Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

Shroud for the Archbishop (31 page)

BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop

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‘Then I don’t see …’ began Gelasius, raising his hands helplessly.

‘Patience, bishop,’ insisted Fidelma, ‘for we are nearly through.’

She turned to the Abbess Wulfrun, standing in front of her and staring down at her pinched, white face.

‘Do you think these written names will reveal one and the same person, Abbess of Sheppey?’ Fidelma asked innocently.

‘How would I know?’ grated the woman, but she was somehow deflated, all her pomp and arrogance had vanished.

‘How indeed?’ wondered Fidelma. ‘You were raised in the kingdom of the East Saxons, weren’t you?’

All eyes turned on the abbess with curiosity.

‘Yes. I am … I was …’

Eadulf suddenly saw where Fidelma’s previous talk about Saturnalia was leading them. He stared at Wulfrun in surprise. Wulfrun, a former slave. Wulfrun … the lost sister of Eanred?

‘Are you saying that Wulfrun is …?’ he began.

Wulfrun was about to rise from her chair, her face contorted in consternation when Fidelma abruptly turned away from her.

‘As I said earlier, Wighard had two children,’ she explained, ‘a son and a daughter.’

‘I am note …’ cried Wulfrun, reaching forward as if to catch Fidelma and her headdress fell from her neck, where she had
been fondling it. There was a telltale scar around her neck. The mark of a slave collar.

But Fidelma was ignoring Wulfrun. Instead her bright eyes were resting on the dowdy figure of Sister Eafa.

‘You were a slave on a farm, weren’t you, Eafa?’

The girl blinked but made no reply.

‘I will not insist that you remove your headdress, Eafa. Simply confirm what I know we will see there. Like Wulfrun, you bear the scar of a slave collar, don’t you?’

The light-brown eyes of the girl were peculiarly animated. They stared at Fidelma with a strange fire.

‘If you know, why ask? Yes, I was raised as a slave on a farm in the land of the East Saxons.’

‘And it was on that farm that the Abbess Wulfrun found you and bought your freedom, taking you to her abbey on Sheppey to be a servant to her.’

The anchoress simply shrugged.

‘Would you like to tell us the name of the owner of that farm and its location?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Or should we ask Abbess Wulfrun here?’

Sister Eafa bit her lip. Then she said quietly, ‘It … it was the farm of Fobba, at Fobba’s Tun.’

Fidelma’s features broadened into a smile.

‘Marinus, would you mind reading the name on the two tablets you hold?’

The military governor took up the two tablets and, squinting, read them out, ‘Fobba of Fobba’s Then.’

‘Because she was raised on the farm of Fobba, it does not necessarily mean anything more than that,’ interposed Wulfrun, trying to recover some of her lost authority.

‘But it does, for Eafa herself told me during questioning
that she was originally from Kent, taken to the land of the East Saxons as a child. She neglected to say that she was taken there as a slave. She is Eanred’s sister and the daughter of Wighard.’

The girl raised her head, her eyes blazing with anger.

‘It is no crime to have been Eanred’s sister.’

Fidelma smiled sadly.

‘No, that was no crime. And if the similarity of the light-brown eyes you share with Eanred were not proof enough, I think I knew that you were brother and sister when I saw you in intimate conversation in the chapel of Helena. The way you embraced …’

‘Eafa was the woman in the chapel?’ cried Furius Licinius, astounded. ‘But you did not say you recognised her.’

‘It was you, wasn’t it, Eafa?’ pressed Fidelma.

Eafa shrugged. Her expression admitted the truth of what Fidelma said.

‘I suspected as much, but I was not sure,’ Fidelma sighed. ‘When a brother and sister kiss it is different from a lover’s kiss. Eanred was protective of his sister, wasn’t he? Kind and anxious to keep you safe. When your mother had been slain and the two of you sold into slavery, he had assumed the role of your protector. He stood near you while you both grew from childhood into young adults. When Fobba raped you, he demanded an eye for an eye. Only Puttoc’s intervention saved him from the gallows and he was taken off to Stanggrund. You never saw him again until you arrived in Rome.’

‘That is true. I will not hide it,’ confessed the girl with quiet dignity. ‘But where is the crime?’

‘You continued to work on the farm for the heir of Fobba until, as the fates would have it, some months later Abbess
Wulfrun came by looking for an intelligent slave to take to her abbey, someone who would obey her readily. She bought your freedom.’

Fidelma glanced at Abbess Wulfrun who was sitting shaken and bewildered. Her glance demanded verification and Wulfrun gave it with a curt nod.

‘I did not know that Eafa was the daughter of Wighard,’ she added in a confused tone.

‘Of course not. But then neither did Eafa at this time,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘In fact, both Eanred and Eafa had been raised with such a dim memory of their past that neither knew that they were the children of Wighard nor that their father had ordered them to be killed, together with their mother, simply to enhance his career within the church.’

‘Then how … ?’ began Marinus.

‘Will you tell us when and from whom you first learnt about your dark secret, Eafa?’ asked Fidelma, cutting the
Superista
short.

The young religieuse stuck out her chin defiantly. Fidelma took this to be a negative. She waited a moment more and then went on: ‘Abbot Puttoc was a highly intelligent man but he had one fault. He indulged in what Rome would call the sins of the flesh. His greatest sin was forcing his attention on women whether they desired that attention or not.’

Eafa was looking really shaken now as she struggled to keep calm.

‘He knew Eanred’s story, and how he had killed his master to protect his sister. Puttoc knew that Eanred’s master had been Fobba of Fobba’s Tun. From something which Wulfrun dropped in conversation he had also placed Eafa at Fobba’s Tun and he realised that she was none other than Eanred’s sister …’

‘But how could they be linked to Wighard?’ demanded Sebbi, intervening in the conversation.

‘Simple,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Ronan Ragallach knew the name of the man who had bought Wighard’s children. He told Osimo, who then told Cornelius and Cornelius …’

‘Told Puttoc!’ ended Eadulf triumphantly.

‘And Puttoc told you, didn’t he, Eafa?’ demanded Fidelma, turning to gaze down at the girl, whose face was working with a strange variety of emotions. ‘Shall I tell you why?’

The girl suddenly exploded in anger at Fidelma. Her whole frame and being was transformed into a raging fury.

‘No need. He attempted to seduce me and when I rejected him the pig became angry and told me all about … all about, my
father
!’ The last word was spat out like unpalatable venom.

‘So you knew Wighard was your father?’ demanded Gelasius in amazement.

‘I challenged Wighard that evening after the
cena.
I waited until he was walking in the garden alone and I challenged him to deny it …’

‘I saw you there,’ Brother Sebbi agreed, ‘but did not recognise you, only Wighard.’

‘What happened?’ Fidelma urged the girl. ‘Did he deny it?’

‘He seemed shocked. But he recovered and told me to come to his chambers later that evening,’ Eafa replied. ‘He did not deny or confirm it.’

‘But you knew,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘You knew that Wighard was your father and you told Eanred. It was not the first time that Eanred had garrotted someone on your behalf. Eanred kept that appointment, didn’t he? He went to Wighard’s chamber and killed him before he went on to the Colosseum.’

She turned with assurance to Bishop Gelasius.

‘Eanred had garrotted Fobba and now he garrotted his own
father, Wighard, because of what Wighard had done to his mother and to Eafa and himself.’

‘And then he killed Ronan Ragallach in the same way,’ interposed Eadulf, suddenly seeing the line of thought. ‘Puttoc had told Eafa that the information had come from Ronan Ragallach and neglected to mention that it had come by way of Osimo and Cornelius. Therefore, Eafa thought that Ronan was the only other person to know … apart from Puttoc. At her behest, both Ronan and Puttoc were also garrotted by her brother!’

He ended with a smile of triumph at the final simplicity of the matter. Then he realised the weakness of the deduction. Eanred had gone to the Colosseum after the evening meal. He had then remained with Cornelius drinking. Ine had seen Wighard much later. Eanred could not have …

He saw Fidelma was grinning at him and suddenly knew she was laying a trap.

‘No! That is not true!’

Eafa’s vehement cry was so strong that they all turned to look at her. She was standing now, her frail body trembling.

‘My brother Eanred was a kind person. He was simple and believed in the sacredness of life. He loved animals and would do anything for the people he met. He would do anything for me …’

‘Even kill?’ sneered Licinius. He turned to Gelasius. ‘I think you have been presented with the true facts …’

‘Stop!’ It was Abbess Wulfrun whose piercing shriek caused them to start in consternation. Momentarily distracted by her, they now turned back to see Eafa slipping to the floor as if in slow motion. A bright red stain was spreading rapidly across the front of her
stola.

Fidelma reached forward hurriedly and caught the girl as she reached the floor.

The haft of the knife clutched into Eafa’s bosom told its own story.

Wulfrun was moaning softly, completely in shock.

‘Why?’ demanded Fidelma, as they moved forward in a semicircle around the girl.

Eafa blinked and tried to focus on Fidelma. Her face grimaced in pain.

‘Bless me … for I have sinned …’

‘Why did you do this?’ urged Fidelma again.

‘To save Eanred’s soul,’ grunted the girl.

‘Explain yourself,’ Fidelma pressed gently.

Eafa started to cough blood.

‘I am not afraid …’ she whispered. Then her brown eyes suddenly cleared and focused. ‘You were wrong, Fidelma. You see, I went to his room that night.’

‘So it was the girl he was expecting,’ muttered Ine, hovering at the back of the circle. ‘That was why he did not want my help that night to prepare for bed.’

It was clear that Eafa had not long before death took her.

‘You went there?’ Fidelma asked, turning back to Eafa. ‘You went to see Wighard?’

The girl had another spasm of coughing.

‘I did … Again, I told him what I knew. I told him that Eanred and I were his children and that we knew that he had paid to have us and our mother slain.’

‘Did he deny it?’

‘I … I might … might have stood it if he had. But he confessed all. He burst into tears and turned and knelt by his bed. Oh …’ she coughed again. ‘Oh, if he had begged my
forgiveness, or the forgiveness of Eanred or the shade of my mother. But, no. He started begging God to forgive him. While I stood there, his own daughter whom he denied, he knelt and begged God to forgive him. He had his back to me. He knelt in prayer by the bed. It seems …’ A racking cough interrupted her speech. ‘It seemed that God showed me the way. Quietly I took up his prayer cord and, before he even suspected anything, he was dead.’

Even with her dying breaths there was a grim satisfaction in her voice.

Gelasius gazed in wide-eyed disbelief.

‘How could you, a slight girl, garrotte a grown man?’

Eafa’s eyes were unable to focus now. The blood was a large pool at her side. Nevertheless, a faintly vicious smile played around her lips.

‘I was a slave on a farm. I grew up knowing how to slaughter animals. If you can garrote a pig when you are twelve, there is nothing to killing a man.’

Her body heaved and she coughed again.

Fidelma bent forward quickly.

‘Sister, there is not much time. If you killed Wighard, did you also kill Ronan Ragallach?’

The dying girl nodded agreement.

‘For the reason you gave earlier. Puttoc made no mention of any others knowing the secret. Only Ronan Ragallach. I killed the Irish monk thinking he alone shared the terrible secret of my father with Puttoc.’

‘But how did you know how and where to find Ronan Ragallach when the entire band of
custodes
had been unable to find him?’ demanded Licinius. ‘Surely you had never even seen Ronan Ragallach?’

Eafa grimaced, half in amusement, mostly in pain.

Fidelma spoke for her.

‘You were at the cemetery. You were there with the abbess. I thought I heard her voice when I was recovering consciousness.’

BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop

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