‘A strange tale indeed,’ she said at last. ‘Abbot Ségdae has informed us that Ordgar and Cadfan are confined to their chambers until the matter of the responsibility is resolved.’
‘That is true.’
‘And presumably both are outraged by their confinement?’
‘As you can imagine,’ conceded Bishop Leodegar. ‘But what other course of action can I take?’
‘And how is this suspicion and confinement received by the delegates to this council?’ asked Eadulf. ‘You have spoken of the tensions. Is anyone taking sides?’
Bishop Leodegar gave a bark of cynical laughter.
‘They would not be human if they did not. The Saxons and some of our Franks support Ordgar. The Britons, Gauls and Armoricans denounce Ordgar and demand the release of Cadfan. Those clerics from Hibernia call down a plague on both houses and demand reparation for the death of the representative of the bishop of Ard Macha. So what am I to do?’
Fidelma stood up abruptly, so abruptly that she caused some surprise. She glanced though the tall windows at the darkening day.
‘You are following the right path,’ she declared. ‘You may announce what we are doing at evening prayers. Tomorrow morning we will start in earnest upon this quest and begin by speaking with Brother Sigeric. I presume the chamber where it happened is now empty?’
Bishop Leodegar nodded. ‘As I said, we removed Ordgar to a more secure room.’
‘Then we will visit the original chamber after we have seen Brother Sigeric.’
‘I will ensure that all is ready for you.’ Bishop Leodegar became more assertive. ‘I only hope that you are both as clever at solving conundrums as Abbot Ségdae has assured me that you are.’
‘That will be for you to judge, Leodegar of Autun,’ Fidelma replied quietly. ‘Eadulf and I can only do what is in our power to do, and trust the riddle is one that can be solved.’
Chapter Four
Fidelma and Eadulf were awakened just before dawn by the sound of singing. Eadulf lay for a while trying to adjust to the unfamiliar music. It was Fidelma who recognised it.
‘It must be the matutinae laude-the gathering for morning praise. I have heard that in Rome. It seems some of these abbeys sing Psalms to greet the dawn.’
Eadulf groaned. ‘I hope we are not expected to adopt these ways while we are staying here. I am often told that I am tone deaf.’
‘You will recall that our arrival, after so long a journey, has excused us from attending this morning’s prayers,’ Fidelma replied cheerfully. ‘Nonetheless, it is dawn and perhaps we should wash and be ready for the day.’
It was wise advice, for no sooner had they finished than Brother Chilperic knocked at their door carrying a tray of fruit, bread and cheese with which to break their fast. He seemed to read the question in Fidelma’s eyes as he set the tray on the small table.
‘The bishop thought it might save some embarrassment on this first day to allow you to break your fast here in the hospitia. Abbot Ségdae will speak with you about meals in the refectory. You will appreciate that our refectory is not used to the presence of women.’
‘You do not have to explain,’ Eadulf said, helping himself to a piece of fruit. ‘But I wonder who would be embarrassed if Fidelma walked in?’ he added mischievously as he bit into the fruit with relish. His eyes widened appreciatively as he munched on the juicy pulpy mass. ‘I have not tasted the like of this for a while. What is it?’
‘Malum Persica, Brother Eadulf,’ replied Brother Chilperic. Then he added: ‘The bishop thought I could wait and, after you have breakfasted, conduct you to the chamber where the killing took place.’
‘We are ready to commence the day’s task once we have done so,’ Fidelma replied, as she took a similar piece of fruit to that which Eadulf was enjoying. ‘What was it that you called this-a Persian apple?’ she asked, as she tasted it gingerly.
‘Yes, that is correct,’ confirmed the steward.
‘It is very soft and sweet. Do you buy them from Persian merchants?’
Brother Chilperic shook his head. ‘Some centuries ago, when the Romans conquered this land, they brought with them seeds of this fruit and planted them. The abbey gardens grow a fine crop. Thank you, but I have eaten,’ he added when Eadulf pushed the bowl of fruit in his direction.
‘Well,’ Eadulf smiled as he finished and wiped his mouth, ‘the earth did not tremble last night when Bishop Leodegar announced that a woman would be stalking the corridor and halls of this abbey?’
Brother Chilperic was uncertain how to take his humour.
‘The Rule of the bishop has only been in force a year,’ he explained. ‘We were not always segregated from women but, like many another religious community, this was a mixed house. Many here still have wives and even children in the adjoining Domus Femini-wives we had to put from us if we wished to continue as religious here.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘Put from you?’ she queried.
‘Declare before God and the bishop that we no longer recognised our marriage vows because God had the greater calling on us,’ confirmed Brother Chilperic.
‘And what would have happened had you not done so?’
‘We would have had to leave and seek another place. But many communities in Burgundia…in Austrasia and Neustria are rejecting mixed houses, so where could we go? This is our land.’
‘Would going further west have been so bad?’
Brother Chilperic seemed suddenly gloomy. ‘Many of us, men and women, are of this city. This is where we have been born, brought up and belong. Many of us in this community, that is. We are the sons and daughters of former brothers and sisters of the community. There is no option but to obey this order.’
Fidelma was shocked. ‘No option? How is that?’
‘Bishops are all-powerful. Many are temporal princes, not just men of God. They have to be obeyed.’
‘Bishops such as Leodegar?’
Brother Chilperic seemed reluctant to admit it.
‘Has this been reported to Rome?’ asked Eadulf, aghast.
‘I fear that Rome would care little about it. Rome now sees itself as a temporal power set up to govern not just the morality of the princes of the former empire but to demand tribute from them. That is why Rome does not like the western churches. The constant arguments between your own churches and Rome have gone on for some time now.’
Fidelma regarded him with interest. ‘And did you put your own wife away from you?’ she asked unexpectedly, using his phraseology.
The young man flushed. ‘I…I have no wife,’ he muttered. He rose. ‘Perhaps it is time to start the examination?’
Eadulf glanced at Fidelma with an expression that indicated he felt it best to avoid further conversation in that area.
‘Before we start, I think we should like to be shown something of the abbey,’ Fidelma said. ‘It would help us.’
Brother Chilperic looked uneasy. ‘I do not know,’ he said hesitantly.
Fidelma’s brows came together. ‘Come, come, Brother Chilperic. It is useless our being here if we do not know where we are exactly.’
The tour was a cursory one, but at least it helped Fidelma and Eadulf to orientate themselves. The abbey was larger than they had expected and was bounded on two sides by the tall city walls. There appeared to be one main building, then a large chapel and several smaller structures interspersed with little courtyards and gardens. From the anticum, in the main building, they exited into a large courtyard with its entrance to the great chapel on the opposite side. To the south side of the courtyard was a small building entirely on its own which housed the apartments of Bishop Leodegar. Trees of apple, pear, plum and quince surrounded it. Separate to this was the house of the physician, with an infirmary and the physician’s garden for herbs and healing plants.
The main building contained the work rooms of the community-the bakehouse, brewery and kitchens next to the refectory-and beyond that, the latrina were housed at ground level. There was also a common room for the brethren called the calefactorium which, in winter, was heated by flues under the floor fed from the kitchen fires, and next to this was a scriptorium or library. There was also a vestiarium for the storing of clothes, because the warmth of the calefactorium helped preserve them and also kept the manuscript books of the scriptorium at a reasonable temperature.