Peter Tremayne - Absolution by Murder

Brother Eadulf apparently refused to take offence and simply chuckled.

‘By whatever means I was appointed, sister, I am here.’

‘Then, as we are in dispute, I think we should go to the Abbess Hilda and ask her who should stand in preference as being in charge of the investigation.’

The warm brown eyes of Eadulf met the sparkling, fiery green eyes of Fidelma and locked for several long seconds in challenge.

‘Perhaps,’ Eadulf said slowly, ‘perhaps not.’ Suddenly his features split into a grin. ‘Why cannot we decide between ourselves?’

‘It seems that you have already decided that you should take charge,’ Fidelma replied frostily.

‘I’ll compromise. We bring different abilities and talents to this matter. Let no one be in charge.’

Fidelma suddenly realised that the man might have been testing her, exploring her resolve and confidence in herself.

‘That would be the logical solution,’ she admitted reluctantly.

‘But to work together one should have an understanding of one another and know how the other’s mind works.’

‘And how can that be learnt except by working together and learning? Shall we attempt it?’

Sister Fidelma gazed into the deep brown eyes of the Saxon monk and found herself colouring. Once more she felt that strange chemical sensation she had experienced on the previous evening.

‘Very well,’ she replied, distantly, ‘we shall attempt it. We will share all our ideas and knowledge in this matter. Now let us go to meet Sister Athelswith at the north door of the abbey. I find this building oddly oppressive and would like to walk in the open and feel the sea breeze on my face.’

She turned without another glance around the cell or casting a look at the body of Abbess Étain. By applying her mind to the problem the murder presented she had already begun to deal with her personal grief.

Fidelma and Eadulf stood at the edge of a crowd that had clustered beyond the north gate of the abbey buildings. A market and fair had been set up as the local merchants attempted to make some wealth from the gathering of illustrious churchmen and princes from the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons..

At the north door of the abbey they had found a good-natured crowd clustered around a beggar, a man from Ireland to judge by his voice and appearance. The crowd were taunting him as he kept shouting a prophecy of death and gloom. Fidelma shook her head as she realised that it was the same man she had seen from the window on the evening before.

Everywhere one went there were prophets and soothsayers these days, proclaiming catastrophe and doom. But then no one really believed in prophecies unless they were ones that could be feared and which foretold ruin and damnation. There was no accounting for the mind of humankind.

Fidelma and Eadulf paused for a while but the fascination of the stalls and tents attracted their attention and, without thinking, they found themselves drawn away from the gates towards the colourful throng. They turned through the tents and fairground booths that had sprung up outside the towering sandstone walls of Streoneshalh.

There was an invigorating salt sea smell to the air. In spite of the growing lateness of the hour, the merchants were still conducting a thriving business. They saw rich-looking groups of people, nobles, thanes, princes and petty kings, moving with stately arrogance around the fair. Beyond, on both sides of the valley, through which a broad river ran into the sea, were dark hills and across the hills numerous tents were pitched, pennants proclaiming the nobility of their inhabitants.

Fidelma remembered that Brother Taran had pointed out that the synod was attracting regal representatives not only from the kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons, but even from the kingdoms of the Britons with whom the Saxons were constantly at war. Eadulf was able to point out pennants belonging to some Frankish nobles, who had crossed the sea from Frankia. She recognised some from Dál Riada and from the lands of the Cruthin, whom the Saxons called Picts. It was truly a debate of importance that attracted so many nations. Oswy was right – the decision of Streoneshalh would chart the course of Christianity not only in Northumbria but in all the Saxon kingdoms for centuries to come.

It seemed to them that the entire settlement of Witebia was endowed with a carnival atmosphere. Wandering minstrels, entertainers of all sorts and merchants and vendors were thronging the town. Brother Eadulf, upon enquiry, pointed out to Fidelma that the prices they were charging were exorbitant and said they should utter a prayer of thanks that they were staying under the patronage of the abbey.

Among the stalls, gold and silver coins were swiftly exchanging hands. A Frisian merchant was taking the opportunity of a rich clientele of thanes and ealdormen, with their retainers, to sell a ship load of slaves. As well as potential buyers, groups of churls, common freemen, gathered round to watch the proceedings with morbid curiosity. So often, in the wake of a war or civil disturbance, could a family find itself taken as prisoners and sold as slaves by the conquerors.

Fidelma viewed the proceedings with open distaste.

‘I feel uneasy at seeing human beings sold like beasts.’

For the first time Eadulf found himself in total agreement with her.

‘We Christians have long declared how wrong it is for an individual to own another as property. We even set aside funds for buying the emancipation of slaves who are known to be Christians. But many who call themselves Christians do not subscribe to the abolition of slavery and the church has no policy or programme for the ending of slavery.’

Fidelma was pleased to hear his agreement.

‘I have even heard that your Saxon Archbishop of Canterbury, Deusdedit, has argued that slaves in good households were better fed and housed than free labourers and churls and that the freedom of a churl was relative rather than absolute. Such views could not be held among the bishops of Ireland, where slavery is forbidden by law.’

‘Yet you hold hostages and those you class as non-freemen,’ Eadulf replied. He suddenly felt that he had to defend the Saxon system of slavery, even though he disagreed with it, simply because it was Saxon. He disliked the idea that a foreigner should sound so superior and disapproving.

Fidelma flushed in annoyance.

‘You have studied in Ireland, Brother Eadulf. You know our system. We have no slaves. Those who trespass against our laws can lose their rights for varying periods, but they are not excluded from our society. They are made to contribute to the welfare of the people until such time as their crime is requited. Some non-freemen can work their own land and pay their taxes. Hostages and prisoners of war remain as contributing to our society until tribute or ransom is paid. But, as well you know, Eadulf, even the lowest of our non-freemen are treated as intelligent beings, as humans with rights and not mere chattels as you Saxons treat your slaves.’

Brother Eadulf opened his mouth angrily to retort in emotional defence of the system, quite forgetting his intellectual condemnation of it.

‘Brother Eadulf! Sister Fidelma!’

A breathless voice interrupted them.

They turned. Sister Fidelma felt suddenly guilty as she saw the elderly Sister Athelswith hurrying to catch up with them.

‘I thought that you said you would be by the north door,’ protested the sister breathlessly.

‘I am sorry.’ Fidelma was contrite. ‘We were carried away by the sights and sounds of the market.’ Sister Athelswith grimaced in disgust.

‘It would be well to avoid such dens of depravity, sister. But then, as you are a foreigner, our Northumbrian markets may well have a curiosity for you.’