There was a collective gasp among the brethren in the hall.
‘An invitation from Lord Radoald of Trebbia?’ asked Magister Ado sharply.
Bishop Britmund smiled thinly at him. ‘I know of no other lord of this valley … yet.’
‘And why would Lord Radoald ask you to come here?’ demanded the abbot.
‘We left him only this morning, having enjoyed his hospitality last night,’ intervened the Magister Ado. ‘He made no mention of such a request to me.’
‘I am not privy to Lord Radoald’s thoughts as to why he should not mention the matter to you, Ado,’ replied Bishop Britmund. ‘Perhaps he is aware of your facility to use all means in your power to attack those of my faith. However, being lord of this valley, he says he desires peace between those of your creed and those of mine. He asked me to come here so that you, Servillius, and I may discuss a common ground under him as mediator. I am told that he should be at the abbey at first light tomorrow to facilitate these discussions.’
‘It would have been better had he informed us of your impending arrival,’ muttered Abbot Servillius, ‘and the subject of your coming.’
A look of triumph seemed to flit across his features as Bishop Britmund regarded the abbot. ‘Perhaps he thought that you might absent yourself from any discussion had you had warning of it?’
Abbot Servillius’ jaw tightened. ‘I would never absent myself from any debate on the true Faith,’ he grunted.
‘Then I and my companion shall expect the hospitality of this abbey for as long as these discussions take.’
Abbot Servillius looked towards Brother Wulfila, seated on the other side of Fidelma, before he answered. ‘Our evening meal is in progress. You are welcome to join us. Afterwards, we may make the necessary arrangements.’
Bishop Britmund bowed ironically towards the abbot, as if he had enjoyed the verbal duel. Then he moved away with Brother Godomar to the empty seats which had been indicated. It was at this moment that Fidelma became aware that Sister Gisa had risen from her place and was trying to attract the attention of the steward. There were some sharp exchanges and she saw the girl press a paper into Brother Wulfila’s hand. The steward examined it and muttered something before rising and going to the abbot’s side. Abbot Servillius glanced at the paper and his face grew grim. There was a further exchange and the steward returned and seemed to instruct Sister Gisa to sit back down in her place.
As the abbot was whispering intently to Magister Ado, Fidelma turned to the Venerable Ionas. ‘Who is this Bishop Britmund?’ She knew she had heard the name before and was trying to recall when.
‘He is an Arian, a follower of Arius, and an enemy to ourabbey,’ answered the old scholar, who was clearly troubled. ‘He is Bishop of Placentia, a town which lies beyond the mouth of the valley by the great River Padus. He and our abbot are almost sworn enemies. Many of our brethren have been attacked when trying to preach in Placentia.’
‘Including Brother Ruadán?’ she asked.
‘Including Brother Ruadán,’ he replied quietly.
Abbot Servillius then turned to Venerable Ionas and spoke swiftly to him. The abbot was looking worried. Having ended his conversation with the Venerable Ionas, he rose and went to have a whispered exchange with Lady Gunora. Next he came to Brother Wulfila, who respectfully rose from his seat. Fidelma could hear their whispers behind her.
‘You will have to find somewhere for the bishop and his companion to stay. Anywhere but in the guest- house.’
‘Not the guest-house?’
‘It would be wise to keep the bishop and his companion as far apart from Lady Gunora and her charge as possible.’
‘Of course, Father Abbot. I will arrange accommodation in the west tower.’ It seemed that the steward was no longer interested in his food because he left the
‘Did this Bishop Britmund have a hand in the injuries suffered by Brother Ruadán?’
‘Not personally,’ the elderly scholar assured her. ‘Britmund is a man who preaches with the violence of words against those who hold to the Nicene Creed. He lights a fire in the mind and lets the people do the rest.’
‘The abbot obviously fears he might intend harm to the young prince.’
‘It is possible,’ admitted the Venerable Ionas reluctantly.
‘But the boy is the son of his own king!’ She found the idea incredible.
‘There is rumour that Bishop Britmund is a supporter of Perctarit, the enemy of Grimoald.’
‘Then you believe he is here for a purpose other than discussing matters of Faith?’
The scholar smiled sadly. ‘That is exactly what I do believe. I think he came here to learn if the prince had truly been given sanctuary here.’
‘The logic would be that Lord Radoald has some hand in this.’ Fidelma was recalling the exchange she had witnessed during the night at Radoald’s fortress. ‘It is strange that the abbot was not informed of this meeting to which Bishop Britmund has been summoned.’
Venerable Ionas nodded. ‘We should have been. It seems that Lord Radoald had written him a note which was entrusted to Sister Gisa to deliver. She neglected to do so — until Britmund’s arrival reminded her. Doubtless, she will be reprimanded. But Radoald is trustworthy. His family have always been strong supporters of Grimoald and this abbey. Radoald has only been Lord of Trebbia for a few years. He went off to fight with his father, Lord Billo, in Grimoald’s wars. The father did not return and thus Radoald became Lord. Billo was a great loss. He was a very cultured man, well read and with a good musical ability. However, Lord Radoald aspires to rule the valley as his father would have done.’
Fidelma reflected for a moment and then said, ‘The bishop was curiously satisfied to see Magister Ado in the abbey.’
‘Magister Ado is no friend of his,’ replied Venerable Ionas.‘Therefore, like others in this abbey, we have to be careful of this wolf in bishop’s clothing.’
Abbot Servillius overheard the last part of the conversation and now entered it with a serious smile. ‘There are many things that I would not put past Britmund. He is a fanatic. However, it is his words that beget violence — he would not use physical violence himself. At least we are warned and shall keep a close watch on our unwelcome guests.’
Fidelma glanced across to where Bishop Britmund and his companion were eating with apparent unconcern at the furore they had created. There being nothing else to do, Fidelma continued to finish her meal and, as it came to an end, Brother Wulfila reappeared. He approached the abbot and she could hear him say softly, ‘It has all been arranged, Father Abbot. A chamber has been prepared for the bishop while his companion may sleep in the main dormitory.’
‘And …?’ prompted the abbot, glancing up at him.
‘I have ensured that the bishop and his companion are placed far away from Lady Gunora and the prince. Brother Bladulf and I will take it in turns to be outside their chamber during the night and keep watch.’
‘That is good. A blessing on you,’ muttered the abbot.
Fidelma watched Brother Wulfila hurry away. Venerable Ionas saw the frown on her face. ‘Brother Wulfila is a good man, even though he has been with us but a short time. He is a former military man who still thinks in such terms, but perhaps that is what is needed in being steward of an abbey.’
‘It seems dramatic,’ replied Fidelma.
‘You are a stranger here, lady,’ Venerable Ionas pointed out. ‘Abbot Servillius is answerable for the boy’s safety to his father, the King.’
‘You take this threat that seriously?’ she pressed.
‘We must be prepared,’ the old scholar answered.
Without further ado, the abbot rose and raised his hand. A silence fell among the brethren. Then Abbot Servillius intoned the words of the dismissal and the meal ended with two chimes on the bell.
Fidelma was expected to accompany the brethren to the chapel for the last service of the day. She hesitated at first, wondering whether it might not be the ideal moment to seize the opportunity to speak again to Brother
