Absolution by Murder by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online Page B

Oswy himself. There were several smaller chairs clustered around, slightly behind it, and these were already filled with an assortment of men and women. Their clothing and jewellery bespoke riches and position.
    Fidelma suddenly realised that Brother Taran, for all his failings, might prove useful to her by pointing out who people were. After all, it was his second mission to Northumbria and he was surely well informed:
    ‘Easy enough,’ replied the Pict when she indicated the people seated around the regal chair. ‘They are all members of Oswy’s immediate family. That is the queen just taking her seat now.’
    Fidelma looked at the stern-faced woman who was seating herself next to the throne. This was Eanflaed. Taran was nothing loath to give details. Eanflaed’s father had been a previous king of Northumbria but her mother had been a Kentish princess and she had been taken to Kent to be brought up to follow Roman ways. Never far away was her private chaplain, a priest named Romanus from Kent, who kept strictly to the dictates of Rome. He was a short, dark man, with black curly hair and features that Fidelma would have described as mean. The eyes were somehow too close together and his lips too thin. In fact, so Taran said, in a knowing tone, rumour had it that it was pressure from Eanflaed, backed by Romanus, which had forced Oswy to initiate the debate at all.
    Eanflaed was Oswy’s third wife and he had married her just after he had succeeded to the throne some twenty years before. His first wife had been a Briton, Rhiainfellt, a princess of
Rheged, whose people followed the ways and rituals of the church of Iona. But Rhiainfellt had died. His second marriage had been to Fin, daughter of Colmán Rimid, the northern Ui Néill High King of Ireland.
    At that information, Sister Fidelma expressed surprise, for she had not known of Oswy’s relationship to the High King.
    ‘What happened to that wife? Another death?’ she asked.
    It was Sister Gwid who had the answer.
    ‘A divorce,’ she said, as if approvingly. ‘Fín realised how much she hated Northumbria and Oswy. She had a son by Oswy, named Aldfrith, but took the child back to Ireland with her. Her son has been educated at the foundation of the blessed Comgall, the friend of Colmcille, at Bangor. He is now quite a renowned poet in the Irish tongue under the name Flann Fína. Aldfrith has renounced all rights to be considered for the kingship of Northumbria.’
    Sister Fidelma shook her head.
    ‘The Saxons have a law called primogeniture, that the first born inherits. Was this Aldfrith, then, the first born?’
    Sister Gwid shrugged indifferently, but Taran pointed to the dais.
    ‘See the young man seated directly behind Eanflaed, the one with the blond hair and the scar on his face?’
    Fidelma glanced in the direction Taran indicated. She wondered why she felt an instant dislike of the young man whom he had pointed out.
    ‘Well, that is Alhfrith, Oswy’s son by Rhiainfellt, his first wife, who is now the petty king of the southern province of Deira. We spoke of him yesterday. The talk is that he is pro-Roman and in rebellion against his father’s adherence to Iona. He has already expelled the monks faithful to the rule of
Colmcille from the monastery of Ripon and given it to his friend, Wilfrid.’
    ‘And Wulfric of Frihop is his right hand,’ muttered Fidelma. The young man looked surly and aggressive. Perhaps that was cause enough to dislike the arrogant manner in which he sprawled in his chair.
    The grim-faced woman next to Alhfrith was apparently his wife Cyneburh, the still-embittered daughter of the slain Penda of Mercia, who had been killed in battle by Oswy. Next to her, of an equally sour disposition, sat Alhflaed, the sister of Alhfrith, who had married Peada, the son of Penda of Mercia. Here Taran grew quite animated in his explanations. Alhfrith, according to him, had been responsible for the murder of Peada a year after Peada had agreed to