Shroud for the Archbishop by Peter Tremayne Read Free Book Online Page B

rather than decorative opulence. This was clearly a room which was purely functional. The officium was well lit and a thickset man with close-cropped steel-grey hair and a pugnacious jaw came forward to greet her. He was obviously a military man though he wore no armour nor carried a weapon.
    ‘Fidelma of Kildare?’ There was no aggression in his voice, in fact the man sounded anxious. When Fidelma suspiciously nodded confirmation, the man continued. ‘I am Marinus, the Superista, that is the military governor, of the Lateran Palace.’
    With a motion of his hand he drew her to a large hearth in which a fire crackled, warming the chill early morning air. There were two chairs set before it and he indicated for her to be seated in one while he settled himself in the other.
    ‘You are obviously wondering why you have been summoned?’ He made the statement seem like a question and Fidelma responded with a slight smile.
    ‘I am a human being, Superista, with natural curiosity. But you will doubtless tell me what that reason is in your own good time.’

    Marinus stared at her as if in momentary mild amusement at the reply and then abruptly grimaced in seriousness. There was no mistaking the anxiety on his features.
    ‘Truly spoken. A problem has arisen which affects the Lateran Palace, indeed, the Holy See of Rome.’
    Fidelma sat back waiting.
    ‘It is an event in which there may be much at stake, including the dignity of the office of the Holy Father, the security of the Saxon kingdoms and the possibility of conflict and warfare between your own country of Ireland, the Saxons and the Britons.’
    Fidelma gazed at the military governor with some astonishment mixed with bewilderment.
    Marinus gestured with his hand, as if seeking explanation in the air.
    ‘There is one thing that I must do before I can explain further …’
    He hesitated and there was a silence.
    ‘Which is?’ prompted Fidelma after a while.
    ‘Can you tell me where you were around the hour of midnight?’
    ‘Certainly,’ Fidelma replied at once, suppressing her surprise. ‘I accompanied Brother Eadulf, scriptor of the archbishop-designate Wighard of Canterbury, to attend the celebratory mass for the life and work of the Blessed Aidan of Lindisfarne. Yesterday was the anniversary of the death of Aidan. The mass was held in the church of Saint Mary of the Snow on the Esquiline.’
    Marinus was nodding as if he knew the answer beforehand.
    ‘You answer with great precision, Fidelma of Kildare.’
    ‘In my own land, I am an advocate of the court of the
Fenechus . Precision is part of my profession.’
    The Superista again nodded absently, as if he already knew that this would be the reply to his implied question.
    ‘And why would Irish and Saxon be attending the mass for Aidan of Lindisfarne, sister?’
    ‘Simply because Aidan was an Irish monk who converted the kingdom of Northumbria to the Faith and is thereby venerated by Irish and Saxon alike.’
    ‘The mass started at what hour …?’
    ‘At the stroke of midnight.’
    ‘But before that, sister, where were you and Brother Eadulf?’ Marinus leant forward abruptly, his face thrust towards her, his eyes searching.
    Fidelma blinked.
    ‘Brother Eadulf and I had accompanied a group of pilgrims to view the Colosseum where so many died for the Faith in the days of the pagan emperors of Rome. We examined some of the Holy Shrines and then went to the church were the mass was being celebrated. There were a dozen of us in all. Three monks from Northumbria, including Brother Eadulf, and two sisters and four brothers from the monastery of Columban at Bobbio. There were also two guides from the hostel of Prassede where I lodge.’
    Marinus was nodding impatiently.
    ‘And were you together with Brother Eadulf until after midnight?’
    ‘I have said as much, Superista.’
    ‘And are you acquainted with an Irish monk named Ronan Ragallach?’
    Fidelma shook her head.
    ‘I have not heard of that name.