‘The last I heard, Beretrude of the Burgunds, was that your son Guntram, who now stands beside me, was the lord of this province, ruling under my authority with the law of the Franks. Whose law do you claim to represent?’
Guntram shuffled uneasily at the side of the King.
‘Be silent, Mother,’ he muttered uneasily, as if embarrassed. ‘Sister Fidelma speaks with the authority of the King and…and under my authority as lord of the Burgunds.’
‘So now your protest is answered, lady,’ Clotaire added sharply, ‘Obey your lord and your King.’
Lady Beretrude’s mouth closed in a thin line, her face suddenly red with mortification.
Fidelma waited until there was a silence again.
‘I am aware that I can only point things out. I cannot say whether these matters transgress your laws. I know that they would transgress the laws of my own land but then each people have their own laws and their own customs. I must leave it to those who are in charge of the law of this land to consider what I say and, if they feel it incumbent upon themselves, to enact that justice which is their own.’
There was a murmur of some approval from the brethren of the abbey.
Clotaire waved a hand towards her.
‘This is well understood, Fidelma of Cashel. Proceed. You said that there were three matters that needed to be dealt with.’
‘Let me start with the one matter of which there is ample proof. A matter with several witnesses to testify that I speak the truth. It is the matter of slavery.’
Bishop Leodegar leaned forward immediately. ‘There is no law forbidding slavery in our land, nor the buying and selling of slaves.’
Fidelma turned to him. ‘Of that I have become painfully aware. I find it a detestable thing, as do my people. Yet I acknowledge it exists in other cultures. I do not argue that it is legal under your law and customs. However, I think that even under the laws you have in this land, the idea of abducting the freeborn and selling them into slavery is a questionable practice. I was kidnapped but two days ago and was about to be sold into slavery…’
This time it was Abbess Audofleda who interrupted.
‘Freeborn you might have been, but you are a foreigner and that negates such law. If you were abducted by slave traders, then bring them before us.’
‘You are right to make that distinction between freeborn and foreigners,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘However, many freeborn Burgunds and Franks, members of your own community, have been abducted from your care and were being sold into slavery. You demand that the slave traders should be brought here. They are here already.’
‘A lie! A lie!’ cried Sister Radegund, coming forward to the abbess’s side, her voice rising above the hubbub that had broken out.
‘It is no lie, and there stands Sister Valretrade who was one of the freeborn women of this city, who served in your community, who was betrayed and abducted. She shared my peril in our escape from Beretrude’s villa.’
Clotaire was regarding the abbatissa grimly.
‘Before you call it a lie, Abbess Audofleda, let me also tell you that some of my warriors encountered a barge on the Aturavos yesterday evening. There were thirty religieuse mainly from your abbey and their children being transported under the care of a merchant called Verbas of Peqini. They were all manacled and, had their journey continued, they would have been taken to the southern seaports to be sold in the slave markets. Sadly, for Vebras of Peqini, he and his men tried to dispute with the authority of my warriors. They are all dead but I am pleased to say that the women and their children have been escorted back to Autun where they stand ready to give an account of their capture and imprisonment.’
Abbess Audofleda was shaking her head in apparent bewilderment.
‘I don’t understand. These women all left of their own free will,’ she protested feebly.
‘It is true,’ declared Sister Radegund defensively. ‘You cannot blame the abbess for what happened to these women after they left the protection of the abbey.’
‘Oh, but they were taken captive within the abbey,’ stated Fidelma. ‘And they will doubtless tell you so if it is necessary for them to give testimony.’
‘But it is impossible!’ gasped Sister Radegund, looking at Abbess Audofleda who was white faced and shocked, as though she could not believe what she was hearing.
‘Explain to your niece and her abbess how it is possible, Beretrude.’ Fidelma’s voice cut like ice across the gathering.
‘Slavery is not illegal!’ snapped Lady Beretrude, raising her head defiantly.
‘You claim that you have a right to take women and children captive and sell them?’
‘I am—’
‘We know who you are, Beretrude, and now we know what you are,’ snapped back Fidelma. ‘You have arranged this trade in slaves with Verbas of Peqini.’
‘I do not deny it. It is not against the law.’
‘I shall be the judge of that,’ interrupted Clotaire in a heavy voice.
‘How long have you known Verbas of Peqini?’ went on Fidelma.
‘He came as a trader to Nebirnum several weeks ago. He was going south to rejoin his ship to sail for eastern ports. I was in Nebirnum and persuaded him to return here to Autun to trade.’
‘To trade in slaves that you could supply him with. You had in mind the married women and children who were in the Domus Femini. Since Bishop Leodegar had segregated the abbey and forced those married religious to separate, to divorce their wives and reject their children, you felt that they would have no protection from the Church if they were abducted and sold. You knew that Abbess Audofleda, with her attitudes, would not protect them.’
Lady Beretrude was silent but she made no denial. It was Abbess Audofleda who protested once more.
‘I am innocent of this,’ she said again. ‘I did not know the women and their children had been abducted.’
‘Nor I, nor I,’ wailed Sister Radegund. ‘They left notes, they quitted the community in the night.’
‘But you were pleased to be rid of them and did not question where they had gone nor why,’ Fidelma said harshly. ‘You, Abbess Audofleda, had the responsibility for their well-being. They were all freeborn.’
‘I serve in the abbey under Bishop Leodegar,’ replied the abbess, desperately trying to shift the blame. ‘His is the ultimate authority.’
‘I declare that I had no knowledge of what was happening in the Domus Femini,’ Bishop Leodegar stated. ‘Anyway, I do not see that any crime has been committed here. Even if these women and their offspring were seized to be sold as slaves, their union with the religious is against our Rule and the communities of this abbey have accepted this. Their removal from the female community could be seen as a worthwhile work. It was a…a cleansing of the abbey.’
Fidelma glared at him, her face tight with anger.
Clotaire saw the muscles around her mouth working and intervened before she could speak, saying in a quiet tone: ‘Remember that it is not your place to utter judgement on the matter nor speak of morals to the bishop, Fidelma of Cashel. We will accept that the women were abducted from the Domus Femini and that it was Beretrude who entered into an agreement with Verbas of Peqini in this trade. The crime seems to lie in the fact that they were freeborn. I will also bear in mind, when it comes to the judgements that I shall give, that you, a distinguished guest, were also abducted.’
‘I am innocent of having knowledge or conspiring in this matter!’ wailed Abbess Audofleda.
Fidelma glanced at her without pity.
‘As a matter of fact, I believe you,’ she replied, to the surprise of everyone. ‘I even believe that Sister Radegund was not privy to the plot of her aunt. But I shall come to that matter in a moment.’
‘Indeed!’ snapped Bishop Leodegar. ‘This is time wasted on a matter unrelated to the killing of Abbot Dabhóc. It was that matter, and that matter only, which Sister Fidelma was supposed to investigate. Surely, Sire,’ he turned to Clotaire, ‘there is a lim
it to our patience?’
‘I will say when my patience is ended, Leodegar,’ replied the young King.
Fidelma ignored the intervention.
‘I thought I had made it clear that these matters were related?’ she said coldly. ‘And if the selling of the religieuse and their children, freeborn or not, as slaves is not a crime according to the laws of this land, then we will come to the reason why Beretrude was raising money by the selling of slaves. That reason was not merely for personal gain.’
Beretrude raised her head suddenly; the whiteness and strain in her features seemed to increase. There was utter silence now in the chapel. Clotaire bent eagerly forward in his chair, watching Fidelma expectantly while Ebroin had taken a step forward as if in anticipation.
‘Beretrude was raising money for an insurrection; a rising of the Burgunds against Clotaire and his Franks.’
There was an audible gasp. It echoed through the chapel.
Two of Clotaire’s warriors moved closer to Lord Guntram, hands on the hilts of their swords. The young Guntram was staring at his mother, his blue eyes wide, his mouth working but no sound would come.
‘Do you, Guntram, aspire to lead this revolt?’ breathed Ebroin. ‘The Burgunds would never follow a woman.’
‘It’s a lie!’ The cry was wrenched from the young man’s throat as Clotaire turned an accusing gaze upon him. ‘I have never conspired in such a plot! I swear it.’
‘Clotaire,’ Fidelma called, ‘Guntram is as you see him. A young man who spends his life drinking, hunting and pursuing women. He is not interested in leading revolts.’
‘Then who else could claim the allegiance of the Burgunds against us?’ demanded Ebroin. ‘The Burgunds would only follow a male heir of their former kings.’
‘There was another son of Beretrude,’ Fidelma replied simply. ‘Another descendant of Gundahar and the line of kings of the Burgunds.’
‘I have only one brother–Gundobad,’ Guntram objected. ‘He was given as a child to the religious. My mother abandoned him to some abbey. I have no other brother.’
‘That is so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Gundobad grew up in the abbey of Divio, an ambitious young man and more of a warrior than Guntram. But it was Guntram who inherited the title of Lord of the Burgunds from his father. Beretrude realised some time ago that she had abandoned her younger and stronger son to indulge and ruin the elder but weaker son. She decided to correct her mistake.’
‘Are you saying that Beretrude was raising money by selling slaves so that her son in Divio could use it to plan an insurrection?’ Clotaire demanded.
‘Precisely so. It was only when I was told about this second son that everything began to fit into place.’
‘So now we must send to Divio to discover this man,’ sighed Ebroin.
‘He is no longer at Divio. Beretrude’s younger son is here in this abbey.’
For a while there was uproar.
‘Who are you accusing, Fidelma?’ demanded Bishop Leodegar. ‘There are several who come from Divio in this abbey. Are you claiming this was the person who killed Abbot Dabhóc? I do not understand.’
‘Bishop Ordgar and Cadfan are both innocent of that crime,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘In fact, they were victims of the same crime that was set up to distract suspicion away from the real killer and his intention. But I need to give some words of explanation before I identify the killer. With his mother helping him to devise the plot, Gundobad came to this abbey. Autun was going to be the base of the insurrection of the Burgunds against the Franks. Why? This very council provided the ideal opportunity It was known that Clotaire would come here to give his official approval to the decisions of the council before they were sent to Rome. What better place to assassinate the Frankish King and raise the symbol of insurrection?’
‘The symbol?’ queried Clotaire. ‘What symbol?’
‘I am told that the Burgunds hold a great teacher of the Faith in high regard both as bishop and martyr. His association with Autun is often spoken of with reverence–even Beretrude’s villa stands in a square named after him–the Square of Benignus. The villa bears the symbol of what I am told is the cross of Benignus. What if the leader of the Burgunds came forward bearing the relics of this Benignus before him, calling on the Burgunds to rise up and follow because God blessed this endeavour?’
‘It would be a powerful symbol,’ admitted Bishop Leodegar. ‘But such relics do not exist.’
‘Some people believe that they do. I heard from poor Brother Budnouen that there were rumours and stories about the relics of the Blessed Benignus. He told me that the peasants of this country already spoke of a leader who would carry them aloft and lead them to their former glory and independence.’
Fidelma paused, then went on: ‘Brother Gillucán had told me that his abbot, Dabhóc, came to this abbey bearing a reliquary box containing the bones of the Benén mac Sesenén of Midhe, who was a disciple and successor of our great teacher, the Blessed Patrick. The relics were to be a gift for Bishop Vitalian of Rome.’
The Nuntius Peregrinus interposed in a languid tone, ‘Oh, come, Fidelma. What has your Hibernian bishop to do with Benignus of Autun?’
‘Just this. Benén Mac Sesenén also used the sobriquet of Benignus. On the reliquary box that was to be the gift to the Holy Father, his name was carved on one side, and on the other–clearly in Latin–was his name in religion…Benignus.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘I think you have missed the point,’ countered the Nuntius Peregrinus. ‘This Benignus of Hibernia was certainly not the Benignus who brought Christianity to the Burgunds.’
‘I agree with you, Nuntius,’ replied Fidelma at once. ‘But that did not deter the conspirators. Imagine how delighted they were on hearing that the abbot from Hibernia actually had an ancient reliquary box on which was inscribed the name of Benignus for all to see? How many followers would debate whether the bones inside were those of their apostle Benignus or that of some obscure Hibernian with the same name?’
‘And you believe that this is why Abbot Dabhóc was slain?’ queried the Nuntius. ‘Because of that reliquary box?’
‘I think you already know it,’ she replied.
The Nuntius looked uncertain. ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded.
‘Abbot Dabhóc had told you, when he met you at the amphitheatre, that he had the reliquary box which he would present to you at the end of the council. Then he was murdered. When you heard this, you went to his chamber in search of the reliquary box but could not find it. There was, in your mind, only one person who knew about it and that was Dabhóc’s steward, Brother Gillucán. You and your bodyguard, the custodes who stands beside you now, initially searched his room but did not find it. Still certain that Gillucán must have hidden it in his possession, you both visited the poor young man in the dead of night and threatened him with physical violence unless he told you where the reliquary box was. He could not, and such was his fear that you finally believed him.’
The Nuntius Peregrinus was staring at her in amazement.
‘Truly, you have remarkable powers of deduction, if deduction it is.’
‘Do not fear, Nuntius. It is no more than deduction. Poor Brother Gillucán. He was sick with fear and decided to leave the abbey after he had spoken secretly with me. However, the Burgundian conspirators thought he was leaving for other reasons. They believed that he knew something and would betray them. Curiously enough, what made him even more fearful was the cries of the children being abducted from the Domus Femini which he overheard late one night when he was in the necessarium. And it was in that same necessarium that he was killed, his naked body shoved into the effluence from where it was finally washed into the river and discovered. That was why, when he was found, there was excrement on the body.’
The entire gathering was now hanging onto her every word.
‘So what has happened to this missing reliquary box?’ asked Bishop Leodegar. ‘Who has it?’
‘It ha
d been stolen by the conspirators when Dabhóc was killed, of course.’
‘But why did Abbot Dabhóc take this box to Bishop Ordgar’s chamber?’ the bishop wanted to know.
‘He did not. Abbot Dabhóc was killed in his own chamber from where the box was stolen.’
‘I am confused,’ Clotaire confessed.
‘It is a complicated story,’ admitted Fidelma. ‘When Beretrude’s ambitious son came here he had two confederates apart from his mother. One was Brother Andica, the stonemason, who tried to kill both Eadulf and myself. Fortunately, the statue he pushed down on us did not kill us as intended. While Eadulf was taken to Brother Gebicca, the physician, to have his injury seen to, I went up to look at the plinth from where the statue had fallen. I wanted to make sure whether it had, indeed, fallen of its own accord or whether someone had pried it loose as we passed underneath. My assumption that it had been deliberately pushed down on us was proved correct. Now, a young man, afterwards identified as the stonemason Andica, had offered to show me to the gallery from where the statue fell. As I was examining it, he tried to push me from the galley, misjudged and fell to his death.’
There was a gasp from her listeners. The physician, Brother Gebicca, coughed dryly, dispelling the moment of drama.
‘Are you also saying that the bite of the viper which you received was another attempt to kill you?’
Fidelma shrugged, glancing at Beretrude.
‘No one can say. I will not pursue it. I am sure Beretrude has other matters of importance to deal with. The murder of Abbot Dabhóc might have commenced as a simple robbery. Our killer could have been in Dabhóc’s chamber, attempting to steal the reliquary box, when Dabhóc returned unexpectedly. His bad timing cost him his life. I do not believe it was so, because the killer would have reasoned that, with the reliquary box stolen, Dabhóc would have raised the matter with the bishop and the relics of Benignus of Hibernia would become known. No, Dabhóc was killed to keep him silent, as was Gillucán when the killer thought he knew about the relics.
‘So Dabhóc was killed and the box stolen. Then what? Leaving Dabhóc in his own chamber and the reliquary box missing might lead to too many questions. Why not camouflage the intent as well as the action? We see a devious mind at work. Bishop Ordgar had not returned to his chamber so his wine was easily drugged. When he was unconscious from its effects, the body of Dabhóc was taken into his chamber. But why would Bishop Ordgar want to kill the abbot? This is where the tortured mind of the chief conspirator devised a complication that really confused everyone. The murderer had heard of the row at the council earlier that evening. He went to Abbot Cadfan’s chamber, put a note under the door and knocked to rouse him before disappearing. As Cadfan truthfully told us, the note invited him to Ordgar’s chamber at once. He went there and was clubbed unconscious by the waiting killer. The note was removed. Then Dabhóc’s body was brought to the chamber and the scene was set. The murderer had tidied Dabhóc’s own chamber. The reliquary box was given to Brother Andica, who went to hide it in the vaults below the abbey. Everyone would now think that either Ordgar or Cadfan had murdered Dabhóc as part of the continuation of their quarrel.’
The Council of the Cursed Page 33
