Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

Shroud for the Archbishop (8 page)

BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop

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Eadulf pointed into the other room.

‘They were kept in a trunk in Wighard’s reception room.’

Fidelma turned back into the first room. It also reflected the affluence and elegance of the palace, with its furnishings and tapestries. As Eadulf had indicated, a large wooden trunk, bound with iron, stood in one corner. Its lid was already opened and she could see that there was nothing left inside.

‘What was kept in the trunk, Eadulf? Do you know?’

Eadulf smiled a little vainly.

‘That was my duty as
scriba,
secretary to the archbishop. As soon as I arrived in Rome, I was called upon to take up my duties, so I know all about the matter. Every kingdom in the Saxon lands had sent gifts to His Holiness through Canterbury to show that they all submitted to the decision at Witebia; to demonstrate by those gifts that the rule of Rome was accepted among them and that Canterbury was to be the principal bishopric of the kingdoms. There was a tapestry woven by the ladies-in-waiting to the saintly Seaxburgh. She is wife to Eorcenberht of Kent and has endowed a great monastery on the Isle of Sheppey.’

‘So? A tapestry. What else?’

‘Oswy of Northumbria sent a book, a Gospel of Luke, illuminated by the monks of Lindisfarne. Eadulf of East Anglia sent a jewelled casket. Wulfhere of Mercia sent a
bell, worked in gold and silver, while Cenewealh of the West Saxons sent two silver chalices wrought by craftsmen of his kingdom. Then, of course, there was the gift of Canterbury itself.’

‘Which was?’

‘The sandals and staff of Canterbury’s first bishop, Augustine.’

‘I see. And all these objects were placed in this trunk?’

‘Exactly. Along with five gold and silver chalices to be blessed by His Holiness and distributed to the cathedrals of the five kingdoms of the Saxons together with a sack of gold and silver coins for votary offerings. And none of these precious objects is there now.’

‘Such a treasure,’ reflected Fidelma slowly, ‘such a treasure would take some moving.’

‘The objects taken were worth the ransom of a king,’ Eadulf said.

‘So, at this time,’ mused Fidelma, ‘we are asked to consider two motives for the murder of Wighard. The first motive, which Bishop Gelasius suspects on the evidence of the arrest of Brother Ronan, is that Wighard was slain by a malcontent of the Columban church angered by Canterbury’s victory at Witebia. The second motive is that Wighard was slain during the course of a robbery.’

‘The two motives might well be one,’ argued Eadulf. ‘The artifacts of Augustine were beyond price. If a malcontent of the Columban church killed Wighard then what a blow it would be to Canterbury to have the relics of Augustine go missing!’

‘An excellent point, Eadulf. Those artifacts were only beyond price to someone who knew what they were and of
the Faith. Other than that, they were worthless.’

There was a discreet knock on the door of the apartment and Furius Licinius entered. Another member of the
custodes
followed him in. Fidelma had the impression of a rather pleasant-looking man. He was of medium height with broad, powerful shoulders, a strong face and dark, well-tended wavy hair. His appearance, Fidelma noted, was meticulous, the hands scrubbed and fingernails clean. In her native Ireland, clean fingernails were considered a mark of rank and beauty.

‘The
decurion
Marcus Narses, sister,’ Licinius announced.

‘You have been informed of our authority and our intention?’ Fidelma asked.

The
custos
nodded. His movements seemed vigorous and his expression a hearty one.

‘I am told that it was you who discovered Wighard’s body and later arrested Brother Ronan.’

‘That is so, sister,’ agreed the
decurion.

‘Then tell us in your own words how this came about.’

Marcus Narses glanced from Fidelma to Eadulf, paused a moment as if to collect his thoughts, and then turned his gaze back to Fidelma.

‘It happened last night, or rather in the early part of this morning. My watch was to end during the first hour. The duty of my
decuria
…’

‘A company of ten men of the
custodes,
sister,’ interrupted Licinius, eager to explain. ‘The
custodes
of the Lateran Guard are so divided.’

‘Thank you,’ Fidelma, who knew quite well, replied solemnly. ‘Continue, Marcus Narses.’

‘My
decuria
were to guard the grounds of the
domus
hospitale,
the guest quarters where the foreign dignitaries, who were personal guests of His Holiness, were assigned.’

‘I had the same guard duty on the previous night,’ interposed Licinius again. ‘The
Superista,
the military governor, was especially concerned for the welfare of the Saxon archbishop and his entourage.’

Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at the young man.

‘Was he now?’ she asked softly. Then to the impatient
decurion:
‘Go on, Marcus Narses.’

‘The watch was very boring. Nothing untoward had occurred. It was the hour for the Angelus. I heard the bell chiming in the basilica. I was walking across the courtyard …’ he pointed down through the tall window of the chamber, ‘ … that same courtyard as you see below … when I thought that I heard a noise coming from this building.’

‘What sort of noise?’

‘I am not sure,’ frowned the
decurion.
‘It sounded like a piece of metal dropping on a hard surface. I was not even sure which direction it came from.’

‘Very well. What then?’

‘I knew the archbishop-designate to be quartered here, so I entered and ascended the stairs to the corridor outside. I wished to check that all was well.’

The young
custos
paused and swallowed, as if moistening a drying throat.

‘I had reached the head of the stairs and was staring along the corridor outside when I saw a figure, dressed in the habit of a religious, hurrying away from me towards the stairs at the far end. There are two flights of stairs that ascend to the corridor, one from this end of the building, from that courtyard, and the other from the far end into a smaller courtyard and garden.’

‘Was the corridor in darkness or was it lit when you reached it?’ asked Eadulf.

‘It was lit by three torches in their holders. I …’ Marcus Narses paused and then smiled. ‘Ah, I see what you mean, brother. Yes; the corridor was lit well enough for me to recognise Brother Ronan Ragallach.’

Fidelma raised a surprised eyebrow.

‘Recognise?’ she repeated with emphasis. ‘You knew Brother Ronan Ragallach?’

The
custos
flushed and shook his head immediately with embarrassment and corrected himself.

‘What I meant was that the person I saw hurrying away from me down the corridor, I later saw again and arrested. At that point I knew him to be Brother Ronan Ragallach.’

Licinius nodded in melancholy agreement.

‘He was the same person who called himself Brother “Ayn-dina” when …’

His voice trailed away at Fidelma’s slim upraised hand.

‘We are, at this moment, hearing testimony from Marcus Narses,’ she chided softly. ‘Continue,
decurion.
Did this Brother Ronan Ragallach give you his correct name when you apprehended him?’

‘Not at first,’ answered the
custos.
‘He tried to give me the name Brother “Ayn-dina”. But one of my men recognised him as a
scriptor
working in the
Munera Peregrinitatis
…’

‘The Foreign Secretariat,’ supplied Furius Licinius quickly.

‘The guard recalled his name … Ronan Ragallach. It was then that the brother admitted his identity.’

‘We seem to have raced ahead,’ Fidelma said. ‘Let us return to where you first saw the man who later you knew to be Brother Ronan. You say that you saw him at the far end of the corridor in which Wighard’s chamber was situated? Is that so?’

The
decurion
nodded agreement.

‘Did you call upon the brother to stop?’ prompted Eadulf. ‘Did you think he was behaving suspiciously?’

The
decurion
took the cue eagerly.

‘Not at first. As I reached the corridor and noticed the brother at the far end, I simultaneously saw that the door to the archbishop-designate’s apartment was slightly ajar. I called out to the archbishop-designate and when there was no reply I pushed it open, calling again. On receiving no reply, I entered.’

‘Was the apartment lit?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Well lit, sister. Candles were burning in both rooms.’

‘And what did you see?’

‘On entering I detected no disturbance but saw that the lid of the chest was raised,’ he gestured towards the chest which had contained the treasure. ‘There was nothing in the chest, nor sign of anything in the vicinity which looked as if it had been removed from it.’

‘Very well. And then?’ prompted Fidelma again, when he paused.

‘Again I called to the archbishop-designate. I moved to his bed chamber. Then I saw his body.’

‘Describe how the body was lying?’

‘I will show you, if I may?’

Fidelma nodded and the
decurion
led the way into the bed chamber and knelt down, towards the foot of the bed, in almost the same posture as demonstrated by Cornelius of Alexandria.

‘The archbishop-designate was sprawled with his torso on the bed, face downwards. I saw a knotted cord around his neck. I reached forward to check for a pulse. The skin was
cold to the touch and I knew him to be dead.’

‘Cold, you say?’ Fidelma demanded eagerly. ‘The skin was
cold
to the touch?’

‘It was,’ confirmed Marcus Narses rising to his feet. As he rose, the point of his scabbard snagged on the coverlet and dragged it a little. Fidelma’s eyes caught sight of something under the bed but she allowed her features to remain composed and her face turned attentively to the young
decurion.

‘Go on,’ she invited, for he had paused once more.

‘It was obvious that the archbishop had been strangled with the cord. Murdered.’

‘What was your immediate thought?’ Fidelma was interested. ‘Your immediate thought when you knew Wighard to be dead?’

Marcus Narses stood for a moment, pursing his lips as he reflected upon the question. ‘That the person I had seen hurrying along the corridor might be the murderer, naturally.’

‘Quite so. And what of the empty chest? What was your thought about that?’

‘I thought that perhaps a robbery had been committed in which the archbishop had disturbed the thief and been slain for his pains.’

‘Perhaps. The figure you saw hurrying away, was it carrying a sack or other means of transporting bulky objects such as those that were stored in this chest?’

The
custos
reluctantly shook his head.

‘I do not recall.’

‘Come. You have been fairly specific until now,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘You can surely continue to be specific?’

The
decurion
blinked at the sudden, unexpected belligerence in her voice.

‘Then I have to say that I did not observe any sack or bag being carried.’

‘Just so. And the body was cold when you touched it. Did you deduce anything from that?’

‘Simply that the man was dead.’

‘I see. Go on. What did you do?’

‘I shouted to raise the alarm and ran in pursuit of the figure which by then had disappeared down the stairway.’

‘Where did you say that this stairway at the far end of the passageway led to?’

‘To a second quadrangle at the back of this building. As luck would have it, two of the
decuria
were passing through the courtyard and had observed the figure of the brother making his hurried exit from the building. They called on him to halt. He did so.’

‘He did so?’ Fidelma was surprised.

‘There was little else he could do when faced by two armed
custodes,’
smiled the
decurion
cynically. ‘They asked him to identify himself and his business. He gave this name of “Ayn-dina” and he was almost persuading them to let him go when they heard my voice raising the alarm. Then they held on to the man until I arrived. There is little else to say.’

‘They held on to him?’ queried Eadulf. ‘Do you mean he tried to escape?’

‘At first, yes.’

‘Ah,’ Eadulf smiled triumphantly. ‘Not the action of an innocent man.’

Fidelma ignored him and asked: ‘Did you ask the brother what he was doing in the vicinity of the archbishop-designate’s chambers?’

The
decurion
grinned sardonically.

BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop

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