Shroud for the Archbishop by Peter Tremayne Page B

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