Kildare, brother,’ she announced.

  He gazed up, his mouth still full of food.

  ‘Then I have something for you.’

  Fidelma ignored the man’s ill manners, as he spoke with his mouth full and particles of his meal slipped from his mouth.

  ‘A message from Ultan of Armagh,’ the monk said, thrusting a package at her. She took it, turning in her hands the vellum-wrapped bundle, which was tied with a leather thong. What could the archbishop of Armagh, the leading churchman of Ireland, want with her?

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, wondering aloud rather than seeking an answer, for obviously the answer lay in the package.

  The messenger shrugged between the mouthfuls of food he was masticating.

  ‘Some instructions from Ultan. You are requested to proceed to Rome to present the new Rule of the Sisters of Brigid for the blessing of the Holy Father. Ultan asks me to beg you to undertake this embassy for you are the best qualified and the ablest advocate of the Sisters of Brigit of Kildare, the Abbess Étain notwithstanding.’

  Fidelma stared at the man, hearing his words but not really comprehending them.

  ‘I am to do what?’ she asked, scarcely believing her ears.

  The monk glanced up, frowning as he took another bite of bread into his mouth. He ch
ewed several times before answering.

  ‘You are to present the Regula coenobialis Cill Dara to the Holy Father for blessing. It is the request of Ultan of Armagh.’

  ‘Requesting me to go to Rome?’

  Suddenly Sister Fidelma found herself hurrying along the vaulted cloisters of the abbey back to the refectory. She did not know why her heart was beating more rapidly or what made the day so suddenly pleasant and the future full of excitement.

  No wild beasts are so cruel as the Christians in their dealings with each other.

  Ammianus Marcellinus

  (c. AD 330 – 95)

  Sister Fidelma’s World

  The Sister Fidelma mysteries are set during the mid-seventh century AD.

  Sister Fidelma is not simply a religieuse, a member of the community of St. Brigid of Kildare. She is also a qualified dálaigh, or advocate of the ancient law courts of Ireland. As this background will not be familiar to many readers, this foreword provides a few essential points of reference designed to make the stories more readily appreciated.

  Ireland, in the seventh century AD, consisted of five main provincial kingdoms: indeed, the modern Irish word for a province is still cúige, literally ‘a fifth’. Four provincial kings—of Ulaidh (Ulster), of Connacht, of Muman (Munster) and of Laigin (Leinster)—gave their allegiance to the Ard Rí or High King, who ruled from Tara, in the ‘royal’ fifth province of Midhe (Meath), which means the ‘middle province’. Even among these provincial kingdoms, there was a decentralisation of power to petty-kingdoms and clan territories.

  The law of primogeniture, the inheritance by the eldest son or daughter, was an alien concept in Ireland. Kingship, from the lowliest clan chieftain to the High King, was only partial hereditary and mainly electoral. Each ruler had to prove himself or herself worthy of office and was elected by the derbfhine of their family—three generations gathered in conclave. If a ruler did not pursue the commonwealth of the people, they were impeached and removed from office. Therefore the monarchial system of ancient Ireland had more in common with a modern day republic than with the feudal monarchies of medieval Europe.

  Ireland, in the seventh century AD, was governed by a system of sophisticated laws called the Laws of the Fénechas, or land-tillers, which became more popularly known as the Brehon Laws, deriving from the word breitheamh—a judge. Tradition has it that these laws were first gathered in 714 BC by the order of the High King, Ollamh Fódhla. But it was in AD 438 that the High King, Laoghaire, appointed a commission of nine learned people to study, revise and commit the laws to the new writing in Latin characters. One of those serving on the commission was Patrick, eventually to become patron saint of Ireland. After three years, the commission produced a written text of the laws, the first known codification.

  The first complete surviving texts of the ancient laws of Ireland are preserved in an eleventh-century manuscript book. It was not until the seventeenth-century that the English colonial administration in Ireland finally suppressed the use of the Brehon Law system. To even possess a copy of the law books was punishable, often by death or transportation.

  The law system was not static and every three years at the Féis Temhrach (Festival of Tara) the lawyers and administrators gathered to consider and revise the laws in the light of changing society and its needs.

  Under these laws, women occupied a unique place. The Irish laws gave more rights and protection to women than any other western law code at that time or since. Women could, and did, aspire to all offices and professions as the coequal with men. They could be political leaders, command their people in battle as warriors, by physicians, local magistrates, poets, artisans, lawyers and judges. We know the name of many female judges of Fidelma’s period—Bríg Briugaid, Áine Ingine Iugaire and Darí among many others. Darí, for example, was not only a judge but also the author of a noted law text written in the sixth century AD. Women were protected by the laws against sexual harassment; against discrimination; from rape; they had the right of divorce on equal terms from their husbands with equitable separation laws and could demand part of their husband’s property as a divorce settlement; they had the right of inheritance of personal property and the right of sickness benefits. Seen from today’s perspective, the Brehon Laws provided for an almost feminist paradise.

  This background, and its strong contrast with Ireland’s neighbours, should be understood to appreciate Fidelma’s role in these stories.

  Fidelma was born at Cashel, capital of the kingdom of Muman (Munster) in south-west Ireland, in AD 636. She was the youngest daughter of Failbe Fland, the king, who died the year after her birth and was raised under the guidance of a distant cousin, Abbot Laisran of Durrow. When she reached the ‘Age of Choice’ (fourteen years), she went to study at the bardic school of the Brehon Morann of Tara, as many other young Irish girls did. Eight years of study resulted in Fidelma obtaining the degree of Anruth, only one degree below the highest offered at either bardic or ecclesiastical universities in ancient Ireland. The highest degree was ollamh, still the modern Irish word for a professor. Fidelma’s studies were in law, both in the criminal code of the Senchus Mór and the civil code of the Leabhar Acaill. She therefore became a dálaigh or advocate of the courts.

  Her role could be likened to a modern Scottish sheriff-substitute, whose job is to gather and assess the evidence, independent of the police, to see if there is a case to be answered. The modern French juge d’ instruction holds a similar role.

  In those days, most of the professional or intellectual classes were members of the new Christian religious houses, just as, in previous centuries, all members of professions and intellectuals were Druids. Fidelma became a member of the religious community of Kildare founded in the late fifth century AD by St. Brigid.

  While the seventh century AD was considered part of the European ‘Dark Ages’, for Ireland it was a period of ‘Golden Enlightenment’. Students from every corner of Europe flocked to Irish universities to receive their education, including the sons of the Anglo-Saxon kings. For example, Aldfrith, who became king of Northumbria from AD 685-705, was educated at Bangor and achieved a reputation in Ireland as a poet in the Irish language. Three of his poems still survive in ancient texts. At the great ecclesiastical university of Durrow, at this time, it is recorded that no less than eighteen different nations were represented among the students. At the same time, Irish male and female missionaries were setting out to reconvert a pagan Europe to Christianity, establishing churches, monasteries and centres of learning throughout Europe as far east as Kiev, in the Ukraine; as far north as the Faroes, and as far south as Taranto in southern Italy. Ireland was a by-word for literacy and learning.

  However, the Celtic Church of Ireland was in constant dispute with Rome on matters of liturgy and ritual. Rome had began to reform itself in the fourth century, changing its dating of Easter and aspects of its liturgy. The Celtic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church refused to follow Rome but the Celtic Church was gradually absorbed by Rome between the ninth and eleventh centuries while the Eastern Orthodox Churches have continued to remain independent of Rome. The Celtic Church of Ireland, during Fidelma’s time, was much concerned with this conflict.

  The first Fidelma mystery, Absolution By Murder, is set against the most famous debate between the representatives of the Celtic and Roman Churches at Whitby in AD 664.

  One thing that marked both the Celtic Church and Rome in the seventh century was that the concept of celibacy was not universal. While there were always ascetics in both churches who sublimated physical love in a dedication to the deity, it was not until the Council of Nicea in AD 325 that clerical marriages were condemned but not banned. The concept of celibacy in the Roman Church arose from the customs practised by the pagan priestesses of Vesta and the priests of Diana. By the fifth century Rome had forbidden clerics from the rank of abbot and bishop to sleep with their wives and, shortly after, even to marry at all. The general clergy were discouraged from marrying by Ro
me but not forbidden to do so. Indeed, it was not until the reforming papacy of Leo IX (AD 1049-1054) that a serious attempt was made to force the western clergy to accept universal celibacy. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, priests below the rank of abbot and bishop have retained their right to marry until this day.

  The condemnation of the ‘sin of the flesh’ remained alien to the Celtic Church for a long time after Rome’s attitude became a dogma. In Fidelma’s world, both sexes inhabited abbeys and monastic foundations which were known as conhospitae, or double houses, where men and women lived raising their children in Christ’s service.

  Fidelma’s own house of St. Brigid of Kildare was one such community of both sexes in Fidelma’s time. When Brigid established her community at Kildare (Cill-Dara = the church of oaks) she invited a bishop named Conlaed to join her. Her first biography, written in AD 650, in Fidelma’s time, was written by a monk of Kildare named Cogitosus, who makes it clear that it was a mixed community.

  It should also be pointed out that, showing women’s coequal role with men, women were priests of the Celtic Church at this time. Brigid herself was ordained a bishop by Patrick’s nephew, Mel and her case was not unique. Roman actually wrote a protest in the sixth century at the Celtic practise of allowing women to celebrate the divine sacrifice of Mass.

  Armed with this background knowledge we may now enter Fidelma’s world. This story is placed in the year AD 664.

  The Sister Fidelma Mysteries:

  Absolution by Murder

  Shroud for the Archbishop*

  *forthcoming

  ABSOLUTION BY MURDER. Copyright © 1994 by Peter Tremayne. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  First published in Great Britain by Headline Book