Read Shroud for the Archbishop Online

Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

Shroud for the Archbishop (32 page)

BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop
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Eafa smiled wryly.
‘It was pure chance. The abbess wanted to take flowers to Wighard’s grave. I recognised the Irish monk.’
‘How could you recognise him?’ demanded Licinius.
It was Eadulf who replied.
‘She recognised him as the same man who had asked questions about Wighard on the morning of the murder. Eafa had been stopped by Ronan outside the
domus hospitale.
She realised later that he was Ronan Ragallach by the description issued.’
‘It was a mistake for Eafa to have told us of her first encounter with Ronan,’ Fidelma said. ‘When she saw Ronan she slipped away from the abbess and simply followed him into the catacombs and …’ She shrugged.
‘You are right, Fidelma,’ Eafa confirmed, her sentence ending in a paroxysm of coughing.
‘And Puttoc?’ pressed Fidelma.
Eafa’s eyes blazed.
‘I killed Puttoc, also. Puttoc was a pig. He attempted to rape me as Fobba had done. He deserved to die for that alone but he also shared my father’s secret. I think that when I went to his
cubiculum
this afternoon, he was beginning to suspect …’
Eadulf, kneeling by the girl’s head, was astounded.
‘Then what was Eanred doing when we entered Puttoc’s chamber? It seemed to us that he had done the deed. If he had not, why did he flee?’
Fidelma glanced up at him.
‘When Eafa was killing Puttoc the abbot grasped a piece of her dress, a dress containing a brooch which she had bought here in Rome,’ Fidelma explained. ‘When she returned to her own chamber, she discovered it missing. Realising that it would link her with the killing, she asked her brother Eanred to go and retrieve it from Puttoc’s chamber before his body was discovered. Unfortunately for Eanred we entered and caught him in the act, not of murdering Puttoc but of trying to hide his sister’s culpability.’
Eadulf stared at her in horror.
‘You
knew
?’ he said accusing. ‘You knew it was Eafa long before we came here?’
‘I began to suspect Eafa entered the story a long time ago. Even from the first meeting with Eanred, when Eanred called Eafa
my
sister. Initially I thought it was a slip of the tongue and he meant sister in the religious sense. Then I realised that he meant that Eafa was his sister in flesh and blood terms and not simply a spiritual one.’
Eadulf grimaced, annoyed that he had been left to follow a false trail.
‘Well, it could have been Eanred,’ he said in order to justify himself. ‘After all, Eanred had killed for his sister before. Don’t forget he had garrotted Fobba of Fobba’s Tun.’
A low sigh shuddered through the body of the dying girl.
‘I … not Eanred … not Eanred who garrotted Fobba … Fobba raped me … I killed the pig … like a pig … There is no blood on Eanred’s hands.’
The skin of Eafa was mottled and her lips gave a curious jerk. There was a rattle of breath deep within her throat and then she was still. Even as they watched they saw the strange
mottling of blood was clearing and the skin was taking on a yellowing, waxy hue.
Fidelma reached down and closed the girl’s eyes and then genuflected.
‘
Requiem aeternam dona ea, Domine …
’ she began solemnly. And one by one they began to join in the prayer for the dead, their voices rising and falling in cadences but not quite in unison.
The sun was uncomfortably high in the heavens, blazing down with that curious white light which seemed to reflect even against darker objects as well as the vivid whites of the Roman buildings. Fidelma sat under the shade of a rough canvas awning on the wooden quay near the Bridge of Probi which spanned the muddy waters of the stately Tiber. Behind her, the steeply rising slope of the hill of Aventinus threw a slight shadow but one which failed to reach the exposed banks of the river.
Beside her, though standing and now and again pacing awkwardly in scarcely concealed agitation, was Eadulf.
‘At what hour did you say that the boat would arrive?’ Eadulf demanded, and not for the first time.
Fidelma did not rebuke him but meekly said, as she had done several times previously: ‘At the noon hour, Eadulf. We are the first to arrive. The boatman has to take several people down river to Ostia and Porto.’
Eadulf was obviously worried.
‘But is it wise to be travelling alone?’
She shook her head.
‘Nothing will happen to me before I reach Ostia. And in
Ostia I shall meet with my compatriots from Columbanus’ house of Bobbio who are travelling back to Ireland. We shall all make the journey together to Marsillia and from there continue to Ireland.’
‘Are you sure that you will meet them in Ostia?’ demanded Eadulf.
She smiled at his fussing. He had insisted on accompanying her from the house of Arsenius and Epiphania, across the city to the quay. There had been a strange awkwardness between them these last few days since the resolution of the mystery of Wighard’s death.
‘Must you go?’ Eadulf suddenly blurted.
Fidelma shrugged expressively.
‘Yes,’ she replied simply. ‘I must go home. Now that the Holy Father has approved and blessed the Rule of my house, I can return to Kildare with my mission complete. Also, I have letters to deliver to Ultan of Armagh.’ She paused and examined Eadulf’s features reflectively. ‘How long do you think that you will remain in Rome now?’
It was Eadulf’s turn to spread his arms in a gesture of ignorance.
‘It may even be several years before we are ready to commence the journey back to Canterbury. There is much to instruct the new archbishop on.’
Fidelma’s eyes widened for she had not heard anything about the appointment.
‘So Vitalian has appointed a new archbishop of Canterbury, after all? I wondered why you were locked away in meetings all yesterday afternoon. I thought I would be departing before I saw you again. Is it Abbot Hadrian of Hiridanum who has been appointed?’
Eadulf shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another.
‘No one is supposed to know, just yet. But …’ he punctuated the sentence with his hand. Then he lowered his voice to a confidential tone. ‘No, it is not Hadrian. He refused to accept Vitalian’s nomination. At first he recommended another abbot called Andrius but he was apparently too ill to accept the office.’
‘So? Who has been chosen? Don’t tell me that Brother Sebbi … ?’
Eadulf chuckled warmly.
‘No, not Sebbi. It is an elderly Greek monk from Tarsus named Theodore who has been a refugee in Rome these last four years. Tarsus fell to the Arabian followers of Mahomet and he was forced to flee here for safety.’
Fidelma was surprised.
‘A Greek? Of the Eastern tonsure?’
Eadulf smiled knowingly.
‘I thought you would see the irony of that. But Theodore has promised to convert to Rome after instruction.’
‘Your Saxon kings and prelates are not going to like this one bit,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Particularly our friend Wilfrid of Ripon.’
Eadulf agreed.
‘And that is why we will be in Rome for some time. Vitalian has appointed Hadrian to instruct Theodore in the ways of Rome. Furthermore, Hadrian has been appointed companion to Theodore when he goes to Canterbury, lest Theodore start to introduce Greek customs into the Saxon kingdoms, customs that will be little different from the observances of the church of Columba.’
Fidelma was grinning mischievously.
‘Now that would be something, Eadulf. The decision of Witebia in favour of Rome being overturned by a Roman appointed bishop.’
Eadulf saw her point but was serious.
‘As you say, there will be many who will not like this appointment.’
‘What of Brothers Sebbi and Ine?’
‘Ine has agreed to become Theodore’s personal servant and Sebbi will remain here for a while before returning to become Abbot of Stanggrund, as his ambition always desired. He wants for nothing more.’
Fidelma cast a quick glance at Eadulf.
‘And you?’
‘Me? I have promised Vitalian that I shall remain with Theodore as his
scriptor
and adviser on Saxon law and customs. So this is why it will be a while before we are ready to undertake the return to Canterbury. Not only does Theodore have to be instructed in many things but he is only a monk. He has to go through ordination as priest, deacon and then bishop, formerly rejecting the rites of the Eastern Church for those of Rome.’
Fidelma examined the wood planking on the quay as if she were interested in it. She did not say anything for a moment or two.
‘So will you remain here until Theodore is ready before you return to Canterbury?’
‘Yes. And will you now go back to Kildare? Will you return there and stay for good?’
Fidelma grimaced but did not answer directly.
‘I shall miss you, Eadulf …’
There was a movement at the end of the quay and the familiar tall, imperious form of Abbess Wulfrun came striding along. She had two nervous anchoresses in tow, who were struggling with her baggage as she gave them instructions in her usual harsh tones. Wulfrun suddenly caught sight of Fidelma and Eadulf and halted her entourage, deliberately turning her back to them. She took a position standing in the sun rather than moving under the shade of the awning where Fidelma sat.
‘Pride goeth before destruction and the haughty spirit before a fall,’ muttered Fidelma.
Eadulf grinned knowingly.
‘She does not seem to have learnt her lesson,’ he agreed. ‘She obviously did not like the truth being revealed. Rather would she live in the fantasy that she was a princess and not a former slave.’
‘Veritas odium parit,’
Fidelma replied, quoting a line from Terence. ‘Truth begats hatred. Yet I feel sorry for her. It must be sad not to have sufficient faith in oneself that one must invent a background to attract other people’s respect. Most of the harm done in this world is due to people who want to feel important and set about trying to impress their importance on others.’
‘What were the ironic words of Epictetus?’ queried Eadulf, frowning as he tried to remember.
‘You mean his question – “What, will the whole world be overturned when you die?” Irony, indeed,’ observed Fidelma, smiling. ‘Anyway, Abbess Wulfrun seems to have found herself new acolytes to replace poor, sad Sister Eafa. I can still feel sorrow for her.’
She inclined her head to where Wulfrun was still lecturing
her two new young servants, telling them where to place her baggage and where to stand.
‘She will not alter,’ Eadulf commented. ‘I hope that you do not have to make the entire trip in her company.’
‘Ah, her attitude matters not to me, only to her.’ Fidelma turned quizzically back to Eadulf, but his eyes were narrowed as he watched another newcomer striding down on to the quay. His expression registered such surprise that Fidelma turned and followed his gaze.
The figure of the
tesserarius
Furius Licinius, carrying a box under his arm, strode past Abbess Wulfrun and her group and came to a halt under the awning before Fidelma.
‘I heard that you were leaving Rome only this morning, sister,’ he greeted, his expression suddenly embarrassed.
Fidelma smiled up at the awkward young soldier.
‘I had not thought the travel arrangements of a poor Irish sister of importance to an officer of the Lateran Palace
custodes,
Furius Licinius,’ she said gravely.
‘I …’ Licinius bit his lip and then gave a stiff glance at Eadulf, who pretended to be interested in examining the rushing brown waters of the muddy Tiber. ‘I brought you this gift … a souvenir of your time in Rome.’
Fidelma saw the young man actually blush as he pushed forward the object which was wrapped in sackcloth. It was obviously a wooden box. Solemnly Fidelma took it and unwrapped the cloth. Indeed; it was a beautifully wrought box of a curious black wood that Fidelma had seen only once before.
‘It is called
ebenus,’
explained Licinius.
‘It is beautiful,’ agreed Fidelma, observing the tiny silver clasp and hinges, shining against the blackness of the box. ‘But you should not …’
‘It is not empty,’ Licinius went on eagerly. ‘Open it.’
Solemnly, Fidelma did so. Inside were arranged a dozen glass phials in velvet-lined compartments.
‘What is it? Herbal cures?’ she asked.
Eadulf had turned back now in interest.
Licinius was still colouring furiously as he bent forward and took out a phial, removing its cork stopper.
Fidelma sniffed suspiciously and then her eyes widened in astonishment.
‘Perfume!’ she breathed.
Licinius swallowed nervously.
‘The ladies of Rome make great use of such fragrances. I want you to accept this as a token of my respect, Fidelma of Kildare.’
Fidelma felt suddenly very awkward.
‘I don’t think …’ she began.
Licinius reached forward impulsively and caught her slender hand in his.
‘You have taught me much about women,’ he said earnestly. ‘I will not forget. So please accept this token in remembrance of me.’
Fidelma found herself feeling suddenly sad and tears came unbidden to her eyes. She thought of Cian and then of Eadulf and wished she were simply a teenager again facing the
aimsir togu,
the age of choice, with her whole life before her. She tried to smile but it became a wry grimace.
‘I will accept this gift, Licinius, for the spirit in which you give it.’
Licinius saw Eadulf staring at him and he abruptly drew himself up, his expression becoming almost wooden.
‘Thank you, sister. May I wish you a safe journey back to your homeland? God go with you, Fidelma of Kildare.’
‘Dia ar gach bóthar a rachaidh tú,
Licinius. As we say in my language, God be on every road you travel.’
The young member of the
custodes
of the Lateran Palace drew himself up and saluted, before turning on his heel and striding away.
Eadulf hesitated in discomfort for a moment and then he tried to sound bantering.
‘I think that you have made a conquest there, Fidelma.’
He frowned when Fidelma turned abruptly away but not before he had seen the look of anger spread across her features. He wondered what he had said to cause such annoyance. He stood clumsily as she fiddled with the ebony box of perfume before rewrapping it in the sackcloth to put with her baggage.
‘Fidelma …’ Eadulf began awkwardly. Then he stopped and swore in his native tongue.
She was so startled by the unexpected expletive that she jerked her head up in astonishment. Eadulf was staring towards the end of the quay.
A
lecticula
had halted. It was accompanied by a troop of the Lateran Palace
custodes
in their official uniforms which seemed more an echo of Rome’s imperial pagan past than her Christian present. The tall figure of Bishop Gelasius climbed out and, waving his attendants aside, began to make his way alone on to the quay.
Abbess Wulfrun went hurrying to meet him. They could hear her harsh, penetrating voice from where Fidelma sat.
‘Ah, Bishop; you have heard that I was departing Rome today then?’ Wulfrun was greeting him.
Gelasius pulled up, blinking, as if seeing Wulfrun for the first time.
‘Oh? No, I had not.’ His voice was distant. ‘I wish you well on your journey. I have to see someone else now.’
He hurried on by the abbess of Sheppey leaving her with an outraged expression on her arrogant features.
‘Pride goeth before a fall,’ repeated Eadulf softly.
Bishop Gelasius strode directly to where Fidelma was sitting and she rose hesitantly before him.
‘Fidelma of Kildare,’ the
nomenclator
of the Bishop of Rome’s household smiled a greeting, barely acknowledging Eadulf. ‘I could not let you depart from our city without coming to give you my best wishes for a safe journey home.’
‘That is most kind of you,’ Fidelma replied.
BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop
12.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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