Shroud for the Archbishop (10 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery, #tpl, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Shroud for the Archbishop
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‘If you would know,’ echoed Eadulf, translating to Irish, ‘here are piled together a host of holy ones, these venerated sepulchres enshrine the bodies of the saints.’
Fidelma was impressed.
‘It is very fascinating, Eadulf. I thank you for showing me this.’
‘There are even more interesting catacombs elsewhere in Rome, such as the one under Vatican Hill itself, where Peter and Paul repose. But the largest of all is the tomb of the blessed Calixtus, pope and martyr, on the Appian Way.’
‘I would be enthusiastic in any other circumstances, Eadulf,’ Fidelma sighed, ‘but we still have to talk about the manner of Wighard’s death.’
Eadulf exhaled deeply, halted, and set the candle down on a nearby slab of stone, leaning back against the wall with folded arms.
‘Why are you so sure that Ronan Ragallach is innocent?’ he demand. ‘Is it simply because he is Irish?’
Fidelma’s eyes seemed to flash dangerously in the flickering light of the candle. Eadulf saw the sharp intake of her breath and mentally prepared himself for a blast of her anger. It did
not come. Instead, she exhaled slowly.
‘That is unworthy of you, Eadulf. You know me better than that,’ she said softly.
Eadulf had regretted his words as soon as he had uttered them.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply. The words were offered as no mere empty formula.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Eadulf said: ‘Surely you must concede that Ronan Ragallach’s behaviour points to his guilt?’
‘Of course,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘It is obvious … perhaps too obvious.’
‘Not all killings are as complicated as that of the Abbess Étain at Witebia.’
‘Agreed. Nor do I argue that Ronan Ragallach is innocent. What I say is that there are questions that need to be answered before we can say with assurance he is guilty. Let us examine these questions.’
She held up a hand to strike off the points on her fingers.
‘Wighard, according to the evidence, is kneeling by his bed and is garrotted with his own prayer cord. Why was he kneeling?’
‘Because he was at his prayers?’
‘Allowing his murderer to enter his chambers and come up behind him, take his prayer cord and strangle him before he could even attempt to rise from his kneeling position? Surely this is curious? And it relies on Ronan Ragallach being so stealthy that one must be entirely credulous. We know that Ronan Ragallach is a heavy man. Rotund and given to wheezy, noisy breathing.’
‘Perhaps Ronan Ragallach had been invited in by Wighard and …’ began Eadulf.
‘And asked to wait while Wighard knelt with his back to him and said his prayers? Hardly likely.’
‘All right. But this much we can ask when Ronan Ragallach is recaptured.’
‘In the meantime we should question whether Wighard might have known his murderer so well as to feel no fear in praying in such a manner,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘As his secretary, could you say that Wighard knew Brother Ronan Ragallach at all, let alone well enough to trust him in such circumstances?’
Eadulf raised one shoulder slightly before letting it fall.
‘I cannot say that Wighard knew Brother Ronan at all,’ he confessed.
‘Very well. There is another aspect that is worrying me. We are told that Ronan Ragallach was seen leaving Wighard’s chambers. The gold, silver and coins are missing. This has also been put forward as a possible motive for the killing.’
Eadulf inclined his head in reluctant agreement.
‘We are also told,’ Fidelma went on, ‘that Brother Ronan was not carrying anything when he was seen in the corridor outside Wighard’s rooms. Nor was he carrying anything when he was stopped and arrestedin the courtyard outside. Norhas the search by the
custodes
discovered where Wighard’s gold and silver has been hidden. If Ronan is the culprit, seen within moments of leaving Wighard’s chamber after killing him, why was he not seen with these precious items, which are bulky to say the least?’
Eadulf’s eyes narrowed. Inwardly he was annoyed with himself for not seeing the logic of the point made by Fidelma. His mind worked rapidly.
‘Because Ronan killed Wighard earlier and took the treasure,’ he began, after a moment or two’s thought. ‘That is why the body was cold when Marcus Narses found it. Because Ronan had killed him earlier but then returned to the chamber to retrieve something and then was caught. Or because he was working with someone else.’
Fidelma smiled solemnly.
‘Three possible alternatives. But there is a fourth. He might simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
Eadulf was silent.
‘These questions can only be answered when Brother Ronan Ragallach has been recaptured,’ he said again.
Fidelma put her head to one side quizzically.
‘So you still think there are no questions to be asked before that time?’
‘I agree that there are several mysteries here that need to be sorted out. But surely only Brother Ronan …’
‘Well, at least we are agreed on the first part of your statement, Eadulf,’ she interrupted. ‘However, would you agree, in the absence of Brother Ronan, that we continue our investigation in another direction by asking questions of the other members of Wighard’s entourage and those who attended him while in Rome?’
‘I don’t see …’ the Saxon monk hesitated. ‘Very well,’ he went on after a pause. ‘There can be no harm in it, I suppose.’
Fidelma smiled.
‘Good. Then let us assess who we shall question when we return to the Lateran Palace. Who was in his entourage?’
‘Well, for a start, I was his
scriptor,’
Eadulf grinned sourly. ‘You know me well enough.’
Fidelma was not amused.
‘Idiot! I mean the others. There are more in your party,
including Sister Eafa and the overbearing Abbess Wulfrun who it was our great joy to travel with on the ship from Massilia.’
Eadulf grimaced at her sarcasm.
‘Abbess Wulfrun is, as you may have gathered, a royal princess. She is sister to Seaxburgh, queen of Kent, who is wife to Eorcenberht the king.’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow in displeasure at the respectful tone in his voice.
‘Once you have taken the cloth you are one with the church and have no rank other than that which is bestowed upon you by the church.’
Eadulf flushed slightly in the candle light. He shifted his weight against the stone wall.
‘Nevertheless, a Saxon princess has …’
‘No more recognition than any other of temporal rank who enters among the holy orders. Abbess Wulfrun has the unfortunate attitude of believing that she is still a princess of Kent. I feel sorry for Sister Eafa, whom she bosses so arrogantly.’
Inwardly Eadulf, too, had felt a sympathy for the young sister. Yet in the lands of the Saxons, birth and rank mattered greatly.
‘Who comprised Wighard’s party apart from yourself?’ prompted Fidelma.
‘Well,’ he continued after a moment, ‘as well as Wulfrun and Eafa, there is Brother Ine, who is the personal servant of Wighard and who serves him in all the menial tasks. He wears a face as if he is in permanent mourning and is hard to get close to. Then there is Abbot Puttoc from the Abbey of Stanggrund.’
‘Ah,’ Fidelma interposed, ‘the handsome man with the cruel mouth?’
Eadulf snorted in disgust.
‘Handsome? That is a woman’s perception. He thinks a lot of himself and rumour has it that he is equally ambitious. He is personal envoy of King Oswy of Northumbria. I am told he is a close friend of Wilfred of Ripon.’
‘I see. He is in Rome as a representative of Oswy?’
‘He is, for Oswy is now regarded in Rome as
bretwalda,
or, as you would call it, high king over the Saxon kingdoms.’
Wilfred of Ripon, as Fidelma knew from her time at Witebia, was the main enemy of the Irish missionaries in Northumbria who had been the leading advocate of Rome during the recent synod.
‘Then Brother Eanred serves as Puttoc’s servant. A placid man but somewhat simple. I am told that Puttoc bought him as a slave and freed him in accordance with the teachings of the Faith.’
Fidelma had long been aware that the Saxons still practised slavery. She could not help the jib: ‘Puttoc freed Eanred from slavery in the outside world so that he might be his slave in his abbey?’
Eadulf stirred uncomfortably and decided not to comment.
‘Then there is Brother Sebbi,’ he went on hurriedly. ‘He is also from Stanggrund Abbey and journeys here as an adviser to Abbot Puttoc.’
‘Tell me of him,’ invited Fidelma.
‘I have never learnt much about him in the time I have been in Rome,’ Eadulf confessed. ‘I believe him to have an excellent mind but also that he is as ambitious as he is astute.’
‘Ambition yet again?’ sniffed Fidelma in disgust. ‘And all Wighard’s party had their rooms within the same building, the
domus hospitale,
as Wighard?’
‘Yes. In fact, my room was the nearest, for it was on the opposite side of the corridor facing Wighard’s chamber.’
‘Who was in the next apartment to Wighard? His servant Ine?’
‘No. That was empty as are the other rooms on that side of the building. I believe they are merely storerooms.’
‘So where was Ine?’
‘He had the room next to mine. Opposite to Wighard’s room. Next to him was Brother Sebbi’s room; then the room of Abbot Puttoc and next to him, at the far end of the corridor, was Brother Eanred, his servant.’
‘I see. And where were Abbess Wulfran and Sister Eafa lodged?’
‘On the floor immediately below. The second floor of the
domus hospitale.’
‘I see,’ reflected Fidelma. ‘So, in fact, your room is the closest to Wighard’s chamber?’
Eadulf smiled mockingly.
‘Therefore it is lucky that I have an alibi being with you at the basilica of Saint Maria.’
‘I had not forgotten,’ Fidelma replied as if serious. For a moment Eadulf looked at her closely but Fidelma’s face was a mask. Yet the eyes were twinkling with mischief.
‘There now,’ Fidelma suddenly stretched herself, ‘if you will lead us back to the Lateran Palace, I suggest we occupy ourselves with questioning some of your brethren and hope the
custodes
have managed to pick up Brother Ronan Ragallach.’ She suddenly shivered. ‘I hadn’t realised how cold it is in this place.’
Eadulf turned to pick up the candle and gave an abrupt exclamation.
‘We’d better move swiftly, sister. I had no idea that the candle was burning so low.’
Fidelma saw the wax of the candle had almost burnt away and the remaining piece of wick had already begun to splutter.
Eadulf seized her hand and began to hurry along the passageway, through the various twists and right-angled turns. Then, with only a faint hiss to warn them, they were plunged into darkness.
‘Don’t let go of my hand,’ instructed Eadulf’s hoarse voice out of the darkness.
‘That I won’t,’ Fidelma reassured him with some forcefulness. ‘Do you know which way from here?’
‘Straight on … I think.’
‘Then let us move cautiously.’
There was not even a hint of light in the blackness of the man-made tunnels as they slowly felt their way forward.
‘I was an idiot,’ came Eadulf’s tone of self-rebuke. ‘I should have watched the candle.’
‘Well, self-recrimination is of no use to us now,’ Fidelma said regretfully. ‘Let’s get …’
She suddenly halted and exclaimed softly as she felt about with her free hand.
‘What is it?’
‘The passageway divides here. Left and right … which way? Can you remember?’
Eadulf closed his eyes in the darkness. His mind raced as he tried to make a decision. He felt helpless and as he realised that he did not know which way to turn, his thoughts were a vacillating stream of panic-stricken images and his sweat felt cold on his brow.
He felt Fidelma abruptly squeeze his hand.
‘Look!’ came her sibilant whisper. ‘To the left. I think it is a light …’
Eadulf turned and stared into the blackness. He could see nothing.
‘I was sure it was a light,’ came Fidelma’s baffled tone. ‘Just for a minute …’
Eadulf was about to disillusion her when he caught a glimpse of a brief flicker of light. Were his eyes trying to create what his mind wanted to see? He stared longingly into the darkness. No; she was right! There was definitely a flicker in the blackness. He let out a bark of relief.
‘Yes, there it is. You are right! Quickly!’ He began to pull her in the direction of a flickering glow and at the same time calling at the top of his lungs. ‘Hey! Hey!’
There was a silence before a gruff voice could be heard calling, echoing back along the tunnelways.

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