Absolution by Murder (27 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Absolution by Murder
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‘I have studied this art under Sinlán of Kildare,’ went on Fidelma. ‘It is easy to the trained eye to spot individuality in the penmanship of a scribe, the way the letters are formed, the polished unicals, the cursive script. The poems were clearly, in my opinion, copied by Gwid.’
‘Then we should be grateful to you, Fidelma of Kildare,’ Colmán said solemnly. ‘We owe you much.’
‘Brother Eadulf and I worked as one on this matter,’ replied Fidelma awkwardly. ‘This was a partnership.’
She smiled quickly at Eadulf.
Eadulf returned the smile and shrugged.
‘Sister Fidelma is modest. I did but little.’
‘Enough to make these facts known to the assembly before I give my decision this very morning,’ replied Oswy decisively. ‘Enough to take the sting out of my words, trying to dispel the suspicion and mistrust that pervades the minds of our brethren.’
He paused and laughed ruefully.
‘I feel that some weight has lifted from these shoulders of mine, for the slaying of Abbess Étain of Kildare was done not for Rome or for Columba but in the name of lust, which is the meanest of motives.’
The
sacrarium
was unusually quiet as Oswy rose from his seat and looked around at the rows of expectant faces. Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf, now their task was done, felt oddly detached from the synod and, instead of returning to their seats on the benches of their respective factions, they stood quietly together by a side door watching the events as if they were no longer part of them.
‘I have made my choice,’ Oswy stated. ‘Indeed, there was no choice to make. When all the argument was spent, it came down to one matter. Which church had the greatest authority – that of Rome or that of the Columban rule?’
There was a murmur of anticipation. Oswy raised a hand to silence it.
‘Colmán claimed the authority of the Divine Apostle John. Wilfrid claimed the authority of the Apostle Peter. Peter is, in the words of the Christ Himself, the keeper of the gate of Heaven and I have no wish to go against him. I desire to obey his commands in all things in case when I come to the gates of the Kingdom of Heaven he, who, by the testimony of the Gospels themselves, holds the keys, should turn me away and there be no one to open for me.’
Oswy paused and looked around the hall, which was unnaturally still.
‘Henceforth, the church in my kingdom of Northumbria shall follow the rule of Rome.’
The silence became ominous.
Colmán rose, his voice heavy.
‘Lord King, I have tried to serve you well these last three years, both as abbot at Lindisfarne and as your bishop. It is with a sorrowful heart that now I must resign these posts and return to my native land where I can worship the living Christ in accordance with my conscience and the teachings of my church. All those who wish to follow the ways of Columba will be welcome to join me in my voyage from this land.’
Oswy’s face was firmly set but there was also sadness in his eyes.
‘So be it.’
There was a murmuring as Colmán turned and left the
sacrarium.
Here and there, members of the Columban church rose to follow his dignified figure.
Abbess Hilda stood up, her face also sad.
‘The synod is at an end.
Vade in pace.
Depart with the peace and grace of our lord Christ.’
Sister Fidelma watched as the benches began to empty. There was hardly a sound now. The decision had been made and Rome had won.
Eadulf bit his lip. Although he was of the Roman faction he seemed to find sadness in the decision, for he glanced unhappily at Fidelma.
‘The decision is political,’ was his verdict. ‘It was not made on grounds of theology, which is sad. Oswy’s greatest fear is political isolation from the southern Saxon kingdoms over whom he wishes to extend his domination. If he had adhered to the teachings of Columba and his fellow Saxons had adhered to Rome, then he would be marked as bringing an alien culture to their land. Rome is already as much a political power in the
kingdom of Kent as it is a spiritual power. The Britons to the west and the Dál Riadans and Picts to the north all threatened our borders. Whether we be men of Kent, or Northumbria, or Mercia or Wessex or East Anglia we are still of one language and one race. We must still contend for the supremacy of this island against those Britons and Picts who would drive us back into the sea.’
Fidelma stared at him in surprise.
‘You are well versed in the undertones of political motivation, Eadulf.’
The monk grimaced wryly.
‘Oswy’s decision was couched in the language of theology but, I tell you directly, Fidelma, his decision was made in the hard reality of political concerns. If he had supported the Columban cause then he would have incurred the enmity of the bishops of Rome. If he supported Rome then he would be accepted by the other kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons and they will then join forces to assert supremacy over this island of Britain and, perhaps one day, the lands beyond. That, I believe, is Oswy’s dream. A dream of power and empire.’
Sister Fidelma bit her lip and exhaled deeply.
So this was all it had meant? No more than power politics. No great intellectual decision or theological broadening of the mind. Oswy was just concerned with power, as all kings were in the final analysis. This great Synod of Streoneshalh was no more than a charade and had it not been for such a charade her friend Étain might well be alive. She turned abruptly away from Eadulf, tears suddenly rimming her eyes, and strode off to be alone for a while, walking along the cliff tops outside the brooding abbey. It was time to give way to the grief she had felt for her friend, Étain of Kildare.
 
 
The bell was tolling for the
cena,
the final meal of the day, when Fidelma crossed the cloisters to enter the refectory. She found Brother Eadulf waiting anxiously for her.
‘The pro-Roman bishops and abbots have met,’ he told her, speaking awkwardly, trying not to notice the redness around her bright eyes. ‘They have held a convocation and decided to elect Wighard as the replacement for Deusdedit.’
Fidelma showed little surprise as they turned in step into the great dining hall.
‘Wighard? So he will become the next Archbishop of Canterbury?’
‘Yes. It seems that he is thought to be the obvious choice of successor for he has been Deusdedit’s secretary for many years and is knowledgeable on all things relating to Canterbury. As soon as the synod disperses, Wighard is to go to Rome to present his credentials to the Holy Father there and ask his blessing in office.’
Fidelma’s eyes glistened a little.
‘Rome. I would love to see Rome.’
Eadulf smiled shyly.
‘Wighard has asked me to accompany him as his secretary and translator for, as you know, I have already spent two years in that city. Why not come with us and see Rome, Sister Fidelma?’
Fidelma’s eyes brightened and she found herself seriously contemplating the idea. Then the colour came hotly to her cheeks.
‘I have been too long away from Ireland,’ she said distantly. ‘I must take the news of Étain’s death back to my brethren in Kildare.’
Eadulf’s face fell in disappointment.
‘It would have been nice to have shown you the holy places of that great city.’
Perhaps it was the wistfulness in his voice that made her suddenly annoyed. He presumed too much. Then she relented her anger almost as soon as she recognised it. It was true she had grown somehow accustomed to Eadulf’s company. It would seem strange to be without him now that the investigation was over.
They had barely settled at their table when Sister Athelswith came up and informed them that the Abbess Hilda wished to see them after the serving of the
cena.
 
The Abbess Hilda rose from her chair as Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf entered her chamber and came forward with hands outstretched to both of them. Her smile was genuine, but there were deep etches around her eyes which marked the strain of the last days and the final conclusion of the synod.
‘I have been asked to thank you both on behalf of Colmán and of Oswy the king.’
Sister Fidelma took her hand in both of hers and inclined her head while Eadulf bent to kiss Abbess Hilda’s ring according to the Roman practice.
Abbess Hilda paused for a moment and then gestured them to be at their ease. She seated herself before the fire.
‘There is no need for me to say what a debt this abbey, indeed, this kingdom, owes you both.’
Fidelma saw the sadness behind the abbess’s face.
‘It was a little service,’ she replied softly. ‘I wish we could have concluded the matter sooner.’ She frowned. ‘Shall you leave Northumbria now, like Colmán?’
Abbess Hilda blinked at the unexpected question.
‘Me, child?’ she responded. ‘I have spent fifty years here and it is my country. No, Fidelma, I shall not go.’
‘But you supported the rule of Columba,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Now that Northumbria has turned to Rome will you still find a place here?’
The abbess gently shook her head.
‘It will not turn Roman overnight. But I will accept the decision of the synod to follow Roman ecclesiastical custom, although my heart sympathises with Irish usage. Yet I will remain here at Streoneshalh, at Witebia – the pure town – and hope it remains pure.’
Brother Eadulf stirred uncomfortably and wondered why he continued to feel sad. After all, his side had won the great debate. The
unitas Catholica
had triumphed. Rome’s rule now extended across the Saxon kingdoms. Why, then, should he feel that something had been lost?
‘Who will take over from Colmán now as bishop?’ he asked in an attempt to rid himself of his melancholy.
Abbess Hilda smiled sadly.
‘Tuda, although educated in Ireland, has accepted Roman orthodoxy and will be bishop of Northumbria. But Oswy has promised that Eata of Melrose will become abbot of Lindisfarne and so that shall be.’
Eadulf was puzzled.
‘But Eata also supported the rule of Columba.’
Hilda nodded agreement.
‘He now accepts Rome according to the decision of the synod.’
‘And what of the others? What of Chad, Cedd, Cuthbert and the others?’ Fildema asked.
‘They have all decided that their duty lies in Northumbria and they will abide by the decision of the synod. Cedd has gone to Lastingham with his brother, the abbot Chad. Cuthbert is to accompany Eata to Lindisfarne as the prior.’
‘So the changes have been tranquil?’ mused Fidelma. ‘No religious war threatens Northumbria?’
Abbess Hilda shrugged.
‘It is too early to say. Most of the abbots and bishops have accepted the decision of the synod. That is for the best. Though many have chosen to accompany Colmán back to Iona and perhaps on to Ireland to form a new settlement. I do not believe that the peace of the kingdom is threatened from any religious quarter. Oswy’s army dealt swiftly with Alhfrith’s rebels. While Oswy mourns the death of his first-born son, he is more secure in his kingdom than ever.’
Eadulf raised an eyebrow laconically.
‘But there is still a threat?’
‘Ecgfrith is young and ambitious. Now that his elder brother, Alhfrith, is dead, he is demanding that he be made petty king of Deira under his father. But his eyes are already on Oswy’s throne. And we are surrounded by hostile nations, Rheged, Powys, the kingdom of the Picts – all are eager to be at our throats. And Mercia always stands ready to take revenge. Wulfhere the king does not easily forget that Oswy slew his father Penda. He is already establishing Mercian domination south of the Humber. Who knows where danger will threaten from?’
Fidelma regarded her sadly.
‘Is that why Oswy departed so soon to join his army?’
Abbess Hilda suddenly gave an uncharacteristic wry grin.
‘He goes to join his army just in case Ecgfrith entertains the
notion that his father is as weak as Alhfrith once claimed.’
There was an awkward silence. Then Abbess Hilda gazed thoughtfully at Eadulf.
‘The bishops have chosen Wighard for the new Archbishop of Canterbury. I understand Wighard will shortly set sail for Rome. Are you accompanying him?’
‘He needs a secretary and interpreter. I have been to Rome and will be joyful to visit the city again. I shall, indeed, go with him.’
Hilda turned inquisitive eyes to Fidelma.
‘And you, Sister Fidelma. Where do you go now?’
Fidelma hesitated and then shrugged.
‘Back to Ireland. I need to take the news of Étain’s death and the decision of the synod back to Kildare.’
‘A pity that your talents will be separated,’ observed Abbess Hilda slyly, glancing from Fidelma to Eadulf. ‘Together you have made a formidable pair.’
Brother Eadulf’s face reddened and he coughed nervously. ‘The talent was entirely with Sister Fidelma,’ he said brusquely. ‘I did little but lend physical assistance when needed.’
‘What is to happen to Sister Gwid?’ cut in Fidelma brusquely.
Abbess Hilda’s eyes hardened.
‘She has been dealt with in our Saxon way.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘She was taken out and stoned to death by the sisters of the abbey as soon as Oswy made his decision known.’ Abbess Hilda rose abruptly before Fidelma could reply and articulate her sudden feeling of revulsion.
‘We will see each other again before you depart on your separate journeys. Go with God.
Benedictus sit Deus in donis Suis.’
They bowed their heads.
‘Et sanctus
in
omnis operibus Suis, ’
they responded as one.
Outside Fidelma turned on Eadulf, her anger boiling over. The Saxon monk reached out a hand to catch her arm.

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