The Council of the Cursed sf-19

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘No one saw anything?’ queried Eadulf.

  ‘The river is, as you must have seen, outside the city walls,’ the man said. ‘It is wrong to leave the city at night. Indeed, wrong to leave the abbey at night.’

  ‘Are you certain that is what happened?’ Fidelma pressed. ‘That he left the abbey at night to set off on his homeward journey? You have guards at the city gates. Did they see him go?’

  ‘He left the abbey before dawn. No one saw him,’ Brother Chilperic replied impatiently. ‘The body was discovered by a fisherman a little down-river not long after sun-up.’

  ‘If we see Abbot Ségdae, we will inform him of this tragedy and say that you are looking for him,’ Fidelma said, realising they were showing too much interest. ‘In the meantime, can you tell us which of the rooms Abbot Dabhóc occupied?’

  ‘It is empty,’ replied the steward, his mind clearly elsewhere. ‘There is nothing there now.’

  ‘But where is it located?’

  ‘It is back in the hospitia, in the same corridor as Bishop Ordgar’s chamber-the third along from where he is.’

  She thanked him but Brother Chilperic was already on his way. Once out of the steward’s earshot Fidelma spoke her thoughts.

  ‘Brother Gillucán feared for his life and now he is dead,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Do you think there is some connection with the death of Abbot Dabhóc?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘Let’s keep an open mind. You noticed the look that Brother Chilperic cast in your direction?’

  ‘He is probably still suspicious at finding me in the necessarium, especially as it was probably near the hour when this Brother Gillucán was making his way out of the abbey. But I thought Gillucán said he was joining a group of pilgrims for the journey?’

  ‘He did. We’d best keep our own counsel on this, Eadulf,’ Fidelma replied, keeping her voice low, ‘until we find out whether it is in some way connected with the matter here or just a coincidence, There is no use putting ourselves in harm’s way. If Gillucán felt fearful enough to leave the abbey before dawn on his own, then the very thing he feared befell him.’

  ‘But why? I cannot see any logic in this matter.’

  ‘Perhaps there is something more to the killing of Abbot Dabhóc, and now his steward, than merely the argument between Ordgar and Cadfan. What was it that those who ransacked Dabhóc’s chamber were looking for-the reliquary box? If so, why didn’t they find it? Who has it? And was this what Gillucán was being asked about when his room was searched? There are too many questions, Eadulf. Too many questions and not enough facts.’

  ‘For once, I agree,’ Eadulf said. ‘So where do we turn next? Should we see what else we can find out about Brother Gillucán’s death?’

  ‘Not at the moment. If it is connected with Dabhóc’s death then we do not want to alert our adversary that we suspect anything.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘Let us have a brief glance at the chamber occupied by Abbot Dabhóc before we return to our initial plan to speak with Abbess Audofleda. Now we know that Dabhóc did not have far to go to meet his death. His room was in the same corridor as Ordgar’s room.’

  The chamber that had been occupied by Abbot Dabhóc was empty and had been cleaned thoroughly. There was certainly nowhere to hide such an object as a reliquary box. Fidelma gazed around.

  ‘Well, this room is not going to tell us anything,’ she sighed.

  There was a hollow cough behind them at the doorway. The saturnine figure of Brother Benevolentia stood regarding them,

  ‘Were you looking for me?’ he asked. ‘My chamber is just along here.’

  Fidelma turned to greet him. ‘As a matter of fact, no. We were looking at the chamber Abbot Dabhóc occupied.’

  ‘Is there anything I can help with?’

  ‘We were told that this chamber was ransacked on that same night as he was killed. I don’t suppose you heard anything?’

  ‘As I mentioned before, I did not hear even what was happening in poor Bishop Ordgar’s chamber, since I sleep so very soundly. I knew nothing until Bishop Leodegar and his steward roused me,’ Brother Benevolentia said.

  ‘Do you know Abbot Dabhóc’s steward?’ asked Fidelma.

  Brother Benevolentia shook his head.

  ‘So you have no idea where his chamber is located?’

  ‘I do not know him but his chamber is on the left, down that corridor,’ he indicated. ‘The first door you come to. I don’t think he is there right now, although I saw Brother Chilperic leave it earlier. Have you knocked upon his door?’

  ‘No, he is-’ began Eadulf, then fell silent with a glance from Fidelma.

  ‘No, you are right. He is not there,’ she added. ‘But if his chamber was there, then you must surely have known him?’

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean. The word you used implied that he was a person I knew well. He was familiar to me only as one of the foreign delegation, and I certainly did not know him, other than to exchange a courteous greeting when passing.’

  ‘Then thank you for your help, Brother Benevolentia.’

  The religieux nodded to them and retired into his own chamber.

  Fidelma moved to the chamber that he had indicated and opened the door. It had been left tidy, the blanket folded on the bed. As Brother Chilperic had said, it was empty but with no sign of a hurried departure. It would reveal nothing more than the abbot’s chamber had revealed.

  Behind her, Eadulf remarked: ‘A bit of a pedantic character.’

  Fidelma shrugged absently. ‘Who-Benevolentia? Perhaps he is right. Language should be used precisely, especially in legal matters.’ She gestured to the tiny room before her. ‘This won’t tell us much, either.’ She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

  ‘At least we now know the location of these chambers,’ she observed, as she led the way back down to the main hall of the abbey.

  ‘Is that important?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘It is always good to know the precise layout of where the crime is committed and the surrounding area. Have you noticed that Abbot Cadfan’s chamber was the furthest away from Ordgar’s chamber and along another corridor? Everyone else was in the same corridor or adjacent, like Gillucán.’

  Eadulf supposed that he had registered the fact but could not see that there was any relevance.

  ‘As I say, it is good to know the layout,’ she repeated.

  They were crossing the anticum, having ascertained that the only way to gain entrance to the Domus Femini was to leave the main door and walk along the north side of the square, then go up the wagonway into the central courtyard. The main door to the women’s community was on the far side of this courtyard.

  A voice suddenly called Fidelma’s name and they saw a figure hurrying towards them across the marble flagged hallway. It was a tall, dark man with a pale olive complexion, wearing the robes and tonsure of Rome, and his attire was not of some poor cleric but someone of rank.

  ‘Sister Fidelma! I thought I recognised you. It is good to see you again.’ He was holding his hand out in greeting to her.

  Fidelma took it, her brow furrowed as she tried to place the man from distant memory.

  ‘You do not recognise me? No matter. It has been a few years since you were in Rome.’

  Memory suddenly came to her. ‘You were a scribe in the Lateran Palace…’

  ‘I was scribe to the Venerable Gelasius, nomenclator to His Holiness. I saw you several times in his office when you were investigating the death of the Archbishop Wighard. The Venerable Gelasius has frequently wondered how life was treating you since you left Rome. We have heard many things about you and of Brother Eadulf.’ He turned to Eadulf and smiled, reaching out to take his hand. ‘And you, I believe, are Brother Eadulf? I cannot recall meeting with you, though I know you were assisting Sister Fidelma in Rome.’

  Eadulf’s greeting was restrained, as he could not place the man at all.

  ‘You are Brother Peregrinus,’ Fidelma suddenly
said.

  The man chuckled. ‘I am honoured to be remembered. I am Nuntius Peregrinus now.’

  ‘And you are the emissary from Rome?’

  ‘I am indeed envoy to the council. I brought the instructions from His Holiness, Vitalian, to Bishop Leodegar, concerning the council and giving it blessing and authority. I have to await the outcome of the debates and take those decisions back to Rome again. I am sure the Venerable Gelasius will be delighted to hear the news. It was only yesterday that the bishop told me of your presence here. I have been visiting some of the outlying churches near this city. But I am glad that matters have entered safe hands. What has transpired here is sad. It was a wise decision of Bishop Leodegar, to seek out your talents to resolve the matter.’

  Fidelma was deprecating.

  ‘We can only do what we are able, Nuntius. I trust that the Venerable Gelasius is well and presumably still in his position in Rome?’

  ‘He is, indeed, and thinks of you with kindly thoughts. You performed a great service for Rome, which he does not forget.’

  ‘He flatters me.’

  ‘Not so. Since Vitalian was elected to the throne of the Blessed Peter, the Church has been taking great strides forward. The schisms that Christendom has suffered are slowly mending, thanks to His Holiness. He has sought to repair the connection between Constantinople and Rome by friendly advances, and sent envoys and gifts to Patriach Peter of Constantinople. In that he has been successful, and now his name, as a Bishop of Rome, has been entered in the diptychs of those eastern churches for the first time in many a generation.’

  ‘Diptychs?’ frowned Eadulf.

  ‘The lists of those regarded as worthy and in communion with the teachings of the Faith and elevation to high office,’ explained Fidelma in a swift aside.

  ‘Exactly so,’ Nuntius Peregrinus confirmed. ‘Vitalian has also tried to heal the rift between the Saxons and the Britons, as you know, by sending Theodore to minister to them. And he is trying to deal with the heresy of monothelitism and bring all the churches into a one-ness with Rome. Hence the importance of this council.’

  Fidelma sighed softly. ‘He is obviously ambitious for Rome.’

  ‘Ambitious for the furtherance of the Faith.’

  ‘As I say, we will do our best to resolve the matters that have created a postponement to the coming together of that council. Tell me, Nuntius, did you inform Bishop Leodegar that you knew me?’

  ‘No. I wanted to see you first, to make sure that you were the same Fidelma whom I saw in Rome. Would you prefer I did mention you?’

  ‘You may do so freely,’ she replied.

  ‘Well, if there is ever help required, you may count on it that you have an influential friend at the Lateran Palace, Sister,’ the Nuntius assured her. ‘And if there is anything I can do here, let me know. Perhaps we can meet later and talk about the passing of the years. The Venerable Gelasius will be eager to hear all that has befallen you.’

  ‘Then let us meet in the calefactorium before the evening meal,’ suggested Fidelma.

  ‘Excellent. I shall be there.’

  With a wave of his hand, Nuntius Peregrinus turned and hurried away. Behind him, his silent shadow, an armed member of the custodes of the Lateran Palace, reinforcing Peregrinus’ rank as envoy of Vitalian, emerged from a corner and followed him.

  ‘A small world,’ muttered Eadulf as they continued on to the door.

  ‘It might be beneficial that the Nuntius remembers us,’ Fidelma remarked. ‘I have a feeling that we might need his help in dealing with Bishop Leodegar.’

  Chapter Nine

  Fidelma and Eadulf emerged into the great square before the abbey. They walked slowly along the flags to the broad wagonway that led up to the large central courtyard. On one side was the huge wooden door that was the entrance to the Domus Femini. The courtyard itself was pretty enough. There was the inevitable fountain in the centre. It was a marble statue of a strange beast from whose mouth the water gushed. The entrance opposite to that of the Domus Femini had been blocked up, as this obviously led into the male quarters of the abbey. There was one dark arched recess further down off the wagonway, which Eadulf initially thought might lead to a doorway providing a shortcut into the abbey, but he saw that even that was blocked.

  They approached the large oak door, which was studded with iron. A rope hung to one side and Fidelma tugged on it. They heard the distant clang of the bell and waited. After a short while, a small hatch in the centre of the door was drawn aside and two pale eyes stared out.

  ‘I am Sister Fidelma and this is Brother Eadulf. We are here to see the abbatissa, Abbess Audofleda. She is expecting us.’

  This received a curt response: ‘Wait!’ Then the hatch was slammed shut.

  Fidelma turned and smiled wryly at Eadulf.

  ‘Not overly welcoming,’ he muttered in response.

  Suddenly bolts were drawn noisily back and the big door swung slowly inwards.

  A religieuse stood framed in the doorway. She gave the impression of tallness, of an austere face, a large nose, dark, almost black eyebrows and bright blue eyes. Her hands were folded in front of her, hidden within the folds of her black robe.

  ‘Enter,’ she commanded, taking a step backward to allow them to do so.

  They became aware of another religieuse, who was obviously the doorkeeper, pushing shut the heavy door behind them. Once again, the sound of the bolts being pushed home was like the blow of a hammer falling on an anvil.

  ‘Are you Abbess Audofleda?’ asked Fidelma.

  The woman sniffed in disapproval. ‘I am Sister Radegund,’ she replied curtly. ‘I serve the abbatissa. You will follow me.’ Her manner was as sharp as her features.

  Without further ado, she turned and walked swiftly along an arched corridor into a small quadrangle, veered right and followed another short corridor to a circular stone stairwell. Taking the stairs with surprising speed, without once glancing behind to see if they were following, she then set off along another passageway. Eadulf had seen many religious houses but none with such an air of gloom. The male section of the abbey was grey and brooding enough, but the Domus Femini was infinitely worse. He felt quite depressed as he looked around the grey stone walls hoping for some relief-some flowers, icons, wall paintings-anything to relieve the drabness that reminded him of a fortress rather than a house devoted to the worship of God.

  Sister Radegund halted abruptly outside a door.

  She finally turned and glanced at Fidelma and Eadulf for a moment, almost as if ensuring that they were presentable enough to be shown into the presence. Then she rapped upon the door. A voice came faintly bidding them enter.

  They were shown into the study of Abbess Audofleda. Although the abbatissa and her sisters had attended the morning and evening services, they had been invisible to Fidelma and Eadulf because they entered the chapel by a separate route and were shielded from the brethren by wooden screens. Abbess Audofleda was seated behind her table and wore a head-dress which was drawn back so that her face was fully visible, but covering her hair. A woman of middle age, she could never have been described as attractive, thanks to the bony forehead, jutting jawline and large nose with a prominent bump that could almost be described as hooked. The eyes were pale and without compassion. The lips were thin, and the skin ashen where it was not blotched upon the cheeks.

  ‘This is Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf, abbatissa,’ intoned Sister Radegund, who stood deferentially before them with hands still folded and eyes downcast.

  Abbess Audofleda sat back, her own hands placed firmly on the table in front of her. She stared in disapproval, firstly at Eadulf and then at Fidelma.

  ‘I am asked by Bishop Leodegar to see you. He says that you have requested to speak with me. For what purpose?’ Her voice was harsh and she spoke Latin badly.

  ‘We are…’ began Fidelma. She was waved to silence by an imperious gesture of a pale thin hand.

  ‘I know who you are, Sister. That m
uch was explained when Bishop Leodegar addressed the community in the chapel the other night. You have been allowed to investigate the death of one of the delegates to the council. I disapprove. That is not a woman’s place, especially one who purports to be a religious. However, the bishop has made this curious decision. I was not consulted. My question is, why do you come here?’

  Fidelma exchanged a quick glance with Eadulf. Abbess Audofleda was as unfriendly as her looks portended.

  ‘We have come to address a few questions to you,’ she replied coolly.

  ‘I see no reason why,’ replied Abbess Audofleda. ‘Our sisterhood is separate from the brothers of the abbey and there is no connection between us and the deaths that have occurred. We know nothing of them nor do we wish to know anything of them.’

  Eadulf saw the warning sign as Fidelma’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘You’ll forgive our impertinence, abbatissa,’ he said hastily, in a conciliatory voice. ‘We have not come here without a good reason, for we believe there is a connection between your sisterhood and the events that took place surrounding the death of Abbot Dabhóc.’

  The thin eyebrows of Abbess Audofleda arched.

  ‘Do you call me a liar?’ she snapped. ‘I said that there are none.’

  Eadulf was dismayed by the overt antagonism of the woman.

  This time Fidelma had recovered herself sufficiently to attempt to follow Eadulf’s displomatic path.

  ‘We would not suggest that you have spoken anything but the truth, as you know it. We would only point out that perhaps we have some information that you might not know about.’

  ‘Which is?’ There was a sneer in Abbess Audofleda’s tone.

  ‘Sister Valretrade.’

  They heard the audible gasp from Sister Radegund. Fidelma saw the warning glance that Abbess Audofleda gave her.

  ‘What do you know of Sister Valretrade?’ The abbatissa’s eyes were glinting suspiciously.