The Council of the Cursed

‘So they have no connection with this abbey?’

‘The women do join the brethren in the chapel for the morning and evening prayers. They come to the chapel here but are seated in a separate area, behind wooden screens, so there is no communication between the sexes.’

‘Is this separation the decision of all the religious? I have not come across such extremes before.’

‘I think it was the Rule imposed by Bishop Leodegar. He is one of the group that is pressing Rome to declare that no one entering the religious should be married because they say worldly distractions prevent them from doing the work of God.’

Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘And they seek to enforce their views on others. It is a wonder this Bishop Leodegar has allowed Eadulf and myself into this place at all.’

Abbot Ségdae grinned ruefully. ‘Above all else, Bishop Leodegar is a wily politician. He saw immediately the advantage of having a renowned advocate from Abbot Dabhóc’s own land conducting an investigation in the company of someone who is from the land of Bishop Ordgar.’

Eadulf whistled softly.

‘A means to show an unbiased judgement, eh? I hope the good bishop has not already proceeded to judgement and merely wants us to endorse it.’

‘We must also wait until the outcome of this matter before according motives to Bishop Leodegar that he may or may not possess,’ replied Abbot Ségdae in slight rebuke.

‘But the warning is well taken,’ asserted Fidelma. ‘We will watch the proceedings of Bishop Leodegar very carefully.’

‘Will you undertake the task?’ Abbot Ségdae prompted dolefully as a silence fell. ‘The murder weighs heavily upon me, Fidelma. Dabhóc was one of our own.’

‘As Fidelma has said, we cannot answer until we have bathed and rested,’ Eadulf replied firmly. ‘Then we would have to discuss the matter both with you and Bishop Leodegar. So we will accept the hospitality of this abbey pro tempore until we decide.’

Abbot Ségdae suddenly looked hopeful. They had been speaking in the language of the five kingdoms as their common tongue, but now he looked up and called in Latin across the anticum to where a religieux was crossing the stone-flagged floor.

‘Brother Chilperic!’

The man came towards them with a puzzled look on his handsome features as he saw Fidelma. He had fair hair, blue eyes and was about their own age.

‘This is Bishop Leodegar’s steward, Brother Chilperic.’ The abbot made the introductions. On learning their names, Brother Chilperic was politeness itself to Fidelma.

‘Forgive any surprise, Sister, but the abbot has probably explained that we have certain rules stating that women are not allowed here. However, I am told they have been put in abeyance so far as you are concerned. The bishop has been awaiting your arrival with some impatience. Chambers have been set aside for you in our hospitia and you have only to tell me any other requirement you may have.’ He turned to Abbot Ségdae. ‘Bishop Leodegar will obviously want to be informed of the arrival of your compatriots. Would you do so while I conduct them to their quarters?’ Receiving assent, he turned back to Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘Come with me.’

They followed him, having made an arrangement to meet with the abbot after they had rested.

Brother Chilperic led them up several flights of wooden stairs. The abbey seemed as cold and grey on the inside as it had appeared on the outside. But now and then, through the windows they passed, they caught the sunlit vista of green fields and forests and the winding blue strip of the river. They had obviously been taken to the side of the abbey that overlooked the southern walls of the city, on the opposite side to the sprawl of the city itself. Fidelma estimated that the rooms of the hospitia must be on the third level of the abbey-a fact confirmed by the steward. He showed them to a comfortable chamber with walls clad in yew and polished birchwood. It was spacious and there was even an adjoining room prepared for ablutions and toilet requisites.

Brother Chilperic caught Fidelma glancing around with an air of appreciative surprise.

‘This chamber was originally set aside for visiting nobles; kings have stayed here, such as the noble Dagobert and Judicael of Domnonia,’ he said.

Fidelma bowed her head. ‘Then we are truly honoured, Brother Chilperic. We did not expect such comfort.’

‘It is you who honour our abbey, for I am told you are sister to the king of your own land. I shall order water to be heated and some food to be brought to you, and if there is anything else that you require…’

‘Then we shall ask,’ Fidelma finished solemnly.

When the door closed, she turned to Eadulf and grinned. ‘Well, things seem to have improved slightly.’

‘Why is it that I get the feeling that our hosts are a little over-indulgent to us?’ he replied. ‘Altering the Rule of the abbey, providing us with a chamber and service better suited to a king…Can it be that there is something more that they are not telling us about the death of Abbot Dabhóc?’

‘It is no use thinking about that until we have seen Ségdae again and Bishop Leodegar,’ reproved Fidelma. ‘Now, who shall bathe first?’ she asked brightly, knowing that Eadulf had never really taken to the Irish custom of a full body wash once a day.

Some time later, when the eastern sky grew dark, Fidelma and Eadulf were seated in Abbot Ségdae’s chamber, which was but a short distance along the same corridor. One of several set aside for the delegates to the council, it was nowhere near so well presented as their own chamber. It was sparsely furnished and with an economy in fittings, which doubtless meant that the religious visitors to the abbey were expected to share the same frugality of life as the brethren. By comparison, they were being treated as royal guests and Fidelma presumed that Abbot Ségdae had emphasised her status as sister to the King of Cashel. Ordinarily, she would have objected, but had decided to withhold her condemnation until she observed whether such emphasis was help or hindrance.

‘Perhaps you should tell us first of the facts relating to this death?’ Fidelma invited, relaxing back in her chair and feeling more comfortable after her bath.

‘As I have told you,’ began the abbot, ‘a week ago, Dabhóc was found with his skull smashed on the floor of Bishop Ordgar’s chamber here. Lying unconscious by his side, having received a blow to his head, was Abbot Cadfan from the kingdom of Gwynedd. Also in the chamber was Ordgar himself, who seemed in a semi- conscious state.’

‘A semi-conscious state?’ interrupted Eadulf. ‘What does that mean?’

‘He claimed he was drugged.’

‘And what did Cadfan and Ordgar say about this situation?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Ordgar claimed that he had no knowledge at all of what had taken place. He said that he had drunk wine last thing at night, as was his custom, and fell into a dreamless sleep. He now claims his drink was drugged. The physician confirmed Ordgar’s condition. At least, his condition fitted the facts that he claimed.’

‘And Cadfan?’

‘Cadfan says that a note-which he no longer has, incidentally-summoned him to Bishop Ordgar’s chamber on urgent business.’

‘When was this scene uncovered-the finding of the body of Dabhóc?’

‘Well after midnight but certainly before dawn,’ Abbot Ségdae replied.

‘So when was this note delivered to Cadfan?’

‘He says he was awoken in his chamber by a knock and the note placed under the door. He went to Ordgar’s chamber, knocked and a voice bade him enter. He did so-and immediately received a blow to the head. He knew nothing else until he came to, having been carried unconscious back to his own chamber. He swears that he saw neither Dabhóc’s body nor Ordgar. When he entered the chamber it was in darkness.’

‘A curious tale,’ Fidelma observed.

Abbot Ségdae nodded glumly. ‘And one which will end this council, unless it is explained. There is already much friction here. At the opening of the council last week, Ordgar and Cadfan came to physical blows.’

Fidelma’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’