The Council of the Cursed sf-19

by Peter Tremayne

  Brother Chilperic was trying to recover his breath. ‘I came to get you, Brother Gebicca,’ he gasped. ‘Brother Andica has been killed. Please come at once.’

  ‘Brother Andica-the stonemason?’ Brother Gebicca looked amazed. ‘How did that happen?’ he asked, as he turned to find his physician’s bag.

  ‘It seems that he fell from the very alcove where the statue fell,’ said Brother Chilperic. He was regarding Fidelma and Eadulf somewhat suspiciously. ‘Did either of you see a member of the brethren in the alcove before you left?’

  Fidelma decided that in the circumstances mendacity was a better path to follow. ‘Apart from Brother Benevolentia who helped Eadulf here, there was no one. Perhaps this Brother…?’

  ‘Brother Andica. He was one of our stonemasons,’ replied the steward. ‘Brother Eadulf was asking about him only yesterday.’

  ‘That is true,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘I had just met him coming from the women’s community and wondered who he was.’

  ‘He must have gone up to the gallery to investigate why the statue fell, lost his footing and gone over the edge to his death,’ suggested Fidelma.

  ‘This is a great tragedy.’ Brother Chilperic was clearly upset.

  ‘Some of the brethren heard a cry and when they rushed into the corridor, he was lying in the debris with his neck broken by the fall.’

  Brother Gebicca sniffed. It seemed a habit with him.

  ‘I will say what is broken and what is not. I am the physician and no one has consulted me yet. I am finished with the Saxon Brother so I will go to have a look at Brother Andica. Rest as much as you can, Brother Eadulf. And you, Sister Fidelma, should also be resting with that leg of yours. Come, Brother Chilperic.’

  Brother Chilperic gave a deep sigh. ‘I thought Brother Andica was too experienced to make a mistake like that,’ he said as he was leaving. ‘He has been working on the roof and towers of this abbey for many years.’

  ‘It is just sad when a young man falls to his death before he has had time to live,’ Fidelma reflected.

  Brother Gebicca called impatiently and the steward turned again with an apology and left.

  ‘Another death in the abbey,’ Abbot Ségdae said, ‘but at least this one is clearly an accident.’

  Eadulf, who had been sitting patiently, now stirred.

  ‘Forgive me, I feel quite fatigued,’ he said. ‘I must go to our room and rest a while.’

  At once, Abbot Ségdae was apologetic and helped Eadulf negotiate the stairs of the hospitia to their chamber.

  After they had been left alone, Fidelma turned with some eagerness to him and told him exactly what had happened. Eadulf was horrified.

  ‘He actually attempted to kill you?’ he gasped. ‘But why? What reason could there be? And why push the statue down on us in the first place?’

  She looked at him sorrowfully. ‘Aren’t we investigating a murder?’ she asked. ‘If this Andica was involved, then that is reason enough. It means, also, that we are close to our quarry.’

  ‘But why would the local stonemason be mixed up in Dabhóc’s death?’

  ‘To be honest, I cannot see the connection between Dabhóc’s death and the disappearance of the women from the Domus Femini. All right, Sister Valretrade was on her way to meet Brother Sigeric, or Sigeric was on his way to meet her, when the body of Dabhóc was discovered. She disappeared after that. But it seems she was not the only one to do so.’

  ‘Often, in an investigation, one gets a feeling that something is not right. One has to follow that feeling until it is explained or dismissed,’ Eadulf said, and then contradicted himself. ‘Of course, intuition can also be wrong,’ he added.

  ‘Often the feeling is not intuition but the accumulation of facts in the dim recesses of the mind,’ Fidelma said. ‘They remain there in shadows until another fact or event causes them to fit into place. For instance, the disappearances, the behaviour of the abbess and her steward, the connection with Lady Beretrude and our friend Verbas of Peqini, Brother Andica’s attempt to kill us and the missing reliquary box…I see the strands, but they need something to connect them all together.’

  ‘Maybe there is no connection,’ pointed out Eadulf.

  ‘Then we must establish that and move on,’ Fidelma replied. ‘But how?’ She suddenly groaned. ‘Ron baithaigeis hí!’

  ‘And why do you consider yourself a great fool?’ Eadulf asked, surprised.

  ‘Lord Guntram.’

  Eadulf was none the wiser and said so.

  ‘I had forgotten about him,’ Fidelma said. ‘Remember, he was in the next chamber to where the murder was committed? He is also the son of Lady Beretrude. We haven’t even bothered to question him.’

  ‘From what Brother Chilperic said, he was drunk. So drunk he could not even return to his fortress that night. We were told that he had not seen or heard anything because he was in no condition to do so.’

  ‘That’s assumption, Eadulf,’ Fidelma rebuked. ‘You know that it is my philosophy that one must never assume facts. And I nearly fell into that error. That is why I am a fool.’

  ‘We will have to find out where Guntram can be found.’

  ‘Easily done.’ She stood up quickly. ‘Rest here and recover a while. I will be back shortly.’

  Before he had time to protest, she was gone.

  Eadulf limped to the adjacent wash room, removed his dusty and torn clothing and washed the dirt of the statue from his body before putting on a clean robe and stretching out on the bed.

  Fidelma, meanwhile, had made her way to the anticum. Brother Chilperic was there. His expression was moody.

  ‘It seems that Brother Gebicca agrees that the death was an accident,’ he greeted her. ‘Brother Andica must have gone to examine how the statue fell, lost his footing and plunged to his death. It is very sad. He was a patriotic Burgund and he was a very good stonemason. The Lady Beretrude will be upset when I send her word.’

  Fidelma tried not to show her sudden interest; an interest that made her almost forget the point of her coming to find the steward.

  ‘Why would Lady Beretrude be upset?’ she enquired.

  ‘Because she has employed Brother Andica to do some work on her villa. I do not think the work is finished. He has spent much time there during the last two weeks.’

  Fidelma absorbed the information and then murmured some appropriate condolence about the stonemason’s death before asking: ‘Do you know where I might find the Gaul, Brother Budnouen?’

  Brother Chilperic peered round distractedly, as if searching for the man in question.

  ‘You have just missed him, I think. He was in the square with his wagon a moment ago. What do you…?’

  But Fidelma was already gone through the great doors and into the main square.

  In fact, Brother Budnouen was still outside the abbey doors, tightening the straps on the harness of his mules. He face wore his usual affable grin as he saw her racing towards him.

  ‘You look in a hurry, Sister Fidelma.’

  Fidelma halted breathlessly. ‘Have you made your trip to Lord Guntram’s fortress yet?’ she gasped. ‘You said the other day that you were due to go there to do some trade.’

  ‘Lord Guntam, is it? I thought you would want me to take you back to Nebirnum. I wouldn’t blame you if you did, not after what I hear about the happenings in this dark place.’

  ‘Please, have you been yet?’ pressed Fidelma, trying to keep her impatience in check.

  He shook his head. ‘I go tomorrow, just after first light. Why?’

  ‘Is his place far from here?’

  ‘Not at all. It is ten kilometres to the south west.’

  ‘Will you take us? Will you take Eadulf and me there and bring us back?’

  Brother Budnouen’s expression clearly showed that he thought her mad but he agreed anyway.

  ‘I never refuse the offer of company on these trips,’ he said. ‘I depart immediately after sunrise but I do not wish to stay long at his fortres
s. Long enough simply to deliver my goods and collect my money. I want to be back before nightfall.’

  ‘That would suit us well enough. Where shall we meet you?’

  ‘Right here, in the square.’

  ‘Then until tomorrow at sunrise,’ confirmed Fidelma. She was feeling much better now. It was not just because she wanted to see if Lord Guntram could remember anything of the events of the night of the murder, but also because he was Lady Beretrude’s son-and she wondered whether he could provide a key to unlocking the mystery which connected the events at the abbey.

  Chapter Seventeen

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

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

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

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

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

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

  The smith raised a hand in acknowledgement.

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

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

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

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

  ‘How far is this place?’ asked Fidelma.

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

  ‘So you know Lord Guntram well?’

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

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

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

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

  ‘That he is.’

  ‘Does he interfere in religious life in Autun?’

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

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

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

  ‘Somehow? I thought Leodegar was a Frank.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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