The Council of the Cursed (27 page)

‘I need some simple clothing that may help me pass without comment in a place where I can find out some necessary information,’ Fidelma explained further.

‘Then by all means, we must help you.’ Inginde spoke rapidly to her aunt. The old woman regarded Fidelma critically. Then she said a few words. Sister Inginde nodded as if in agreement. ‘My aunt says that you should not wear colours that are too bright. Your hair is red and that is bright enough. She advises some sombre colours, a dress, and a cloak with a hood to cover your hair.’

The old woman took a drab brown dress from a peg and held it against Fidelma’s body.

‘My aunt thinks that it is your size,’ explained the young woman.

Some more items of clothing were chosen and Fidelma was able to change into them, using a scarf and hood to disguise her red hair and fair skin.

Sister Inginde looked on with approval.

‘There, you may wander the streets of the city freely without exciting interest.’

Fidelma regarded her reflection in the mirror that the elder woman held before her.

‘It will do,’ she conceded. She had kept her cross under her clothing and she pointed to her
ciorbolg
, her comb bag that contained some toilet articles that all the women of her country used. ‘I will take that with me but leave my clothes and pick them up when I have done.’

‘Where are you going?’ Sister Inginde asked curiously.

‘Better if you did not know,’ replied Fidelma.

The young woman seemed concerned. ‘Perhaps I can help,’ she pressed.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘You will surely be expected back at the
Domus Femini
. How much do I owe your aunt for the clothing?’

The girl spoke rapidly to the old woman.

‘My aunt says that there is no payment since you are helping to find a friend of mine. She will keep your own clothes here until your return.’

Fidelma thanked them both and left the shop, proceeding with a leisurely gait, head bent forward a little, as she had seen the women in the city do, and headed down the street in the direction of Lady Beretrude’s villa.

Two or three people passed with a nod or called out a greeting in the local tongue that Fidelma could now recognise and could respond to. She began to feel easy in her disguise.

At the Square of Benignus, she looked beyond the splashing fountain to the gates of the villa. The symbol on the stone pillars on each side of the gates reinforced her suspicion. The single sentinel stood there as usual. Fidelma walked slowly across the square, trying to maintain her leisurely pace as if she were heading for the side street that skirted the high wall of the villa.

The street seemed deserted–but then she heard the sound of running footsteps across the square. A man’s voice called out in challenge. Then the gate was opened and some voices were raised. She stood still for a few moments but no one appeared, no one followed her. After a while she began to walk along the entire length of the villa’s outer wall. At one point she noticed an iron-barred gate, set in an arched entrance in the wall. It must have been through here that Verbas brought his charges when they disturbed Eadulf. Glancing round quickly, she tested that it was locked, before continuing on. With the gate locked, there seemed
no way through or over the outer wall into the grounds of the villa without being seen.

She was beginning to think that her plan to reconnoitre the villa was not going to be a success–certainly not unless she could get inside. There was no way to sneak into the villa, and even if she could persuade one of the servants to let her in, what language could she use to communicate with them? Having decided to walk round the villa and return along the other side, she soon reached the narrow alley at the back. Here she hoped to find another means of entrance, so that she could double back to the place where Eadulf had seen Verbas taking his prisoners. However, there was nothing–no gate, not even a place where one might scale the wall.

As she came to the end of the path, she was aware of menacing shadows on either side of the exit. Several men suddenly launched themselves at her. As she turned to attempt to flee, there was a moment of pain at the back of her skull and then everything went black.

Eadulf was pacing the
calefactorium
, pausing every now and then to glance up at the darkening sky.

Abbot Ségdae had been talking to one of his delegation and now finally turned to address Eadulf.

‘Brother Eadulf, is something troubling you? I swear that if you continue to pace with such vigour, you will wear a groove in the stones beneath your feet.’

Eadulf paused in mid-stride.

‘It is Fidelma,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The hour is growing late and she has not returned to the abbey.’

‘She has a will of her own, as you well know, my son,’ Abbot Ségdae pointed out. ‘Is there a reason why she should have returned at this time?’

‘I fear that something might have happened to her,’ Eadulf murmured, leaning forward. ‘She left the abbey this afternoon to go to see the Lady Beretrude. Well, not exactly to see her but to look over her villa without being observed.’

The abbot looked astonished. ‘Why should she do that?’

Eadulf wondered how much he should confide in the abbot. However, he realised that he needed an ally if Fidelma had been incapacitated.

‘The fact is, she believes that Beretrude is somehow connected with these deaths here and with some other matters affecting this abbey.’

Abbot Ségdae continued to look astounded.

‘I do not understand. How could Lady Beretrude have been responsible for the death of Abbot Dabhóc when…’

Eadulf himself was uncertain of Fidelma’s logic so he decided to use the facts that the abbot would appreciate.

‘Do you recall how we had an encounter at Tara with a foreign merchant named Verbas of Peqini, a slave owner? Well, that man is here and at Lady Beretrude’s villa. He swore that he would have revenge on Fidelma one day. If he has encountered her…’

Abbot Ségdae knew Eadulf well enough to know that he was not given to unnecessary alarms.

‘When was Fidelma supposed to return here?’

‘She said her visit would not take long and that she would be back before nightfall.’

‘The sky is only just darkening,’ Abbot Ségdae said.

‘I am still fearful. The sun is below the rooftops and she has not returned.’

‘We must not act precipitately,’ advised the abbot. ‘I think it very unwise of Fidelma to have gone out alone.’ His voice held a tone of accusation in it.

‘Do you not think that I am accusing myself of folly in letting her go?’ Eadulf cried. ‘I should have insisted on going with her.’

Abbot Ségdae laid a hand on Eadulf’s shoulder.

‘
Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem
,’ he said kindly, advising Eadulf to keep calm in the difficulty.

‘We must act,’ Eadulf fretted. ‘I promised her that I would remain in the abbey so that I could summon help from a friend, if need be. But I don’t want to leave here without someone knowing what is happening.’

‘Let us wait until the sky has fully darkened, my son. Then you must do what you have to, but I will go to Bishop Leodegar and demand that he accompany me to Lady Beretrude’s villa.’

‘Every moment that passes I feel she is in danger,’ protested Eadulf in anguish.

‘Calmly, Brother. We will succeed with calmness,’ replied the abbot gently.

When Fidelma swam through the black mist that had engulfed her into consciousness, she found a young woman bending over her. There was a concerned look in her pale blue eyes. She had apparently been dabbing at Fidelma’s forehead with a damp cloth. Fidelma blinked and felt an ache on the back of her head. Her mouth was almost painfully dry. She tried to sit up and groaned immediately, feeling nauseous.

The young woman held out a cup and spoke in the local language. Fidelma could guess what she was saying and took a sip or two, resisting the urge to swallow mouthfuls. The water was cold and almost sweet. She closed her eyes in appreciation for a moment.

Glancing round, she found she was lying on straw in a corner of a gloomy, vault-like room. There was only one exit, a door approached by four broad stone steps. There was a small window at one side, high up in the wall, but outside it was dark. A few candles provided a flickering, shadowy light. Becoming conscious of murmurs and the higher-pitched tones of children, she tried to struggle up and the young woman bent forward to place an arm behind her shoulders to help her sit. She spoke again but Fidelma could not understand what she said.

‘Latin,’ Fidelma muttered. ‘Do you speak Latin?’

‘Of course,’ was the immediate reply. ‘I asked you how you felt?’

‘My mouth is dry and my head hurts.’

The cup was again placed against her lips. Fidelma took another swallow and then the cup was withdrawn. Fidelma whimpered and sank back on the straw.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Where am I?’

‘You were carried in here a few hours ago. I became worried when you did not recover quickly.’

Fidelma raised a hand to her head. It had been bandaged. The girl followed the motion.

‘I dressed your wound. It was bleeding, but the cut was superficial. There is a little swelling. I would rest awhile. How did it happen?’

‘I think someone hit me from behind. Where am I?’

The girl’s expression was serious as she said, ‘A cellar. I have been here a week, some of us as long as three weeks.’

‘You don’t know exactly where we are?’

‘The villa of Lady Beretrude in the city of Autun.’

Fidelma now turned her head slightly and saw there were about thirty or more women sitting around the room, and several children. They sat on piles of straw, or spoke together in whispers. Now and then one of the children demanded the attention of one or another of the women. There was no furniture, only a few jugs and cups in one corner, and a pile of blankets and straw. She realised that most of the women were dressed soberly in the manner of religieuse. Clarity of thought slowly returned to Fidelma.

‘You are dressed in local costume but you are a stranger to this place, aren’t you?’ said the young woman.

‘I am from the land you call Hibernia. I am Sister Fidelma.’

‘A religieuse from beyond the edge of the world.’ The woman who had nursed her held out the cup of water again. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘I am Sister Fidelma. It is a name of my country.’

‘And why are you clad in those clothes of the local country folk?’ She stared curiously at Fidelma’s clothing.

‘A long story,’ she replied. ‘Who are you?’

‘I am Valretrade,’ answered the young girl.

Fidelma’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Sister Valretrade…of the
Domus Femini
? The friend of Sigeric?’

It was now the girl’s turn to stare in surprise. ‘What do you know about me?’

‘I know Brother Sigeric,’ Fidelma said. ‘I was helping him try to find out what had happened to you.’

The girl breathed out sharply. ‘Sigeric? Is he well?’ Her voice was anxious.

‘He was well last time I saw him. He was frantic with anxiety though. What happened to you? The story that Abbess Audofleda put out was that you had decided to leave the abbey a week ago. You were supposed to have departed because you disagreed with the Rule and left a note to that effect.’

‘Audofleda? God’s perpetual curse on that one!’ Valretrade replaced the cup and examined Fidelma critically. ‘But you were not in the
Domus Femini
when I was there. Have you but recently come to Autun? Oh, you must have come for the Council.’

Fidelma moved herself into a more comfortable position. As briefly as possible, she told the girl the circumstances that had brought her to Autun and what she had found, how she had become involved with Brother Sigeric and his search for her. Valretrade said nothing until Fidelma came to the end of her narrative.

‘I fear the worst,’ the girl said at last.

‘Then perhaps you will explain what the worst is,’ replied Fidelma. The throb in her head was ebbing and her concentration on telling her story had gone some way to curing her headache.

‘We are all related to religieux and priests, and those are our children. In my case, I think I stumbled on something that I was not meant to see. We have all been forcibly removed from the
Domus Femini
, brought as captives and blindfold to this place.’

‘What did you see and how were you brought here?’

‘In recent weeks, I began to notice that some of the women of the community were disappearing.’

‘Did you enquire why?’

‘It was natural to ask why. I was told that they had decided to leave the abbey because they did not agree with the Rule.’

‘Who told you this? Abbess Audofleda?’

The girl shook her head. ‘Abbess Audofleda was too unapproachable. She would not directly address members of the community. It was Sister Radegund–she was the one who told us.’

‘And did you accept her explanation?’

‘Had it been one or two women leaving, then it would have been a feasible explanation. But then all the married women were leaving us and all in the same sudden manner, without warning. They were women whose husbands were still in the abbey. Then we heard from a visiting Sister that other married women, in other local communities, were also disappearing.’

‘So what did you do? You didn’t mention this to Sigeric at your secret meetings?’

‘What could I say to him?’ Valretrade shrugged. ‘I had no facts. No, I thought it better to see if I could obtain advice. I did not trust any of the local prelates, and wasn’t sure who to speak to–but then I met a woman from your country who was the wife of one of the delegates. I asked what person should I seek advice from. She was sympathetic even though I did not tell her all that I knew. She suggested I speak to an abbot from the north of your country.’

‘Abbot Dabhóc?’ Fidelma asked immediately.

‘The name sounds right. I am uncertain with these foreign names–your pardon, Fidelma.’

‘That’s all right,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘So when and how did you meet him?’

‘I was one of the few asked to look after the foreign women.’

Fidelma nodded. It confirmed what the abbess had said.

‘Go on.’

‘He was pointed out to me from a distance at the old amphitheatre. I had been told to show some of the foreign women around it–those women who had come with the delegates to the council. He had been speaking to another foreign man who was dressed in the robes of high office of the Church.’

‘Nuntius Peregrinus?’

‘I did not know his name. He had turned away from this abbot…’

‘So you spoke with him?’

‘I wondered afterwards if he really believed it when I said that women were disappearing from the abbey. To be honest, he was patronising and told me to go away and speak to my abbess about what he called “my fears”. It was then that I decided to talk it through with Sigeric.’

‘Go on.’

‘It was that evening that I arranged to see Sigeric. I signalled my intention by…’

‘Sigeric told me your method of contact. Had you told anyone else about this meeting?’

Valretrade shook her head.

‘Not even Sister Inginde, who shares your chamber with you?’

‘I made my signal to Sigeric by candlelight and, as she shared my chamber, she would have known that I was going to see him. But I told her nothing about the reason
why
I was going to see Sigeric that night. I told no one. Sigeric was late in acknowledging my signal. Thankfully, Sister Inginde was not in the chamber as I sat waiting for his answering signal. But then I saw his candle, we exchanged our signals, and I went to our meeting place at the prearranged time. Sigeric was not there, but a man and a woman were in his place. I came on them unexpectedly as they appeared to be hiding something in the sepulchre where we were to meet. They threatened me and I was gagged and bound. They brought me back through the
Domus Femini
to a side entrance where I was blindfolded and carried by the man, who was very strong, and conveyed here. As I say, I have been here about a week.’

Fidelma was grave.

‘At the very time that you went to keep your appointment, the Abbot Dabhóc was murdered. Sigeric was on his way to meet you when he saw the body and raised the alarm. By the time he was able to come to your meeting place, you had been taken away and perhaps that delay in his arrival might have saved his life. Who were the man and woman that you saw in the vault?’

‘They wore cowls over their heads but I could tell their sexes easily enough. At least I recognised one of them.’

‘Who was it?’ demanded Fidelma eagerly.

‘The stonemason, Brother Andica. He was the one who carried me here.’

Fidelma was slightly disappointed. ‘I am afraid he is dead.’

Sister Valretrade was shocked for a moment, and then she went on.
‘I did not recognise the woman. Perhaps it was Radegund. After all, she is Beretrude’s niece. And she is the only married one in the community who has complete freedom.’

It was a moment or two later when there came the sound of the scraping of bolts at the door. Everyone turned expectantly as it swung open. A thickset warrior entered and paused on the steps. He surveyed them all for a moment with a smirk on his bearded features. Then he spoke first in the local language and then in bad Latin.

‘It is your last night here. Tomorrow, before first light, you will be transported south.’

There arose an immediate chorus of protests from the women. The warrior called a sharp warning to quiet them.

‘Where are we being transported to?’ demanded one woman. ‘And why?’

‘To the slave markets to which your unChristian marriages and liaisons have condemned you.’

Several women cried out in anguish.

‘Under what law does it say our marriages are unChristian? By what right do you hold us prisoners?’ entreated another one of the women.

‘This is the law now.’ The warrior tapped his sword in a significant manner. ‘Resign yourselves to it. Be ready to commence your journey. You are being placed in good hands.’

Another figure appeared at his shoulder–a tall man, richly clad, swarthy but clean shaven. He was examining the women captives in speculation. Fidelma had no sooner looked at him than she turned her face and drew the hood over her hair. In the darkness of the cellar she hoped to avoid identification by this man. She herself had no difficulty in recognising Verbas of Peqini, the slave owner, with whom she had had the confrontation at Tara. She prayed that he had not seen her.

‘This merchant is your new master until you are disposed of,’ the warrior said. ‘Be obedient and you will be well treated. Create trouble and you will be punished.’

A woman, one of the older ones, had taken a pace towards him.

‘Shame on you! And shame on your mistress, Beretrude! We recognise you, warrior, and who you serve. We are freeborn women of this city. We have no masters. We freely entered the calling of the Faith and joined with
our husbands to work in its service. By what right do you do this heinous act…?’

Her words ended with a scream as the warrior moved down the few stone steps, raised his hand and struck her across the face, sending her spinning to the floor. A low, ominous sound came from the women and the man drew his sword.

‘Back, you whores!’ he snarled. ‘It is your choice whether you wish to leave here alive or dead. I will not speak to you again. You made the choice to have liaisons with male clerics and religious. Councils in many lands have now ordained that this is an affront to the Faith. All wives of the religious are to be rounded up and sold as slaves for the greater good of the Faith. That is your Fate. Accept it.’

Verbas of Peqini turned and left, although the warrior, still with his sword at the ready, backed slowly up the steps after the merchant–and then the door swung shut and was bolted behind him.

Many of the women, joined by the children, had burst into tears, uttering piteous cries of lamentation.

Valretrade turned to Fidelma. ‘Why did you not want that merchant to see you?’ she asked.

‘Verbas of Peqini? I encountered him some months ago in my own land, bested him in argument, managed to free one of his slaves and sent him without compensation from our kingdom. He would be delighted to see me again, for his last words to me were a promise of revenge. I believe, if he saw me, he would enjoy fulfilling his promise.’

‘Then he will doubtless have his revenge tomorrow. Once it is daylight and we leave this gloomy cellar, you will not be able to hide for ever, not with that red hair.’

Fidelma compressed her lips. ‘Then I must ensure that I am not here tomorrow.’

‘Escape?’ Sister Valretrade laughed without humour. ‘Do you think that I have not been looking for a means of escape during this last week?’

‘What happens when they take you for the ablutions?’ Fidelma asked. ‘What are the possibilities there?’

Valretrade looked wearied. ‘None, because there is a bucket in that corner which is what we have to use. They also bring us buckets of water
for our washing. I have not been allowed out in a week. The others have been in here since their incarceration.’

Fidelma was aghast. ‘This is inhuman.’

‘Not for slaves, it is not.’

Fidelma rose carefully to her feet, steadying herself on the arm of Valretrade.

‘Help me walk around the chamber to get my balance,’ she said.

A slow walk around convinced Fidelma that it was hopeless to even waste time contemplating the idea of trying to seek ways to escape from the cellar. However, the walk had helped to make her feel normal again. The ache in her head had eased and her confusion was gone.