The Council of the Cursed

Chapter Seventeen

After the events of the last few days it was actually pleasant to ride again on the wagon of Brother Budnouen and listen to his gossip as he guided his mule team south from Autun. The weather was pleasant; the sky blue with only a few fluffy white clouds seeming to hang unmoving high in the sky indicating there was no wind. The track moved through grassy fields dotted with grazing cattle and sheep. Before them was the dark edge of a forest. It seemed to stretch away in both directions towards the east and also to the west.

They had not left the city walls that far behind when they saw, beside the track, a stone cabin and a forge with smoke rising from the chimneystacks. They could hear the smack of iron on hot iron before they saw a man beating at a glowing bar on his anvil while a small boy was working the bellows at the fire. As the wagon trundled past, Brother Budnouen raised his hand in greeting.

‘Give you a good day, Clodomar,’ he called.

The smith thrust the iron bar back into the fire and rested his hammer.

‘You have not been by in many months, Brother Budnouen. Can you not stop for a cup of wine and an exchange of news?’ he called.

‘I am going to Lord Guntram’s fortress but will try to stop on the way back later,’ replied the Gaul.

The smith raised a hand in acknowledgement.

‘That was Clodomar the smith. He comes from a family of smiths. His brother has a forge in the city.’ Brother Budnouen jerked his thumb back to Autun. ‘Clodomar has chosen a good place to do business there, for many local farmers do not want to go into the confines of the city to get their work done.’

They continued on towards the forest. As they entered its canopy, it was like moving from bright sunshine into a dank gloom.

‘This seems a large forest. How far does it stretch?’ asked Eadulf, interested in his surroundings.

‘From this point one can ride south and east and west for many days. There are some large clearings, of course. Lord Guntram has his fortress at the head of a valley whose surrounding hills are partly denuded of trees which, in fact, were used to construct his fortress.’

‘How far is this place?’ asked Fidelma.

‘About five kilometres now, a straight run along the track. I have made the journey many times.’

‘So you know Lord Guntram well?’

Brother Budnouen laughed. ‘“Well” is not a word I would choose. How can a lowly transporter of goods come to know a mighty lord like Guntram, a descendant of the Burgund kings?’

‘It seems several folk claim to be descendants of these Burgund kings,’ commented Fidelma dryly. ‘Do you know what manner of person Guntram is? We have heard one or two stories of his youth and drinking.’

‘His excesses are whispered everywhere in Burgundia. He is certainly a young man overly fond of strong drink, of women, and of hunting. Beyond that, I think he cares little for anything else.’

‘Then he must be a disappointment to Lady Beretrude,’ commented Fidelma.

‘That he is.’

‘Does he interfere in religious life in Autun?’

Brother Budnouen grinned. ‘He wears religion like another person wears a coat. He can put it on and as easily remove it.’

‘He was staying in the abbey a week ago,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘I have heard Bishop Leodegar is somehow related to him,’ Brother Budnouen nodded.

‘Somehow? I thought Leodegar was a Frank.’

‘He is indeed. Leodegar’s father was called Bobilo, of high rank at the court of King Clotaire…’

‘King Clotaire? I thought the Frankish king was a young man,’ Eadulf intervened. ‘I am confused.’

‘I speak of the second king of that name who ruled the Franks some forty years ago. The current King Clotaire is the third of the name to be king here. It is said that Bobilo, Leodegar’s father, had a young Burgund cousin who is Lady Beretrude. I do not know what his exact relationship was, to be honest. I repeat the stories that are told. Both Leodegar’s parents were of high rank-that was Bobilo and his wife Sigrada. So Leodegar is connected with the ruling families both Frank and Burgund. That is why, before he was rewarded with being bishop here, he served Queen Bathild, the mother of the current King Clotaire, at the royal court.’

‘So this royal connection is what gives Bishop Leodegar his autocratic air,’ Eadulf reflected. ‘And gives us a reason for caution,’ he added softly for Fidelma’s ears only.

‘We are always cautious, Eadulf,’ she replied, before turning back to Brother Budnouen. ‘So you think that Guntram and his mother have a good relationship with Leodegar?’

‘I have heard so,’ the Gaul replied, ‘but, as I have also heard, Beretrude and Guntram’s relationship is wanting.’

‘In what way? Because of her son’s style?’

‘Lady Beretrude is ambitious but Guntram is indolent. As I say, he spends more time in hunting, or…’ Brother Budnouen cast an embarrassed look towards Fidelma. ‘Or certain divertissements. Good wine and ladies of easy virtue. I only tell you what is common knowledge,’ he added, almost defensively.

‘Sometimes common knowledge is mere speculation,’ pointed out Eadulf.

‘There is some truth in that, Brother Eadulf,’ agreed the Gaul. ‘However, in this matter it is the truth.’

They had come to the edge of a large area of grasslands that had been denuded of trees and stretched away up into a series of small hills.

‘Guntram’s fortress is at the head of a horseshoe valley that opens just beyond the shoulder of that hill,’ Brother Budnouen said, indicating before him with one hand.

They fell silent as the wagon moved slowly forward along the track. Hardly a moment passed before they were hailed and a young warrior on horseback came riding out from the cover of a hill to a point that intersected their route. Brother Budnouen evidently knew the man, and a few brief words of greeting were exchanged before the warrior waved them forward and then returned whence he had come.

‘Just one of the sentinels that Lord Guntram maintains on the route to his fortress,’ explained Brother Budnouen.

The wagon continued along the track, through the grasslands and towards the valley between the low-lying hills.

The fortress of the Lord Guntram was a curious construction made of stone and timber. High walls surrounded the buildings. Along the walls were tall turrets, presumably for sentinels. It seemed an alien construction to Fidelma. It was obvious that this type of building would never be found in her native land. It was of sharp rectangles rather than flowing curves and circles. Once inside, beyond the walls, they found a complex that surprised them. There was a large villa that compared easily to that of Lady Beretrude’s Roman construction. Obviously, it must have been built by the Romans and maintained over the centuries since it had first been constructed as well as being enclosed by the fortifications.

Lord Guntram believed in security for there were young warriors at the great wooden gates and one or two pacing the walkways along the walls. Brother Budnouen seemed well known, however, for cheery smiles and cries of greeting welcomed him. As they entered into the inner court of the villa, Brother Budnouen halted his wagon and a man came forward who apparently was the major domus of Guntram’s household.

‘Greetings, Brother Budnouen,’ the man said as the Gaul clambered down. ‘What goods do you bring us from Nebirnum this time?’

There followed a short and rapid conversation in the language of the Burgunds, but so quick were the words spoken that Eadulf admitted he lost track of what was being said, except that he and Fidelma were mentioned a few times. The major domus examined them keenly for they had both climbed down from the wagon and now stood hesitantly behind Brother Budnouen.

‘So you wish to speak with Lord Guntram?’ he asked after a pause, his voice low in heavily accented Latin.

Fidelma answered: ‘We do. Would you tell him that it concerns the events in the abbey at Autun?’

‘So I understand,’ the man replied with a slight nod towards Brother Budnouen. ‘Come with me.’

‘Once I have unloaded my wagon, I shall be waiting here for you to join me for the return journey to Autun,’ Brother Budnouen called as they followed the steward into the main building.

The stone-faced major domus told them to wait in an antechamber while he went in search of Lord Guntram. It was a room that filled them with some amazement after the hard stone confines of the abbey. The room was lined in pink stucco plaster displaying old frescos of scenes of satyrs, a man playing pipes and of young men sporting with girls. Although their colours were fading, the pictures were quite astonishing. There were chairs before a log fire but they had barely seated themselves when the major domus returned.

‘My lord Guntram bids you welcome and apologises for a little delay in being able to receive you. You are welcome to partake of some refreshment while you wait.’

‘Your pardon.’ Eadulf rose looking slightly embarrassed and anxious. ‘It has been a long trip on Brother Budnouen’s wagon. Would you mind if I used your necessarium?’

The major domus looked puzzled, apparently not knowing the word. Eadulf made gestures and resorted to his own language, using the word abort.

‘Ah,’ grunted the man. ‘Behind the stables to the left.’

The major domus left Fidelma with a beaker of apple wine and some dried fruit before leaving. Eadulf was gone some time and when he re-entered, he had no time to sit down before the man returned and beckoned them into the adjacent room.

A thin-featured young man was standing before a blazing log fire, even though the late summer day was moderately warm. In spite of the sharpness of his features, his blue eyes and curly black hair were handsome, or so Fidelma thought as she studied him. It was only Guntram’s jaw line and his red lips, as if he had squeezed red berry juice over them as was the custom with some of the well-born women of her own land, that displayed a certain weakness. One could see a resemblance to Lady Beretrude immediately, just as she had seen it in the features of Sister Radegund. Then she paused: surely she had seen similar features elsewhere? Beretrude, Radegund and now Guntram-but who else?

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 chair. 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!’