Peter Tremayne - The Devil's seal

‘That is nonsense!’

‘Nonsense or not, not even the Bishop of Rome and his council have declared against marriage among the religious. So be aware of where you are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Have you ever read the works of Aurelius Ambrosius, a man from Gaul who became Bishop of Mediolanum, a city situated, so I am told, to the north of Rome?’

Brother Bosa was puzzled. ‘I have never read his work.’

‘There are two lines of advice given by him that you may well consider. Quando hic sum, non jejuno Sabbato; quando Romae sum, jejuno Sabboto .’

Brother Bosa thought for a moment and then translated: ‘When I’m here, I do not fast on Saturday; when I’m in Rome, I fast on Saturday. What does that mean?’

‘In other words, Brother Bosa, follow the customs of where you are and do not try to impose your own.’

‘What if I know that I speak the truth? Am I to remain silent?’

‘Ensure that your truth will not offend another’s truth before uttering it!’

‘And you take offence because I do not believe that you have followed the right path of the Faith in marrying yourself to a foreigner in order to gain favour with these people?’

Eadulf fought once more to restrain a surge of angry emotion. He was thinking of the attitude of his brother, Egric. ‘It did not happen like that. Besides, nowhere in Christendom is this idea of celibacy mandatory for those in religious life. Even the apostles were married, for did not Christ cure the mother of Peter’s wife? Did not Paul write to Timothy at Ephesus, accepting marriage among the church fathers but saying that bishops should only take one wife for there are some societies where there can be a plurality of wives?’

Brother Bosa bent forward, eyes fierce. ‘Paul also wrote to the Christians at Corinth pointing out that the unmarried religious care for the Lord’s business and devote their life to pleasing the Lord; but the married men and women care only for worldly things, aiming to please their wives or husbands and gain security through personal wealth.’

‘Indeed, he did,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘He also explained that this was his personal view — which he did not impose on anyone else. There was no compulsion and people were in complete control of their own choices.’

‘I have read, in the sacred texts, that the disciples asked Christ if it was better not to marry, and He said that His followers should renounce marriage for the sake of achieving the Kingdom of Heaven.’

‘Return to the text, Brother Bosa, which is in the Gospel of Matthew,’ Eadulf counselled. ‘The words of Christ are very clear. He was speaking generally when he said some are incapable of marriage because they are born so. Others might decide to renounce marriage to devote their time to the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven. Nowhere does the Christ say that they must do so.’

‘More and more, the churches are realising that you cannot serve the needs of the faithful while being distracted by the needs of your own family. It was one of the canons agreed by the bishops and priests meeting at the Great Council of Elvira,’ Brother Bosa argued stubbornly.

‘The Council of Elvira, three centuries ago, was the first Christian council in Iberia, limited only to a few local bishops and priests. Their declaration had no authority anywhere else. And don’t tell me that the first council of bishops in western Christendom — that of Arles in Gaul — also declared for celibacy a few years after Elvira!’

‘They did so,’ affirmed the young scribe enthusiastically. ‘Over forty-three bishops from churches in the west of the Roman Empire confirmed the decisions made at Elvira, including celibacy. We should stand by the edicts of Elvira.’

‘Then, dear Brother Bosa,’ Eadulf said coldly, ‘I suggest that your party, being here, stand in peril of breaking those very edicts.’

Brother Bosa stared at him without comprehension.

‘Canon nineteen of Elvira states that bishops, priests and deacons must not leave their churches to engage in other business, and must not go into foreign provinces.’ Eadulf wasn’t sure he had the detail correct but it was a vague memory. Brother Bosa’s expression was suddenly nervous.

‘We did not come here to. .’ he began, and then suddenly paused.

‘Why did you come?’ Eadulf tried to press the point. ‘None of you appear willing to tell us.’

‘It was not to be persuaded by outdated concepts already overturned at the Council of Arles,’ snapped the young scribe.

‘Arles was called by Constantine, the Roman Emperor, only to deal with the Donatists who were opposed to state interference in religious affairs. And many of the decisions at Arles were never accepted throughout Christendom,’ sighed Eadulf, aware that he had missed the opportunity to press for the motive behind the deputation.

‘But Pope Siricius declared that bishops and priests should no longer be cohabiting with their wives,’ the scribe droned on.

‘Dear Brother Bosa.’ Eadulf smiled wearily. ‘I can see that you have been converted to this concept. Thankfully, such an unnatural course between men and women is certainly not doctrine. The idea that you cannot involve yourself in the New Faith without becoming a self-imposed eunuch goes against creation, which surely must be an insult to the Godhead Whom we accept as creating it. It is not marriage that is an anathema to the Faith, but gratuitous sexual congress. It is this which breeds abuse among people. Comfort and support of men and women in vows of fidelity with one another is the natural succession of God’s principle of human creation. And now,’ he turned abruptly, ‘I think we have spent enough time on this matter.’

He was frustrated at being led aside from his purpose by a debate on celibacy. He had come no nearer to finding out the purpose of this curious deputation at Cashel except. . except that he was certain that there was a connection with his brother’s unexpected arrival and the murder of the Venerable Victricius. He suddenly decided to test whether the name would provoke a reaction from the young scribe. He turned back.

‘One more question, since you come from Canterbury. Did you ever meet the Venerable Victricius of Palestrina there?’

Brother Bosa’s reaction was immediate. ‘The Venerable Victricius?’ he gasped.

‘So you do know him?’

Brother Bosa was staring at him with suspicion moulding his features. ‘Is he here?’ he demanded slowly, adding: ‘He was the elderly man mentioned by Bishop Arwald.’

Eadulf decided to stick to the truth. ‘We had a report that such a man was attacked and killed on the river just south of here.’

‘Who attacked him?’ demanded the scribe in a fierce tone.

‘Bandits,’ replied Eadulf.

‘Bandits?’ There was dismay in his expression. ‘He was robbed? Were his belongings taken?’

‘The bandits took what they did not destroy,’ Eadulf said, being frugal with the truth. ‘You knew him then? We understood he was a senior cleric from Canterbury.’

Eadulf was not prepared for the man’s next response. Brother Bosa began to chuckle and then quickly regained his composure. ‘I knew of a man named Victricius in Canterbury, but he was neither a senior cleric nor anyone who would be entitled to such a prefix to his name. I am not even sure he was entitled to the name Victricius either.’

Eadulf tried to suppress the uneasiness that was welling in him. ‘Who was he then, this Venerable Victricius?’ he asked quietly.

‘I suppose he could pass as a “venerable”,’ sneered Brother Bosa. ‘He was old enough. When I saw him in Canterbury, he was tied to a whipping post and being flogged.’

‘What had he done?’ Eadulf closed his eyes for a moment, remembering Gormán’s description of the healed lacerations on the back of the corpse.