Shroud for the Archbishop

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘What could I do? I spent an entire night in sleepless thought. Finally, I confided in Brother Osimo Lando, who, like me was an Alexandrian. He had no hesitation. If we could not raise the money by fair means, then we must use foul means. We both swore that those great treasures of Greek intellect must be saved for posterity.’

  ‘For posterity … or for yourself?’ Fidelma asked coldly.

  Cornelius was not abashed. His voice was proud.

  ‘Who else but I, I as an Alexandrian physician, could really appreciate the wealth contained in those books? Even Osimo Lando could only see it intellectual terms while I … I could commune with the ages, with the great minds that inscribed their words.’

  ‘So you killed Wighard for his treasure to provide you with the money?’ sneered Eadulf.

  Cornelius shook his head vehemently.

  ‘That is not so.’ His voice immediately dropped almost to a whisper.

  ‘How was it, then?’ demanded Furius Licinius.

  ‘It is true that we stole Wighard’s valuables but we did not kill him,’ Cornelius protested, the sweat standing out on his brow as he stared from one to another of them, willing them to believe him.

  ‘Take your time,’ Fidelma said coolly ‘How did it come about?’

  ‘Osimo was a close friend of Ronan Ragallach …’ Cornelius gave her a hard look. ‘Do you know what I mean? A close friend.’ He repeated it with emphasis.

  Fidelma understood. The relationship had been obvious to her.

  ‘Well, Osimo decided that we should draw Ronan into the affair. We heard that Wighard had arrived to be ordained as the archbishop of Canterbury by His Holiness. More importantly, we knew that Wighard had brought considerable wealth from the Saxon kingdoms. It was exactly what we needed. In fact, Ronan Ragallach had encountered this Wighard before and had no liking for the man. It appealed to his sense of humour that we should deprive him of this wealth.’

  Fidelma made to speak but changed her mind.

  ‘Go on,’ she instructed.

  ‘Everything was fairly simple. Ronan first made a survey of Wighard’s chambers, that was the night he was nearly caught by a tesserarius. Ronan told the man his name was “No one”, but in his own language. Which the guard believed.’

  Licinius sucked the air between his teeth in an expression of embarrassment.

  ‘I was the tesserarius,’ he curtly confessed. ‘I did not appreciate your friend’s sense of humour.’

  Cornelius’ glance was expressionless.

  ‘Poor Brother Ronan was a bad conspirator for he shouldn’t have been caught at all.’

  ‘No crime had been committed then,’ Licinius said. ‘Wighard was murdered the next night.’

  ‘Just so,’ Cornelius agreed. ‘Osimo and Ronan decided that they would carry out the robbery between them for I am well known about the palace. They decided to enter by the chamber next to the one occupied by the Abbot Puttoc …’

  ‘The room where Brother Eanred was sleeping?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘It was the only chamber by which to gain easy entrance to the building. You see, a broad ledge runs around the courtyard from the building of the Munera Peregrinitatis to the domus hospitale.’

  ‘I have seen this broad ledge. It leads only to the room where Eanred slept.’

  Cornelius stared thoughtfully at Fidelma for a moment before confirming it.

  ‘You have a keen eye, sister. Truly, the ledge was a means of entering the domus hositale unobserved. The problem was how to ensure that Saxon servant was out of the way when Osimo and Ronan committed the robbery.’

  ‘That was where you came in,’ smiled Fidelma confidently, ‘and why you invited the simple-minded Eanred to your villa and plied him with drink until you thought that the theft had been committed by your confederates.’

  Cornelius nodded slowly, his eyes wide with surprise at Fidelma’s knowledge.

  ‘While I kept Eanred out of the way – believe me, it was a hard task to occupy that simpleton – Osimo and Ronan made their way along the ledge to the domus hospitale. Osimo remained on watch while Ronan went to Wighard’s chambers to see if he was asleep.’

  ‘And Wighard was awakened by Ronan who killed him?’ concluded Eadulf sharply.

  ‘No!’ snapped Cornelius. ‘I have told you as much. Neither Ronan nor Osimo killed Wighard.’

  Fidelma gave a warning frown in Eadulf’s direction. ‘Let Cornelius tell this story in his own way,’ she instructed a little sharply.

  Cornelius paused to collect his thoughts before continuing: ‘There was no sound in the chambers and so Ronan entered. He went softly to the bedroom and there he saw Wighard, already slain. Unnerved, he was about to leave when it occurred to him that if Wighard was dead then, the valuables were his for the taking. Ronan screwed up his courage and returned from Wighard’s chambers with the sack, which he had brought in order to carry away the hoard, now filled with the precious metal cups. The valuables were heavy and cumbersome and so Ronan took one sack to Osimo, waiting in Eanred’s chamber, and then had to return for the second.

  ‘Osimo set off back along the ledge to take it to their room in the Munera Pereginitatis while Ronan gathered the second sackful. He brought this back to Eanred’s room …’

  ‘Tearing the sack on a splinter in the door frame,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully, almost to herself.

  Cornelius paused a moment, not understanding. Then, as she did not explain further, he continued: ‘He was about to follow Osimo back along the ledge when he realised that he had not properly secured Wighard’s chamber door. Lest the body be discovered and a hue and cry raised before they were ready, he set down the sack by the window, and returned. It was a foolish action for it was the very thing which caused him to be caught. As he told us the story later, he had just left the room and was starting back along the corridor to Wighard’s chamber when a decurion of the custodes suddenly appeared and called on him to halt.

  ‘Ronan had the sense to turn away from Eanred’s room, which would have led the custodes to his companion Osimo, and he attempted to leave by the stairway at the other end of the building. But he stumbled straight into the arms of the two guards in the garden below.’

  ‘He stood more chance of escaping through Eanred’s chamber and back along the ledge,’ observed Eadulf.

  Cornelius stared sourly at him.

  ‘As I explained, he realised that if he did so he would lead the decurion straight to the second sack of treasure and point the way after his friend Osimo. He therefore tried to escape through the gardens.’

  ‘So what happened to the second sack, the one he had left in Eanred’s chamber?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Where did that disappear to? I presume Osimo returned for it?’

  ‘A correct presumption,’ agreed Cornelius, in appreciation at her quick mind. ‘Having taken the first sack to their office and waited for Ronan, Osimo became worried when he did not appear. After a short while Osimo made the journey back to Eanred’s room. He found the second sack and then heard the commotion. Realising that Ronan had been caught, he grabbed the sack and returned to his office. At that point he decided to hide the treasure in his own lodgings. We did not know what to do but Ronan escaped from the cells the next morning, due to the inattention of a guard …’

  ‘Who has now been disciplined,’ muttered Furius Licinius grimly.

  ‘And Ronan came directly to you?’ Fidelma concluded.

  Cornelius made an affirmative gesture.

  ‘And you hid him?’

  ‘The plan was to smuggle him out of the city. We would have smuggled him on a boat. But Ronan was a moral person. Yes, when it came to murder, he was moral,’ repeated Cornelius, as if they would disagree with him. ‘He learned that you, Fidelma of Kildare, were investigating the murder of Wighard of which he stood accused. To Ronan, theft was one thing but murder was another and he told us that you had a reputation in your own land. He had seen you once at the court of your High King in Tara. And he recognised you in the Via
Merulana on the very day of the robbery and followed you for a while to make sure he was not mistaken.’

  Eadulf nodded as he recalled the incident.

  ‘So Ronan Ragallach was the Irish cenobite that I observed following us?’

  No one answered his rhetorical question.

  ‘He said that you, Fidelma of Kildare, were an advocate of your country’s law courts and renowned as a solver of puzzles, a person who sought out the truth,’ Cornelius repeated. ‘While Osimo and I advised him against it, he decided that he wanted to clear his name with you; to convince you that he was not responsible for Wighard’s death.’

  Furius Licinius gave a harsh laugh.

  ‘Do you expect us to believe that? You have already admitted your guilt in robbing Wighard. Whoever robbed him also killed him.’

  Cornelius turned a pleading look on Fidelma.

  ‘This is not true. We were not responsible for the Saxon’s death. We robbed him, yes. And for a purpose of which I am not ashamed. If you are the just advocate Ronan believed you to be, you will know this.’

  There was a sincerity in Cornelius’ face that Fidelma found herself believing.

  ‘And so Ronan contacted me asking for the meeting in the catacombs in order to tell me this story?’

  ‘That was his intent. Of course, he was not going to reveal that Osimo and myself were connected with the matter. But he wanted you to clear his name.’

  ‘And he was killed for his pains.’

  Cornelius nodded.

  ‘I advised against this meeting. Indeed, I did not know about the meeting until Osimo told me and I hastened off to the cemetery to intercept Ronan.’

  ‘So that was why you were so conveniently there?’

  ‘Yes. I was frantic to stop Ronan revealing anything which would incriminate Osimo and myself. I wanted the purchase of the books to go ahead. Imagine my horror when I reached the cemetery and encountered the Arab merchant and his companion hurrying from the catacombs. They told me that Ronan lay dead within.’

  ‘What were they doing there following Ronan, if you were dealing with them by yourself?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘The night before his death, Ronan had volunteered to go in my place to meet the Arabian merchant here in Marmorata, and make the first exchange for the books. The merchant had sent a note with instructions which I gave to Ronan. But after the meeting Ronan told Osimo that he felt that the Arabians were following him. He thought they were suspicious about him.

  ‘When I encountered them at the cemetery, I naturally thought it was they who had slain Ronan. Before I could question them, I was called upon for assistance for, I was told, someone had been injured in the catacombs.

  ‘I suspected it was Ronan. I believed the Arabians might have killed him. I hurried to the main entrance and descended. You can imagine my surprise when I saw you walking towards me and, to my horror, saw that you were carrying one of the stolen chalices. Something took over in me. I drew back and, forgive me, sister, I struck you on the head and took the chalice. I searched your marsupium which was a lucky thing for I found the letter which the Arabian merchant had sent giving Ronan the instructions of how the exchanges were to be effected. I also took this but then I heard someone coming down into the catacombs behind me. I had to pretend that I had just discovered you in your unconscious condition. No one questioned that you had been the person reported injured.’

  Fidelma was staring at him with bright eyes.

  ‘So it was you who attacked me?’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Cornelius repeated, but without contriteness.

  ‘I thought the figure that I saw before I was hit was a familiar one,’ murmured Fidelma reflectively.

  ‘You did not seem to be suspicious when you recovered consciousness.’

  ‘One thing worries me, then. The Arabians were behind me in the catacombs. How were they able to get out before me and tell you of Ronan’s death?’

  Cornelius shrugged. ‘You do not know of the many entrances and exits. A few chambers beyond where Ronan was killed is an exit which leads upwards by the cemetery gates. Had you gone that way you would have been out of the catacombs within minutes. Hence, the unknown pilgrim who raised the alarm after leaving the catacombs by another route.’

  Licinius nodded agreement. ‘That is so, sister. There are several passageways. Doubtless, as Cornelius says, the pilgrim who raised the alarm about Ronan also used a different passage and by-passed you on your way back to the main entrance.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go straight to Ronan?’ insisted Fidelma.

  ‘To go by the side entrance along the shorter route would immediately arouse suspicion. In fact, I had wanted to go straight to find Ronan’s body but there were too many people around and I could not leave you without first taking you back to the palace. By then, it was too late. Licinius here was dispatched to the catacombs in search of Ronan’s body.’

  ‘What did you do with the letter and chalice?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘I took the incriminating material and put it in my medical bag. I raced back to tell Osimo the news. The Arabians were obviously responsible for Ronan’s death. But why did they kill him? Did they think that he was betraying them?

  ‘It was not the Arabians,’ Fidelma said firmly.

  Cornelius’s eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘That is precisely what they claimed. But if not they, who, then, is responsible?’

  ‘That we must discover.’

  ‘Well, it was not I nor Osimo. That I can swear by the living God!’ declared Cornelius.

  Fidelma sat back and gazed thoughtfully at the nervous features of the Greek physician.

  ‘One thing puzzles me …’ she began.

  Eadulf guffawed softly in annoyance.

  ‘Only one thing?’ he jested. ‘This mystery gets no clearer at all to me.’

  Furius Licinius was nodding in agreement. Fidelma ignored them.

  ‘You said that Brother Ronan had encountered Wighard before and did not like him. Can you expand on that?’

  ‘I can only give you hearsay, sister,’ Cornelius said, ‘I can only repeat the story as Ronan told it to Osimo and then as Osimo told me.’

  He paused a moment and gathered his thoughts before continuing: ‘Ronan Ragallach left his own country many years ago and travelled to preach the word among the Saxons, firstly in the kingdom of the West Saxons and then to the kingdom of Kent. For a time he preached at the church dedicated to the blessed Martin of Tours within the city walls of Canterbury. It is a tiny church, I am told.’

  Eadulf inclined his head in agreement.

  ‘I know the place.’

  ‘One night, seven years ago, there came a dying man to that little church. The man was broken in body and spirit, dying of a sickness which took the breath from him. He knew that he was dying and wanted to confess his sins.

  ‘By chance there was only one person at the church that night available to administer to him. It was a visiting monk from Ireland.’

  ‘Ronan Ragallach!’ The tesserarius Licinius blurted, impatiently following the story.

  ‘Just so,’ Cornelius confirmed evenly. ‘Brother Ronan. He took the man’s confession and great were the sins. The worst was that the man had been a hired assassin. What troubled him was a great sin, greater than any other, which lay on a prominent member of the church. He told the story of his crime in great detail to Ronan. How he was paid by a deacon of the church to kill his family because the deacon had no use for them. Further, the killer confessed that he took the deacon’s money, slew his wife, but, seeing a way to increase his store, he took the children into a neighbouring kingdom and sold them to a farmer as slaves. The man was dying. And even as he died he named the deacon who had hired him to slaughter his family. At that time the man was then secretary to Deusdedit, the archbishop …’

  ‘Wighard?’ Eadulf exclaimed in horror. ‘Are you saying that Ronan Ragallach claimed Wighard to have hired an assassin to kill his wife and children?’
r />   Cornelius ignored the question and went on: ‘Bound by the rule of confession, Brother Ronan blessed the dead man, for he was not able to absolve such a heinous crime, and later that evening he buried him without the confines of the church. The confession troubled him but he felt unable to confront Wighard nor tell the tale to anyone else. After a few weeks, Ronan decided to leave Canterbury and journey here to Rome and commence a new life. When he saw Wighard in Rome and found he was about to be ordained by His Holiness as archbishop of Canterbury, Ronan was so outraged that he poured out his tale to Osimo and then Osimo later told me.’

  ‘Could Ronan have been so outraged that he killed Wighard?’ demanded Licinius.

  ‘And then killed himself by the same method?’ replied Fidelma, with a frown. ‘That is hardly credible. When did Osimo repeat this story to you, Cornelius?’

  ‘On the day we had discussed the matter of raising the money for the Arabian merchant. The day when Ronan suggested that it would not be a sin to take the valuables from Wighard. I was puzzled by this remark and later, in private, Osimo told me this story by way of explanation as to why Ronan thought that Wighard deserved to be relieved of the treasure.’

  There was a silence while Fidelma reflected on the matter.

  ‘I believe you, Cornelius of Alexandria. The story you tell is too fantastic to be other than the truth for you have admitted much criminal culpability.’

  As she gazed thoughtfully at him it occurred to her to ask a question which had nothing to do with what had been discussed.

  ‘You are a knowledgeable man, Cornelius. Do you know anything about the customs concerning the feast of Saturnalia?’

  ‘The feast of Saturnalia?’ queried the Alexandrian in surprise. His surprise was mirrored in the faces of Eadulf and Licinius.

  Fidelma calmly nodded.

  ‘In the old days it was a religious festival celebrated in late December,’ Cornelius explained. ‘It was a time of enjoyment, goodwill and present giving. All business ceased and everyone dressed up and had a good time.’