Eadulf was none the wiser and said so.
‘I had forgotten about him,’ Fidelma said. ‘Remember, he was in the next chamber to where the murder was committed? He is also the son of Lady Beretrude. We haven’t even bothered to question him.’
‘From what Brother Chilperic said, he was drunk. So drunk he could not even return to his fortress that night. We were told that he had not seen or heard anything because he was in no condition to do so.’
‘That’s assumption, Eadulf,’ Fidelma rebuked. ‘You know that it is my philosophy that one must never assume facts. And I nearly fell into that error. That is why I am a fool.’
‘We will have to find out where Guntram can be found.’
‘Easily done.’ She stood up quickly. ‘Rest here and recover a while. I will be back shortly.’
Before he had time to protest, she was gone.
Eadulf limped to the adjacent wash room, removed his dusty and torn clothing and washed the dirt of the statue from his body before putting on a clean robe and stretching out on the bed.
Fidelma, meanwhile, had made her way to the
‘It seems that Brother Gebicca agrees that the death was an accident,’ he greeted her. ‘Brother Andica must have gone to examine how the statue fell, lost his footing and plunged to his death. It is very sad. He was a patriotic Burgund and he was a very good stonemason. The Lady Beretrude will be upset when I send her word.’
Fidelma tried not to show her sudden interest; an interest that made her almost forget the point of her coming to find the steward.
‘Why would Lady Beretrude be upset?’ she enquired.
‘Because she has employed Brother Andica to do some work on her villa. I do not think the work is finished. He has spent much time there during the last two weeks.’
Fidelma absorbed the information and then murmured some appropriate condolence about the stonemason’s death before asking: ‘Do you know where I might find the Gaul, Brother Budnouen?’
Brother Chilperic peered round distractedly, as if searching for the man in question.
‘You have just missed him, I think. He was in the square with his wagon a moment ago. What do you…?’
But Fidelma was already gone through the great doors and into the main square.
In fact, Brother Budnouen was still outside the abbey doors, tightening the straps on the harness of his mules. He face wore his usual affable grin as he saw her racing towards him.
‘You look in a hurry, Sister Fidelma.’
Fidelma halted breathlessly. ‘Have you made your trip to Lord Guntram’s fortress yet?’ she gasped. ‘You said the other day that you were due to go there to do some trade.’
‘Lord Guntam, is it? I thought you would want me to take you back to Nebirnum. I wouldn’t blame you if you did, not after what I hear about the happenings in this dark place.’
‘Please, have you been yet?’ pressed Fidelma, trying to keep her impatience in check.
He shook his head. ‘I go tomorrow, just after first light. Why?’
‘Is his place far from here?’
‘Not at all. It is ten kilometres to the south west.’
‘Will you take us? Will you take Eadulf and me there and bring us back?’
Brother Budnouen’s expression clearly showed that he thought her mad but he agreed anyway.
‘I never refuse the offer of company on these trips,’ he said. ‘I depart immediately after sunrise but I do not wish to stay long at his fortress. Long enough simply to deliver my goods and collect my money. I want to be back before nightfall.’
‘That would suit us well enough. Where shall we meet you?’
‘Right here, in the square.’
‘Then until tomorrow at sunrise,’ confirmed Fidelma. She was feeling much better now. It was not just because she wanted to see if Lord Guntram could remember anything of the events of the night of the murder, but also because he was Lady Beretrude’s son-and she wondered whether he could provide a key to unlocking the mystery which connected the events at the abbey.
Chapter Seventeen
After the events of the last few days it was actually pleasant to ride again on the wagon of Brother Budnouen and listen to his gossip as he guided his mule team south from Autun. The weather was pleasant; the sky blue with only a few fluffy white clouds seeming to hang unmoving high in the sky indicating there was no wind. The track moved through grassy fields dotted with grazing cattle and sheep. Before them was the dark edge of a forest. It seemed to stretch away in both directions towards the east and also to the west.
They had not left the city walls that far behind when they saw, beside the track, a stone cabin and a forge with smoke rising from the chimneystacks. They could hear the smack of iron on hot iron before they saw a man beating at a glowing bar on his anvil while a small boy was working the bellows at the fire. As the wagon trundled past, Brother Budnouen raised his hand in greeting.
‘Give you a good day, Clodomar,’ he called.
The smith thrust the iron bar back into the fire and rested his hammer.
‘You have not been by in many months, Brother Budnouen. Can you not stop for a cup of wine and an exchange of news?’ he called.
‘I am going to Lord Guntram’s fortress but will try to stop on the way back later,’ replied the Gaul.
The smith raised a hand in acknowledgement.
‘That was Clodomar the smith. He comes from a family of smiths. His brother has a forge in the city.’ Brother Budnouen jerked his thumb back to Autun. ‘Clodomar has chosen a good place to do business there, for many local farmers do not want to go into the confines of the city to get their work done.’
They continued on towards the forest. As they entered its canopy, it was like moving from bright sunshine into a dank gloom.
‘This seems a large forest. How far does it stretch?’ asked Eadulf, interested in his surroundings.
‘From this point one can ride south and east and west for many days. There are some large clearings, of course. Lord Guntram has his fortress at the head of a valley whose surrounding hills are partly denuded of trees which, in fact, were used to construct his fortress.’
‘How far is this place?’ asked Fidelma.
‘About five kilometres now, a straight run along the track. I have made the journey many times.’
‘So you know Lord Guntram well?’
Brother Budnouen laughed. ‘“Well” is not a word I would choose. How can a lowly transporter of goods come to know a mighty lord like Guntram, a descendant of the Burgund kings?’
‘It seems several folk claim to be descendants of these Burgund kings,’ commented Fidelma dryly. ‘Do you know what manner of person Guntram is? We have heard one or two stories of his youth and drinking.’
‘His excesses are whispered everywhere in Burgundia. He is certainly a young man overly fond of strong drink, of women, and of hunting. Beyond that, I think he cares little for anything else.’
‘Then he must be a disappointment to Lady Beretrude,’ commented Fidelma.
‘That he is.’
‘Does he interfere in religious life in Autun?’
Brother Budnouen grinned. ‘He wears religion like another person wears a coat. He can put it on and as easily remove it.’
‘He was staying in the abbey a week ago,’ Fidelma pointed out.
‘I have heard Bishop Leodegar is somehow related to him,’ Brother Budnouen nodded.
‘Somehow? I thought Leodegar was a Frank.’
‘He is indeed. Leodegar’s father was called Bobilo, of high rank at the court of King Clotaire…’
‘King Clotaire? I thought the Frankish king was a young man,’ Eadulf intervened. ‘I am confused.’
