Peter Tremayne - Absolution by Murder

‘But you don’t know whom she was to marry?’

‘She did not tell me. What relevance is it here, in Northumbria?’

Eadulf bit his lip and was silent a moment.

‘I find this hard to believe,’ he said suddenly.

Fidelma raised an eyebrow.

‘What in particular?’

‘About Athelnoth. It is reported that he is a haughty man; he seems to believe all foreigners are his inferiors and he is an ardent supporter of Roman rule. Why then would he have developed a passion for Abbess Étain?’

Fidelma was cynical.

‘Was he not a man?’

Eadulf felt a colour on his cheeks.

‘Surely. But even so—’

‘Étain was a very attractive woman,’ Fidelma amplified. ‘Nevertheless, I take your point. But sometimes opposite personalities are attracted to each other.’

‘That is so,’ Eadulf agreed. ‘You have known Sister Gwid for a while. Can we trust her as an accurate observer? Would she have misinterpreted what Étain said or this business with Athelnoth?’

‘She is an awkward girl. One who is intent to please her superiors. But her gawky limbs hide an astute brain. Indeed, I found her almost a pedant on matters of detail. I think we may trust her word.’

‘Then I think we should see this Athelnoth next,’ Eadulf suggested.

Chapter Ten

Sister Athelswith returned with the news that Athelnoth was occupied in the sacrarium listening to the debate and that she could not disturb him without interruption to the entire synod. Fidelma and Eadulf decided to fill in the time by going along to the sacrarium and listening to the proceedings. Since they had arrived at Streoneshalh they had not heard any of the speeches made during the synod. Apparently, in the place of the Abbess Étain, Bishop Colmán himself had opened for the church of Columba with a short résumé of the teachings of the monks of Iona. It was a crisp, concise speech but without oratorical eloquence or guile. Wilfrid’s response was short and sarcastic, scoring points off his opponent’s candour.

Fidelma and Eadulf stood at the back of the sacrarium, near to a side door behind the Columban benches, trying to avoid the almost breath-taking odours of burning incense.

A tall, angular man, identified to Fidelma by a sister standing close to them as the venerable bishop Cedd, an original disciple of Aidán, was rising to speak as they entered. The sister whispered that Cedd had just arrived from the land of the East Saxons, where he had been on a mission, and had now been appointed to interpret from Saxon to Irish or from Irish to Saxon as the need arose. Cedd was the eldest of four brothers who had been converted by Aidán and who now led the church of Columba in Northumbria. Chad, another brother, was the bishop of Lastingham, while their brothers Caelin and Cynebill were also attending the assembly. Chad, the sister volunteered, had received his education in Ireland.

‘There has been much speculation as to the date of our Easter celebration,’ Cedd was saying. ‘Our gracious queen, Eanflaed, celebrates according to Rome. Our good king, Oswy, follows the teachings of Columba. Who is right and who is wrong? It can happen that the king has finished the fast and is keeping the Easter Sabbath while the queen and her attendants are still in Lent. This is a situation that sane men cannot countenance.’

‘True,’ called the pugnacious Wilfrid, not bothering to rise from his seat. ‘A situation rectified when you admit your error in your computation of Easter.’

‘A computation sanctioned by Anatolius, who ranks among the learned men of the church,’ replied Cedd, his parchment-like, bony face suffused by two bright spots of pink on the cheek bones.

‘Anatolius of Laodicea? Rubbish!’ Wilfrid had risen to his feet now, spreading his arms in appeal to his pro-Roman brothers. ‘I have no doubt that your calendrical computations were concocted among the Britons scarcely two centuries ago. Rome’s computations were carefully worked out by Victorinus of Aquitaine.’

‘Victorinus!’ A sun-tanned man, scarcely more than thirty years old, sprang up from the Columban benches. He was fair haired and his expression was intense. ‘Everyone knows that those computations were in error.’

The informative sister leant close to Fidelma.

‘That is Cuthbert of Melrose. He is now prior there since our blessed brother Boisil died. He is one of our best orators.’

‘Error?’ Wilfrid was sneering. ‘Explain the error.’

‘We stick firmly to the original computations agreed at the Synod of Aries and to the earliest ritual practices,’ replied Cuthbert. ‘It is Rome that is in error. Rome has broken away from the original dating of Easter by adopting these new computations arrived at by Victorinus. This Victorinus of Aquitaine simply made a few amendments during the time of Pope Hilary. He did not even make full calculations.’

‘Aye,’ cried the gaunt Abbess Abbe of Coldingham vehemently, Oswy’s sister. ‘And were not more amendments proposed by Dionysius Exigius during the pontificate of Felix III? The original rules governing the dating of Easter, which were all agreed at Aries, have been distorted by Rome several times during the last three hundred years. We maintain the original computation agreed at Aries.’

‘That is a falsehood before God!’ snapped Agilbert, the Frankish bishop, irritably.

There was uproar until the venerable Cedd indicated that he wished to speak again.

‘Brethren, we should show charity to one another in this place. Those who argue against the Columban church do so surely from ignorance. Even after the Council of Aries the Christian world agreed that our calendar for the commemorative feast days must be based on the calendar of the land in which the Christ was born and grew to manhood. Thus we agreed that they should be based on the Jewish lunar calendar and thus did the Passover, at which time our Saviour was crucified, fall in the month of Nisan. This was the seventh and Spring month of the Jewish calendar, the period we now designate as March and April.

‘Thus do we call our festival the Pasca from the Hebrew Pesach or Passover. Did not Paul, in writing to the Corinthians, refer to Christ as their Passover Lamb – their sacrifice – because it was well known that he was executed at that festival, under the old computations that Passover fell on the fourteenth day of Nisan. Using this calculation we celebrate the festival on whatever Sunday falls between the fourteenth and twentieth days after the first full moon following the spring equinox.’

‘But Rome has made it unlawful for Christians to celebrate a Christian festival on the same day as a Jewish one,’ Wilfrid interrupted.

‘Exactly so,’ replied Cedd calmly. ‘And that was nonsensical when the Council of Nicaea, debating after the Council of Aries, declared such a thing to be unlawful. Christ was, in the flesh, a Jew—’

There was a gasp of horror among the assembly.

Cedd looked round at the assembly complacently.

‘Was he not?’ he queried cynically. ‘Or was he a Nubian? Or a Saxon even? Perhaps he was a Frank? In what land was he born and grew to manhood if it was not the land of the Jews?’

‘He was the Son of God!’ Wilfrid’s voice was enraged.

‘And the Son of God chose to be born into the land of Israel, with his earthly parents Jewish, bringing the Word first to those who were Chosen of God. Only in killing their Messiah did the Jews reject the Word leaving it to be taken up by the Gentiles. Is it not odd, then, to reject the fact that Christ was executed during a particular feast of the Jews and then to designate an arbitrary date for the Christian world to commemorate that execution which bears no relationship to the actual date it happened?’