The Council of the Cursed (15 page)

Fidelma realised that Eadulf was being darkly humourous, but her eyes suddenly widened.

‘Children!’ she exclaimed. ‘Of course!’

Eadulf looked at her in surprise.

‘Were we not told that the wives of the brethren here, and their children, were taken to live in the
Domus Femini
? Wives and children that the brethren were forced to put from them–that was the phrase.’

Eadulf nodded slowly.

‘Don’t you see?’ Fidelma went on. ‘If Audofleda governs so badly, perhaps Gillucán did hear those children wailing in anguish.’

‘You mean she is ill treating the children?’

Under the law of the Brehons, ill treatment of children was not merely condemned but punishable. Until the age of their maturity, the honour price of children was placed, under the laws, as the honour price of a chieftain or a bishop no matter who their parents were–that was seven
cumals
, the value of twenty-one cows. So such a thing seemed impossible.

‘As I have said, Eadulf, we are in a different culture here, but nonetheless I indeed to pursue this and discover the truth, even though I have recourse to no local law or authority.’

‘I can’t see how you are going to do that,’ he rejoined. ‘There is no returning through
that
door.’

‘Then I will have to find another way inside,’ Fidelma replied calmly.

‘You are not going back on your own.’

Fidelma was amused. ‘I hardly think you will be able to fade into the background in a house of women, Eadulf.’

He suddenly stiffened and drew her back into the shadow of the arched recess.

‘What…?’ she began to protest.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, ‘Sister Radegund has just left the
Domus Femini
. Look…but carefully!’

The tall woman was moving rapidly across the courtyard, heading towards the main square. In fact, she was moving so quickly that she was almost running, with her head-dress and robes flowing out behind her. The two watchers pressed back in the shadows, waiting until she had passed them. She had already crossed the square by the time they had emerged, and they saw her disappearing down a street towards the city buildings.

‘Where is she off to in such a hurry?’ murmured Eadulf.

‘Let’s find out,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Come on. We must not lose her.’

Before he could protest, she had set off across the square, almost trotting to keep up with the woman. There were plenty of people about, but no one seemed interested in them, so Fidelma and Eadulf hurried on down the darkened streets without challenge.

Sister Radegund seemed so intent upon her errand that she did not pause or glance backward once. That was just as well for her followers. She moved through several streets, each one a little more narrow than the last, and soon the odours that had assailed them when they first arrived in the city began to rise around them. Sewerage ran here and there, and thin feral cats and slavering dogs fought over the refuse in the gutters.

Sister Radegund suddenly ducked into a broad street. Along this street were several premises of traders. It was clearly a major thoroughfare. They saw her enter a building where clothes were hanging outside as if on display, as well as a number of animal skins.

‘It looks like a…’ Fidelma paused, trying to find the right word ‘…a place where a seamstress does her work.’

They moved cautiously towards the building and Fidelma took a quick glance through the open door. Sister Radegund was standing with her back to the door and an elderly woman was bending over a bundle of cloth. The old woman’s eyes luckily were not focused on the door. Fidelma gestured to Eadulf to follow her back a few yards to where there was a dark space between the buildings; here they could pause without being seen in the open street.

‘It seems that Sister Radegund is simply on a mission to buy some cloth,’ Fidelma said in disappointment. ‘I have obviously become too suspicious.’ Just then, she heard someone saying something along the street and then the clatter of wooden-soled shoes followed. She chanced another quick look round the corner of the building.

‘Radegund is off again. Her journey is not yet over,’ she said to Eadulf. ‘Let us stay with her.’

Head still slightly downward, Sister Radegund was continuing her journey with the same intensity as when she had left the
Domus Femini
. They followed at a reasonable distance but there seemed little chance of the stewardess
looking back towards them. When she disappeared around the next corner, they followed and found that the broad thoroughfare had opened into a large square. In the centre was yet another ornate fountain, gushing and splashing. A few dogs were lapping around the base.

Fidelma and Eadulf halted at the entrance to the square, sheltering in the corner of a building.

Sister Radegund had hurried across the cobbles straight to the gates in a high wall that fronted a building on the far side. A giant of a man, a warrior armed with sword and spear, stood outside. While he had breast armour, he wore no hat and his head was a tousled mess of blond, almost white, curls that merged into a heavy beard which came to his chest. He nodded pleasantly to Sister Radegund as if he knew her and without a word turned and tapped upon the wooden gate with his free hand. They heard three distinct blows followed by two more rapid ones. The gate opened almost at once and Sister Radegund slipped inside. The gate closed immediately.

There was a rattle of wheels behind them and a man came along the thoroughfare pushing a handcart loaded with various iron goods. He was a heavily built fellow, and by his dress he was a tradesman of sorts. As they stood hesitantly on the corner, unsure of what to do next, he greeted them in a friendly fashion.

‘Are you lost?’ He spoke in the local language that, to Eadulf’s ear, sounded strangely akin to his own Saxon speech, for he seemed to understand the sense of it. He tried a response in Saxon and, to his surprise, the man replied.

‘I spent time among your people. My father was a ship’s captain. Now–are you lost?’

‘We are unsure of where we are,’ Eadulf told him. ‘What is this square?’

‘This is called the Square of Benignus.’

‘Benignus?’ queried Eadulf, thinking he had misheard. ‘You mean “the Square of the Benign”?’

The man set down his cart and flexed his hands as if to help the circulation.

‘No, my friend.
Of
Benignus,’ he said. ‘You are obviously strangers here. Benignus was a holy martyr who was born in this city before going
to spread the word of the Faith in the old city of Divio many centuries ago. The square was named after him for it is said it was on this very square that he lived.’

‘Ask him who that big house belongs to–the one guarded by the warrior,’ Fidelma said to Eadulf.

‘Whose fine villa is that then?’ Eadulf asked the carter. ‘And why is it guarded by a warrior?’

‘That is the villa of the Lady Beretrude, mother of the lord of this territory. She is benefactor to the city and the most powerful person in these parts.’

‘Eadulf!’ interrupted Fidelma with a soft warning. She had just noticed a man exit from the very house they were talking about. He was clad in religious robes and raised a hand in familiar farewell to the warrior. Then he was striding across the square towards them.

It was too late to move. He had seen them.

‘Sister Fidelma! Brother Eadulf!’ he hailed. ‘What are you doing here?’ Brother Budnouen halted before them, smiling broadly.

‘We were lost and this man was giving us directions,’ Eadulf explained hastily.

‘You must be lost, indeed, to be in this area of the city,’ replied the jovial Gaul.

The man with the cart had touched his forehead in salute.

‘I am glad that you have found your friend,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You will be able to get to where you wanted now.’ He heaved his cart up and moved on his way.

‘And where was it you wanted to get to?’ asked Brother Budnouen.

‘Back to the abbey,’ Fidelma said hastily. ‘We had gone for a walk to explore the city and must have taken a wrong turning somewhere.’

‘I forget that you are unused to large towns in your lands. Well, have no concerns for I am going back to the abbey myself.’

‘We don’t want to take you out of your way at all,’ Eadulf said. ‘We looked for you in the abbey but have not seen you there.’

Brother Budnouen shook his head. ‘You will not. For I do not stay with Bishop Leodegar’s community. I stay with a friend in the city, just off the square before the abbey.’

‘Speaking of squares, that is a curious one,’ Eadulf said slyly, turning back to the square behind them. ‘That man with the cart thought we were looking for the villa of some lady or other. What was her name? Bertrude…no–Beretrude.’ He pointed at the villa from which Brother Budnouen had just emerged and hoped the Gaul had not realised that they had noticed him coming from there. ‘He told us that she lived there. Why would he assume we were looking for her?’ He looked innocently at the Gaul.

Brother Budnouen seemed thoughtful.

‘I suppose it is a logical mistake, since Lady Beretrude is the most prominent person here in the city,’ he said. ‘She is mother of the lord of this territory–Lord Guntram–and is a very influential lady. Perhaps the man thought strangers wandering in this part of the city would naturally be seeking her out.’

He volunteered no further information and Eadulf realised that for some reason he was not going to admit any connection with either the woman or the villa.

‘The man was telling us that the square has a connection with a holy martyr.’

Brother Budnouen raised an eyebrow. ‘He was a loquacious fellow, that fellow with the cart,’ he observed softly. Eadulf wondered if there was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Fidelma said hurriedly: ‘He was quite helpful, although we had to rely on interpretation through Eadulf’s own tongue. The man seemed quite proud of this local martyr.’ She mentally forgave herself the lie.

‘It is certainly a matter of great local controversy,’ said Brother Budnouen. ‘You refer to Benignus, of course.’

‘Controversy?’

‘Some say that Polycarp of Smyrna sent this saintly man called Benignus to Divio…’

‘Divio?’ Fidelma frowned. ‘This place has been mentioned before.’

‘It’s about seventy kilometres to the north east of here. The city is in the old territory of the Lingones, once a great people of Gaul. Benignus was sent to teach them the Faith. Now the Burgunds claim Benignus as one of their own. The story is that he was martyred and the common people worshipped at his grave. Then Bishop Gregory of Lingonum, who
disliked Benignus, tried to stop this worship. But Autun and two other towns have equal claim on this blessed martyr, with each insisting that they hold his true grave and his relics. An argument began over who had the prior claim. One hundred years ago, accounts called
De Gloria Martyrum
started to be circulated in which all these claims were put forward and argued. Each town called the other’s claims falsifications and lies. In this city, he is supposed to be buried in the necropolis under the abbey, but in Lingonum an entire basilica building has been erected over a tomb that is claimed as Benignus’ last resting-place.’ Brother Budnouen chuckled suddenly. ‘The place was actually built by the same Bishop Gregory who had first claimed that the tomb was that of a heathen and not the martyr. They say he changed his mind when he saw how much money was to be made from the pilgrims who flocked to pray there.’

Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘So the argument continues between these towns?’

‘And probably will as long as no one can offer proof. However, it is a subject that is best avoided among most of the Burgunds, and especially in the Lady Beretrude’s presence.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Lady Beretrude claims that Benignus was among her ancestors some four centuries ago. Most of the Burgunds seem to have adopted him as a patron of their people, their saviour who will one day free them from the rule of the Franks.’

‘This square we just left was named after him, we were told.’

‘The Square of Benignus?’ Brother Budnouen shook his head. ‘It was Lady Beretrude who had it named such, and in recent memory. I suppose its claim to the name is as good as any other.’

‘Why is there no memorial to Benignus in the abbey?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I have not seen one.’

‘Franks now run the abbey,’ said Eadulf. ‘Even if his last resting place were there, they would ignore such a Burgund worthy.’

‘Bishop Leodegar is a hard taskmaster, my Saxon friend,’ Budnouen agreed. ‘He would not recognise a Burgund as in any way influential. I am glad that I am not of his community.’

‘What community do you belong to? To the abbey in Nebirnum, I suppose,’ asked Fidelma.

‘Not so. I am my own man, for all the communities of Gauls are almost drowned in the sea of Burgunds and Franks. Our people have been swept westward. As you already know from our journey here, I earn my daily crust by running goods from the merchants on the river by Nebirnum to Autun, and sometimes I have been known to go as far as Divio.’

‘Do you know Abbess Audofleda?’

The jovial Gaul looked at her. ‘Have you encountered Abbess Audofleda? Ah yes, you would do so, of course.’ It was clear that, knowing the segregation Rule, he would assume that Fidelma was staying in the house of women. ‘Yes, I have had dealings with her.’

‘There is no enthusiasm in your voice?’

‘Enthusiasm, Sister?’ mused the Gaul. ‘My life has not been made richer by my contact with Audofleda. I admit to a dislike of her. She seems typical of her people, arrogant and overbearing in proclaiming her piety and all without reason.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Eadulf.

Brother Budnouen paused for a moment. Then: ‘Let me put it this way, I knew of Audofleda in a past life.’

‘In that case, you cannot let your story end there before you have begun it.’ Fidelma looked at him in curiosity.

The Gaul looked surreptitiously around him as if to ensure there were no eavesdroppers, before saying, ‘I told you that my journeying took me sometimes as far afield as Divio.’