2- Shroud for the Archbishop by Peter Tremayne

Author:Peter Tremayne [Tremayne, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: _NB_fixed, _rt_yes, Church History, Clerical Sleuth, Fiction, Historical, Mystery, tpl, Medieval Ireland
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2012-03-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

When Sister Fidelma stirred, with the limpid glare of a Roman morning flooding into her cubiculum, she felt totally refreshed and relaxed. She stretched luxuriously and then noticed how bright it was and how warm. With a slight frown, she threw back the covers and swung out of her bed. She knew it was late but was not particularly concerned. She had needed the sleep. She took her time about her toilet and her dressing before leaving her room. Doubtless, the deaconess Epiphania and her husband Arsenius would have served the jentaculum, the first meal of the day, and Fidelma would have to break her fast elsewhere, perhaps buying a piece of fruit from one of the stalls as she passed down the Via Merulana on her way to the Lateran Palace. But Fidelma did not care. It was odd how sleep and relaxation made life a pleasant thing.

To her surprise, as she made her way down into the interior courtyard of the hostel, the deaconess Epiphania appeared smiling brightly. It was such a change from the disinterested and expressionless hostel-keeper of two days before.

‘Did you sleep well, sister?’ she asked cheerfully.

‘I did,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I was extremely fatigued last night.’

The elderly woman nodded briskly.

‘That you were. You scarcely noticed me helping you to bed. We thought it best to let you sleep as long as you wanted to. But food has been prepared for you in our little refectory, sister.’

Fidelma had a dim memory of the woman helping her to bed last night. Fidelma was surprised that she should be so indulged.

‘But the hour is late. I would not wish to disturb the routine of the hostel.’

‘It is no bother at all, sister,’ Epiphania was almost ingratiating, ushering her guest into the small now deserted refectory. A single place was still laid and Epiphania continued to fuss over Fidelma’s needs. The meal was excellent, with wheat bread and a dish of honey and fruits, mainly figs and grapes. Fidelma had, in her short stay in the city, learnt enough of the custom of Rome to eat lightly at the jentaculum but to indulge at the midday prandium for this was the main meal of the day. However, when the sun went down a lighter meal was served called the cena. It took a while to adjust to this, for in the abbeys of Ireland and even in Northumbria it was the evening cena which was the chief meal of the day.

It was only when Fidelma was finishing her meal that she thought to ask if anyone had been inquiring for her. Furius Licinius had promised to escort her to the Lateran.

‘The tesserarius of the custodes did indeed come to inquire after you earlier this morning,’ confirmed Epiphania. ‘He told me to tell you to rest as much as you want for he and a brother …’ Epiphania contorted her expression as she tried to recall the name.

‘Brother Eadulf?’ Fidelma guessed.

‘Ah, the same. He and brother Eadulf would be

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