‘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 bis
hop 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.’
Epilogue
Autumn had cast its russet and yellow colourings across the countryside surrounding Cashel. Clouds of grey smoke from chimneystacks showed that already the fires were constantly alight. Heavy woollens and animal furs had replaced the lighter linen and silks affected by those who served at the court of Colgú, King of Muman. Fidelma was stretched lazily in a chair before a blazing log fire. There was a lantern on the table to give extra light, for the day was dark even though the sun, had it been able to shine through the dark scudding clouds, had not yet set. Fidelma was trying to read a letter that had just been delivered by a returning religious who had spent two years wandering among the Franks.
Fidelma was excited when she saw the name of the writer, so excited that she could not wait for Eadulf to return from the business that had taken him to the abbey of Imleach. Breaking the seals, she spread out the vellum on her knees, seeing-with gratitude-that it was written in Latin. The letter was dated four months earlier, and was sent from the city of Nebirnum. She frowned. Why not Autun? But it had been over five years since she and Eadulf had departed from Autun.
‘From Sigeric and Valretrade, servants in the Faith of Christ Jesus, to Fidelma of Cashel and Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, her faithful companion, greetings.
‘We pray this finds you both dwelling in peace and happiness and in the contentment of our Faith. We send you greeting in remembrance of the great services that you rendered to us and our people at Autun.
‘Since you departed our land, a great unhappiness has overcome it and all within the space of two years. Firstly, it was in the spring two years ago that Clotaire our young King died, acknowledging the Faith in his last breath, and he lies buried in the basilica dedicated to the blessed bishop and martyr, Dionysius of Paris. Clotaire’s brother, Theuderic, succeeded him as King, but treachery struck as many suspected it might. Bishop Leodegar conspired with others to place another brother, Childeric, on the throne. Theuderic was arrested and imprisoned in an abbey, while Ebroin, who had continued as adviser to Theuderic, was also imprisoned. Ebroin eventually escaped to exile.
‘There followed such horrors that we can only thank God for our decision to remove ourselves from the cursed abbey of Autun and for our safe delivery from such Fate as befell friends and family. Leodegar and Audofleda enforced their Rule and those who disobeyed were physically degraded, and not just those among the religious communities suffered. All throughout the kingdoms, even those nobles who did not obey Childeric, a young, intolerant ruler guided by the ambitious Leodegar, were mutilated or hanged.
‘It was inevitable that Childeric and his wife Bilichild, both the subject of such hatred for the hurt they were inflicting, would attract the desire for vengeance. Whilst out hunting one day they were assassinated and no one claimed to know by whom.
‘With Childeric’s death, Theuderic was released from his monastic prison and he sent for Ebroin to become his adviser again.
‘Ebroin was not a man of forgiveness for he raised an army and marched on Autun, which was still under the control of Bishop Leodegar. The attack on Autun was fierce and the suffering great. Abbess Audofleda perished, as did her companion Sister Radegund. Many of the religious died in the onslaught on the abbey. Finally Bishop Leodegar surrendered to Ebroin.
‘Leodegar was not treated with courtesy. We are told that his eyes were put out with red-hot pokers and that his tongue was torn out and other unspeakable things were done to him. Yet he survived and was dragged for trial before the court of Theuderic. There, he was further degraded and condemned, albeit, we must in fairness say, as he had so often condemned others without compunction. On Ebroin’s orders he was taken to a forest and hanged.
‘There is a rumour that many of the religious claim him as a martyr. There are now several places that would follow his Rule; indeed, that same Rule decided at that now infamous council in the city of Autun. Even in Autun there are some who are asking that his relics be placed with them as objects worthy of worship. Alas, how short memories are.
‘Valretrade and myself, with our two little ones, were saved from the worst of these atrocities for we were away from the city at the time of Ebroin’s attack. Yet of her sister’s family, only poor Magnatrude survived.
‘So what does the future hold for us? We, together with
Magnatrude, have decided to commence our journey westward. We are already at Nebirnum. We are going to seek a new home, a new life, in the land of the Armoricans. We are told that there is a land called Domnonia, a land by the sea, in the north of that country, where we shall start our new life. Perhaps we shall find a plot of land to farm or an inn to run for pilgrims.
‘All we know is that we can no longer serve these new religious communities that are now following the ideas propounded by Leodegar.
We maintain our Faith in the Christ Jesus but not in men who would try to claim dominion over us and regulate our lives with petty rules that are unnatural to human life. We deny those disciplines for we are human, no more but certainly no less. We are as the Creator made us and, if there is truth in religion, we are as we were meant to be.
‘If Fate and Our Lord Jesus are kind to us, we will meet again with you. If not, accept forever our sincere and dearest wishes for peace and goodwill to attend you all the days of your lives.’
There followed a list of the names of the family of Sigeric and Valretrade.
Fidelma sighed deeply and found herself wiping away a tear.
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The Council of the Cursed sf-19 Page 34