The Council of the Cursed

Chapter Three

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

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

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

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

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

‘I do not know him,’ Fidelma said.

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

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

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

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

‘Not Bishop Ordgar of Kent!’ Eadulf exclaimed.

‘You know him?’ Abbot Ségdae asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘How so?’ she asked, still put out.

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

Fidelma did not change expression.

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

‘Exactly,’ the abbot replied.

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

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

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

There was a long pause while Fidelma considered the matter.

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

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

‘So they have no connection with this abbey?’

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

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

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

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

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

Eadulf whistled softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Brother Chilperic!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Then we shall ask,’ Fidelma finished solemnly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘He claimed he was drugged.’

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

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

‘And Cadfan?’

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

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

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

‘So when was this note delivered to Cadfan?’

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

‘A curious tale,’ Fidelma observed.

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

Fidelma’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

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

‘Was Dabhóc concerned in this fight?’

‘He had intervened in the debate as peacemaker, no more. Many others did as well.’

‘Is it felt that Dabhóc was slain because of his attempt to act as peacemaker between the two?’ asked Eadulf.

‘No one knows what to think. Both Ordgar and Cadfan are confined to their chambers while Bishop Leodegar has been contemplating what to do. In a few days’ time the ruler of this kingdom, Clotaire, is due to arrive to give his approval to the findings of this council, but there has been no formal meeting, let alone debate on the motions that Rome has sent for consideration. As I say, many of the delegates are talking about returning to their lands.’

‘Leodegar has a tough decision to make,’ Fidelma observed.

‘He must either pronounce the guilt of one or the innocence of both,’ agreed the abbot. ‘Both men have proclaimed their innocence and both have proclaimed their hatred of one another-and so accusations are made with venomous conviction.’

‘And what do you say? You are the senior representative of Éireann.’

The abbot raised his shoulders and let them fall in a hopeless gesture.

‘That is my dilemma, Fidelma. You know the rivalry between my own abbey of Imleach and that of Ard Macha. In recent years Ard Macha has been claiming to be the senior bishopric of the five kingdoms, and now claims authority even over Imleach-yet Imleach existed before Ard Macha was established.’

‘How does this affect your thoughts on this matter?’ asked Fidelma, a little impatiently.

‘I am, as you say, now the senior representative. If I do not demand that a pronouncement of guilt and reparation be made following Dabhóc’s death, Ségéne, the abbot and bishop of Ard Macha, could accuse me and Imleach of not caring because Dabhóc was representing Ard Macha. If I do make the demand, then I am demanding that Bishop Leodegar make a decision that is a choice between the guilt of Ordgar or Cadfan. If nothing at all is done, then the council disbands and Leodegar has to answer to the Bishop of Rome.’

‘In other words, there is a political decision that weighs on your mind over and above the moral decision of what is right, what is truthful?’ Fidelma summed up.

Abbot Ségdae smiled tiredly. ‘I wish I saw it as so clear cut, Fidelma. But just consider this-the conflict between Ard Macha and Imleach and the conflict between the Britons and the Saxons balance on this matter. Whatever decision is made will result in resentment and conflict. I need advice in making that decision.’

Fidelma pursed her lips, as if in a soundless whistle, and glanced at Eadulf.

Abbot Ségdae meanwhile had suddenly noticed the lateness of the day. He rose.

‘Bishop Leodegar will be waiting for us. Let us not keep him further.’

Bishop Leodegar settled himself in his chair and regarded both Fidelma and Eadulf with a searching scrutiny. He was elderly; his black hair was streaked with grey and his eyes were dark and fathomless. His features were pale and lean, the skin tightly stretched across the bones, the Adam’s apple prominent. The way he sat, tensed and leaning slightly forward, put Fidelma in mind of a hungry wolf waiting to pounce.

‘You are both very welcome at the Abbey of Autun,’ he said finally, as if making up his mind about something. ‘Abbot Ségdae’, he glanced to where the abbot was seated alongside Brother Chilperic at the side of the chamber, ‘has told me much about you both, and it is good that you have arrived safely in this place.’

They were seated before him in chairs provided by Brother Chilperic.

Bishop Leodegar hesitated a moment, before continuing, ‘I understand that you have been told that this abbey consists of a house for the males and one for the females. We are not a mixed house, although both sexes come together in the abbey chapel for the morning and evening prayers. Here, we follow the idea that celibacy should be the Rule-and in celibacy we come closer to the divinity.’

Fidelma and Eadulf remained silent.

‘I realise that you follow those who do not agree with this Rule,’ went on Leodegar. ‘For the sake of the matter before us, we are prepared to overlook some of our Rule. The only condition I must stipulate is that you proceed with circumspection in this abbey.’ He paused, and when neither Fidelma nor Eadulf commented, he went on: ‘From what Abbot Ségdae has told me, it seems that you both have a talent for considering puzzles and finding solutions to problems. We stand in great need of such talent at this moment.’

Fidelma stirred slightly. ‘Abbot Ségdae has told us briefly of the facts,’ she said.

Bishop Leodegar nodded quickly. ‘Much hangs on the success of this council. The future of the western churches will be decided here.’

Eadulf raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘The future?’ he queried. ‘Surely that is an excessive claim?’

‘I do not speak such words lightly,’ Bishop Leodegar replied defensively. ‘The Holy Father has decreed that we should consider two matters very carefully and our decision on them will affect the churches here, in the west. The first and fundamental matter is the central doctrine of our Faith: which declaration of our beliefs are we to adhere to? Do we declare for the Credo of Hippolytus, or do we declare for the Quicunque-the faith of the Blessed Athanasius-or, indeed, should we keep to the words as expressed at the Council of Nicea? It is fundamental. We must ask ourselves what is our belief as followers of the Christ.’

‘Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem; Creatorem coeli et terrae…’ muttered Eadulf.

‘Indeed, Brother,’ responded Bishop Leodegar, ‘but should we not say ut unum Deum in Trinitate, et Trinitatem un unitate veneremur?’

Eadulf smiled briefly at the exchange. Was there much difference in expressing a belief in God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and a belief in one God in Trinity, and Trinity in unity? Different words that meant the same thing.

‘And is that what this council is about? Simply the form of the words of the Creed, our declaration of Faith?’

Bishop Leodegar’s brows drew together. ‘You should be aware, Brother Eadulf, that among the churches of Gaul, and even among the Franks, the teaching of monothelitism has been developing, contrary to the orthodox interpretation of the Faith. It is therefore important that we have a universal creed, the Rule of our belief.’

‘Monothelitism?’ Fidelma tried to analyse the word from its roots.

‘The teaching of how the divine and human relate in the person of the Christ,’ explained Eadulf. ‘It teaches that Christ had two natures-divine and human-but only one will.’

Bishop Leodegar nodded approvingly. ‘The orthodox interpretation is that Christ had two wills, human and divine, which corresponded to His two natures. But monothelitism has gained favour both in the east and in the west. Honorius, the first of his name to be Holy Father in Rome, has favoured it and so it has spread.’

‘And the council is just to condemn that and agree on a creed?’ Fidelma realised that her knowledge was lacking in the constant arguments and decisions of the various councils of bishops that frequently met to decide what their flocks should or should not believe. She was more concerned with the law of her own country, and she had often questioned her entry into the religious life. It had only been a means to an end for it was the fashion of the five kingdoms for most of those following the professions to enter the religious.

‘It is also for the purpose of agreeing that there should be one Rule for all the religious houses in western Christendom,’ the bishop told her. ‘One set of laws as to how each community should conduct themselves.’

‘One Rule for all communities?’ queried Fidelma, with surprise. ‘But all our religious houses draw up their own Rule according to their individual needs and purposes.’

‘The Holy Father believes such matters should be made uniform through the Faith.’

‘And what standard does he suggest?’ she asked dubiously.

‘It has been suggested that the Rule of the Blessed Benedict, composed over one hundred years ago, should come to define how those in the abbeys and religious houses should govern themselves in their everyday life.’

‘I have heard of the Rule,’ Eadulf said, ‘but Benedict was from a place called Latina. His Rule was fitted for those of the community that he founded there, and it was shaped by his views and culture. Why should his Rule be applied to communities of other lands whose manner of living and culture are so very different?’

‘That is precisely the point of this council, my young Brother in Christ. I am well aware that the Gauls, Armoricans, Britons and the people of Hibernia have their own particular rituals and manners. Indeed, until a few years ago, those rites were also practised among the majority of the Saxons and the Franks. But now we must strive for some uniformity in our beliefs and practices. This, therefore, is an important council. Yet it now stands in danger of disbanding before it has even commenced its deliberations.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘So what is it that you are proposing?’

Bishop Leodegar looked uncomfortable and then he tried to smile.

‘You are direct, Sister,’ he said.

‘It saves time,’ she replied gravely.

‘Very well. What I propose is that you and Brother Eadulf, not being here when the murder was committed and therefore not involved, will have the confidence of the council to investigate this matter and make recommendations as to who is responsible.’

‘How will that save the council?’ Fidelma asked.

‘You, Fidelma, are of the land from where the murdered abbot comes and therefore a good advocate for his rights. Eadulf is a Saxon and as such will not ignore the rights of Bishop Ordgar. You are acceptable to the Hibernians, and Eadulf is acceptable to the Angles and Saxons.’

‘And what about the Britons who are also involved?’ Fidelma queried.

‘I am told that your reputation is known even among them due to some service you performed for the King of Dyfed and the church of the Britons. I am sure that they, too, will accept you as a just advocate.’

Fidelma glanced across to Abbot Ségdae who had remained silent during this time.

‘And this is what you also wish?’ she asked him.

Abbot Ségdae bowed his head in agreement.

‘It is the only just way that I can think of in order to end the dissension which has held up the council during this last week. I think that your brother, the King, would support me in this for, as you know, the matter has repercussions between his kingdom and that of the north.’

Eadulf did not look happy.

‘There are many uncertainties in this matter,’ he pointed out.

‘Which are?’ demanded Bishop Leodegar.

‘Firstly, this matter is over a week old. Doubtless, Abbot Dabhóc has been buried…?’

‘Of course, as is custom,’ replied the bishop.

‘So we are unable to see for ourselves what the wound was, how it could have been delivered, how the body lay on the floor and so on.’

Bishop Leodegar looked surprised. ‘Why is that necessary?’

‘Perhaps not necessary but helpful,’ interposed Fidelma. ‘What we are hearing is that, when everything is pared away and we get down to the basic facts, you have two men, bitter enemies to one another, and we must judge which one of them is telling the truth.’

‘Or which one is telling the lies,’ added Eadulf.

Bishop Leodegar sat back, eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying that this is impossible to judge?’

‘Impossibilium nulla obligatio est,’ Fidelma replied philosophically. ‘If I thought it impossible I would not even be discussing it. We are merely pointing out the difficulties.’

‘So you will undertake it?’ pressed Bishop Leodegar.

‘We will do so,’ she replied after a slight pause.

The man seemed to relax in relief. ‘Then it is agreed?’

‘Do we have freedom to question all those whom we deem it necessary to question?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Do I have that authority from you?’

The bishop looked puzzled. ‘But you only need to question Ordgar and Cadfan.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘You sound as though you have prejudged matters, Bishop Leodegar. We will not prejudge-not even when it appears a simple choice between one or another. If you want us to proceed then it will be under the conditions that I stipulate or not at all.’

A slight look of annoyance crossed the bishop’s face.

Abbot Ségdae cleared his throat noisily.

‘We realise that you do things differently here, Bishop Leodegar,’ he said hastily. ‘However, in our lands we have a legal system which allows our advocates certain freedoms when they investigate.’

Bishop Leodegar regarded him thoughtfully for a few moments.

‘I have already said that I am prepared to waive the Rule of this abbey to allow Fidelma access to where no women are allowed.’

‘And I have agreed to be circumspect,’ replied Fidelma firmly, ‘but it is the authority to investigate as I would do in my own country under my own law system that I need. I know no other way of undertaking this task.’

‘I have heard of your laws and methods from travelling religious from your lands,’ the bishop said after some thought. Then, as if making up his mind, he squared his shoulders and said, ‘Very well. I see no reason to restrain you in this matter. I give you those freedoms.’

‘And to Brother Eadulf,’ added Fidelma brightly. ‘Remember, Eadulf is a gerefa of his own people, a magistrate of the Saxon laws.’

‘That I understand, which is why I said that Eadulf will be seen as unbiased in the matter of Bishop Ordgar. These facts should be made known to the community because it will enforce the authority of your findings. I give you full and free permission to question whom you wish on this matter. I will announce this at evening prayers. I only ask that your resolution be quick so that the delegates may be satisfied. Clotaire, who is our King, will be arriving here soon to give this council his royal approval. It would benefit all of us if the matter were resolved by the time of his arrival.’

‘There are no guarantees in life, save only one-that we are all going to die at some time,’ responded Fidelma. ‘We will do our best to solve this matter, but we cannot guarantee a resolution by a certain time. Is it agreed?’

Bishop Leodegar raised his hands as if the matter were now beyond him.

‘Very well,’ Fidelma rejoined. ‘Let us begin with a few questions to you.’

The bishop looked at her in surprise. ‘Questions to me?’

‘Of course,’ went on Fidelma, unperturbed at his astonishment. The Frankish bishop was obviously not used to being questioned. ‘Who was it who discovered the body and the state of affairs that existed in Bishop Ordgar’s chamber?’

‘It was Brother Sigeric,’ volunteered the steward Brother Chilperic, who had sat in silence until that moment.

‘Ah, Brother Sigeric. And who is he?’

‘One of the scribes.’

‘We shall need to speak with him, of course. Is he available?’

Brother Chilperic nodded briefly.

‘Excellent. What was the name of the physician who examined the body-and was it the same person who checked the wound of Abbot Cadfan and also examined Bishop Ordgar?’

‘Brother Gebicca is the physician,’ replied Brother Chilperic.

‘And now,’ Fidelma turned back to Bishop Leodegar, ‘tell us about your role in this matter?’

‘My role?’ Bishop Leodegar was puzzled.

‘Perhaps I have chosen the wrong word. I am told that Abbot Ségdae was awoken by a request to attend in Ordgar’s chamber. When he arrived, he found that you were already there. How did that come to be?’

‘Brother Sigeric roused me first,’ explained the bishop. ‘He told me there had been an accident and I was to come immediately.’

‘In what circumstances did this Brother Sigeric rouse you?’

‘It would be best to tell the story as fully as you can,’ intervened Eadulf. ‘Presumably, you were asleep in your quarters?’

‘I had meant to retire after the midnight prayers,’ Bishop Leodegar began. ‘That is my custom. I was particularly tired that night as I had dined with a local nobleman who was visiting the abbey and he had been much the worse for our local wine. However, just as I was retiring, Bishop Ordgar came to my chambers. He wished to complain further about Abbot Cadfan. He was with me some time before I could get rid of him. He was very angry about the behaviour of the Briton that evening. I told him that this was a council in which all representatives must be treated with latitude. After he left me, I fell asleep until I became aware of Brother Sigeric shaking me. It was not then dawn. However, it was that point of darkness just before dawn when you can hear the birds stirring and crying to one another as they sense the approach of light.’

He paused and Eadulf prompted: ‘Go on.’

‘It is as I said. Brother Sigeric urged me to put on my robe and come to Bishop Ordgar’s chamber. He said there had been a bad accident.’

‘Did he describe what sort of accident or how he had discovered it?’

‘Not at that time, but later he said…’

Fidelma raised a hand. ‘We will speak to Brother Sigeric himself on that matter. Let us concentrate on what you did at the time.’

Bishop Leodegar hesitated a moment and then continued, ‘I followed him as he asked me to. Brother Sigeric was in an agitated state and so I did not pursue him with questions at that time. I entered Ordgar’s chamber…’

‘Was there a light it in?’ Fidelma asked quickly.

Bishop Leodegar nodded. ‘A candle was burning.’

‘So you could see the interior quite plainly?’

‘I could see that there appeared to be two bodies there and that Bishop Ordgar was slumped on his bed, groaning.’

‘Did he say anything as you entered?

‘He seemed to be in pain, and mumbling. He was clearly not himself.’

‘And you saw the body?’

‘I immediately noticed Abbot Cadfan who lay stretched on the floor beside the bed. There was light enough to see blood on the back of his skull.’

‘You could see blood by the candlelight?’ queried Eadulf.

Brother Leodegar frowned. ‘Yes…’ He realised what Eadulf was asking. ‘Well, I could see some dark, sticky stuff-and, of course, it turned out to be blood.’

Eadulf smiled in approval. ‘Was he conscious?’

‘No, and he did not revive until he was carried back to his own chamber.’ He paused, then realising that more was expected of him, went on, ‘I was about to bend down to him when I saw the body of Abbot Dabhóc. I called to Brother Sigeric to rouse my steward. I also told Sigeric to fetch our physician, Brother Gebicca. I went to Bishop Ordgar to see if I could administer to him, but it was as if he was intoxicated. He was mumbling nonsensical things.’

‘Did he smell of wine or beer?’ asked Fidelma.

‘There was an aura of stale wine about him,’ admitted the bishop.

‘And then?’

‘Then Brother Gebicca arrived and soon after, Brother Chilperic. When Gebicca pronounced that Abbot Dabhóc was dead, that a blow from behind had crushed his skull, I knew that I should advise Abbot Ségdae, as the senior cleric from your land. I sent Brother Sigeric to rouse him.’

‘And all the time Cadfan lay unconscious while Ordgar was in a state of intoxication?’ put in Fidelma.

‘We did not neglect Cadfan,’ he replied. ‘Brother Gebicca examined him and it was decided to take him back to his chamber where it took a day or so for him to recover fully. We also removed Ordgar to a nearby chamber. When I finally questioned Ordgar, he said he had taken wine as was his custom before retiring and knew no more until he awoke sick and dizzy. He was aware of the people in his chamber but could not say what was happening until he recovered. He thought, at first, that he had been made ill by bad wine-but when I told him what had occurred in his chamber, he believed that Cadfan had tried to poison him.’

‘So, according to Ordgar, why had Dabhóc been killed by Cadfan?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Ordgar claimed that Dabhóc must have interrupted Cadfan’s attempt to kill him and paid with his life.’

‘And Cadfan’s wound? How did he explain that?’

‘Ordgar believed it was either administered by Dabhóc before Cadfan killed him or even by Cadfan himself.’

‘A self-inflicted wound that rendered Cadfan unconscious for a day?’ Eadulf looked cynical. ‘That is hardly a self-administered blow, and if inflicted by another person, would not have allowed the killing of that person before unconsciousness.’

Fidelma shot him a look of disapproval for being so open with his thoughts.

‘We may pursue such matters when we question Ordgar and Cadfan,’ she said. ‘I presume that you also questioned Cadfan? What was his version of this story?’

‘He told me that someone had slipped a note under his door, knocked and run off before he could open it. The note told him to go to Ordgar’s chamber at once as there was some urgency. He came to the chamber, found the door ajar, knocked and a voice bade him enter. He recalled nothing except a sharp pain on the back of the head until he recovered consciousness a day or so later.’

For a while Fidelma said nothing, sitting head slightly forward with her eyes focused on the middle distance.

‘A strange tale indeed,’ she said at last. ‘Abbot Ségdae has informed us that Ordgar and Cadfan are confined to their chambers until the matter of the responsibility is resolved.’

‘That is true.’

‘And presumably both are outraged by their confinement?’

‘As you can imagine,’ conceded Bishop Leodegar. ‘But what other course of action can I take?’

‘And how is this suspicion and confinement received by the delegates to this council?’ asked Eadulf. ‘You have spoken of the tensions. Is anyone taking sides?’

Bishop Leodegar gave a bark of cynical laughter.

‘They would not be human if they did not. The Saxons and some of our Franks support Ordgar. The Britons, Gauls and Armoricans denounce Ordgar and demand the release of Cadfan. Those clerics from Hibernia call down a plague on both houses and demand reparation for the death of the representative of the bishop of Ard Macha. So what am I to do?’

Fidelma stood up abruptly, so abruptly that she caused some surprise. She glanced though the tall windows at the darkening day.

‘You are following the right path,’ she declared. ‘You may announce what we are doing at evening prayers. Tomorrow morning we will start in earnest upon this quest and begin by speaking with Brother Sigeric. I presume the chamber where it happened is now empty?’

Bishop Leodegar nodded. ‘As I said, we removed Ordgar to a more secure room.’

‘Then we will visit the original chamber after we have seen Brother Sigeric.’

‘I will ensure that all is ready for you.’ Bishop Leodegar became more assertive. ‘I only hope that you are both as clever at solving conundrums as Abbot Ségdae has assured me that you are.’

‘That will be for you to judge, Leodegar of Autun,’ Fidelma replied quietly. ‘Eadulf and I can only do what is in our power to do, and trust the riddle is one that can be solved.’