The Council of the Cursed (5 page)

As they passed through a square, the crack of a whip nearby caused Fidelma to start nervously and peer around. In a corner of the square, she spotted a small platform on which were huddled half a dozen tiny figures. They were difficult to see, as a number of people were crowded before the platform. A tall man stood behind the figures, holding a whip. He was shouting but Fidelma had no idea what he was saying. Then her eyes widened as she saw that they were children, and that each child wore an iron collar about his or her neck. She drew a quick breath in horror.

Brother Budnouen followed her gaze. ‘A slave auction,’ he explained nonchalantly. ‘There is quite a business done in the city. Many foreign merchants pass this way.’

‘It’s disgusting,’ Fidelma muttered.

Brother Budnouen looked amused. ‘What–slavery? How would the world function without slaves?’

‘Easily enough,’ she replied spiritedly.

The Gaul chuckled. ‘Come, do not try to tell me that your people have no slaves.’

‘Not in the sense you have them here,’ she replied.

‘In what sense then?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘We do have a class whom you could call non-free, the
fudir
,’ she admitted.

‘And how are they bought and sold?’

‘They are not commodities bought and sold for profit like sacks of flour. They are usually captives in battle or those criminals who have lost their rights to be part of the clan, the basis of our society. We call them
daer-fudir
–they have to serve the clan until they have atoned for their transgressions or done sufficient to gain freedom. They do not suffer the hopelessness of slaves that we see in other lands. The law of our land favours the eventual emancipation of the
fudir
class.’

Brother Budnouen sniffed in disbelief. ‘I have heard that some merchants of the Angles and Saxons sell children to the Irish as
servus
and what is that but a slave?’

‘It is true that there is slavery among my people,’ Eadulf intervened, ‘especially among poor people who will sell their children or some other relative to merchants to raise money. I have seen these same merchants selling them in the ports of Hibernia and I hope the fashion will cease, for the Irish take them in innocence, not because of wanting slaves but thinking they are helping to rehabilitate
dear-fudir
, for the very word
fudir
, as I have heard it, means a remnant or someone who is superfluous. It is true, my friend, that the concept of one person being able to own another, as one would a piece of cloth or a sword, is beyond comprehension to the Hibernians.’

Brother Budnouen pulled a face. ‘
De gustibus non est disputandum
,’ he shrugged, dismissing the argument. About tastes there is no disputing. ‘But the Faith accepts the institution of slavery. Slaves who flee from their masters are condemned and are refused Eucharistic communion. Scripture supports this. Does not Peter say, “Slaves, submit yourselves to your masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh”. To claim it is wrong to have slaves is heresy.’

Fidelma was angry. ‘Didn’t Paul of Tarsus tell the Corinthians: “If you can gain your freedom, do so…do not become slaves of human beings”.’

Brother Budnouen was enjoying the exchange.

‘In the text from Titus, does not scripture instruct us, “Teach slaves to be subject to their masters in everything, to try to please them, not to talk back to them, and not to steal from them, but to show that they can be fully trusted so that in every way they will make the teaching about God our Saviour attractive”? You seem to be preaching rebellion, Sister. We are here to spread the Faith, not to preach the overthrow of the system and of kings and emperors.’

‘I am not here to conduct a moral argument,’ snapped Fidelma.

‘
Quando hic sum, non ieiuno Sabbato–quando Romae sum, ieiuno Sabbato
,’ Eadulf quoted, watching her expression.

Fidelma pouted in annoyance. It was the thought of the Blessed Ambrose: when I am here, I do not fast on Saturday. When I am in Rome, I fast on Saturday. It was an admonition to obey local customs and not to try to impose your own.

Nevertheless, the slave market and the sight of children being sold left a bad taste in her mouth. They passed through the square with Fidelma trying to avert her gaze from the forlorn-looking children waiting to be purchased. The sights and smells of the city, the noise that arose on all sides as their wagon trundled along the narrow streets, suddenly depressed her.

‘Don’t worry,’ Brother Budnouen said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘Not all streets are like this. This is the main road of commerce. Once we leave this, there are quieter streets which lead up to the ecclesiastical quarters.’

Again he was right.

They turned out of the bedlam, still moving southward. Almost at once, even from the roadway, they could see the imposing structure of the abbey rising over the other buildings. Even the smells were less dominant here, for the houses appeared as more spacious villas, just as Fidelma remembered them in Rome. It was another world from the crowded hovels that were clustered around the gate by which they had entered.

‘Are all the entrances into the city as noisome?’ demanded Eadulf, apparently sharing the same idea.

Brother Budnouen shrugged. ‘The city gate areas are where trade is carried out. Where trade is done you have the most noise and waste,’ he pointed out philosophically.

They came into a large stone-flagged square, reasonably empty of people. On one side, the buildings of the abbey rose skywards. Close up they were ugly and forbidding, and Fidelma viewed them without enthusiasm. From afar they had looked impressive. Now the high walls seemed to intimidate the surrounding buildings, as well as the people passing under their shadows.

‘Well, this is the abbey of Autun and the end of our journey,’ the Gaul said, as he swung the wagon round towards a low gateway and halted the mule team before it. ‘That is where I deliver my goods. It is the entrance to the storehouses. But if you go across towards that building.’ he indicated with his hand, ‘you will find the office of the steward of the abbey. You may enquire there as to where you should go.’

Eadulf was already climbing thankfully down, removing the bags, before turning to help Fidelma alight.

‘We thank you for the journey, Brother,’ he said. ‘And the pleasantness of your company, as well as the knowledge and advice that you have imparted.’

Brother Budnouen responded with his almost perpetual smile.

‘I shall be in Autun for a week or so. Doubtless our paths will cross before I depart. Should you wish to journey back to Nebirnum with me, just ask the steward here and he will find me. I wish you luck in your stay, although you may not find the attitude of the religious here to your liking…’ He shrugged. ‘“What went you out into the wilderness for to see? A reed shaken with the wind…a man clothed in soft raiment?”’

‘We are well aware of scripture, my friend,’ Fidelma replied, without humour. ‘We have come to this country with no preconceptions. However, we are much indebted to you, Brother.’

Brother Budnouen raised a hand in parting and edged his cart closer through the large wagonway between the buildings. Eadulf, shouldering the bags, began to move off over the stone-paved square towards the door that the Gaul had indicated. Fidelma fell in step alongside.

‘I am not impressed,’ Eadulf remarked quietly to her, glancing round. ‘Preconception or no.’

She gave him an amused sideways look. ‘What–not impressed with one of the great cities of Christendom?’

He shook his head firmly. ‘Give me the mountains, rivers and forests any day in preference to the confines of a city. It is like a prison with walls all around. And these grey, grim heights…’ he indicated the abbey with a jerk of his head. ‘There is something forbidding about the place.’

‘The buildings are quite intimidating, I agree,’ Fidelma replied, glancing upwards. ‘I am not a city dweller. I also hate the idea of being confined. But we have to admit that such buildings have a curiously impressive quality of their own. So absorb the experience even if you cannot enjoy it. Now let us face the next ordeal…we must find out who has been killed here. Pray God it is not our old friend, Ségdae.’

They were some way off the steward’s office when the door opened and a religieux exited. Eadulf hailed him and asked if this was where the steward of the abbey was to be found.

The man examined him for a moment and then frowned at Fidelma.

‘Women go to the
Domus Femini
, the house of women,’ he said in accented and guttural Latin, pointing along the side of the building. ‘You are not welcome here.’

Eadulf stared at him in bewilderment. ‘This is the abbey of Autun, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘We seek the steward here.’

A scowl settled on the man’s dark features.

‘Women are not welcome here,’ he repeated. ‘Go!’

Fidelma’s lips thinned and her eyes grew dangerously bright.

‘We
demand
to see the steward! she said, her words slow and clear. ‘Where do we find him?’

The man was about to respond further when a familiar figure suddenly appeared in the doorway behind him. It was Abbot Ségdae. He looked grey and ill but he came swiftly towards them, hands outstretched in welcome.

‘Fidelma! Eadulf! Thank God you have come at last!’

‘It is good to see you well, Ségdae,’ Fidelma said warmly. The Abbot of Imleach had drawn them into the
anticum
, the antechamber of the abbey, but not before a sharp exchange with the religieux who had tried to prevent their entrance. The man finally shrugged and moved off. Now they were seated on wooden benches in a large hall with vaulted roof. There was no one else about.

‘It is a relief that you have arrived.’ The abbot was clearly in a state of agitation.

‘It is obvious something disturbs you, Ségdae,’ Fidelma observed.

‘We heard that an abbot of the five kingdoms had been killed,’ Eadulf went on. ‘We were at Nebirnum and hastened here. Who was it?’

‘Dabhóc, a kindly man who was attending here on behalf of the bishop of Ard Macha.’

‘I do not know him,’ Fidelma said.

‘He was abbot of Tulach Óc, in the northern kingdom.’

Fidelma shook her head, for the name and place meant nothing to her.

‘What happened, exactly?’ asked Eadulf. ‘Who killed him?’

Abbot Ségdae’s face remained drawn. ‘That is the precisely the problem which is being argued over. The body of Abbot Dabhóc was found in the chamber of Bishop Ordgar…’

‘Not Bishop Ordgar of Kent!’ Eadulf exclaimed.

‘You know him?’ Abbot Ségdae asked.

‘I have heard much of him. I know that Theodore, who was appointed archbishop at Canterbury, is kindly disposed towards him. He believes
firmly in the rules of Rome and has little sympathy towards the people or the churches of the west.’

‘Ordgar is here as Theodore’s representative,’ Abbot Ségdae said gloomily, ‘and I can vouch for his attitudes towards the representatives of the churches of the Britons. Alas, his manner is all too arrogant.’

‘So it was Ordgar who slew Dabhóc?’ interposed Fidelma.

‘That is what has not been decided. There is unquiet in this abbey and the council has not been able to meet in formal session yet. There has been nothing but rumour and whisperings during the last week.’

‘Was that why I was not welcome here?’ asked Fidelma. ‘That religieux who greeted us muttered something to that effect, and also something about my going to a
Domus Femini
. I do not understand.’

‘No,’ replied Abbot Ségdae. ‘The bishop was disinclined to admit you here because this abbey, alas, is not a
conhospitae
, a mixed house. There is a separate house for the females under an
abbatissa
. The males remain here under the bishop and abbot of this place. He is a Frank called Leodegar–an intelligent man, but of that party which believes in the segregation of the sexes and the idea of celibacy among those serving the New Faith.’

‘Then that makes our position awkward,’ Eadulf pointed out.

Abbot Ségdae was contrite. ‘I did not know that this situation prevailed here, otherwise I would not have requested that your brother, Colgú, send you here as my adviser.’

‘Are there no female delegates to this council?’ asked Fidelma. ‘No male delegates who have brought wives or female advisers?’

‘A few, but Leodegar has instructed that they cannot participate in the proceedings. He claims his authority is from the Bishop of Rome, Vitalian. Bishop Leodegar seems a complex person. He is given to strange moods. The women have been sent either to the
Domus Femini
or found accommodation in the city.’

Fidelma showed her irritation. ‘Then it seems that our long journey here has been a waste of time. We shall also seek some accommodation within the city. I presume that there are some inns or hostels here–or do Bishop Leodegar’s edicts run throughout the city?’

‘Wait, I have not explained fully,’ the abbot said rapidly. ‘Your journey here was no waste of time, I assure you. I have had a long talk with
Leodegar and he has been persuaded that his need of your special talent outweighs his rules and restrictions.’

‘How so?’ she asked, still put out.

‘Leodegar boasts his authority is from Vitalian in Rome–but he is also under pressure from Rome to make this council a success. Decisions need to be made on the future of the churches in the west. However, the killing of Abbot Dabhóc has caused things to come to a halt. No one knows what to do and the delegates may simply decide to return to their own lands with nothing achieved. Unless…’ He glanced at Fidelma and Eadulf and made an awkward gesture with his hand.

Fidelma did not change expression.

‘So, this Bishop Leodegar would like someone to investigate the circumstances of the murder?’ she asked coldly.

‘Exactly,’ the abbot replied.

There was a long silence while Fidelma examined Abbot Ségdae’s troubled features.

‘Well, it is not a decision Eadulf or I can make without brushing the dust from our sandals,’ she said at last. ‘It has been a long journey and we would like a room to rest in and somewhere to bathe, if such a thing is possible in this city. So that brings me back to the problem of where we can stay. I don’t suppose you have noticed a nearby inn?’

‘Forgive me.’ Abbot Ségdae was at once apologetic. ‘In my distraction, I neglected to tell you that I had long talks with Leodegar and told him who you were…who
both
of you were. I spoke of the reputation you have each garnered in the five kingdoms, even being known in Rome when you resolved the mystery of the death of the previous archbishop of Canterbury there. Leodegar was most impressed and desires your advice. In return he has agreed that you and Eadulf can have a chamber in the
hospitia
, the guestrooms of the abbey. He also agrees that you may have free movement within this abbey. Bishop Leodegar needs your talent…as do I.’

There was a long pause while Fidelma considered the matter.

‘Where is this
Domus Femini
, this house of women?’ she suddenly asked.

Abbot Ségdae pointed through a window behind him. ‘It adjoins the abbey. It is part of the same buildings but the doors and passages are sealed off and the entrance is separate. The abbess is one Audofleda, who is the superior of their order.’

‘So they have no connection with this abbey?’

‘The women do join the brethren in the chapel for the morning and evening prayers. They come to the chapel here but are seated in a separate area, behind wooden screens, so there is no communication between the sexes.’

‘Is this separation the decision of all the religious? I have not come across such extremes before.’

‘I think it was the Rule imposed by Bishop Leodegar. He is one of the group that is pressing Rome to declare that no one entering the religious should be married because they say worldly distractions prevent them from doing the work of God.’

Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘And they seek to enforce their views on others. It is a wonder this Bishop Leodegar has allowed Eadulf and myself into this place at all.’

Abbot Ségdae grinned ruefully. ‘Above all else, Bishop Leodegar is a wily politician. He saw immediately the advantage of having a renowned advocate from Abbot Dabhóc’s own land conducting an investigation in the company of someone who is from the land of Bishop Ordgar.’

Eadulf whistled softly.

‘A means to show an unbiased judgement, eh? I hope the good bishop has not already proceeded to judgement and merely wants us to endorse it.’

‘We must also wait until the outcome of this matter before according motives to Bishop Leodegar that he may or may not possess,’ replied Abbot Ségdae in slight rebuke.

‘But the warning is well taken,’ asserted Fidelma. ‘We will watch the proceedings of Bishop Leodegar very carefully.’

‘Will you undertake the task?’ Abbot Ségdae prompted dolefully as a silence fell. ‘The murder weighs heavily upon me, Fidelma. Dabhóc was one of our own.’

‘As Fidelma has said, we cannot answer until we have bathed and rested,’ Eadulf replied firmly. ‘Then we would have to discuss the matter both
with you and Bishop Leodegar. So we will accept the hospitality of this abbey
pro tempore
until we decide.’

Abbot Ségdae suddenly looked hopeful. They had been speaking in the language of the five kingdoms as their common tongue, but now he looked up and called in Latin across the
anticum
to where a religieux was crossing the stone-flagged floor.

‘Brother Chilperic!’

The man came towards them with a puzzled look on his handsome features as he saw Fidelma. He had fair hair, blue eyes and was about their own age.

‘This is Bishop Leodegar’s steward, Brother Chilperic.’ The abbot made the introductions. On learning their names, Brother Chilperic was politeness itself to Fidelma.

‘Forgive any surprise, Sister, but the abbot has probably explained that we have certain rules stating that women are not allowed here. However, I am told they have been put in abeyance so far as you are concerned. The bishop has been awaiting your arrival with some impatience. Chambers have been set aside for you in our
hospitia
and you have only to tell me any other requirement you may have.’ He turned to Abbot Ségdae. ‘Bishop Leodegar will obviously want to be informed of the arrival of your compatriots. Would you do so while I conduct them to their quarters?’ Receiving assent, he turned back to Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘Come with me.’

They followed him, having made an arrangement to meet with the abbot after they had rested.

Brother Chilperic led them up several flights of wooden stairs. The abbey seemed as cold and grey on the inside as it had appeared on the outside. But now and then, through the windows they passed, they caught the sunlit vista of green fields and forests and the winding blue strip of the river. They had obviously been taken to the side of the abbey that overlooked the southern walls of the city, on the opposite side to the sprawl of the city itself. Fidelma estimated that the rooms of the
hospitia
must be on the third level of the abbey–a fact confirmed by the steward. He showed them to a comfortable chamber with walls clad in yew and polished birchwood. It was spacious and there was even an adjoining room prepared for ablutions and toilet requisites.

Brother Chilperic caught Fidelma glancing around with an air of appreciative surprise.

‘This chamber was originally set aside for visiting nobles; kings have stayed here, such as the noble Dagobert and Judicael of Domnonia,’ he said.

Fidelma bowed her head. ‘Then we are truly honoured, Brother Chilperic. We did not expect such comfort.’

‘It is you who honour our abbey, for I am told you are sister to the king of your own land. I shall order water to be heated and some food to be brought to you, and if there is anything else that you require…’

‘Then we shall ask,’ Fidelma finished solemnly.

When the door closed, she turned to Eadulf and grinned. ‘Well, things seem to have improved slightly.’

‘Why is it that I get the feeling that our hosts are a little over-indulgent to us?’ he replied. ‘Altering the Rule of the abbey, providing us with a chamber and service better suited to a king…Can it be that there is something more that they are not telling us about the death of Abbot Dabhóc?’

‘It is no use thinking about that until we have seen Ségdae again and Bishop Leodegar,’ reproved Fidelma. ‘Now, who shall bathe first?’ she asked brightly, knowing that Eadulf had never really taken to the Irish custom of a full body wash once a day.

Some time later, when the eastern sky grew dark, Fidelma and Eadulf were seated in Abbot Ségdae’s chamber, which was but a short distance along the same corridor. One of several set aside for the delegates to the council, it was nowhere near so well presented as their own chamber. It was sparsely furnished and with an economy in fittings, which doubtless meant that the religious visitors to the abbey were expected to share the same frugality of life as the brethren. By comparison, they were being treated as royal guests and Fidelma presumed that Abbot Ségdae had emphasised her status as sister to the King of Cashel. Ordinarily, she would have objected, but had decided to withhold her condemnation until she observed whether such emphasis was help or hindrance.

‘Perhaps you should tell us first of the facts relating to this death?’
Fidelma invited, relaxing back in her chair and feeling more comfortable after her bath.

‘As I have told you,’ began the abbot, ‘a week ago, Dabhóc was found with his skull smashed on the floor of Bishop Ordgar’s chamber here. Lying unconscious by his side, having received a blow to his head, was Abbot Cadfan from the kingdom of Gwynedd. Also in the chamber was Ordgar himself, who seemed in a semi-conscious state.’

‘A semi-conscious state?’ interrupted Eadulf. ‘What does that mean?’

‘He claimed he was drugged.’

‘And what did Cadfan and Ordgar say about this situation?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Ordgar claimed that he had no knowledge at all of what had taken place. He said that he had drunk wine last thing at night, as was his custom, and fell into a dreamless sleep. He now claims his drink was drugged. The physician confirmed Ordgar’s condition. At least, his condition fitted the facts that he claimed.’

‘And Cadfan?’

‘Cadfan says that a note–which he no longer has, incidentally–summoned him to Bishop Ordgar’s chamber on urgent business.’

‘When was this scene uncovered–the finding of the body of Dabhóc?’

‘Well after midnight but certainly before dawn,’ Abbot Ségdae replied.

‘So when was this note delivered to Cadfan?’

‘He says he was awoken in his chamber by a knock and the note placed under the door. He went to Ordgar’s chamber, knocked and a voice bade him enter. He did so–and immediately received a blow to the head. He knew nothing else until he came to, having been carried unconscious back to his own chamber. He swears that he saw neither Dabhóc’s body nor Ordgar. When he entered the chamber it was in darkness.’

‘A curious tale,’ Fidelma observed.

Abbot Ségdae nodded glumly. ‘And one which will end this council, unless it is explained. There is already much friction here. At the opening of the council last week, Ordgar and Cadfan came to physical blows.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

‘That was on the evening just before the murder,’ confirmed the abbot.