‘We need not trouble Bishop Ordgar nor Brother Benevolentia further…at this time.’
Eadulf was confused. His mind was actually turning over the truth of what Fidelma had said because he himself had worshipped Woden into his teenage years before a wandering missionary from the land of Hibernia converted him to the New Faith. He realised Fidelma was turning for the door and glanced quickly back.
‘We have finished for the moment,’ he said hastily.
‘Wait!’ Bishop Ordgar called, as Eadulf was about to follow Fidelma. ‘I need to be cleared of these foul accusations at once. When am I to be allowed to resume my seat at the council?’
It was Fidelma, in the doorway, who turned back to him.
‘When we have finished our enquiry, Bishop Ordgar of Kent,’ she replied curtly. ‘You will be informed when that is, have no fear.’
Eadulf followed her as she paced rapidly down the corridor. They found themselves in a tiny hallway at the end where there was a large window. It overlooked a small courtyard with a little flower garden and splashing fountain. There she paused, leaning on the windowledge and slowly breathing in the fresh air.
‘I am sorry, Eadulf,’ she said, feeling him standing behind her and knowing he would be looking at her with a reproachful gaze. ‘Something about that man and his arrogance causes my ire to rise. I should not have spoken so harshly about your people and their history.’
‘I am not oblivious to their faults,’ acknowledged Eadulf. ‘There are no people on the face of this earth who are possessed of all the virtues. Our storytellers say that our forefathers were being driven from their own lands by hostile tribes, and that is why they crossed the sea to Britain and fought the natives for the right to settle there.’
‘Good for your people, but hard for the Britons who were dispossessed.’
Eadulf sought to change the subject. ‘So you think Bishop Ordgar might be guilty of this crime?’
‘It is certainly a weak story that he has to tell. But in its very weakness the truth might lie. Overall, it is too curious a story to be made up.’
‘What of the young man, Brother Benevolentia?’
‘He seems in awe of Bishop Ordgar and will do what his master tells him.’ Fidelma straightened up from the windowledge and saw that Eadulf was looking gloomy. ‘It is early days yet,’ she smiled.
Brother Chilperic’s directions were easy to follow.
When they entered Abbot Cadfan’s chamber, in response to his invitation, the Briton came forward with an outstretched hand and clasped first that of Fidelma and then that of Eadulf. He was short, with dark hair, and his black eyes seemed devoid of pupils, for the colours appeared to merge together, making one large orb in each socket.
‘I know of you, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he said animatedly. ‘I was at the court of Gwlyddien of Dyfed when you and Brother Eadulf came there and solved the mystery of what happened at Pen Caer. I am glad that you are here. If there is any who can solve this matter, then it is you.’
‘Pen Caer was some time ago.’ Fidelma gave a deprecating smile. ‘I only hope that we can fulfil your expectations.’
‘What happened in the kingdom of Dyfed has often been told at the feasting fires even in the northern kingdom of Gwynedd. But come, be seated, let me offer you refreshment.’
It was certainly a better reception than that given them by Bishop Ordgar. The pair seated themselves and accepted his wine. It was white, cool and refreshing.
‘Now,’ the Briton began in businesslike fashion, ‘I know that I am accused by Ordgar of killing poor Abbot Dabhóc. So please ask your questions and I will tell you what I know as facts.’
Fidelma felt comfortable with Cadfan’s easy manners and recalled that the Britons had a similar law system to those that the Brehons used. She reminded herself that among the Britons there was an office called a Barnwr that was their equivalent of a Brehon.
‘Let us start off by asking you when you first met Bishop Ordgar. It would be useless asking you if you disliked him.’
Abbot Cadfan chuckled in genuine amusement.
‘Dislike would be too mild a term.’ He paused reflectively. ‘Though that admission will do me no good in an investigation such as this. Anyway, the truth is the truth. If he were lying in need of help on the far side of a road, I could not bring myself to emulate the story of the Good Samaritan. Perhaps I do not have sufficient faith in the Christ. But to answer your question, I had no idea of Bishop Ordgar’s existence until I arrived here in Autun. We first encountered each other outside the council chamber and I told him that when the council met, I was going to raise a proposition that they should begin by censuring the Saxon kingdoms for the wanton destruction of Benchoer.’
Seeing that Fidelma and Eadulf looked blank he continued: ‘Benchoer is the largest and greatest of our religious houses in Gwynedd. Drostó, the abbot, was invited to this council; I was to come along as his assistant. Just before we commenced our journey, the Saxons of Mercia attacked and burned Benchoer and slaughtered nearly a thousand of our brethren there. I was not present at the time, thanks be to God, for I had gone to consult with the bishop of Dewi Sant in Menevia about matters that needed to be raised at this council. We heard that Drostó and a few survivors had fled into the forests and were being pursued by the Saxons. Then we had a message from Drostó himself, saying that he could not desert his people at such a time. So it was agreed that I should come here as representative because this council was too important to ignore. The proposals being debated here might greatly affect our churches and abbeys.’
He paused. Eadulf was looking uncomfortable.
Fidelma regarded Abbot Cadfan in sympathy.
‘Over a thousand of your brethren killed, you say?’
‘Of religious brothers and sisters,’ confirmed Cadfan. ‘It was an unprovoked attack by the Saxons.’
‘The ambition of Wulfhere to rule over all the Saxon kingdoms is well known,’ Eadulf observed slowly. ‘He also claims to be Bretwalda, that is lord over the Britons. He persuaded the authority of the archbishop at Canterbury to recognise that title. His alliances and conquests now hem in my own people, those of the kingdoms of the East Angles. He controls the kingdom of the East Saxons and also the kingdom of Lindsey to the north of us.’
‘You’ll forgive me if I am more concerned with my own people,’ Abbot Cadfan replied dryly. ‘It is Wulfhere’s attempts to destroy us that are on my mind. I asked Ordgar, as a man of Christ, representing the new bishop sent by Rome to administer to the Saxon kingdoms, if he would join me in condemning this sacrilege and unprovoked attack on a religious house. The man laughed in my face and said he rejoiced to hear of the success of Wulfhere’s exploits.’
Eadulf dropped his gaze to the floor and was now clearly embarrassed.
‘There has been continual warfare between your people and mine,’ he offered, feeling he should make some comment.
Abbot Cadfan’s expression was controlled. ‘Why is that, Brother Eadulf? Did we invade your lands or did you invade our lands? Surely, you are too intelligent to blindly side with your people when they are in the wrong?’
‘So,’ interrupted Fidelma hastily, ‘Bishop Ordgar refused to condemn the destruction of Benchoer. What happened then?’
‘We went into the council and before I had a chance to raise the matter, Ordgar began to insult me; this led to an argument and the council was adjourned. As we were leaving, Ordgar insulted me once again. Alas, it is my great fault that I am cursed with a quick temper. Losing it, I struck Ordgar and he struck back-and the next thing I knew, we were wrestling on the floor. It was unforgivable and undignified. Then the brethren were pulling us apart.’
‘When was this?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I mean, when was it in relationship to the events in Ordgar’s chamber?’
‘It was the very same afternoon.’