The Council of the Cursed sf-19

by Peter Tremayne

  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 possess
ion, 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 ma
rried 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.’