The Council of the Cursed

Chapter Twenty

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 Fidelma took another swallow and then the cup was withdrawn.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.

‘Perhaps there will be a chance on the journey,’ suggested her new companion.

‘Every moment it is daylight there is a chance Verbas will recognise me,’ replied Fidelma. Her mind was working rapidly. ‘From Beretrude’s villa, he will probably want to transport us through the streets of the city before daylight,’ she said, thinking aloud. ‘That is why they have ordered us to be ready to leave before dawn. It may mean that they do not want anyone in the city knowing what they are doing. That might be a weakness that we can exploit.’

Valretrade was looking at her in puzzlement. ‘What weakness?’

Fidelma glanced around at the others. One or two of the women were looking at them with curiosity.

‘Keep your voice low, Valretrade, for we need to discuss this between ourselves before we can involve anyone else.’

‘Very well,’ whispered the girl. ‘What weakness?’

‘Consider. What would be their intention? To take us to the river and transport us from there? If so, there are two possibilities. They may pile us into a wagon or they may force us to walk through the city streets. Escape from the wagon would be difficult, but if we are on foot there might well be a chance.’

Valretrade was not convinced.

‘They will probably bind us together-perhaps use manacles,’ she said. ‘I have seen it done in the slave markets.’

‘If they want us to walk, they will not bind our legs,’ Fidelma asserted. ‘The narrow streets of the city in the darkness before dawn…it would be our only chance…How well do you know this area of the city?’

‘I know it well,’ replied Valretrade. ‘I was born and grew up here. But even if there was a possibility of escape-what then? Where would we go? Certainly not back to the abbey, for how would one know friend from foe?’

‘I have friends at the abbey who will help. There is also Brother Sigeric. But first things first. Let us think about escape, before we think of where to escape to.’

‘If it is of any help, I have a sister who still lives close by and I am sure, if we can reach her house, she will shelter us until we can contact your friends. Her husband is a local blacksmith.’

Fidelma nodded absently. ‘Much will depend on the route we take. Verbas of Peqini comes from the east. I suspect he will want to go south to the Mediterranean Sea.’

‘Then the journey will be a long one. Most merchants travel by boat. I am sure we will be taken to the river.’

‘Do the rivers go right through this land?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I thought they rose on mountains in the centre?’

‘We would go along the Liger, which means a journey against the flow of the river. Mules usually pull boats as far south as a town called Rod-Onna-a Gaulish name. The Liger is navigable south to this trading centre. After that, there are narrow gorges and the river winds up at its source on the Massif Central. No large boat can navigate it.’

‘And is that near to the southern sea?’

Valretrade shook her head. ‘No, but from there some tributaries and waterways can be crossed from the Liger to a city called Lugdunum.’

‘And from Lugdunum?’

‘There is a great river called Rhodanus that runs from it and, going with the tide, a boat can reach the open sea within days.’

‘Rhodanus?’ Fidelma smiled. ‘That is a good omen for it means Great Danu. Danus was the mother of all the pagan gods of our land.’

Valretrade said nothing, waiting as she saw Fidelma had relapsed into thought.

‘Once out to the southern sea, we shall be lost,’ Fidelma finally said. ‘It seems that the weakest part of the journey is leaving this city to get to the Liger.’

‘The river that runs by this city joins the Liger at a point further upstream to Nebirnum. I think this man Verbas will want to avoid Nebirnum, since Bishop Arigius there has long campaigned to stop traffic in slaves along the river. Of course, Verbas may use wagons to transport us to the Liger.’

‘Then we must seize any opportunity to escape before we leave this city,’ Fidelma announced firmly. ‘So let us get some rest for we will need our strength later tonight.’

Bishop Leodegar gazed from Brother Eadulf to Abbot Ségdae, a look of disapproval on his face. He had not been pleased when Ségdae and Eadulf had come disturbing him with the news that Fidelma was missing. Nor was he pleased that the abbot was supporting Eadulf in the demand that he confront no less a person than the Lady Beretrude.

‘I would weigh your words carefully, Brother Eadulf, when you affront the reputation of a noble lady. And as for you, Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, you should consider what support you give to the insinuations and demands of this Saxon.’

Abbot Ségdae reached out a hand to grasp Eadulf’s arm and hold him back as he moved impulsively towards the bishop. The bishop’s steward, Brother Chilperic, also took a step forward as if to intercept Eadulf, should he threaten the bishop.

‘Bishop Leodegar!’ Abbot Ségdae’s voice sounded like the crack of a horsewhip. ‘It is quite clear what Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham is asking of you. I see no need for me to reconsider my support of him. Fidelma, who is the sister to King Colgú, ruler of my own land, went out with the declared intention of visiting the Lady Beretrude, whom she suspects of some involvement in the matters which she is investigating on your behalf. It is now after midnight and she has not returned. Let me say, Bishop Leodegar, that Fidelma is not only dear to her husband, Eadulf, but to her friends as well as to her brother, the King. It might be construed as an unfriendly act to all Hibernia, should this matter be ignored.’

Bishop Leodegar stared at the abbot in surprise. He was not used to such challenges to his authority.

‘That sounds very much like a threat, Ségdae of Imleach.’ His voice was tight and angry.

‘It was not intended as such, only as a warning of what feeling might be aroused if the matter is ignored. All we are asking is that we proceed forthwith to the villa of the Lady Beretrude and discover what has happened to Fidelma.’

The bishop’s jaw was thrust out aggressively.

‘You are aware of who Lady Beretrude is? She is of the line of Gundahar of the Burgunds. It may be that her indolent son, Guntram, besports himself with drink, hunting and women, but it is Beretrude who is the ruler of this land.’ Bishop Leodegar let out an angry breath. ‘You expect me to march to her villa and accuse her…accuse her of what? Do you think that I am mad, that I would make such an enemy here?’

Eadulf was tight lipped. ‘So, you would rather be a coward than champion truth and justice?’

Bishop Leodegar’s steward again moved threateningly towards him.

‘Brother Chilperic!’ The bishop waved his hand to motion the steward back to his side. ‘Come, let us have no more of threats. We are too old and should be too sensible to come to such a misunderstanding. You must appreciate that what you are suggesting is offensive to the dignity of the rulers of this land.’

‘So you will do nothing? Am I to tell the King of Cashel that you did nothing to protect his sister?’ demanded the abbot.

Bishop Leodegar sighed. ‘I will send my steward to Lady Beretrude’s villa and ask if Sister Fidelma is there or has called there. That is all I can do.’

Abbot Ségdae glanced at Eadulf and his look admitted defeat.

‘And if, as I suspect, the reply is in the negative?’

The bishop shrugged. ‘Autun is a big city. It is unwise for a foreign woman to have wandered its streets alone at night, for there any many thieves and robbers.’