The Council of the Cursed

There was a rattle of wheels behind them and a man came along the thoroughfare pushing a handcart loaded with various iron goods. He was a heavily built fellow, and by his dress he was a tradesman of sorts. As they stood hesitantly on the corner, unsure of what to do next, he greeted them in a friendly fashion.

‘Are you lost?’ He spoke in the local language that, to Eadulf’s ear, sounded strangely akin to his own Saxon speech, for he seemed to understand the sense of it. He tried a response in Saxon and, to his surprise, the man replied.

‘I spent time among your people. My father was a ship’s captain. Now-are you lost?’

‘We are unsure of where we are,’ Eadulf told him. ‘What is this square?’

‘This is called the Square of Benignus.’

‘Benignus?’ queried Eadulf, thinking he had misheard. ‘You mean “the Square of the Benign”?’

The man set down his cart and flexed his hands as if to help the circulation.

‘No, my friend. Of Benignus,’ he said. ‘You are obviously strangers here. Benignus was a holy martyr who was born in this city before going to spread the word of the Faith in the old city of Divio many centuries ago. The square was named after him for it is said it was on this very square that he lived.’

‘Ask him who that big house belongs to-the one guarded by the warrior,’ Fidelma said to Eadulf.

‘Whose fine villa is that then?’ Eadulf asked the carter. ‘And why is it guarded by a warrior?’

‘That is the villa of the Lady Beretrude, mother of the lord of this territory. She is benefactor to the city and the most powerful person in these parts.’

‘Eadulf!’ interrupted Fidelma with a soft warning. She had just noticed a man exit from the very house they were talking about. He was clad in religious robes and raised a hand in familiar farewell to the warrior. Then he was striding across the square towards them.

It was too late to move. He had seen them.

‘Sister Fidelma! Brother Eadulf!’ he hailed. ‘What are you doing here?’ Brother Budnouen halted before them, smiling broadly.

‘We were lost and this man was giving us directions,’ Eadulf explained hastily.

‘You must be lost, indeed, to be in this area of the city,’ replied the jovial Gaul.

The man with the cart had touched his forehead in salute.

‘I am glad that you have found your friend,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You will be able to get to where you wanted now.’ He heaved his cart up and moved on his way.

‘And where was it you wanted to get to?’ asked Brother Budnouen.

‘Back to the abbey,’ Fidelma said hastily. ‘We had gone for a walk to explore the city and must have taken a wrong turning somewhere.’

‘I forget that you are unused to large towns in your lands. Well, have no concerns for I am going back to the abbey myself.’

‘We don’t want to take you out of your way at all,’ Eadulf said. ‘We looked for you in the abbey but have not seen you there.’

Brother Budnouen shook his head. ‘You will not. For I do not stay with Bishop Leodegar’s community. I stay with a friend in the city, just off the square before the abbey.’

‘Speaking of squares, that is a curious one,’ Eadulf said slyly, turning back to the square behind them. ‘That man with the cart thought we were looking for the villa of some lady or other. What was her name? Bertrude… no-Beretrude.’ He pointed at the villa from which Brother Budnouen had just emerged and hoped the Gaul had not realised that they had noticed him coming from there. ‘He told us that she lived there. Why would he assume we were looking for her?’ He looked innocently at the Gaul.

Brother Budnouen seemed thoughtful.

‘I suppose it is a logical mistake, since Lady Beretrude is the most prominent person here in the city,’ he said. ‘She is mother of the lord of this territory-Lord Guntram-and is a very influential lady. Perhaps the man thought strangers wandering in this part of the city would naturally be seeking her out.’

He volunteered no further information and Eadulf realised that for some reason he was not going to admit any connection with either the woman or the villa.

‘The man was telling us that the square has a connection with a holy martyr.’

Brother Budnouen raised an eyebrow. ‘He was a loquacious fellow, that fellow with the cart,’ he observed softly. Eadulf wondered if there was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Fidelma said hurriedly: ‘He was quite helpful, although we had to rely on interpretation through Eadulf’s own tongue. The man seemed quite proud of this local martyr.’ She mentally forgave herself the lie.

‘It is certainly a matter of great local controversy,’ said Brother Budnouen. ‘You refer to Benignus, of course.’

‘Controversy?’

‘Some say that Polycarp of Smyrna sent this saintly man called Benignus to Divio…’

‘Divio?’ Fidelma frowned. ‘This place has been mentioned before.’

‘It’s about seventy kilometres to the north east of here. The city is in the old territory of the Lingones, once a great people of Gaul. Benignus was sent to teach them the Faith. Now the Burgunds claim Benignus as one of their own. The story is that he was martyred and the common people worshipped at his grave. Then Bishop Gregory of Lingonum, who disliked Benignus, tried to stop this worship. But Autun and two other towns have equal claim on this blessed martyr, with each insisting that they hold his true grave and his relics. An argument began over who had the prior claim. One hundred years ago, accounts called De Gloria Martyrum started to be circulated in which all these claims were put forward and argued. Each town called the other’s claims falsifications and lies. In this city, he is supposed to be buried in the necropolis under the abbey, but in Lingonum an entire basilica building has been erected over a tomb that is claimed as Benignus’ last resting-place.’ Brother Budnouen chuckled suddenly. ‘The place was actually built by the same Bishop Gregory who had first claimed that the tomb was that of a heathen and not the martyr. They say he changed his mind when he saw how much money was to be made from the pilgrims who flocked to pray there.’

Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘So the argument continues between these towns?’

‘And probably will as long as no one can offer proof. However, it is a subject that is best avoided among most of the Burgunds, and especially in the Lady Beretrude’s presence.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Lady Beretrude claims that Benignus was among her ancestors some four centuries ago. Most of the Burgunds seem to have adopted him as a patron of their people, their saviour who will one day free them from the rule of the Franks.’

‘This square we just left was named after him, we were told.’

‘The Square of Benignus?’ Brother Budnouen shook his head. ‘It was Lady Beretrude who had it named such, and in recent memory. I suppose its claim to the name is as good as any other.’

‘Why is there no memorial to Benignus in the abbey?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I have not seen one.’

‘Franks now run the abbey,’ said Eadulf. ‘Even if his last resting place were there, they would ignore such a Burgund worthy.’

‘Bishop Leodegar is a hard taskmaster, my Saxon friend,’ Budnouen agreed. ‘He would not recognise a Burgund as in any way influential. I am glad that I am not of his community.’

‘What community do you belong to? To the abbey in Nebirnum, I suppose,’ asked Fidelma.

‘Not so. I am my own man, for all the communities of Gauls are almost drowned in the sea of Burgunds and Franks. Our people have been swept westward. As you already know from our journey here, I earn my daily crust by running goods from the merchants on the river by Nebirnum to Autun, and sometimes I have been known to go as far as Divio.’

‘Do you know Abbess Audofleda?’

The jovial Gaul looked at her. ‘Have you encountered Abbess Audofleda? Ah yes, you would do so, of course.’ It was clear that, knowing the segregation Rule, he would assume that Fidelma was staying in the house of women. ‘Yes, I have had dealings with her.’

‘There is no enthusiasm in your voice?’

‘Enthusiasm, Sister?’ mused the Gaul. ‘My life has not been made richer by my contact with Audofleda. I admit to a dislike of her. She seems typical of her people, arrogant and overbearing in proclaiming her piety and all without reason.’