Ruadán was a member of the community there. Brother Ruadán was once my tutor and mentor in my own land. So I accepted an offer to accompany Magister Ado and his companions to Bobium in order that I could see my mentor one last time.’
‘Brother Ruadán?’ Radoald was interested. ‘Were you one of his pupils?’
‘I was. I was very young and then went on to study law.’
‘Brother Ruadán has been outspoken against some of the bishops who live to the east of this valley.’
‘In what context?’
‘He criticises their interpretation of the Faith, their support for the profligate nobles there and their way of life, their drinking, wenching … all manner of their lives he condemned, and that will not bring him friends.’
‘Perhaps he feels that he does not need such friends,’ she said dryly.
‘Have you been told that Brother Ruadán was attacked and badly beaten?’
‘It was that which prompted me to leave Genua and journey here with my new companions from Bobium. Do you have more recent news on his condition?’
‘He still lives but his condition is bad.’
‘And do you know how this happened?’
‘I am told that he used to travel to Placentia, a city to the north of here, and preach in the basilica of Antoninus … I am afraid Brother Ruadán created riots by his preaching. He called the Bishop of Placentia, Bishop Britmund, an ass.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘An ass?’
‘He said that an illiterate bishop is only an ass with a mitre. A cleric, he said, is of himself not someone to admire unless he possess virtue and knowledge.’
Fidelma chuckled. ‘Poor Ruadán. He is merely stating the old adage that we know so well. There’s nothing revolutionary in that view.’
Radoald snorted indignantly. ‘Those views have landed him in trouble. To call the Bishop of Placentia illiterate and an ass is flirting with death. Besides which there are other tensions among the religious here.’
‘I have been told about the conflict between those who uphold the Nicene Creed and those who support the views of Arius.’
‘Then be warned, Fidelma of Hibernia. Brother Ruadán barely escaped with his life from Placentia. Bobium is an island surrounded by powerful nobles who support the teachings of Arius. It is wise not to be so forthright in declaring one’s beliefs at this time. Remember that a scholar’s ink lasts longer than a martyr’s blood.’
Fidelma considered the young man’s words seriously. ‘I appreciate your advice to a stranger from a strange land, Radoald. Out of interest, as you are lord in this valley, are you one of these nobles that you speak of?’
Radoald chuckled and shook his head. ‘I am not that powerful, Fidelma of Hibernia. However, I do try to protect this valley — and that includes Bobium. This is a small valley with few people. The influence of the Abbey at Bobium is strong here and we live in comfort with one another. Beyond the valley, it is different. Have you heard one of the old sayings of this country —
Fidelma smiled and inclined her head in confirmation. An easy translation, for the saying was — who rules the country, dictates the religion.
‘Then let me tell you, outside the protection of the valley you must have circumspection. Brother Ruadán should have learned diplomacy. But, from the few people from Hibernia that I have encountered, I have gathered that you do not treat rank and privilege with the same respect that Longobards are used to.’
‘We have a saying,’ Fidelma replied. ‘“No one is better than I am, but I am no better than anyone else.” That means everyone should be treated with the same respect.’
Radoald grimaced in amusement. ‘Treated with respect according to their station in life — for everyone is allotted his or her place by the Creator and it would be blasphemy to Him should they be dissatisfied with their lot.’
‘That is a curious philosophy,’ remarked Fidelma.
‘Not for us,’ replied Radoald. ‘Why, think of the chaos if it were otherwise. Wulfoald, who commands my guard, might one day come to believe that he is equal to me. Being dissatisfied, he could attempt to overthrow my rule and take my place. I was born to protect my people, to rule the weak and guide them when they seek my help.’
‘In my land we say that the people are stronger than a lord, for it is the people who ordain their chief and not the chief who ordains the people.’
‘How can the people be allowed to choose their lord?’ The young man sounded astonished by the idea. ‘A lord is chosen by the Creator Who ordains him with power to rule.’
‘In my land, it is the best among the family, the most intelligent and strongest, who is chosen to rule by his family and his people. I know in this land it is merely the eldest son; whether he be an idiot or a great philosopher makes no matter. So how can you say the Creator has ordained him?’
Radoald smiled quickly. ‘If the ruler was an idiot, he would not last long as ruler.’
‘So he would be removed?’
‘Of course.’
‘And often with violence either within the family or by the people?’
Radoald suddenly saw the point she was going to make but shrugged, allowing her to accept it as confirmation.
‘Would it not be better to choose him in the way we do,rather than let nature choose the course and then have to correct nature?’
‘But to give people choice … If they had choice to choose their ruler, why — they would think they had choice in all things.’
‘Why not? People live in each other’s shelter.’
Radoald took a moment to understand the old proverb. Then he laughed sharply.
‘I do not think we shall agree on this, Fidelma of Hibernia. But at least I begin to see why your people have a reputation in my land as stubborn and irreverent towards their superiors. But be careful what you say and to whom, as these are difficult times and I strive hard to keep the peace between this valley and its neighbours.’
Fidelma nodded. ‘I shall remember your advice, Radoald of Trebbia. But there is a saying among my people that you cannot have peace longer than your neighbours choose peace.’
‘I can see that you are truly a King’s daughter, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ replied Radoald with grudging admiration. ‘But, so far, the neighbouring nobles have not troubled the people of this valley since Grimoald became King.’
‘Presumably he was the successor to Perctarit of whom you spoke?’
‘He was, and since then there has been peace in this valley.’
‘So it is unusual for bandits to make attacks in it?’
He was silent for a few moments as he regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Do you imply there was something unusual about the attack?’
‘I am unable to imply anything for I am a stranger here. I am merely an observer. Magister Ado at first wanted me to believe we were attacked by bandits, quickly confirmed by Wulfoald, and then you ascribed the attack to bandits.However, you did point out that it was unusual for bandits to operate in this valley when the richer merchants do not pass this way. Those are facts. I would not imply anything from them.’
‘You have a sharp mind, lady.’ Then Radoald fell silent for the rest of their journey as if in brooding thought.
The fortress of Radoald dominated a bend of the river, strategically placed on the southern bank where it turned almost at a forty-five-degree angle. From the northern bank a tributary of a smaller stream joined it. Behind that rose a great peak among the mountains which bordered the length of the valley on both banks. It was obvious that no army could attack in strength over the mountains or along the valley in either direction without having to reduce the fortress before they could proceed. It had been built initially, so Fidelma was to learn later, by the Romans when their legions invaded the territories of the peoples of Cisalpine Gaul. At first glance, it seemed dark and ominous, a brooding complex of buildings, its lower walls were covered by creeping moss-like plants which she could not identify. There were two or three farm dwellings set outside the walls and the fortress dominated the
