Peter Tremayne - Absolution by Murder

Fidelma could not repress a soft chuckle at the question.

‘Not on earth, sister,’ she replied.

Abbe showed she did not understand. Then she jumped as Eadulf also emerged from the stairwell among the bramble bushes that covered it and on to the grass.

‘From under the earth,’ Eadulf explained, dusting himself down.

Abbess Abbe’s eyes were wide in her perplexity.

‘Where does that hole lead to? What were you doing down there?’

‘A long story,’ Fidelma said. ‘Have you been here long?’

The abbess smiled sadly.

‘A little while. I was walking with Brother Taran along the cliffs here to get some fresh air before the afternoon’s debate. I was wishing that Étain could be here. She had a way of calming tempers. And tempers are flaring and each exchange gets more heated. I fear that we shall have another Nicaean Council on our hands.’

Eadulf seemed bewildered. The abbess explained for him.

‘At the Council of Nicaea, when Arius of Alexandria rose to speak, one Nicholas of Myra was so outraged that he struck him in the face. There was uproar and pandemonium, with the delegates running out of the debating chamber lest they be beaten by either Arius’s followers or those that opposed him. In the panic that followed, I believe several of the brethren were killed. I feel that soon we shall have Wilfrid physically assaulting Colman.’

Fidelma was examining her closely.

‘Have you seen anyone else walking near here?’

Abbe shook her head and turned to her companion.

‘How about you, Brother Taran? You were here when I arrived.’

Taran raised the fingers of his right hand and pressed the bridge of his nose as if the action might help his recollection.

‘I saw Sister Gwid walking nearby and Wighard, Deusdedit’s secretary.’

‘Were Wighard and Gwid walking together or separately?’ Eadulf demanded.

‘Sister Gwid was on her own. She seemed to be in a hurry, heading to the harbour. Wighard was heading to the abbey, through the kitchen gardens yonder. Why do you ask?’

‘No matter,’ said Fidelma hurriedly. ‘We should be getting back to the abbey ourselves—’

She paused, frowning.

Sister Athelswith was hurrying in their direction. She was holding her skirts and trotting, in something as near to a run as she could manage without losing dignity.

‘Ah, Sister Fidelma! Brother Eadulf!’ She paused, gasping for breath.

‘What is it, sister?’ asked Fidelma, allowing her to regain her breath.

‘The king himself … the king requests your presence immediately.’

Abbess Abbe sighed.

‘I wonder what my brother can want? Let us all go back to the abbey and find out what ails him.’

Brother Taran gave a deprecating cough.

‘You’ll forgive me. I need to make a visit to the harbour first. I will join you in the sacrarium later.’

He left them, turning quickly down the path to the harbour.

Chapter Seventeen

On reaching Abbess Hilda’s chamber, Fidelma and Eadulf were told that the king had been waiting for them but had been summoned into the sacrarium. A sister who greeted them at the door told Abbess Abbe that her presence was also required immediately, for the synod was in its closing stages and the final arguments were about to be made. But, she informed them breathlessly, the king required the presence of Fidelma and Eadulf immediately after the ending of the session.

It was Eadulf who suggested that they go to the sacrarium to hear the closing stages of the debate and wait for Oswy there.

There was a curious look on Fidelma’s face, an expression that Eadulf had come to recognise as one denoting deep thought. He had to make the suggestion several times before she acknowledged him.

‘I suppose everyone knows about that male defectorum that opens to the sea?’ she asked. The question was directed at the domina. Athelswith spread her hands with a slightly flustered look.

‘Everyone in the abbey, I would imagine. It is not a secret.’

‘Everyone belonging to this abbey, but what of the visitors?’ insisted Fidelma. ‘For example, I did not know about it.’

‘That is true,’ agreed Sister Athelswith. ‘But only our male guests are told of it. It is for males only. Our brothers find it more modest to go there rather than use the defectorum across the quadrangle from the monasteriolum.’

‘I see. So what if a female wanders along the tunnel and into it by accident? There is no sign on the entrance.’

‘Most of the sisters use the building by the other side of the monasteriolum. They have no need to be in the hypogeum at all unless they work in the kitchens. And those working in the kitchens know of its existence. There is no need to fix a sign on the tunnel.’

Sister Fidelma was thoughtful as she turned to follow Eadulf to the sacrarium.

The atmosphere was tense in the sacrarium and the Abbess Hilda was on her feet addressing the packed benches of clerics.

‘Brothers and sisters in Christ,’ she was saying as Fidelma and Eadulf entered quietly through the side door behind the benches now packed with representatives of the Columban church, ‘let the final submissions be made.’

Colmán rose to his feet, blunt as ever. He had elected to speak first – a choice that Fidelma thought unwise, for the man who speaks last is always the one who is listened to.

‘Brethren, over these last few days you have heard why we of the church of Columba follow our customs concerning the dating of Easter. Our church claims its authority from the Divine John, son of Zebedee, who forsook the sea of Galilee to follow the Messiah. He was the disciple most beloved of Christ, who rested on his master’s breast at the Last Supper. And Jesus did not forsake him. When the Son of the Living God was expiring on the Cross, He had strength enough to confide the care of His mother, the Blessed Mary, to John.

‘This same John ran before Peter to the tomb on the morning of the blessed resurrection and seeing it empty was the first to believe and thence was the first to see the risen Lord by the Sea of Tiberias. John was the blessed of Christ.

‘When Jesus confided the care of His mother and family into the arms of John, He confided His Church to that care. That is why we accept the ways of John. John is our path to Christ.’

Colman resumed his seat amid murmured applause from the Columban benches.

Wilfrid rose. There was a smile on his lips. He looked complacent.

‘We have heard that the representatives of Columba cite the apostle John as the supreme authority by which their customs stand and fall. I therefore say to you that they must fall.’

There was a ripple of anger from the Columban benches.

Abbess Hilda gestured with her hand for silence.

‘We must accord Wilfrid of Ripon the same courtesy as we accorded Colman, bishop of Northumbria,’ she rebuked softly.

Wilfrid was smiling, like a hunter who knows his prey is within his sight.

‘The Easter we of Rome observe is the one that is celebrated by all at Rome, the city where the blessed apostles Peter and Paul lived, taught, suffered and were buried. It is a usage that is universal in Italy, in Gaul, Frankia and Iberia, through which I have travelled for the purpose of study and prayer. In every part of the world, by different nations speaking different tongues, this practice is followed by all at one and the same time. The only exception is this people!’ He pointed derisively to the Columban benches. ‘I mean the Irish, the Picts and the Britons and those of our people who have chosen to follow their erroneous teachings. The only excuse they have for this ignorance is that they come from the two remotest islands in the Western Ocean and then from only parts of them. Because of this remoteness they stand isolated from true knowledge and they pursue a foolish struggle against the whole world. They may be holy but they are few – too few to have precedence over the universal Church of Christ.’