Guntram stood with his hands behind his back, feet slightly apart, his pale eyes scrutinising them. Then he glanced to the steward, who announced their names.
‘I have heard that you are investigating the death of Abbot Dabhóc at the request of the bishop,’ began the young man, speaking in a fluent Latin. Then he frowned. ‘Autun is within my feudal domain and Bishop Leodegar did not ask my permission about this matter.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened slightly in reaction but her expression did not change.
‘We have no wish to impose ourselves where we are not wanted, Lord Guntram. When we arrived at Autun, our assistance was requested and presumably the Bishop Leodegar was under the impression that, as the matter was concerned with the abbey, he had a right to commission us to investigate. Are you questioning that right?’
The young man was silent for a moment.
‘I am Guntram, prince of the Burgunds and lord of this land,’ he said, articulating it like a prayer. ‘I am the direct descendant of Gundahar, who was the first great leader of the Burgunds and who defeated the Roman general Aetius. Our lineage was ancient before the ancestors of Clovis the Frank learned to write their own name. I am the ultimate law here.’
Fidelma bowed her head gravely. ‘A great prince is known by his actions and not by a recitation of his ancestors,’ she replied pointedly.
Eadulf suppressed a shiver. Fidelma’s forthrightness might not be wise among these Franks and Burgunds who seemed so sensitive of their ancestry and rank. He saw Guntram’s eyes narrow as if in anger. Then the young man began to shake. To his astonishment, Eadulf realised that he was laughing.
‘Well said, Fidelma of Cashel. I have heard of the ready wit of your people. Let me offer you refreshments from your journey and please be seated.’ He clapped his hands for attention.
As if from nowhere, servants appeared and drew chairs before the fire. Trays of sweetmeats and drinks were brought for them to choose from.
‘My spies have told me all about you. I have heard that you are sister to the king of your country in which women are judges and lawyers. Amazing. You are a lucky man, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’
Eadulf could think of nothing to say in rejoinder. The young man was continuing to speak.
‘It is true that I am the ultimate law and true, too, that Bishop Leodegar should have consulted with me on this matter. But, then, Franks often forget to consult with Burgunds. Of course I have no objections to your investigating this tiresome matter.’
‘Tiresome matter? We talk about the death of an abbot of Hibernia,’ interposed Eadulf, slightly outraged by the other’s nonchalant tone.
‘The effects are tiresome, not the act itself,’ qualified the young lord.
‘In what way tiresome?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Tiresome in that it disturbs the tranquillity of my land and my people. That there is a council, in which representatives from many lands have come to participate, is tiresome enough. That the council brings an envoy, Nuntius Peregrinus, from Rome here is also tiresome. Then comes a murder of a foreign delegate. That will mean that Clotaire will doubtless blame me for the disturbance in tranquillity and that is even more tiresome. Our Frankish king is youthful and sensitive as to how his image appears in Rome.’
‘Why would he blame you?’
‘The Franks are always blaming the Burgunds and seeking ways to destroy what little power we have.’
‘I am not concerned with your internal affairs but with how the abbot of my country came by his death.’
The young man looked serious. ‘Then, at least, we can join in that ambition. How may I help?’
‘I am told that you were in the abbey on the night that it happened.’
Guntram nodded agreement. ‘Not only in the abbey but in the very next chamber to where the body was discovered.’
Fidelma felt it was a good start that the young man was honest.
‘And did you see or hear anything that aroused your suspicions that night?’
The young man suddenly burst out laughing and then seemed to catch himself.
‘I am sorry, Fidelma of Cashel, but in all honesty, I was in no condition to see or hear anything. You must have been told of that. Yes, the truth is that I had over-indulged myself with the fruits of Bacchus.’
‘You were drunk?’ pressed Eadulf.
‘Mea maxima culpa!’ declared Guntram.
‘Do you remember anything at all about that evening?’ Fidelma insisted.
The young man seemed to reflect for a moment.
‘Well, I had gone to the city to collect my feudal dues. I maintain only a dozen bodyguards and a dozen servants to upkeep this fortress. Not a great deal but money is essential. Every new moon, I receive the taxa, a sum due to me for overseeing the security of my people. So I collect this sum from the maire principalté, the chief officer of my lands, who gathers it on my behalf. He would prefer it if he worked for my mother,’ he added with a disapproving tone. ‘I am sure that he does not pay me the full due but rather allows her the first access to the money and between them they pay me enough to keep me content.’
He paused, frowning as he thought about it and so Fidelma interrupted his meditation.
‘I understand you had imbibed more than was good to commence the journey back here. Your mother, Lady Beretrude, has a villa in Autun. Why did you not stay there?’
Guntram sighed languidly. ‘Because we had had one of our interminable quarrels.’
‘About anything in particular?’ queried Fidelma.
‘Her favourite subject. My lack of ambition.’
‘You are lord of this area, what other ambition should you have?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘According to my mother, I should be raising armies to avenge the death of Sigismond and Gundomar…’ He saw their puzzled expressions and explained: ‘They were kings of the Burgunds who were defeated by Clovis of the Franks.’
‘Are you saying that your mother wants you to raise an insurrection against the kings of this land?’ asked Fidelma.
Guntram was amused. ‘And I with only twelve men-at-arms! They are more my hunting companions than an army. I am afraid my mother has notions of grandeur; notions that the Burgunds will rise again. We are no longer a powerful nation, and the first duty of a ruler of such a people is to recognise that fact; recognise the strengths and weaknesses of his people and carve their role in the world according to what they may usefully achieve. That is essential for any leader. It is no good setting out to bring destruction down upon us for the sake of the wild dreams of ancient times.’
They sat in silence for a while.
‘So this was the subject of the argument that you had with your mother?’ Fidelma said. ‘Is it why you chose to stay at the abbey and not at her villa?’
‘The abbey is always preferable to staying with my mother. Every time I stay with her I have to listen to her criticism that I am not like my father or that I am an unworthy descendant of Gundahar and the line of the Burgund kings. I would rather a monk’s uncomfortable cell than a bed in her luxurious villa.’
‘Did Bishop Leodegar approve of your staying in the abbey under such conditions? My understanding is that he is a man of strict views.’
‘I have known Leodegar for many years. There is some ancient family connection. I know not what because he is a Frank. But he is also my confessor. I went to him to talk about my frustrations.’
‘Very well. What then?’
‘We dined well that night. I recall Leodegar saying that the day had been most trying in that he had had to deal with arguments between the delegates attending the council. He was exhausted. In fact, he invited me to dine away from the refectory in his private rooms where we talked, played chess and ate our fill. The wine circled well and, I confess, I over-indulged. I was too busy trying to drown my mother’s accusations about my lack of ambition and how the elder son did not always merit the inheritance of office. I remember feeling extraordinarily tired and sitting back in my c
hair. Then I was waking in a small chamber and it was late morning. There was movement outside. That was when I discovered that the abbot from Hibernia had been killed by some of his fellow religious.’
Eadulf leaned forward. ‘In what way did you discover that?’
The young man shrugged. ‘From Brother Chilperic. I had slept through it all. In fact, he had carried me out of Leodegar’s apartments on the previous night just as that Saxon bishop, who is now suspected of the crime, arrived. I still had a sore head and was in no condition to take it all in. I had to get a balm from Brother Gebicca, the apothecary, before I could set out on my journey here that morning.’
Eadulf was disappointed. ‘So you heard and saw nothing during that night?’
Guntram shook his head. ‘You have had a wasted journey here, I am afraid, if you thought I could provide some testimony about the death of this abbot. The plain truth is that I was drunk and slept throughout all these events.’
‘No journey is ever wasted, Guntram,’ replied Fidelma gravely.
‘All you have learned is my weakness,’ the young man said ruefully.
‘That you have acknowledged it as a weakness is a strength,’ she replied philosophically.
He raised his eyebrows momentarily in surprise. ‘You should be my confessor, but I am afraid it would be an unrewarding task. I do not think I can now change my habits. My mother has told me that I will come to nothing.’
‘And you believe her?’
‘She is a powerful woman. In her eyes I could never succeed. My father died when I was ten years old. I was the eldest son but, try as I might, I could never be his successor. By the time I was of the age of maturity I had ceased to even try to measure up to my father in her eyes.’
‘We should only try to measure ourselves against our own standards, not other people’s,’ Fidelma said, not unkindly. ‘We are all individuals.’
‘That is what my Cousin Radegund says. She was left an orphan by the plague. Rather than live with my mother, she married. Then she went into the abbey. There she remains, safe from family cares. I envy her.’
‘So she married Brother Chilperic?’
Guntram pursed his lips as if he disapproved. ‘Much against my mother’s wishes. But then that was before Leodegar came along and changed things.’
‘Is your dispute with your mother the reason why you bury yourself in this forest fastness with your companions?’
‘I certainly have no wish to dwell in Autun in proximity with my mother and her acolytes. Here I am free to hunt, drink and…’ He had the goodness to hesitate.
‘I understand,’ Fidelma said. ‘But this is not merely an escape from your mother but an escape from your responsibilities. Being the toisech, a chieftain, as we would call it in my land, is a matter of responsibilities as well as the privilege of rank.’
‘Responsibilities?’ countered Guntram. ‘What if I do not want those responsibilities?’
‘You can hand over your office to someone else.’ Fidelma was thinking of the customs of her own land when she said it.
Guntram was shaking his head. ‘I am the eldest son. To whom should I hand over that right? I have a young brother who is a sanctimonious religious somewhere and not interested in temporal affairs. My mother even used to call him “Benignus” as a pet name. Not only does it signify well born but good and gentle. That, indeed, was his pious nature. I have not seen him in twenty years.’
‘I am sorry. I forgot this custom of your people that is what you call the law of primogeniture. Personally, I think it is a bad custom.’
In her own land the eldest son did not inherit as an automatic right. The derbhfine, the electoral college of the family, would meet to elect whoever was to be chief or provincial king or even the High King himself. Sons did not necessarily succeed fathers. Brothers, cousins and even daughters or sisters could fulfil office.
She hesitated for a moment and then asked: ‘Does your mother ever indulge in trade with merchants?’
Guntram showed his amusement at the idea.
‘I doubt it. She would consider it beneath her dignity as a noble.’
‘And apart from her niece, Radegund, she does not have much to do with the Domus Femini?’
‘To be truthful, I think she hates the abbess and would rather Radegund held the office.’
Outside in the courtyard, waiting for the reappearance of Brother Budnouen, Eadulf seemed resigned.
‘It appears that we are still left with the same choice again. It keeps coming back to it. Who do we believe is guilty of Dabhóc’s murder-Cadfan or Ordgar? The murder of the abbot must be coincidental to these other matters about the missing women. We are asked to discover his murderer and no more.’ Eadulf suddenly realised that Fidelma was not listening to him but looking around with a close scrutiny. ‘What are you seeking?’
‘I was just checking to see what sort of household Guntram runs here. It is true that I see only a few warriors about the place.’
‘You doubted him when he said he employed no more than a dozen?’ asked Eadulf, puzzled.
‘In such cases I tend to doubt most people until I see proof,’ she replied easily.
‘Well, I also checked this out before we saw Guntram,’ he confided.
‘You did what?’ she asked in surprise.
‘That was why I made the excuse that I needed to go to the latrina. I took the opportunity to look around the stables. It is true that there are only a dozen horses in his stables and I have seen fewer than that number of warriors. So far as I could see, Guntram appears to be what he says he is. No great military chieftain but a young man indulging himself.’
The rumble of a wagon came to their ears and around the corner of the building appeared Brother Budnouen, guiding the team of mules.
‘Have you finished here?’ he greeted them as he halted the wagon.
‘We may leave as soon as you wish,’ Fidelma assured him, leaping nimbly into the back of the wagon while Eadulf climbed beside the loquacious Gaul.
‘That is good,’ replied Brother Budnouen. ‘We’ll be back in Autun while it is daylight. Even if we halt briefly to hear the news at Clodomar’s forge.’
Fidelma saw that the back of the wagon was fairly empty. Brother Budnouen caught her examination.
‘The fortress of Guntram produces little in trade goods.’ He tapped a bag at his side that clinked with metal. ‘I trade here in coinage for my goods.’
‘A profitable trade?’
‘At least my family eat. In these times, that is all one can ask for. Thanks be to God.’ He flicked the reins and the wagon moved off towards the gates. A warrior came forward to swing them open and acknowledge their departure with a wave.
They moved out of the fortress and along the track through the grasslands towards the woods.
‘Was your business with Lord Guntram also successful?’ asked Brother Budnouen, breaking in on their silence after a while.
Fidelma glanced up from where she had been deep in thought.
‘Let’s just say it was fruitful,’ she admitted.
Brother Budnouen seemed sensitive to the fact that she did not want to talk and so he fell silent as they entered the darkness of the forest. He kept the team at a steady pace and the earth of the track was fairly hard so that the journey was easy for the team of four mules.
It was the sound of the birds that first drew Fidelma out of her thoughts. Eadulf also had raised his head as he heard the cacophony of alarm cries and the rustle of undergrowth. A wild boar and its litter stampeded through the long grasses and across the track ahead of them. Even Brother Budnouen glanced uneasily around him at the previously quiet forest’s sudden eruption into sound.
They were startled by a shout from near by and out of the undergrowth emerged the dishevelled figure of a youth. He could not even have been twenty years old. He held a sword in his hand but did not appear to have an aggressive intent towards them. With the other hand he was frantically waving as if to attract their
attention. In spite of his torn and mud-splattered clothing, and a cut above the eye that was bleeding, the man was, or had been, well dressed. He wore a gold chain of office around his neck.
Brother Budnouen exclaimed and began to check the forward momentum of the wagon.
‘Don’t stop! Don’t stop!’ cried the young man in Frankish, clambering on the back of the still-moving wagon with the agility of a young athlete. ‘For God’s sake, whip up your team!’
Chapter Eighteen
The dishevelled figure of the young man had leaped onto the back of the wagon, rolled over and lay gasping at the sky for a moment or two to recover his breath. He was quite handsome in a saturnine way, with his dark eyes, black hair and the dark-blue hint on his clean-shaved jowl. For a moment he regarded Fidelma, for she was seated in the back of the wagon, before rising and moving towards the driver’s seat where Brother Budnouen, with Eadulf seated beside him, held the reins. Already the Gaul was urging the four mules into a fast trot.
The newcomer spoke rapidly to Brother Budnouen in the language of the Franks and then turned and said something to Fidelma. When he saw her frowning, he switched to Latin.
‘Forgive me startling you, Sister, but I am pursued. Robbers. They shot down my servant-an arrow in the heart, poor devil. I turned to flee and they brought down my horse-confound their impudence! But they are close on my heels.’
He glanced back into the forest before addressing Brother Budnouen. ‘Can you get more speed from your team, Brother?’
‘I’ll try my best, Sire,’ replied Brother Budnouen, obviously recognising this young man.
The Council of the Cursed sf-19 Page 26
