The Council of the Cursed

Fidelma and Eadulf were used to. To the west of the altar was a smaller one dedicated to Apostle Peter and, on the opposite side, another dedicated to Apostle Paul. The congregation stood before the altar while the officiating priest performed the rituals. There were wooden screens, which they had noticed separated the women from the men. The women from the Domus Femini entered the chapel, apparently by some underground route through the vaults that stretched as far as the Domus Femini, and took their places unseen behind these screens.

Brother Chilperic told them that the Domus Femini stood to the east side of the abbey, separated by a large courtyard and a wagonway. It was up that wagonway that Brother Budnouen had taken his cart to unload his goods when they had arrived on the previous day. These women’s quarters had once been part of the main abbey buildings, but now all other entrances had apparently been blocked off so they were isolated from the brethren of the abbey, apart from the underground passage to the chapel.

Fidelma and Eadulf were certainly impressed by the size of the complex of the abbey. It was like a small town in itself and almost self-sufficient. One could lose oneself quite easily in the numerous halls, chambers and corridors.

A bell started to toll and Brother Chilperic started nervously.

‘I think we should begin your work, for the day is passing rapidly,’ he ventured.

‘We have already begun our work,’ Fidelma said mildly. ‘But let us now see where Abbot Dabhóc met his death.’

Looking relieved, Brother Chilperic set off up the stairs of the main building to the hospitia, but led them to chambers on the far side of the building from where their own were situated. Their guide paused before a door and announced: ‘This was the chamber where Abbot Dabhóc was killed.’

‘And it was Bishop Ordgar’s chamber?’ queried Eadulf.

‘It was,’ replied the steward. He opened the door. There was a single window facing them that lit the room well in spite of the fact that it was facing north across the sprawl of the city. It was not a bright day but the light was enough to reveal a scene that caused them to halt in surprise on the threshold.

‘This room has been ransacked.’ Eadulf stated the obvious.

Bedding was strewn on the floor, blankets and bits of broken furniture were scattered here and there, two cupboard doors hung off their hinges while loose bricks had even been prised out of the wall.

‘Destructive but thorough,’ muttered Fidelma. ‘Someone appears to have been looking for something.’

Brother Chilperic was in a state of shock.

‘It was not done last evening,’ he said.

Fidelma turned to him with a frown. ‘So you looked in this room last evening?’

The steward appeared suddenly awkward.

‘I just…I wanted…wanted to see if it was ready for your inspection.’

Fidelma replied patiently, ‘My inspection was to see if anything had been previously missed. I did not want the room made ready or tidied before it.’

‘Well, you certainly got your wish,’ Eadulf said ruefully, indicating the mess.

A thought struck Fidelma.

‘When exactly did you come here and observe that there was nothing amiss?’

‘When?’

‘You said that this had not happened last evening. What time were you here?’

‘After the evening prayers.’

‘After Bishop Leodegar announced in the chapel that we would be investigating the matter of Dabhóc’s killing?’

‘After that,’ agreed the steward.

Eadulf was nodding thoughtfully. ‘So someone was scared that something might be found…’ he began.

Fidelma silenced him with a sharp look.

‘There is nothing to be gained here,’ she said. ‘If you would be good enough to indicate Brother Sigeric’s chamber or tell us where we might find him? Then I think, as steward, your duty would be to inform the bishop about this matter.’

The young man replied, ‘At this hour Brother Sigeric will be in the scriptorium, Sister. I will take you there.’

‘One moment.’ Fidelma was looking at the doors to the individual chambers in the corridor. ‘If this was Bishop Ordgar’s original chamber, tell me who occupied the rooms on either side.’

‘His steward, Brother Benevolentia, is in the chamber to your left,’ Brother Chilperic indicated. ‘Bishop Ordgar has now been moved to the chamber on his left.’

‘Whose chamber is that, on the other side to Ordgar’s original chamber-to the right?’

‘That is now unoccupied,’ replied Brother Chilperic.

‘And unoccupied on the night of the murder?’

The man shook his head. ‘No, that was occupied by Lord Guntram.’

‘Lord Guntram? The local governor?’

‘He had come to the abbey to see the bishop and stayed late so that he was in no condition to ride back to his fortress.’

‘Ah, he was the visiting nobleman of whom Bishop Leodegar spoke. How do you mean-he was in no condition?’

Brother Chilperic looked uncomfortable. ‘He is a rather profligate young man, I am afraid, and the bishop keeps a good wine cellar.’

Fidelma was quiet as they followed the steward to the scriptorium. Leaving them at the door, he hurried off to convey the latest development to the bishop, his leather sandals slapping on the flags of the corridor.

Fidelma and Eadulf watched him go. Then Eadulf said in a whisper, ‘You think that someone in the chapel, on hearing we were investigating the matter, hurried to the chamber to search it?’

‘And why would that be?’ countered Fidelma. ‘If there was something incriminating in that chamber, why not retrieve it during the week that has passed since the killing of Dabhóc?’

Eadulf looked disappointed. ‘It is a mystery,’ he admitted.

Fidelma chuckled. ‘We are here to solve such mysteries,’ she reminded him, before reaching forward to turn the handle of the door into the scriptorium.

There was only one person inside-a young man poring over a scroll that was spread on the wooden table before him. He looked up as they entered and nervously started to rise in his seat. When Fidelma began to introduce herself, the young man made a motion of his hand.

‘I know who you both are. I saw you in the chapel last night.’

‘Be at ease, Brother Sigeric,’ invited Fidelma. ‘I understand that you were first on the scene in Bishop Ordgar’s chamber. You are a scribe in this abbey, I believe?’

The young man sank back into his chair and carefully laid his quill down on the desk before him.

‘I write a fair hand,’ he said, almost defensively. ‘I have good Latin, passable Greek and some Hebrew. Therefore, in kindness, I am scribe to the bishop.’

‘And are you a Frank?’

‘I am a Burgund. I was born and raised in this city.’

‘Have you served long in this abbey?’

‘Since I was fifteen years old.’

‘So that would be…?’

‘I have seen four and twenty summers.’

‘Nine years,’ reflected Fidelma. ‘You must know this abbey well.’

The young man shrugged but said nothing.

‘I would imagine that there has never been a mysterious death at the abbey before,’ she continued.

‘None that I am aware of.’

‘And now you have played a central role in the matter.’

Brother Sigeric looked alarmed. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’