Shroud for the Archbishop (6 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop
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‘Am I suspected of some involvement in the death of Wighard of Canterbury?’ Fidelma demanded coldly, after she realised the gravity of the
Superista’
s news.
Marinus looked unhappy and spread his hands, an odd gesture which implied some apology.
‘I had to ask the questions. Many people might wish Wighard dead, especially those who opposed Canterbury’s support of Roman rule among the Saxon kingdoms.’
‘Then we are talking of countless thousands who would wish that Canterbury had not been successful at the council at Witebia,’ replied Fidelma icily.
‘But not that many in Rome who have an opportunity,’ Marinus said slyly.
‘Are you saying that Wighard was slain by someone who was angered by the success of Canterbury during the recent synod at Hilda’s monastery?’
‘No such conclusions have yet been reached.’
‘Then why am I here?’
‘To help us, Sister Fidelma,’ replied a new voice. ‘That is, if you would.’
Fidelma looked round and found the tall, thin figure of
Bishop Gelasius shuffling forward from a side door which had been shielded by a curtain. He had obviously been standing there listening to Marinus’ interrogation of her.
Fidelma rose uncertainly in deference to the bishop’s rank.
Gelasius held out his left hand. This time Fidelma did not even bother to take it but folded her arms before her and inclined her head in a brief bow of acknowledgment. Her lips were compressed into a thin, determined line. If these Romans were going to accuse her of some responsibility with Wighard’s death then she felt no obligation to make any token of obeisant observation. Gelasius sighed and took the chair which Marinus had now vacated. The military governor of the Lateran stood respectfully to one side, slightly behind the chair.
‘Bring the monk in, Marinus,’ Gelasius instructed, ‘and be you seated, Fidelma of Kildare.’
Fidelma was now faintly bewildered as she sank back into her seat. Gelasius seemed to share Marinus’ anxiety and it was reflected on his gaunt features.
Marinus strode across the room to the door and signalled someone beyond.
There was a pause. Gelasius sat staring at the fire a while before he raised his eyes towards the newcomer who had entered the
officium
and stood waiting patiently.
Fidelma turned around on her chair. Her eyes widened in surprise.
‘Brother Eadulf!’
Eadulf smiled, a little tiredly, as he crossed with the
Superista
and stood hesitantly before Bishop Gelasius.
‘Be seated, Eadulf of Canterbury.’
Marinus had brought forward two more wooden chairs,
scraping the stone floor as he did so, and seated himself on one while Eadulf took the other.
Fidelma turned back to Gelasius with a look of interrogation.
The bishop spread his hands and smiled in placation.
‘You have merely confirmed what our Saxon brother Eadulf has told us …’
‘Then … ?’ began Fidelma, her perplexity showing.
The bishop raised a hand to command silence.
‘This death of Wighard is a serious matter. No one is above suspicion. You freely admitted that you were one of the delegates who were in conflict with Canterbury at the synod held at Hilda’s monastery. You might easily have sought vengeance on Wighard who, as archbishop-designate of Canterbury, had emerged victorious from the argument.’
As Fidelma exhaled deeply in annoyance he continued hurriedly: ‘But, Brother Eadulf has informed us of the singular service you performed during the debate at Witebia by solving the murder of the Abbess Étain.’
Fidelma glanced towards Eadulf who was sitting with his eyes downcast, his face expressionless.
‘The service was achieved in cooperation with Brother Eadulf, for without his assistance there might not have been a positive resolution to the matter,’ she replied icily.
‘Just so,’ Gelasius agreed. ‘But even with such fulsome recommendation as has been given of your character by Brother Eadulf one had to be sure …’
Again Fidelma frowned.
‘Sure of what? Where is this interrogation leading?’
‘Sister Fidelma, when we met the other day you mentioned that you were a qualified advocate of the law courts of your
native land. Brother Eadulf confirms this. You apparently have a singular ability at solving puzzles.’
Fidelma was exasperated by Gelasius’ pedantic approach. Why didn’t he get to the heart of what he wanted to say?
The bishop went on carefully: ‘The fact is that you have the talent of which the Lateran Palace is sorely in need. We wish that you, Sister Fidelma, together with Brother Eadulf here, make inquiries to ascertain the cause of Wighard’s death and discover who has stolen the gifts that he brought with him.’
There was a silence while Fidelma absorbed what Gelasius was saying. An immediate thought came into her mind.
‘Does the Lateran Palace have no law officer to conduct such an investigation?’ she asked with a meaningful glance at the military governor.
‘Indeed. Rome was, still is, the
communis patria
of the legal and political world,’ replied Marinus, his voice torn between resentment and pride. Fidelma nearly replied that Rome’s law had never extended to her own land whose ancient legal system was equally as old for it had been collected together in the time of the High King Ollamh Fódhla, eight centuries before the birth of the Christ. Yet Fidelma put a curb on her tongue.
‘Law in this city of Rome,’ Gelasius explained more temperately than the
Superista,
‘is administered by the
Praetor Urbanus
and his staff who upholds the rule of existing law. Because there are foreigners involved, this case comes under the jurisdiction of the
Praetor Peregrinus
who is responsible for all legal matters in which those involved are foreigners.’
‘Then why do you need any help from myself, whose knowledge is limited to Irish law, and to Brother Eadulf, who was
once a
gerefa
– a magistrate of the Saxons?’
Gelasius pursed his lips trying to frame a careful reply.
‘We, in Rome, are sensitive to the differences between the churches of the Irish, the Britons and the Saxons. We are aware of our own perceived role in this matter. It is a matter of politics, Sister Fidelma. Since the Irish bishop Cummian tried to unite the churches of the Irish and Britons with Rome thirty years ago, we have tried to promote just such a reconciliation. I am old enough to remember how Bishop Honorious and his successor John both wrote to the Irish abbots and bishops begging them not to widen the schism which had developed between us …’
‘I am aware of the differences between those who hold to Roman rule, Gelasius, and those who remain steadfast to the original council decisions which we in Ireland maintain,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘But where does this lead us?’
Gelasius bit his lip, clearly unhappy at being checked in the flow of his argument.
‘Where?’ He paused almost as if expecting an answer. ‘The Holy Father is sensitive of these differences, as I have said, and hopes to reunite our factions. The death of the archbishop-designate of Canterbury, so soon after Canterbury’s success at persuading the Saxon kingdoms to turn from the Irish Church to Rome and while the archbishop-designate was staying in the Bishop of Rome’s own palace, may ignite a torch of war that will ravage the lands of the Saxons and the Irish. That conflict will inevitably draw Rome into it.’
Fidelma sniffed deprecatingly.
‘I fail to see why.’
It was Marinus, having been silent for a while, who now answered her.
‘I asked you if you knew a monk named Ronan Ragallach.’
‘I have not forgotten,’ Fidelma replied.
‘It was he who killed Wighard.’
Fidelma’s eyebrow raised slightly.
‘Then,’ her voice was still even, ‘why, if this fact is known, do you ask me and Brother Eadulf to investigate? You already have your culprit.’
Gelasius raised his hands helplessly. It was clear that he was far from happy with the situation.
‘For politics,’ he answered earnestly. ‘To avoid war. That is why we seek your assistance, Fidelma of Kildare. Wighard was Rome’s man. Wighard is murdered in the very palace of the Holy Father. Questions will be asked among the Saxon kingdoms who have agreed to accept Rome’s rule and look to Canterbury as their ecclesiastical centre, rejecting the missionaries of Ireland. In reply to those questions, Rome will claim that an Irish monk slew Wighard. The Saxons will be angered. And will not Ireland say that this was too convenient an explanation coming in the wake of their defeat, perhaps another move to discredit them? Perhaps the Saxons will react against all the Irish clerics still in their kingdoms. At best they might drive them from the land or, at worst …’ He left the sentence unfinished. ‘Perhaps outright warfare will ensue. There are many possibilities, none of them pleasant.’
Sister Fidelma gazed at the troubled face of Gelasius.
For the first time she found herself examining the face of Bishop Gelasius carefully. Previously, she had mentally registered Gelasius as a man of age, not old but certainly of the age when a person looks on all change as a worsening of life. But now she was aware of his vitality, the energy and emotion which she expected only in youth; a determined man
lacking the meekness, patience and humility which one usually assumed with venerable age.
‘Your hypotheses are reasonable ones, but possibilities only,’ she observed.
‘Rome is concerned to stop them even becoming possibilities. We have had too many internecine wars between Christian factions. We need allies throughout Christendom, especially now the followers of Mahomet are raiding through the Mediterranean, devastating our trade and ports.’
‘I still follow your logic, Gelasius,’ Fidelma replied as Gelasius looked to her expecting an answer.
‘Good. What better way to defuse the animosities that will inevitably arise than if you, Sister Fidelma, a law expert from Ireland, and Brother Eadulf here, a Saxon learned in his own law, both with the reputation brought from Witebia, examine this case? If you both came to an agreement as to the culprit, who could accuse either of you of bias? Yet if we of Rome make an assertion as to guilt or innocence, it would be argued that we had much to gain by pointing the finger of guilt to those who disagree with us.’
Fidelma began to see the subtleness of Gelasius’ thinking. Here was the sharp mind of a politician as well as churchman.
‘Has this Ronan Ragallach admitted that he killed Wighard?’
‘No,’ Gelasius was dismissive. ‘But the evidence against him is overwhelming.’
‘So you want to be able to announce that this crime was resolved by Eadulf of Canterbury and Fidelma of Kildare agreeing in unison in order to prevent a possible conflict arising?’
‘You have understood perfectly,’ Gelasius said.
Fidelma looked at Eadulf and the monk grimaced faintly at her.
‘Are you agreed on this matter, Eadulf?’ she asked.
‘I was witness to how you resolved the murder of the Abbess Étain. I have agreed to assist you in any way I can in the resolution of Wighard’s death to prevent the spilling of blood between our peoples.’
‘Will you undertake the task, Fidelma of Kildare?’ pressed Gelasius.
Fidelma turned back to gaze at his thin, hawk-like features and again noticed anxiety in the dark eyes of the bishop. She pursed her lips reflectively wondering if it was merely fear of a conflict on the north-western edge of the world that made him so anxious. There was no decision to make. She inclined her head.
‘Very well, but there are conditions.’
‘Conditions?’ Marinus caught the word and frowned suspiciously.
‘Which are?’ Gelasius invited.
‘Simple enough. The first you have agreed to, that Brother Eadulf is my equal partner in this investigation and our decisions must be unanimous. The second condition is that we will have full authority in the conduct of the inquiry. We will be able to question everyone who we need to question and go where we need to go. Even if we need ask a question of the Holy Father himself. There can be no limitations on either of us.’
Gelasius thin features relaxed into a smile.
‘You are aware that some parts of the city, areas connected with the Holy See of Rome, are closed to any foreign-born
clericos?’
‘That is why I make the conditions, Gelasius,’ replied Fidelma. ‘If I am to conduct such an inquiry and my path takes me here or there, I must be sure that I have such authority as to tread that path.’
‘Surely there is little need? We already have the culprit. All you have to do is confirm his guilt,’ interrupted Marinus.
‘Your culprit pleads his innocence,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Under the law of the
Fenechus
of Éireann, a man or woman is considered innocent until it has been demonstrated beyond all doubt that he or she be guilty. I, too, will proceed from the viewpoint that Ronan Ragallach is innocent until I have proved his guilt. If you wish me merely to state that he is guilty now then I cannot undertake this investigation.’

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