The Devil's Seal (27 page)

‘Why not?’ Fidelma asked.

‘There is something furtive about him.’

To his surprise, Fidelma laughed. ‘I swear, husband, you are getting suspicious of religious; first your brother and now this scribe. Religious are not born. They enter the life from all manner of previous lives – even from the role of warrior. Anyway, his response will no doubt depend on the way he is questioned. I feel that he might provide the breach in the wall put up by Verax and Arwald. After all, you are a fellow countryman of his. You still wear the Roman tonsure, for you have not yet completely accepted the rites of our church.’

Eadulf was intrigued in spite of his reservations. ‘It might well be a path,’ he admitted. ‘Do you remember how Arwald thought he recognised me as being at Canterbury a short time ago?’

‘We know that was a mistake.’

‘It was obvious that he mistook me for my brother, Egric. Superficially, there are similarities. At least it tells us that Arwald knows that Egric came to this kingdom. But why did he say, “in the company of an elderly man”, and not the Venerable Victricius?’

‘We must keep an open mind and . . .’ Fidelma fell silent as she glanced towards the far side of the courtyard. The very person they had been talking about had emerged and was speaking to one of the guards. The warrior was pointing to the chapel, as if to give directions, and Brother Bosa began walking towards it.

‘The ideal opportunity, Eadulf.’ Fidelma smiled grimly. ‘I suggest you follow Brother Bosa to the chapel while I return to our chambers. See what you can find out.’

Eadulf walked slowly towards the chapel and entered. A few lamps shed a shadowy light inside. He paused at the door, peering round in the gloom, trying to locate the figure of the Saxon. He saw him at last at the back of the chapel, kneeling in prayer.

Eadulf waited until it looked as if Brother Bosa had finished his devotions and then made his way towards him. Brother Bosa saw him coming and rose from his knees.

‘You looking for me, Brother?’ he asked brusquely in their common language.

‘I could not help but notice that you act as both translator as well as scribe to this deputation,’ Eadulf replied in as friendly tone as he could muster. ‘I was wondering how you had such a good command of the language of the Five Kingdoms.’

‘I make no secret of it,’ replied the other with a shrug. ‘I studied at the Abbey of Darú where many of our countrymen have studied. I was there for two years before returning home.’

‘And where is home?’

The young scribe did not reply but changed the subject. ‘I heard you say that you were from the Kingdom of the East Angles. Do you not find it difficult to live among these strange people? Look at the way the servants seem to think themselves equal to their King. We would have them flogged for such pretensions.’

‘It is not the custom here to flog those who attend to our needs.’ Eadulf felt his hackles rise. ‘Rather, we reward them for their service to us. You should know that, if you have studied here for two years.’

‘I did not concern myself with the lives of those outside the abbey. I concentrated on my studies and was glad to leave the country,’ replied the other rudely.

‘I presume that you are from Magonsaete?’ Eadulf asked, trying to keep a calm voice and pursue the information he sought.

‘Magonsaete? That backwater? Not I,’ declared Brother Bosa, much to Eadulf’s surprise. ‘I am from the Kingdom of Kent. I am a direct descendant of Wecta, son of Woden. My father was Octha, brother to Eorcenbert.’

Eadulf was even more surprised. Eorcenbert had been a King of Kent and married to Seaxburh, daughter of Anna, King of his own people, the East Angles. Importantly, Eorcenbert was the first king to have been raised as a Christian, and when he had come to power in Kent, he had ordered the destruction of all the ancient gods and goddesses and their priests. He had appointed the first Jutish Archbishop of Canterbury. That had been Frithuwine, who took the Latin name Deusdedit, but who had died of the Yellow Plague.

Brother Bosa obviously took Eadulf’s silence for awe and smiled indulgently. ‘I am the son of kings and of the oldest kingdom among our people. My father, a pious man, sent me first to Rome for my education and then to Darú, so that I might learn the ways of the barbarians that surround our country.’

Eadulf regarded the young man thoughtfully, ignoring the slight. ‘Bishop Arwald is from Magonsaete,’ he pointed out.

Brother Bosa flushed in annoyance. ‘I have never been to that place,’ he said haughtily.

‘But you serve Bishop Arwald. Why . . .?’ Eadulf was frowning.

‘I am of Kent,’ snapped Brother Bosa. ‘I am from Canterbury and serving in the household of Theodore, the Archbishop, who is also served by Arwald. I serve the Bishop because . . .’ He suddenly caught himself as if he was about to reveal something he should not.

‘Your master, Bishop Arwald, thought he had seen me before. In fact, he thought he had seen me in Canterbury only a short time ago in the company of an elderly man. Whoever he mistook me for, he said that he had come to this country and was known to have landed at one of the ports in the south.’

When Eadulf paused to allow a comment, Brother Bosa made no response.

‘I was wondering why Bishop Arwald thought it was me and how he knew that this person and his elderly companion had come to the Five Kingdoms.’

Brother Bosa hesitated a moment and then, obviously unable to think up some prevarication, he said: ‘I also glimpsed this person. He was remarkably like you but, now I look closely at you, he was much younger. While we were at this abbey called Fearna, Bishop Arwald made some enquiries of local merchants, and was told that two people answering the descriptions of those we sought had landed at a sea port to the south not so long ago.’

‘So you seek these people!’ Eadulf exclaimed. ‘Why?’

Brother Bosa seemed hesitant again. ‘I could answer, why should that be of interest to you?’ he countered.

‘If one of these persons looks so like me,’ replied Eadulf ‘then it is surely of interest.’

‘I suppose it would be,’ the scribe reflected. ‘I cannot enlighten you, however. I can only say that Bishop Arwald was much concerned about them.’

‘I suppose you know that the Venerable Verax is brother to the Holy Father?’

Brother Bosa seemed surprised that Eadulf knew, and confined himself to a nod of acknowledgement, before adding: ‘I serve Canterbury and Rome, and therefore it distresses me to be among barbarians who have not accepted the True Faith. You yourself, Brother Eadulf, wear a tonsure of Rome, yet you live among these barbarians and have even married the sister of the King.’

Eadulf’s eyes narrowed for a moment. ‘And you disapprove?’

Brother Bosa did not appear perturbed at the frowning countenance of Eadulf. If anything, he was growing assertive, leaning forward to tap the other man on the chest with a forefinger.

‘You are a religieux, and in spite of conversion to the Faith by clerics from this country, we are told that you went to Rome and declared for her teachings as decided at innumerable councils of her bishops. You represented the true path of Rome at the Great Council of Streonshalh against the false doctrines of the Church of Columba.’

‘Therefore?’ Eadulf’s voice was quietly ominous.

‘You have been seduced; married to a foreigner. A religieux should be celibate.’

Eadulf raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, so you are an advocate of celibacy among the religious?’

‘There is no other path to follow but that of the True Faith. It is wrong for anyone in the religious to marry and have children.’

Smiling complacently, the young scribe did not notice the tightening of the muscles of Eadulf’s features.

Eadulf completely forgot that the scribe had neatly deflected him from the purpose of his questions. He said icily, ‘You are now in the Kingdom of Muman, Brother Bosa; in the Land of the Five Kingdoms which hold an allegiance to a High King who resides in the Middle Kingdom. All the kingdoms follow the same laws and practices and religious concepts. You would be well advised not to express the opinion that their liturgy is a false doctrine. Remember, it is Rome which, through its many councils and debates, has departed from what was originally taught when the Faith first came to this land. Here, they regard the liturgy and doctrines now followed in Rome as the deviant ones; ones rejecting the original teachings of the Faith.’

‘That is nonsense!’

‘Nonsense or not, not even the Bishop of Rome and his council have declared against marriage among the religious. So be aware of where you are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Have you ever read the works of Aurelius Ambrosius, a man from Gaul who became Bishop of Mediolanum, a city situated, so I am told, to the north of Rome?’

Brother Bosa was puzzled. ‘I have never read his work.’

‘There are two lines of advice given by him that you may well consider.
Quando hic sum, non jejuno Sabbato; quando Romae sum, jejuno Sabboto
.’

Brother Bosa thought for a moment and then translated: ‘When I’m here, I do not fast on Saturday; when I’m in Rome, I fast on Saturday. What does that mean?’

‘In other words, Brother Bosa, follow the customs of where you are and do not try to impose your own.’

‘What if I know that I speak the truth? Am I to remain silent?’

‘Ensure that your truth will not offend another’s truth before uttering it!’

‘And you take offence because I do not believe that you have followed the right path of the Faith in marrying yourself to a foreigner in order to gain favour with these people?’

Eadulf fought once more to restrain a surge of angry emotion. He was thinking of the attitude of his brother, Egric. ‘It did not happen like that. Besides, nowhere in Christendom is this idea of celibacy mandatory for those in religious life. Even the apostles were married, for did not Christ cure the mother of Peter’s wife? Did not Paul write to Timothy at Ephesus, accepting marriage among the church fathers but saying that bishops should only take one wife for there are some societies where there can be a plurality of wives?’

Brother Bosa bent forward, eyes fierce. ‘Paul also wrote to the Christians at Corinth pointing out that the unmarried religious care for the Lord’s business and devote their life to pleasing the Lord; but the married men and women care only for worldly things, aiming to please their wives or husbands and gain security through personal wealth.’

‘Indeed, he did,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘He also explained that this was his personal view – which he did not impose on anyone else. There was no compulsion and people were in complete control of their own choices.’

‘I have read, in the sacred texts, that the disciples asked Christ if it was better not to marry, and He said that His followers should renounce marriage for the sake of achieving the Kingdom of Heaven.’

‘Return to the text, Brother Bosa, which is in the Gospel of Matthew,’ Eadulf counselled. ‘The words of Christ are very clear. He was speaking generally when he said some are incapable of marriage because they are born so. Others might decide to renounce marriage to devote their time to the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven. Nowhere does the Christ say that they
must
do so.’

‘More and more, the churches are realising that you cannot serve the needs of the faithful while being distracted by the needs of your own family. It was one of the canons agreed by the bishops and priests meeting at the Great Council of Elvira,’ Brother Bosa argued stubbornly.

‘The Council of Elvira, three centuries ago, was the first Christian council in Iberia, limited only to a few local bishops and priests. Their declaration had no authority anywhere else. And don’t tell me that the first council of bishops in western Christendom – that of Arles in Gaul – also declared for celibacy a few years after Elvira!’

‘They did so,’ affirmed the young scribe enthusiastically. ‘Over forty-three bishops from churches in the west of the Roman Empire confirmed the decisions made at Elvira, including celibacy. We should stand by the edicts of Elvira.’

‘Then, dear Brother Bosa,’ Eadulf said coldly, ‘I suggest that your party, being here, stand in peril of breaking those very edicts.’

Brother Bosa stared at him without comprehension.

‘Canon nineteen of Elvira states that bishops, priests and deacons must not leave their churches to engage in other business, and must not go into foreign provinces.’ Eadulf wasn’t sure he had the detail correct but it was a vague memory. Brother Bosa’s expression was suddenly nervous.

‘We did not come here to . . .’ he began, and then suddenly paused.

‘Why did you come?’ Eadulf tried to press the point. ‘None of you appear willing to tell us.’

‘It was not to be persuaded by outdated concepts already overturned at the Council of Arles,’ snapped the young scribe.

‘Arles was called by Constantine, the Roman Emperor, only to deal with the Donatists who were opposed to state interference in religious affairs. And many of the decisions at Arles were never accepted throughout Christendom,’ sighed Eadulf, aware that he had missed the opportunity to press for the motive behind the deputation.

‘But Pope Siricius declared that bishops and priests should no longer be cohabiting with their wives,’ the scribe droned on.

‘Dear Brother Bosa.’ Eadulf smiled wearily. ‘I can see that you have been converted to this concept. Thankfully, such an unnatural course between men and women is certainly not doctrine. The idea that you cannot involve yourself in the New Faith without becoming a self-imposed eunuch goes against creation, which surely must be an insult to the Godhead Whom we accept as creating it. It is not marriage that is an anathema to the Faith, but gratuitous sexual congress. It is this which breeds abuse among people. Comfort and support of men and women in vows of fidelity with one another is the natural succession of God’s principle of human creation. And now,’ he turned abruptly, ‘I think we have spent enough time on this matter.’

He was frustrated at being led aside from his purpose by a debate on celibacy. He had come no nearer to finding out the purpose of this curious deputation at Cashel except . . . except that he was certain that there was a connection with his brother’s unexpected arrival and the murder of the Venerable Victricius. He suddenly decided to test whether the name would provoke a reaction from the young scribe. He turned back.