Brother Budnouen shook his head. ‘You will not. For I do not stay with Bishop Leodegar’s community. I stay with a friend in the city, just off the square before the abbey.’
‘Speaking of squares, that is a curious one,’ Eadulf said slyly, turning back to the square behind them. ‘That man with the cart thought we were looking for the villa of some lady or other. What was her name? Bertrude…no-Beretrude.’ He pointed at the villa from which Brother Budnouen had just emerged and hoped the Gaul had not realised that they had noticed him coming from there. ‘He told us that she lived there. Why would he assume we were looking for her?’ He looked innocently at the Gaul.
Brother Budnouen seemed thoughtful.
‘I suppose it is a logical mistake, since Lady Beretrude is the most prominent person here in the city,’ he said. ‘She is mother of the lord of this territory-Lord Guntram-and is a very influential lady. Perhaps the man thought strangers wandering in this part of the city would naturally be seeking her out.’
He volunteered no further information and Eadulf realised that for some reason he was not going to admit any connection with either the woman or the villa.
‘The man was telling us that the square has a connection with a holy martyr.’
Brother Budnouen raised an eyebrow. ‘He was a loquacious fellow, that fellow with the cart,’ he observed softly. Eadulf wondered if there was a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Fidelma said hurriedly: ‘He was quite helpful, although we had to rely on interpretation through Eadulf’s own tongue. The man seemed quite proud of this local martyr.’ She mentally forgave herself the lie.
‘It is certainly a matter of great local controversy,’ said Brother Budnouen. ‘You refer to Benignus, of course.’
‘Controversy?’
‘Some say that Polycarp of Smyrna sent this saintly man called Benignus to Divio…’
‘Divio?’ Fidelma frowned. ‘This place has been mentioned before.’
‘It’s about seventy kilometres to the north east of here. The city is in the old territory of the Lingones, once a great people of Gaul. Benignus was sent to teach them the Faith. Now the Burgunds claim Benignus as one of their own. The story is that he was martyred and the common people worshipped at his grave. Then Bishop Gregory of Lingonum, who disliked Benignus, tried to stop this worship. But Autun and two other towns have equal claim on this blessed martyr, with each insisting that they hold his true grave and his relics. An argument began over who had the prior claim. One hundred years ago, accounts called De Gloria Martyrum started to be circulated in which all these claims were put forward and argued. Each town called the other’s claims falsifications and lies. In this city, he is supposed to be buried in the necropolis under the abbey, but in Lingonum an entire basilica building has been erected over a tomb that is claimed as Benignus’ last resting-place.’ Brother Budnouen chuckled suddenly. ‘The place was actually built by the same Bishop Gregory who had first claimed that the tomb was that of a heathen and not the martyr. They say he changed his mind when he saw how much money was to be made from the pilgrims who flocked to pray there.’
Fidelma sniffed in disapproval. ‘So the argument continues between these towns?’
‘And probably will as long as no one can offer proof. However, it is a subject that is best avoided among most of the Burgunds, and especially in the Lady Beretrude’s presence.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Lady Beretrude claims that Benignus was among her ancestors some four centuries ago. Most of the Burgunds seem to have adopted him as a patron of their people, their saviour who will one day free them from the rule of the Franks.’
‘This square we just left was named after him, we were told.’
‘The Square of Benignus?’ Brother Budnouen shook his head. ‘It was Lady Beretrude who had it named such, and in recent memory. I suppose its claim to the name is as good as any other.’
‘Why is there no memorial to Benignus in the abbey?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I have not seen one.’
‘Franks now run the abbey,’ said Eadulf. ‘Even if his last resting place were there, they would ignore such a Burgund worthy.’
‘Bishop Leodegar is a hard taskmaster, my Saxon friend,’ Budnouen agreed. ‘He would not recognise a Burgund as in any way influential. I am glad that I am not of his community.’
‘What community do you belong to? To the abbey in Nebirnum, I suppose,’ asked Fidelma.
‘Not so. I am my own man, for all the communities of Gauls are almost drowned in the sea of Burgunds and Franks. Our people have been swept westward. As you already know from our journey here, I earn my daily crust by running goods from the merchants on the river by Nebirnum to Autun, and sometimes I have been known to go as far as Divio.’
‘Do you know Abbess Audofleda?’
The jovial Gaul looked at her. ‘Have you encountered Abbess Audofleda? Ah yes, you would do so, of course.’ It was clear that, knowing the segregation Rule, he would assume that Fidelma was staying in the house of women. ‘Yes, I have had dealings with her.’
‘There is no enthusiasm in your voice?’
‘Enthusiasm, Sister?’ mused the Gaul. ‘My life has not been made richer by my contact with Audofleda. I admit to a dislike of her. She seems typical of her people, arrogant and overbearing in proclaiming her piety and all without reason.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Eadulf.
Brother Budnouen paused for a moment. Then: ‘Let me put it this way, I knew of Audofleda in a past life.’
‘In that case, you cannot let your story end there before you have begun it.’ Fidelma looked at him in curiosity.
The Gaul looked surreptitiously around him as if to ensure there were no eavesdroppers, before saying, ‘I told you that my journeying took me sometimes as far afield as Divio.’
‘Which is where Abbess Audofleda comes from,’ Fidelma put in, remembering what the abbatissa had said.
‘Except that she was certainly no abbess then,’ agreed Brother Budnouen.
‘Go on.’
‘To be truthful, Audofleda was a woman of the streets. Until a few years ago, she was known in certain parts of Divio as such.’
Fidelma was surprised but not shocked. ‘She is not to be condemned for that, but rather pitied that she had no recourse to a happy life other than sell her body to men.’ She was thinking of her friend Della in Cashel who had once been a prostitute and whom she had helped.
‘True enough, true enough,’ sighed Brother Budnouen. ‘However, I do not think she wallowed in self-pity for her fate but many said she chose the life out of her hatred for men. And when I heard of this sudden conversion to the religious life, not just conversion but her appointment by Leodegar to be the abbatissa of the Domus Femini here, I had pause to think.’
They waited a moment and then Fidelma asked: ‘And what was the outcome of your thoughts?’
Brother Budnouen shrugged. ‘I do not believe in such a rapid conversion, and if I had a daughter who said she wanted to pursue the religious life in Audofleda’s Domus Femini, I would rather kill her with my own hands than allow her to go into that house of suffering.’
‘That is an interesting choice of words, Budnouen,’ said Fidelma. ‘“House of suffering”. Why do you use that term?’
‘There is no happiness there,’ the Gaul said simply. ‘It’s true that I only deliver goods to the main door and am not allowed in, but when I deliver these goods I see the suffering on the faces of the girls who take charge of them…’
‘Such as?’ Fidelma pressed.
‘There was a Sister Inginde and Sister Valretrade…’
‘Valretrade?’ She echoed the name.
‘You know her?’ Her tone had not been lost on the astute Gaul.
‘Of her,’ corrected Fidelma. ‘I am told that she left the community a week ago.’
‘Ah, that is why this time I looked for her in vain. A nice girl. So, I am pleased.’