The Council of the Cursed

Armorica. I say that what I have heard from Bishop Ordgar does not reflect well on his calling as a man of peace.’

‘Pah!’ The sound was almost a spitting noise and it came from Bishop Ordgar. ‘These Armoricans, Gauls, Kern-welisc, they are all the same people! They stick together. Let us waste no time in listening to them. I am here at the invitation of my brother Franks to discuss the Faith, not to hear the whining of barbarians.’

At once there was a chorus of angry voices. Bishop Leodegar was shaking his head sternly.

‘Brothers in Christ! I beg of you to reflect on the matters that brought us hither from our various lands, from the peoples we represent. We have been instructed by His Holiness Vitalian to consider the statement of our fundamental faith in the Christ and of the Rule that we should all adhere to in every religious house in our lands. His Holiness has sent Nuntius Peregrinus to listen to our debates. These are the issues that should occupy our attention. These and no others.’

Abbot Dabhóc rose from his seat. ‘Brethren, it is clear the atmosphere is stifled with the heat of anger and accusation. I propose that we delay the opening of this council for a day and a night. We have no scribes, nor advisers in attendance, so none of these contentious matters will be recorded. Let us go away and reflect on what has been said.’

Bishop Leodegar looked slightly relieved. ‘An excellent suggestion,’ he said.

‘An insulting suggestion,’ came the acid tones of Bishop Ordgar. ‘You, Leodegar, as a Frank should be ashamed to be giving your support to these Welisc. They are as much enemies of your people as of mine.’

There were many cries of, ‘Shame!’

‘We are all one in Christ,’ pointed out Abbot Dabhóc, ‘or can it be that Bishop Ordgar would deny that? If it is so, then you have proven the point that Abbot Cadfan argues. You cannot be part of this council.’

‘My authority is from Theodore of Canterbury who, in turn, was directly appointed by the Holy Father in Rome. What is your authority, barbarian?’ Bishop Ordgar’s brows came together threateningly.

‘My authority is the church I serve,’ began the abbot. ‘And-’

Again Bishop Leodegar was rapping on the floor with his staff of office. He exchanged a questioning glance with Nuntius Peregrinus who shrugged and then nodded his head in answer. Bishop Leodegar took this as an affirmative to his unasked question and rose to face the delegates.

‘I am closing this session. We shall pray and contemplate the purpose of our gathering for a day and a night. When we return here, which will be with our scribes and advisers, we will have no more of such arguments. There are more pressing matters to consider and discuss. Should anyone here attempt to continue this argument, then they will be expelled from the deliberations of the council no matter from what corner of the world they come. My brothers, let me urge this advice on you: in medio tutissimus ibis-you shall go safely into the middle course. Now depart and go in peace, in the name of the Most Holy, under Whose stern and watchful eye we gather to do homage.’

The abbots and bishops now rose in their seats and received the blessing from Bishop Leodegar almost reluctantly-and with not a little resentment from the chief antagonists.

As the gathering began to disperse, Abbot Ségdae moved across to Abbot Dabhóc.

‘It is a long journey just to listen to the Briton arguing with the Saxon,’ he said heavily.

Abbot Dabhóc shrugged. ‘I have sympathy with the Britons. What Cadfan says is the truth. Both Angles and Saxons are constantly attacking the kingdoms of the Britons.’

‘But I would have thought that Cadfan and Ordgar, as men of the Church, would employ diplomacy and turn their minds to what we came here to discuss.’

The two men had moved out of the chapel and into a courtyard with its central gushing fountain surrounded by scented gardens and tall buildings with Roman columns.

Abbot Dabhóc paused and looked upon the scene appreciatively.

‘The long journey is worth it when we see wonders like this, Ségdae,’ he observed. ‘The cities built by the Romans are so unlike those of Éireann.’

It was true that outside the abbey, the city of Autun was a sprawl of Romanesque buildings which had originally been built many centuries before, when the Romans had marched into Gaul and defeated the Gaulish armies of Vercingetorix. They had built the city by a river and called it Augustodunum, but as the Gauls and the Romans had receded and merged with the invading Burgunds, it had become known as Autun, one of the earliest Christian centres in the part of Gaul now called Burgundia. The abbey retained many of its ancient Roman buildings, palaces and temples now re-dedicated to the Christian Faith. To Abbot Ségdae it seemed like a miniature Rome with its towering manmade constructions, a totally alien place to the small urban complexes of his native land.

There was a sudden shouting in the courtyard.

Abbot Ségdae started from his contemplation and glanced in astonishment across to where several of the prelates were engaged in a scuffle. Among them was Ordgar, who was grasping another cleric by the neck. It was Cadfan. The two men were shouting and hitting each other like a pair of quarrelling children. The others began dragging them apart. Cadfan’s robe was torn while there was blood on Ordgar’s face. It took no great linguist to understand the profanities they hurled at one another.

Bishop Leodegar hurried across, Nuntius Peregrinus at his side.

The other clerics were holding each man back, for if set loose they would doubtless have physically engaged with one another again.

‘Brethren! Are you brothers in Christ or wild animals that you behave so?’ came Bishop Leodegar’s thunderous tone.

Abbot Cadfan blinked and seemed to come to his senses.

‘The Saxon attacked me,’ he said sullenly.

‘The Welisc insulted me,’ snapped Bishop Ordgar but he, too, was beginning to regain control of himself.

Bishop Leodegar was shaking his head with sadness.

‘Shame on you both. Return to your quarters and pray forgiveness for your transgressions against the teachings of Our Lord. Shame is your portion until you have made atonement for your actions. I will give both of you a last chance to participate in our deliberations, not because of who you are but because of who you represent. Messengers will be sent to Theodore of Canterbury and to Drostó of Gwynedd informing them of how you carry out your sacred duties. If, when we next foregather, there is still enmity between you, then I shall dismiss you both from this council and will proceed without your representation. Do I make myself clear?’

There was a silence and then, like sullen children, first Abbot Cadfan and then Bishop Ordgar muttered agreement.

Bishop Leodegar gave a deep sigh. ‘Now disperse,’ he ordered. He glanced around at everyone. ‘All of you, disperse.’

In ones and twos the men began to leave the luxurious courtyard, moving towards the main buildings of the abbey.

Abbot Dabhóc grinned at his companion. ‘I tell you, Ségdae, this is the most hotblooded council that I have attended. I thought the arguments among our people, debating matters of the Faith, were fierce enough, but I have never seen clerics come to physical blows before.’

‘I fear that our host is much too sanguine in hoping those two will declare a truce between them during the rest of this council,’ Ségdae replied. ‘And it will not just be the wars between Briton and Saxon but these ideas coming from Rome that will fuel the arguments. The Franks and Saxons support them-and we now have to argue against them. Such debate is bound to give rise to new animosities.’

‘It is of no concern to us what the Franks and Saxons do in their own land.’ Abbot Dabhóc grimaced sourly. ‘We have our Faith and our own liturgy. Whatever decisions are made at this council cannot affect us any more than the decision made at Whitby.’

Abbot Ségdae shook his head in disagreement. ‘First Whitby and now this council here in Autun. Where next? This erosion of our beliefs and cultures emanates from the new thinking at Rome, and I have no liking for it. Over the years, councils such as this have changed or amended the original concepts of the Faith until