The Council of the Cursed

Without another word, Fidelma climbed the stairs to the door. It was closed but she felt for the latch, and it opened easily. She glanced down to where the men were waiting, Brother Sigeric holding the lantern high to give her as much light as possible, then she raised her hand to them before stepping through the doorway and closing the door behind her.

She stood for a while, back against the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She was determined to follow Brother Sigeric’s advice and not use the candle that she had now placed in her marsupium unless there was a need.

In fact, moonlight was filtering through a window somewhere, giving a strange soft blue light in the stone corridor before her. She moved forward determinedly, keeping the image of Brother Sigeric’s plan in her mind. The plan was, indeed, accurate for there were no surprises to confront her and, thankfully, all the corridors appeared to be deserted.

She had no problems traversing the large hall that appeared to be the women’s calefactorium. Then she had to choose the right-hand passageway, which led to a stairway going up to the next level. There Fidelma paused to examine the plan by the light of a lantern hanging from a metal arm on the corner and which lit the divergence in the passageway. According to Brother Sigeric’s directions she must bear to the right and then climb up another circular stone stairwell to the next level, before turning left. Three doors along would land her at the chamber that Sister Valretrade had shared with Sister Inginde.

Folding the map, she thrust it back into her marsupium and moved cautiously forward. The only thing that worried her was, if Sister Valretrade had truly been moved, would Sister Inginde have a new companion in her chamber? But it was a risk that she felt was worth the taking.

She reached the circular stairwell easily enough and had her foot on the bottom step when she heard a sound above her. Someone was coming down. Thankfully they were moving slowly, but the light from their candle was casting its glow downwards. Fidelma froze, her mind racing, and then she retreated, searching desperately for some place to hide from the oncoming figure. There was none-and no time to get back to the entrance of this corridor before the person reached the bottom step.

Pulling her hood over her head, she drew her robe around her and turned, pretending to be walking towards the stairwell just as the figure emerged.

The figure halted and raised the candle carried before it.

From beneath her hood Fidelma saw that it was an old woman, an elderly member of the community. The candle was held in a skeletal and shaking hand. The eyes were wide and vacant-looking, and the mouth was slack. Fidelma took a quick decision.

‘Bene vobis,’ she intoned hollowly as she moved past the old woman.

‘Blessings on you, Sister,’ the elderly woman mumbled in reply as she stood aside.

Heaving a deep sigh, Fidelma ascended the spiral stairs quickly and moved up into the darkness. She paused at the next floor, listening, and heard the sounds of the old woman shuffling along the corridor. There was no cry of alarm nor quickening of pace which could have meant that she had been recognised as an interloper. Fidelma waited a moment more and then peered in the gloom along the row of doors, counting them until she identified the right one.

This would now be the most dangerous moment, in her estimation.

If it was the wrong door, if Sister Inginde had been moved or if someone else had been moved in with her…If! What was the saying that she had heard once? ‘With an “if” one could place Rome in a bottle.’ No time for an ‘if’ now. Pushing back her hood, she moved quickly to the door. Pausing, she listened for a moment. All was quiet.

Reaching for the handle, she turned it slowly, scarcely daring to breathe. It opened noiselessly and she slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

The chamber was not dark; there was the soft moonlight by which she could make out distinct forms. That she must be in the right chamber was evidenced by the fact that through the window directly opposite she could see, across the courtyard, a flame flickering in a window. Brother Sigeric’s candle, lit to guide her!

She briefly glanced around. There were two beds and, thankfully, only one was occupied. There was no other person in the room.

Leaning forward, she shook the sleeping form gently by the shoulder. The girl started awake and as her mouth opened, Fidelma reached forward and placed her hand over it to stop any cry of alarm. She hoped that Brother Sigeric was right, for he had told her that the girl spoke a good Latin.

‘Quiet! I mean you no harm,’ she hissed. ‘Are you Inginde?’

The frightened girl, eyes wide above Fidelma’s hand, nodded.

‘Then I need your help. My name is Fidelma-I am a friend of Sigeric. Do you know his name?’

The girl nodded briefly again.

‘Then I am about to release my hand. Do not cry out.’ She removed her hand and went on quietly: ‘I have come to help Sigeric find Valretrade. She used to share this chamber with you, but we are told that she has decided to leave this abbey and the city.’

‘That is what is said,’ replied Sister Inginde cautiously.

‘Sigeric does not believe it.’

‘May I sit up?’ asked the girl.

Fidelma moved back and sat on the wooden bed opposite to the girl. Sister Inginde swung out of her bed and reached for a robe, which she draped round her shoulders.

‘I cannot see you well,’ she said. ‘What did you say your name was? Fidelia?’

‘No, Fidelma.’

‘An unusual name.’

‘Not in my country. You would call it Hibernia, a land to the west.’

‘Then you are not of this community?’

‘I am attending the council.’

The girl shook her head. ‘No women are allowed to attend the council…’ she began and then paused. ‘Oh, so you are the person that the bishop mentioned during evening prayers the other day. You are investigating the death of the Hibernian abbot. How is that possible?’

‘In my land I am a lawyer. Bishop Leodegar has given authority to me to investigate.’

The girl, Inginde, still seemed suspicious. ‘But if you have the bishop’s approval, what are you doing creeping into the chambers of the Sisters in the middle of the night like a thief?’

Fidelma chuckled dryly. ‘Perhaps this is the only way I can seek the truth without being thwarted by your abbatissa-Audofleda.’ The girl suddenly shivered. ‘It is she who says that Valretrade has left the Domus Femini,’ Fidelma added. ‘Is it true?’

‘Valretrade has not been here for nearly a week,’ confirmed the girl.

‘And she left of her own free will?’

‘So Abbess Audofleda tells us.’

Fidelma leaned forward, hearing caution in her tone. ‘Do you believe it?’

The girl stirred uneasily. ‘Why would I not believe it?’ she replied guardedly.

‘Let us be honest with each other,’ Fidelma urged. ‘Tell me what you know about Sister Valretrade and her disappearance from this abbey.’

Sister Inginde hesitated and then said: ‘I knew she was having an affair with Brother Sigeric.’

‘Only an affair?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘A figure of speech. They were meeting regularly, but that was no business of mine. They were discreet, but because I am sharing this cell, I could not help but observe her signal to Sigeric and his signal to her. Valretrade confessed to me about her relationship.’

‘Did anyone else in the community know of it?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘So tell me how she came to disappear. Was it on the night Abbot Dabhóc was killed? Or did you see her afterwards?’

‘We were told at morning prayers about the abbot. And I was told that Valretrade had left while we were on our way to morning prayers.’