The Council of the Cursed

Chapter Twenty-two

It was just after dawn that Fidelma, with Valretrade at her side and flanked by Abbot Ségdae and the remaining Hibernian delegates, entered the abbey’s chapel. There were glances ranging from astonishment to outrage among the brethren as they marched to the front of the chapel and sat down. The murmuring of protest grew loud but they ignored it. A similar disturbance was heard beyond the wooden screens that separated Abbess Audofleda and the members of her community. It was obvious that no one in the chapel was unaware of their presence. Fidelma had a momentary thought as to what would be going through Abbess Audofleda’s mind and that of Sister Radegund at seeing Valretrade at her side. She knew that she would not have long to wait to find out.

Bishop Leodegar and Brother Chilperic now entered to perform the first service of the day. As the bishop turned to the altar to invoke the ritual of the first prayer, he seemed oblivious to the atmosphere. However, he eventually became aware of the commotion and turned with an angry frown towards the congregation. As he did so, a harsh voice cried from the women’s section: ‘I protest!’

Abbess Audofleda had risen so that she could be seen beyond the separating screen. One arm was flung out towards Fidelma and Valretrade.

Bishop Leodegar followed her pointing finger to where Fidelma was sitting. His jaw slackened. His eyes turned to Valretrade sitting next to her.

‘What is this?’ he demanded. ‘Where have you appeared from, Fidelma of Cashel? I was told that you had disappeared, and Brother Eadulf and Abbot Ségdae were protesting that you had been abducted. And what is that other woman doing here among the brethren when-’

‘Those women mock the Rule of this abbey, profane this very holy chapel by their presence in the area designated for the brethren!’ Abbess Audofleda interrupted.

Bishop Leodegar was plainly in a state of bewilderment.

‘Explain yourself, Sister Fidelma. You have disappeared and now you reappear-and with a woman seated by you when you know that, while I gave dispensation for you, this abbey is segregated and that no other female has any right to be here.’

‘I will explain.’ Fidelma put a reassuring hand on Valetrade’s shoulder. ‘I was prepared to allow the morning prayers to finish before announcing our presence, but since you prefer the explanations now, so be it. I have come, and with witnesses, to resolve the mystery of what has been taking place here. And I claim your authority, Bishop Leodegar, to do so.’

‘I cannot allow-’ the bishop spluttered.

Abbot Ségdae rose at once.

‘As senior delegate from Hibernia, I bear witness to your commission to Fidelma of Cashel and to Brother Eadulf to investigate and present her conclusions as to who is guilty of the murder of Abbot Dabhóc.’

He had been joined by the languid figure of the Nuntius Peregrinus who was standing next to his grim-faced custodes, his constant shadow.

‘As envoy from the Holy Father in Rome, I remind you, Bishop Leodegar, that this was your commission,’ he said. ‘I bring with me Bishop Ordgar of Kent and Abbot Cadfan of Gwynedd who are each as anxious as you are to hear Sister Fidelma’s words. I submit that you are in error in saying that you cannot allow this.’

Bishop Leodegar hesitated, clearly in a quandary as to what he should do.

‘We, too, are anxious to hear what resolution Fidelma of Cashel has to offer,’ cried one of the delegates, Abbot Herenal of Bro Erech. Several others now cried out in agreement.

Brother Chilperic moved forward and whispered into Leodegar’s ear. The bishop’s face grew long. Before he could speak, Abbess Audofleda was interrupting again.

‘I claim Fidelma is a conspirator sent to disrupt our morning worship!’

‘That is a silly claim designed to stop the truth being heard. By what right does she claim that?’ Fidelma asked.

Another woman had taken her place beside Abbess Audofleda so that her head could also be seen above the screen partition.

‘Her right is my authority!’ the woman cried, then flung off the hood of her robe. There was a gasp as most of the assembly recognised Lady Beretrude.

Bishop Leodegar was even more startled at her appearance.

‘Lady Beretrude,’ he swallowed, ‘these are matters for ecclesiastical authority. While your intervention is appreciated, you cannot…’

‘Cannot?’ The voice was threatening. ‘You know my authority in this city and in this land of Burgundia, Leodegar. If it is not acknowledged, then I will have to demonstrate it.’ She clapped her hands twice.

A dozen men clad in the robes of the brethren, who had been standing around the edge of the chapel, moved forward now and cast them off. Each one was a warrior; each one held a sword in his hand. There was momentary chaos.

Fidelma looked to the anxious Abbot Ségdae and smiled briefly in reassurance. The interruption was no more than she had expected.

‘Some friends will be with us soon. Do not fear,’ she whispered.

‘Now, Bishop Leodegar, will you obey my authority?’ demanded Lady Beretrude loudly.

‘No, but you will answer to mine, Beretrude!’ came a cold male voice.

The young King Clotaire, with Ebroin, Eadulf and Sigeric behind him, was walking slowly down the aisle towards the high altar. Behind them, appearing rather sheepishly, walked the young Lord Guntram with two of Clotaire’s warriors. Bishop Leodegar and Brother Chilperic had become like statues, shocked into immobility with the rapidity of events beyond their control.

Fidelma glanced quickly around. Clotaire’s men who, as if by magic, seemed to pour out of the dim recesses of the chapel with weapons at the ready, had already disarmed the dozen warriors of Beretrude. Only a couple of the warriors had resisted and their lifeless bodies lay sprawled on the floor of the chapel. The uproar was deafening among the community but Ebroin had moved forward. He held up a staff of office that he thumped forcefully on the stone floor.

‘Silence!’ he called in a stentorian voice. ‘Silence and recognise your imperator, Clotaire, the third of his name to govern the house of the Merovingian. Hail Clotaire! Hail our rightful King!’

The effect was to gradually still the assembly.

Ebroin signalled to his men to secure all the exits from the chapel. He then turned to Bishop Leodegar with an expression of satisfaction.

‘With your permission, we will remove those screens that separate the women of this congregation so that they are not hidden from us. I am sure Lady Beretrude is anxious to join in this community?’

Without waiting for Leodegar’s assent, he gestured to a couple of his warriors who quickly removed the folding wooden screens that separated the women’s section from the rest of the community in the chapel. There was some nervous murmuring while this was being done. Fidelma saw that Beretrude was still standing, her face white and her features a mask of outrage. Abbess Audofleda was standing with head bowed beside her.

Clotaire took his place before the high altar and stood with folded arms gazing thoughtfully at the congregation. Gradually everyone fell into an expectant silence. Then he turned and glanced at Bishop Leodegar.

‘A chair would be welcome, Bishop. There is much to be heard here and I have been on my feet these several hours.’

Brother Chilperic immediately fetched a chair and hurriedly placed it before the altar facing the congregation, for the King to be seated.

‘We will keep to Latin as our lingua franca in this matter as it is, indeed, the common tongue between all who are gathered in this place,’ he announced. ‘Fidelma of Cashel, are you prepared to elucidate?’

Fidelma moved forward and turned to face the congregation, having bowed her head to Clotaire. ‘Imperator, I am ready,’ she replied. She murmured to Eadulf who stood near by, ‘Well done. You see, fortune has favoured the daring.’

‘Do you not have another saying-that time is a good historian?’ Eadulf responded pessimistically.

Fidelma then murmured to Brother Sigeric, who stood by Eadulf’s side, ‘Sigeric, you may join Valretrade.’

The young man hurried to take his place beside Valretrade; the joining of their hands and joyous expressions told of their emotions.

‘You may proceed, Fidelma,’ Clotaire invited. ‘We are ready.’

Fidelma was used to estimating a correct dramatic pause before commencing. She had learned the trick during the years that she had presented cases before the great Brehons of the five kingdoms. Now she stood, head slightly bowed and silent until the last ripples of noise died away in the abbey. She began softly, and slowly allowed her voice to gain power.

‘I came to this place to attend a council at the behest of the abbot and chief bishop of my brother’s kingdom which is that of Muman, one of the five kingdoms of the land you know as Hibernia. My role was to advise Abbot Ségdae in the law of Hibernia that might affect matters discussed in this council. I came in the company of my husband, Brother Eadulf, who is well known among my people as he is also a gerefa…’

She paused a moment.

‘When we came here, it was through the intercession of Abbot Ségdae, as the senior surviving delegate from Hibernia, that Bishop Leodegar requested us to undertake an investigation over a death that occurred here. Abbot Dabhóc had been bludgeoned to death in the chamber of the Saxon Bishop Ordgar of Canterbury while both Ordgar and Abbot Cadfan of Gwynedd were in the same chamber. It seemed a simple enough task. We were supposed to decide which of the two-Ordgar or Cadfan-was guilty of this crime. Yet simplicity is often deceptive. So it was in this case.’

‘It is still a simple decision,’ muttered Bishop Leodegar loudly. ‘One of the two is guilty. Vel caeco appareat!’

The remark brought forth an irritated gesture from Clotaire and the bishop fell silent.

Fidelma allowed herself a grim smile.

‘Bishop Leodegar says it would be apparent even to a blind man. Praise God that I do not have any affliction and can use all of my senses. Some people here have all their senses but cannot use them.’ There was a chuckle from some of the brethren. ‘However, let the twine of truth begin to unwind. It became obvious that there were other matters of concern in this place that might or might not have been part of this apparently simple murder. There were, in fact, three matters that in some way were linked together.’

Lady Beretrude had recovered some of her poise.

‘Majesty, I must be heard,’ she called out. ‘I came here because I had heard that this woman might try to accuse the good Sisters of the abbey and others-even me-with claims of wrongdoing. I speak for the Burgunds of this province. My role here is to represent the law of our people. This woman is not of our people. She has no status in law among us. She cannot be allowed to make judgements that condemn any one of us. She is a foreigner in our midst without rank or position.’

Clotaire stared bleakly back.

‘The last I heard, Beretrude of the Burgunds, was that your son Guntram, who now stands beside me, was the lord of this province, ruling under my authority with the law of the Franks. Whose law do you claim to represent?’

Guntram shuffled uneasily at the side of the King.

‘Be silent, Mother,’ he muttered uneasily, as if embarrassed. ‘Sister Fidelma speaks with the authority of the King and…and under my authority as lord of the Burgunds.’

‘So now your protest is answered, lady,’ Clotaire added sharply, ‘Obey your lord and your King.’

Lady Beretrude’s mouth closed in a thin line, her face suddenly red with mortification.

Fidelma waited until there was a silence again.

‘I am aware that I can only point things out. I cannot say whether these matters transgress your laws. I know that they would transgress the laws of my own land but then each people have their own laws and their own customs. I must leave it to those who are in charge of the law of this land to consider what I say and, if they feel it incumbent upon themselves, to enact that justice which is their own.’

There was a murmur of some approval from the brethren of the abbey.

Clotaire waved a hand towards her.

‘This is well understood, Fidelma of Cashel. Proceed. You said that there were three matters that needed to be dealt with.’

‘Let me start with the one matter of which there is ample proof. A matter with several witnesses to testify that I speak the truth. It is the matter of slavery.’

Bishop Leodegar leaned forward immediately. ‘There is no law forbidding slavery in our land, nor the buying and selling of slaves.’

Fidelma turned to him. ‘Of that I have become painfully aware. I find it a detestable thing, as do my people. Yet I acknowledge it exists in other cultures. I do not argue that it is legal under your law and customs. However, I think that even under the laws you have in this land, the idea of abducting the freeborn and selling them into slavery is a questionable practice. I was kidnapped but two days ago and was about to be sold into slavery…’

This time it was Abbess Audofleda who interrupted.

‘Freeborn you might have been, but you are a foreigner and that negates such law. If you were abducted by slave traders, then bring them before us.’

‘You are right to make that distinction between freeborn and foreigners,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘However, many freeborn Burgunds and Franks, members of your own community, have been abducted from your care and were being sold into slavery. You demand that the slave traders should be brought here. They are here already.’

‘A lie! A lie!’ cried Sister Radegund, coming forward to the abbess’s side, her voice rising above the hubbub that had broken out.

‘It is no lie, and there stands Sister Valretrade who was one of the freeborn women of this city, who served in your community, who was betrayed and abducted. She shared my peril in our escape from Beretrude’s villa.’

Clotaire was regarding the abbatissa grimly.

‘Before you call it a lie, Abbess Audofleda, let me also tell you that some of my warriors encountered a barge on the Aturavos yesterday evening. There were thirty religieuse mainly from your abbey and their children being transported under the care of a merchant called Verbas of Peqini. They were all manacled and, had their journey continued, they would have been taken to the southern seaports to be sold in the slave markets. Sadly, for Vebras of Peqini, he and his men tried to dispute with the authority of my warriors. They are all dead but I am pleased to say that the women and their children have been escorted back to Autun where they stand ready to give an account of their capture and imprisonment.’

Abbess Audofleda was shaking her head in apparent bewilderment.

‘I don’t understand. These women all left of their own free will,’ she protested feebly.

‘It is true,’ declared Sister Radegund defensively. ‘You cannot blame the abbess for what happened to these women after they left the protection of the abbey.’

‘Oh, but they were taken captive within the abbey,’ stated Fidelma. ‘And they will doubtless tell you so if it is necessary for them to give testimony.’

‘But it is impossible!’ gasped Sister Radegund, looking at Abbess Audofleda who was white faced and shocked, as though she could not believe what she was hearing.

‘Explain to your niece and her abbess how it is possible, Beretrude.’ Fidelma’s voice cut like ice across the gathering.

‘Slavery is not illegal!’ snapped Lady Beretrude, raising her head defiantly.

‘You claim that you have a right to take women and children captive and sell them?’

‘I am-’

‘We know who you are, Beretrude, and now we know what you are,’ snapped back Fidelma. ‘You have arranged this trade in slaves with Verbas of Peqini.’

‘I do not deny it. It is not against the law.’

‘I shall be the judge of that,’ interrupted Clotaire in a heavy voice.

‘How long have you known Verbas of Peqini?’ went on Fidelma.

‘He came as a trader to Nebirnum several weeks ago. He was going south to rejoin his ship to sail for eastern ports. I was in Nebirnum and persuaded him to return here to Autun to trade.’

‘To trade in slaves that you could supply him with. You had in mind the married women and children who were in the Domus Femini. Since Bishop Leodegar had segregated the abbey and forced those married religious to separate, to divorce their wives and reject their children, you felt that they would have no protection from the Church if they were abducted and sold. You knew that Abbess Audofleda, with her attitudes, would not protect them.’

Lady Beretrude was silent but she made no denial. It was Abbess Audofleda who protested once more.

‘I am innocent of this,’ she said again. ‘I did not know the women and their children had been abducted.’

‘Nor I, nor I,’ wailed Sister Radegund. ‘They left notes, they quitted the community in the night.’

‘But you were pleased to be rid of them and did not question where they had gone nor why,’ Fidelma said harshly. ‘You, Abbess Audofleda, had the responsibility for their well-being. They were all freeborn.’

‘I serve in the abbey under Bishop Leodegar,’ replied the abbess, desperately trying to shift the blame. ‘His is the ultimate authority.’

‘I declare that I had no knowledge of what was happening in the Domus Femini,’ Bishop Leodegar stated. ‘Anyway, I do not see that any crime has been committed here. Even if these women and their offspring were seized to be sold as slaves, their union with the religious is against our Rule and the communities of this abbey have accepted this. Their removal from the female community could be seen as a worthwhile work. It was a…a cleansing of the abbey.’

Fidelma glared at him, her face tight with anger.

Clotaire saw the muscles around her mouth working and intervened before she could speak, saying in a quiet tone: ‘Remember that it is not your place to utter judgement on the matter nor speak of morals to the bishop, Fidelma of Cashel. We will accept that the women were abducted from the Domus Femini and that it was Beretrude who entered into an agreement with Verbas of Peqini in this trade. The crime seems to lie in the fact that they were freeborn. I will also bear in mind, when it comes to the judgements that I shall give, that you, a distinguished guest, were also abducted.’

‘I am innocent of having knowledge or conspiring in this matter!’ wailed Abbess Audofleda.

Fidelma glanced at her without pity.

‘As a matter of fact, I believe you,’ she replied, to the surprise of everyone. ‘I even believe that Sister Radegund was not privy to the plot of her aunt. But I shall come to that matter in a moment.’

‘Indeed!’ snapped Bishop Leodegar. ‘This is time wasted on a matter unrelated to the killing of Abbot Dabhóc. It was that matter, and that matter only, which Sister Fidelma was supposed to investigate. Surely, Sire,’ he turned to Clotaire, ‘there is a limit to our patience?’

‘I will say when my patience is ended, Leodegar,’ replied the young King.

Fidelma ignored the intervention.

‘I thought I had made it clear that these matters were related?’ she said coldly. ‘And if the selling of the religieuse and their children, freeborn or not, as slaves is not a crime according to the laws of this land, then we will come to the reason why Beretrude was raising money by the selling of slaves. That reason was not merely for personal gain.’

Beretrude raised her head suddenly; the whiteness and strain in her features seemed to increase. There was utter silence now in the chapel. Clotaire bent eagerly forward in his chair, watching Fidelma expectantly while Ebroin had taken a step forward as if in anticipation.

‘Beretrude was raising money for an insurrection; a rising of the Burgunds against Clotaire and his Franks.’

There was an audible gasp. It echoed through the chapel.

Two of Clotaire’s warriors moved closer to Lord Guntram, hands on the hilts of their swords. The young Guntram was staring at his mother, his blue eyes wide, his mouth working but no sound would come.

‘Do you, Guntram, aspire to lead this revolt?’ breathed Ebroin. ‘The Burgunds would never follow a woman.’

‘It’s a lie!’ The cry was wrenched from the young man’s throat as Clotaire turned an accusing gaze upon him. ‘I have never conspired in such a plot! I swear it.’

‘Clotaire,’ Fidelma called, ‘Guntram is as you see him. A young man who spends his life drinking, hunting and pursuing women. He is not interested in leading revolts.’

‘Then who else could claim the allegiance of the Burgunds against us?’ demanded Ebroin. ‘The Burgunds would only follow a male heir of their former kings.’

‘There was another son of Beretrude,’ Fidelma replied simply. ‘Another descendant of Gundahar and the line of kings of the Burgunds.’

‘I have only one brother-Gundobad,’ Guntram objected. ‘He was given as a child to the religious. My mother abandoned him to some abbey. I have no other brother.’

‘That is so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Gundobad grew up in the abbey of Divio, an ambitious young man and more of a warrior than Guntram. But it was Guntram who inherited the title of Lord of the Burgunds from his father. Beretrude realised some time ago that she had abandoned her younger and stronger son to indulge and ruin the elder but weaker son. She decided to correct her mistake.’

‘Are you saying that Beretrude was raising money by selling slaves so that her son in Divio could use it to plan an insurrection?’ Clotaire demanded.

‘Precisely so. It was only when I was told about this second son that everything began to fit into place.’

‘So now we must send to Divio to discover this man,’ sighed Ebroin.

‘He is no longer at Divio. Beretrude’s younger son is here in this abbey.’

For a while there was uproar.

‘Who are you accusing, Fidelma?’ demanded Bishop Leodegar. ‘There are several who come from Divio in this abbey. Are you claiming this was the person who killed Abbot Dabhóc? I do not understand.’

‘Bishop Ordgar and Cadfan are both innocent of that crime,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘In fact, they were victims of the same crime that was set up to distract suspicion away from the real killer and his intention. But I need to give some words of explanation before I identify the killer. With his mother helping him to devise the plot, Gundobad came to this abbey. Autun was going to be the base of the insurrection of the Burgunds against the Franks. Why? This very council provided the ideal opportunity It was known that Clotaire would come here to give his official approval to the decisions of the council before they were sent to Rome. What better place to assassinate the Frankish King and raise the symbol of insurrection?’

‘The symbol?’ queried Clotaire. ‘What symbol?’

‘I am told that the Burgunds hold a great teacher of the Faith in high regard both as bishop and martyr. His association with Autun is often spoken of with reverence-even Beretrude’s villa stands in a square named after him-the Square of Benignus. The villa bears the symbol of what I am told is the cross of Benignus. What if the leader of the Burgunds came forward bearing the relics of this Benignus before him, calling on the Burgunds to rise up and follow because God blessed this endeavour?’

‘It would be a powerful symbol,’ admitted Bishop Leodegar. ‘But such relics do not exist.’

‘Some people believe that they do. I heard from poor Brother Budnouen that there were rumours and stories about the relics of the Blessed Benignus. He told me that the peasants of this country already spoke of a leader who would carry them aloft and lead them to their former glory and independence.’

Fidelma paused, then went on: ‘Brother Gillucán had told me that his abbot, Dabhóc, came to this abbey bearing a reliquary box containing the bones of the Benén mac Sesenén of Midhe, who was a disciple and successor of our great teacher, the Blessed Patrick. The relics were to be a gift for Bishop Vitalian of Rome.’

The Nuntius Peregrinus interposed in a languid tone, ‘Oh, come, Fidelma. What has your Hibernian bishop to do with Benignus of Autun?’

‘Just this. Benén Mac Sesenén also used the sobriquet of Benignus. On the reliquary box that was to be the gift to the Holy Father, his name was carved on one side, and on the other-clearly in Latin-was his name in religion…Benignus.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘I think you have missed the point,’ countered the Nuntius Peregrinus. ‘This Benignus of Hibernia was certainly not the Benignus who brought Christianity to the Burgunds.’

‘I agree with you, Nuntius,’ replied Fidelma at once. ‘But that did not deter the conspirators. Imagine how delighted they were on hearing that the abbot from Hibernia actually had an ancient reliquary box on which was inscribed the name of Benignus for all to see? How many followers would debate whether the bones inside were those of their apostle Benignus or that of some obscure Hibernian with the same name?’

‘And you believe that this is why Abbot Dabhóc was slain?’ queried the Nuntius. ‘Because of that reliquary box?’

‘I think you already know it,’ she replied.

The Nuntius looked uncertain. ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded.

‘Abbot Dabhóc had told you, when he met you at the amphitheatre, that he had the reliquary box which he would present to you at the end of the council. Then he was murdered. When you heard this, you went to his chamber in search of the reliquary box but could not find it. There was, in your mind, only one person who knew about it and that was Dabhóc’s steward, Brother Gillucán. You and your bodyguard, the custodes who stands beside you now, initially searched his room but did not find it. Still certain that Gillucán must have hidden it in his possession, you both visited the poor young man in the dead of night and threatened him with physical violence unless he told you where the reliquary box was. He could not, and such was his fear that you finally believed him.’

The Nuntius Peregrinus was staring at her in amazement.

‘Truly, you have remarkable powers of deduction, if deduction it is.’

‘Do not fear, Nuntius. It is no more than deduction. Poor Brother Gillucán. He was sick with fear and decided to leave the abbey after he had spoken secretly with me. However, the Burgundian conspirators thought he was leaving for other reasons. They believed that he knew something and would betray them. Curiously enough, what made him even more fearful was the cries of the children being abducted from the Domus Femini which he overheard late one night when he was in the necessarium. And it was in that same necessarium that he was killed, his naked body shoved into the effluence from where it was finally washed into the river and discovered. That was why, when he was found, there was excrement on the body.’

The entire gathering was now hanging onto her every word.

‘So what has happened to this missing reliquary box?’ asked Bishop Leodegar. ‘Who has it?’

‘It had been stolen by the conspirators when Dabhóc was killed, of course.’

‘But why did Abbot Dabhóc take this box to Bishop Ordgar’s chamber?’ the bishop wanted to know.

‘He did not. Abbot Dabhóc was killed in his own chamber from where the box was stolen.’

‘I am confused,’ Clotaire confessed.

‘It is a complicated story,’ admitted Fidelma. ‘When Beretrude’s ambitious son came here he had two confederates apart from his mother. One was Brother Andica, the stonemason, who tried to kill both Eadulf and myself. Fortunately, the statue he pushed down on us did not kill us as intended. While Eadulf was taken to Brother Gebicca, the physician, to have his injury seen to, I went up to look at the plinth from where the statue had fallen. I wanted to make sure whether it had, indeed, fallen of its own accord or whether someone had pried it loose as we passed underneath. My assumption that it had been deliberately pushed down on us was proved correct. Now, a young man, afterwards identified as the stonemason Andica, had offered to show me to the gallery from where the statue fell. As I was examining it, he tried to push me from the galley, misjudged and fell to his death.’

There was a gasp from her listeners. The physician, Brother Gebicca, coughed dryly, dispelling the moment of drama.

‘Are you also saying that the bite of the viper which you received was another attempt to kill you?’

Fidelma shrugged, glancing at Beretrude.

‘No one can say. I will not pursue it. I am sure Beretrude has other matters of importance to deal with. The murder of Abbot Dabhóc might have commenced as a simple robbery. Our killer could have been in Dabhóc’s chamber, attempting to steal the reliquary box, when Dabhóc returned unexpectedly. His bad timing cost him his life. I do not believe it was so, because the killer would have reasoned that, with the reliquary box stolen, Dabhóc would have raised the matter with the bishop and the relics of Benignus of Hibernia would become known. No, Dabhóc was killed to keep him silent, as was Gillucán when the killer thought he knew about the relics.

‘So Dabhóc was killed and the box stolen. Then what? Leaving Dabhóc in his own chamber and the reliquary box missing might lead to too many questions. Why not camouflage the intent as well as the action? We see a devious mind at work. Bishop Ordgar had not returned to his chamber so his wine was easily drugged. When he was unconscious from its effects, the body of Dabhóc was taken into his chamber. But why would Bishop Ordgar want to kill the abbot? This is where the tortured mind of the chief conspirator devised a complication that really confused everyone. The murderer had heard of the row at the council earlier that evening. He went to Abbot Cadfan’s chamber, put a note under the door and knocked to rouse him before disappearing. As Cadfan truthfully told us, the note invited him to Ordgar’s chamber at once. He went there and was clubbed unconscious by the waiting killer. The note was removed. Then Dabhóc’s body was brought to the chamber and the scene was set. The murderer had tidied Dabhóc’s own chamber. The reliquary box was given to Brother Andica, who went to hide it in the vaults below the abbey. Everyone would now think that either Ordgar or Cadfan had murdered Dabhóc as part of the continuation of their quarrel.’

‘Are you saying Brother Andica was Gundobad?’ sneered Bishop Leodegar. ‘That is not true. I knew Brother Andica well and he was certainly not the son of Beretrude.’

‘And Andica was not from Divio,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘Andica was just one of the main conspirators. He used his skill as stonemason here to maintain regular contact with Beretrude who was raising warriors to support the insurgency. There were, as I have said, two other conspirators in the abbey. The third was female; she it was who arranged the abduction and selling of the married women and their children.’ Sister Fidelma waited while those present absorbed her words before continuing.

‘Even in the best-laid plans, something may go amiss. In this case, it was the assignation of Sigeric and Valretrade. Passing by Ordgar’s chamber, Sigeric saw the door open and discovered the situation. His delay in rousing the bishop saved his life. Valretrade, on her way to meet him at the sepulchre where they always met, found herself confronted by Andica and his female co-conspirator. Luckily, they decided not to kill Valretrade but to place her with the other women to be sold as slaves. It was a more practical and profitable way to silence her than killing her.’

‘And who is this female conspirator?’ asked Clotaire.

‘Sister Valretrade will tell us. She was the witness who saw two of the conspirators hiding the reliquary box.’

Valretrade looked towards her with a puzzled expression.

‘I told you that I only recognised the stonemason, Brother Andica, who was carrying the reliquary box. The second figure was holding the lantern. I knew only that she was a woman, a religieuse. I was tied up, gagged and blindfolded, and only freed from those bonds in Beretrude’s cellar.’

‘So when I went to meet her in the vaults,’ Sigeric interrupted, ‘Valretrade had already been made a prisoner?’

‘Exactly so, Brother Sigeric,’ affirmed Fidelma.

Clotaire sighed impatiently. ‘Are we going to learn who this female is, Sister Valretrade? Fidelma claims that you know.’

‘Well, I suspected it was Radegund. But I could not see her.’

Sister Radegund heaved a sob and muttered: ‘It is not true. Not true.’

‘Valretrade, think back,’ pressed Fidelma. ‘You told me that you left your chamber to keep the assignation with Sigeric that night. Your custom was to light the candle as your signal. But that night you unwittingly changed the custom. What did you do that you had not done before?’

Valretrade frowned as she mentally went through her actions.

‘I left the candle alight,’ she said suddenly. ‘I had taken it from the window to my bedside to look for something and did not extinguish it as was my custom before I left the chamber.’

Fidelma was now looking in one direction.

‘But one person did not realise that you had made that mistake, did they?’

Sister Inginde was shrinking back as if she was making ready to flee, but with a nod from Fidelma, two of Clotaire’s warriors had seized her by the arms. She went limp and gave no resistance.

‘Sister Inginde told me that she knew that Valretrade had gone to see Sigeric. How did she know that? Valretrade told me she was not in the chamber when the signal was made. However, the candle was alight. Sigeric’s candle had been rekindled, which indicated that she had not turned up at the meeting place. Inginde implied that she was in the chamber when Valretrade left. She was not, and could only have known that Valretrade had gone to keep an appointment in the catacombs that night if she, herself, was there. She was not only the third conspirator but also the principal contact with Beretrude. She was involved in the sale of the married women. She identified them and arranged their abduction. She also wrote the notes that Valretrade and the others were supposed to have written. So, as I said before, neither Abbess Audofleda nor Sister Radegund were involved in that matter. They accepted the appearance of the notes and were pleased to do so, as it solved their problem of what to do with the presence of married religious in the Domus Femini.’

Fidelma looked towards the tearful Sister Radegund.

‘Initially I suspected you, especially when I followed you to the villa of your Aunt Beretrude. Then I learned of your relationship and that you often went to your aunt on matters of business.

‘My suspicion about Inginde was finally reinforced in that I went to get a dress from a seamstress. I wanted to disguise myself while I looked at Beretrude’s villa. Brother Budnouen had told me that this woman was related to a member of the women’s community. Sister Inginde was in this place and told me that the seamstress was her aunt. She was helpful in selecting clothes for me. Thinking I was disguised, I was seized by the warriors of Beretrude and thrown into the cellar to await my fate with the others. I realised that Inginde had somehow informed Beretrude of what I was wearing and where I might be found. In fact, I believe I even heard Inginde running to the villa to inform Beretrude and her guards. It was remiss of me not to check.’

Nuntius Peregrinus interrupted again.

‘One thing I must ask-the reliquary box of Benignus. Where is it now?’

‘It is safe.’ Fidelma nodded to Abbot Ségdae who took a sack from beneath his seat and drew out the box, holding it up.

‘This is the reliquary body of the Hibernian teacher Benén Mac Sesenén whom we also call by the name of Benignus,’ he said. ‘He had no relationship with the Benignus of Burgundia that you know here.’

‘This is all very well,’ interrupted Bishop Leodegar impatiently. ‘You say Abbot Dabhóc was killed, not in Ordgar’s chamber but in his own, and this reliquary box was stolen. You have said why. You have also stated that two of the killers were Andica and Inginde. But you have yet to name the last of the killers, the head of the conspiracy, this second son of Beretrude whom you say is already in this abbey in disguise.’

‘Guntram, tell us again what was the name of your younger brother before he was taken to be given to the religious life?’

The young man shrugged. ‘It was Gundobad. But don’t ask me if I would recognise him now. I have not seen him since he was a few years old.’

‘But you told me that your mother had a pet name for him.’

‘That will not help you either. She used to call him Benignus-the good one.’

‘Of course, Benignus.’ Fidelma smiled.

Bishop Leodegar sniffed in annoyance. ‘We have no Brother Benignus here.’

‘Think again. Think of someone with…’

With a sudden cry-‘Sic semper tyrannis!’-Brother Benevolentia had drawn a knife and was running towards Clotaire.

There were two sounds, a swift whistling followed by a thud. Two arrows, loosed by warriors, had embedded themselves in the chest of Brother Benevolentia. He halted and, for a moment, it seemed he had turned into a statue. The knife dropped from his fingers and he slowly sank to his knees before toppling over sideways. Beretrude gave one long shriek and collapsed. One of the warriors raced to his side, pulled him over on his back and then spoke to Clotaire.

‘Dead, Majesty.’

Clotaire, who had started from his chair, sat back and exhaled deeply in relief.

‘A pity,’ Ebroin commented dryly. ‘We are cheated of a ritual execution. A quick death was too good for someone who likened himself to Brutus slaying Julius Caesar.’

‘I do not follow.’ Clotaire frowned.

‘His last words, Majesty-words supposedly used by Brutus when he plunged his knife into the great Caesar. Thus ever to tyrants!’

Clotaire looked sad for a moment. ‘I mean to govern justly, not as a tyrant.’

‘Of course, Majesty,’ Ebroin assured him. ‘But remember that you are dealing with Burgunds. You must also be a strong and firm ruler.’

Bishop Leodegar strode forward to look down at the corpse of the young religieux. He glanced up at Fidelma.

‘You knew it was Brother Benevolentia all the time?’

‘I suspected him for a while. His features had remarkable similarities to those of Beretrude, Guntram and even Radegund-the same dark hair and blue eyes. He was also the only other person who had a real opportunity to drug Ordgar’s wine-indeed, to carry out the entire deed. But I really began to suspect him when he turned up in the gallery, which was forbidden to the brethren, when Andica tried to kill us with the toppling statue. Why would he be there, and how did he know all about the statues and how long they had stood there? Then, of course, there was his name.’

‘Benevolentia is another form of saying Benignus,’ Bishop Leodegar muttered almost wonderingly.

‘A synonym,’ Eadulf confirmed, speaking for the first time since Fidelma’s explanation had begun. ‘Indeed, both names have the same meaning.’

Bishop Ordgar came to stare at the body of his former steward in bewilderment.

‘I don’t understand any of this. He was my steward. I chose him.’

‘You told us,’ Eadulf pointed out, ‘that you had gone to Divio and that your own steward had died on the journey. You found your new steward, Brother Benevolentia, in the abbey in that city.’

‘That is true.’

‘But I wonder if you chose him or did he come to you to volunteer his services?’

‘Why, he…yes, I suppose he sought me out,’ admitted the Saxon bishop.

‘So Gundobad or Benevolentia, a fervent Burgund and heir to the line of Burgundian kings, came here with his plan to assassinate Clotaire and lead an uprising,’ Eadulf explained. ‘Then, as Fidelma has told us, he heard about Abbot Dabhóc’s gift of the Benignus reliquary. What a symbol he thought it would be! It didn’t matter if the two holy men were confused. It was not the reality of the relics that mattered, but their symbolism.’

‘An amazing story,’ muttered Bishop Leodegar. ‘A convoluted one, too.’

‘Life is never simple,’ Fidelma sighed.

‘Those people who attacked me in the forest and killed that Gaulish Brother were Beretrude’s warriors?’ asked Clotaire, standing up and coming forward.

‘They were warriors of Beretrude’s house who were probably instructed to follow Eadulf and myself. Their leader carried the symbol of the cross of Benignus, the same symbol that is displayed on the pillars of Beretrude’s villa. The warriors were probably going to ambush Eadulf and myself. It was clear that Benevolentia and his mother were worried that we had become a threat to their plan. Clotaire, you either disturbed them or they recognised you hunting in the forest and so took their chance to pre-empt the assassination plan.’

‘So who are we left with so far, as the guilty ones?’ demanded Ebroin. ‘Beretrude and Inginde? Beretrude’s warriors-and no one else? What of Guntram?’

The young lord was white faced with apprehension. Two warriors were still guarding him. Fidelma felt sorry for him.

‘The only thing that Guntram is guilty of is being a bad lord; a young man more interested in self-indulgence than in the welfare of his people. But he had no design to overthrow you, Clotaire. His only concern was that his people continued to pay tribute to help him maintain his lifestyle.’

‘And the Abbess Audofleda?’

‘I accuse her of simply being unsuited to be head of a religious house, that is all. But that is a matter between her and her bishop.’ She addressed Bishop Leodegar. ‘You may now hold your council, Leodegar. Truly your ways are not the ways of my people, your laws not our laws, and the concepts you wish to promote as ideas by which our Faith can come under one universal Rule are not those that I would agree with. I can see those things that you support leading to great suffering rather than a universal brotherhood and sisterhood among the religious. Personally, I cannot wait to return to my own land.’

Bishop Leodegar had regained some of his former aplomb.

‘I ask no more from you than what you have done.’ He turned to Clotaire. ‘Majesty, you may order your prisoners to be removed for punishment, and then I will declare the resumption of the council to start its deliberations tomorrow. I do not think that our debates will last long now.’

Clotaire nodded absently, glancing to where Lady Beretrude and Sister Inginde had been placed under guard with the dozen or so warriors loyal to them.

‘See to the prisoners, Ebroin.’

‘Do you want them removed for trial, Majesty?’ asked his chancellor.

‘Trial?’ Clotaire stared at the man as if he had made an improper suggestion. ‘They have already received a trial. No! Take them out and execute them, and don’t bother me with the details.’ He swung round to the white-faced Guntram. ‘You may go back to your fortress and your pursuits, but never let me hear that you have taken an interest in the governance of this province.’

He turned to look for Fidelma but she and Eadulf were gone.

Nuntius Peregrinus was standing talking with Abbot Ségdae.

‘The sister of your king is an amazing woman,’ Clotaire said to the abbot.

‘She is certainly held in high regard, Imperator,’ Abbot Ségdae informed him.

‘I suppose you agree with her views about our laws and what Bishop Leodegar hopes to achieve here for the Faith?’

‘At the risk of impertinence, I do, Sire. And I think you will find that those delegates from the churches of the Britons, Armoricans and Gauls will join us in that outlook, for we all share similar values.’

Clotaire started to chuckle and clapped the abbot on the shoulder.

‘I suppose that is why the good bishop has ensured that there are twice as many representatives of the churches of Neustria and Austrasia attending here as those from the other lands.’

‘We will make our protest,’ Abbot Ségdae solemnly assured him, ‘and then we will return home to what we know and feel comfortable with. There is an ancient saying in my land. Níl aon tintean mar do thintean féin.’

‘Which means?’

‘There is no hearth like your own hearth.’