The Haunted Abbot (14 page)

Bertha sniffed disparagingly but ducked back into the hut, followed by Aldhere and Eadulf. The interior formed a single room with scarcely space for a bed, a table and a few stools. Aldhere motioned Eadulf to be seated, and placed himself on the other side of the table. Bertha set a jug of mead on the board. As she did so Eadulf saw that she had a scar on her right arm, running upwards from the wrist. The soup had already been made and, after a moment, bowls of steaming vegetables and fresh, warm bread were also placed before them. Then Bertha flounced from the hut as if angered by her exclusion.

‘Bertha? That is a Frankish name,’ commented Eadulf when they were alone.

Aldhere nodded thoughtfully. ‘I released her from a Frankish slaver, who was trying to sell her to the East Saxons. The slavers did not treat her well. I saw that you noticed the scar on her arm. She has others and that is why she tends to cover her face in front of strangers. She has preferred to stay with me.’

Eadulf nodded sympathetically. ‘A cursed trade is slaving and one that I hope will be outlawed one day. But, tell me, why were the East Saxons trying to kill me? They were never so violent when I was a young man.’

Aldhere took the jug of mead and poured from it.

‘It is all to do with King Sigehere who has returned to the worship of the gods of his father. He has declared war on all Christians.’

‘I thought that he had his hands full fighting his own people. Why does he send his men to raid our territory?’

‘Sigehere is an ambitious man no matter what religion he holds. The kingdom of the East Saxons is too small for him and so he sends warriors to probe his neighbours to test their strengths and weaknesses. There have been several raids against us … as you have now witnessed. A Christian holy man would have been a good catch for the warriors of Sigehere. They would have reserved a special entertainment for you.’

Eadulf shivered at the thought and took up the beaker of mead.

‘Why would they land at that point? There are no significant settlements in the vicinity apart from Aldred’s Abbey.’

Aldhere rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment.

‘That is a good point, holy
gerefa
. They usually raid to the north of here, against the lands of the North Folk where King Ealdwulf has his palace and fortresses. Why, indeed, would they land there?’

For a moment or two it seemed that the outlaw was lost in contemplation of the question. Eadulf decided to pull him back to the moment.

‘Can nothing be done about Sigehere? I thought his cousin Sebbi was leading a civil war against him. Surely that would curtail his ambitions?’

‘Sebbi is no warrior. He is too pious and has to rely on others to fight his battles. At the moment, he is hard pressed to hold his own against his pagan cousin.’

‘Is there no Christian neighbour to intervene on Sebbi’s behalf ?’

‘Christian or pagan, kings are only governed by self-interest. What can Sebbi do for them? If it is nothing, then why should they support him?’

‘So there is no prospect of stopping Sigehere?’

Aldhere shook his head. ‘Short of defeating him in battle, little enough, I suppose. And Sigehere has too many powerful friends who would be willing to take his side. As a matter of politics, he even recognises Wulfhere of Mercia as his overlord, and Wulfhere, for one, would welcome the chance to move into our land of the East Angles if we sent an army against Sigehere.’

Eadulf paused uncertainly for a moment or two and then said: ‘You do not speak with the selfish attitude of a robber, Aldhere. You claim that Botulf was your friend. Tell me how this was and all that you know of his death.’

Aldhere set down his tankard of mead and stretched his arms before folding them easily across his stomach. He closed his eyes in thought for a second.

‘Botulf was the only one of your faith who did not condemn me when I was declared an outlaw. That was over a year ago now.’

‘First tell me how you met Botulf. What were the circumstances of your friendship?’

‘You will recall that Wulfhere succeeded his father, Penda, as King of Mercia eight years ago and has been busy ever since trying to re-establish the domination of Mercia over all the kings of the Angles and the Saxons?’

Eadulf nodded. During his childhood the name of Penda, son of Pybba, had been conjured by mothers to frighten their children into obedience. From his kingdom of Mercia he had marched on his neighbours, even killing Oswald of Northumbria, the most powerful of the Anglo-Saxon kings. Eadulf had been a child of six or seven at the time. There had been almost universal joy when Oswy, son of Oswald, who had become Northumbria’s King after his father’s death, defeated and slew Penda at Winwaed Field. The mighty Mercian empire had collapsed. Penda had been depicted as an ogre because he rejected the Christian faith and adhered to the ancient gods like Woden and Thunor. Yet three years after Penda’s death, his son Wulfhere had rallied the kingdom and begun to re-establish its dominance.

Eadulf was frowning.

‘What have such matters to do with you?’ he asked the outlaw leader.

‘I was thane of Bretta’s Ham, a warlord of the South Folk.’

Eadulf was startled to realise that his estimation of the man was correct. A thane was one of the lesser nobility; Eadulf knew only that Bretta’s Ham was to the south-west of the kingdom. He waited patiently for Aldhere to continue.

‘About a year ago, Wulfhere sent his brother Aethelred against the western border of our kingdom. Ealdwulf, our King, sent his Cousin Egric to command the army. It was a short skirmish but a fierce fight, for the Mercians came down on us like the furies of hell. I was given command of the right flank. It was not a good position, for Egric had placed us at the foot of a hill, almost out of sight of the main body. When the attack began, a message from Egric was sent to me to stand fast until we were called. I obeyed. The next thing we heard was that Egric’s positions had been overthrown and he was mortally wounded.’

Aldhere was silent for a moment or two and then he sighed deeply. ‘Once I learnt this intelligence, I led my men around the hill and came upon the Mercian rear. As I say, it was a fierce but swift fight and the Mercians were suddenly in full retreat.’

Eadulf made no comment as Aldhere paused again.

‘When I went to see how Egric fared and to tell him the good news that we had turned the Mercians, I found the life blood ebbing from him but the man still full of bile and recriminations. Instead of taking responsibility for the bad positions and his consequent overthrow - indeed, his own death - he ranted and raged against me even with his dying breath. He claimed that I was a coward. He said I had hidden away until he had been defeated; that I had made no effort to protect his flank. And in his anger, he died.’

There was a silence until Eadulf made the obvious comment.

‘But it was his own fault.’

‘He was the King’s cousin and those in his bodyguard who had survived took his dying words back to Ealdwulf. I was summoned to the King’s palace to answer for my cowardice. Those were the very words with which the demand for my attendance was made. I knew, then, that if

I went, there would be only one resolution to my situation.

My execution.’

‘So you decided not to go in answer to the King’s summons?’

‘That is the reason I am still alive today.’ Aldhere gave a wry grimace.

‘The King declared you an outlaw?’ Eadulf made a sympathetic clicking sound with his tongue. ‘Not to answer a king’s summons was a wrong course to pursue, I think.’

Aldhere shook his head. ‘You believe that I should have gone to argue my case? Those men who were with me decided to go to the King’s court, and with them went Botulf.’

Eadulf started. ‘Why should Botulf go?’

‘Because, at the time, Brother Botulf had come to preach the word of the faith in Bretta’s Ham where I was lord. When word came of the Mercian attack, he volunteered to accompany my warband that we be not denied spiritual comfort in our hour of need. He was with my men throughout the fight, standing at my side armed with only the symbol of his faith, a crucifix. He knew the allegations of Egric to be untrue. He went to King Ealdwulf as an emissary on my behalf.’

Eadulf realised that Aldhere must be telling the truth. No one who knew Botulf would doubt such a story. Eadulf knew his friend’s courage.

‘But he failed?’

‘He failed to convince King Ealdwulf, who preferred the word of his dead cousin to those of my men. Those three warriors who went to him, three of my trusted commanders, he enslaved immediately. As for Botulf, he sent him back to Aldred’s Abbey, where he had originally come from, with instructions to Cild that Botulf was never to go further from the abbey than one mile in any direction.’

Eadulf was aghast. ‘But this is unjust! I did not know this.’

Aldhere smiled sarcastically. ‘Tell me about justice,
gerefa
. Only the powerful and rich can afford true justice. ’

Eadulf thought of the system that he had witnessed at first hand in the five kingdoms of Éireann and felt a sorrow for his people.

‘So this injustice has caused you to become an outlaw? ’

‘As soon as I heard what had happened to Botulf and my men, I took those remaining loyal to me, and their women and children, and made for the fastness of the marshlands and the woods. Here, through good luck, I made contact with Botulf once again and he was able to tell me where my men had been taken as slaves. We were eventually able to launch a raid to free them and so our band has existed during this last year, sometimes attracting new members who felt that they too had been the victims of malicious injustice.’

‘It is a curious tale,’ Eadulf commented.

‘It is a tale that is common among the South Folk these days. We give too much power to too few who then dispense it according to their prejudices and not according to what is right and just.’

‘Tell me more about Botulf and what you know of the events leading to his death.’

Aldhere nodded. ‘I was coming to that. But, as I said, holy
gerefa
, it is a story with a long preamble. Botulf had remained a good friend to me and to my people and hoped to persuade Ealdwulf to rescind his outlawing of our band. But it has been difficult for him, confined as he was to the abbey. A few days ago, I received a message from him that I was to meet him in the copse by the abbey, as I have told you. Dawn yesterday. The rest you already know. But you can be assured that I did not kill him.’

‘Have you any idea of why Botulf wanted to meet with you?’

‘None at all,’ replied Aldhere. ‘Though I did presume …’ He hesitated.

‘Presume? What?’ prompted Eadulf.

‘That it was something to do with his attempts to persuade the King to reconsider his sentence on my people and myself. He had promised that he would make an effort to contact Sigeric, the high steward of the King, and make a new plea on my behalf.’

‘Sigeric? Is he still living?’

‘Aye, and still an unremitting adherent of the old gods. But he is highly regarded by the King and even the bishops for his knowledge of the law.’

Eadulf reflected for a moment and then returned to the subject in hand. He detested meeting with blank walls.

‘I received a message in Canterbury several days ago to come to the abbey. Botulf seems to have learnt that I had returned there. He urged me to be at the abbey before midnight last night. I cannot see how these matters can be connected.’

Aldhere shrugged. ‘Nor I. Although last night did mark the start of the twelve-day festival of Yule. That is the only significance I can see in respect of the date and time.’

‘I hardly think that it would be significant so far as Botulf was concerned.’ Eadulf massaged his forehead with his fingertips for a moment or two. ‘One thing still puzzles me. Cild is a very bellicose man for a Christian abbot. He was quick to denounce you and gather a band of his brethren, fully armed, to ride out and hunt you down. I had no doubt that he meant to hang you if he caught you. That was why I rode out to find you - in order to prevent injustice.’

Aldhere chuckled grimly. ‘For that, I must thank you, holy
gerefa
. You seem to be a man in the same mould as poor Botolf.’

‘One thing I must know,’ insisted Eadulf. ‘Tell me about your relationship with Abbot Cild. What is the cause of the antipathy between you and him? I doubt that it can merely be because the King has outlawed you.’

Aldhere shook his head with a curious smile. ‘Cild was once a warrior as well. He has, at heart, never ceased to be a warlord. He knows enough of warfare to know that during the skirmish of Bretta’s Ham, the fault lay not with me.’

‘Then how do you explain his intense dislike of you? That he would seize this opportunity to hang you?’

Aldhere’s lips thinned a little. ‘It is a long story.’

‘And you have said that before. A story does not get shorter in the telling if one keeps pointing out how long it is. Let us commence. What is it between Cild and yourself that can cause such dislike?’

Aldhere raised a shoulder in a half shrug.

‘It has its roots in the fact that Cild and I share the same mother and father.’

For a moment Eadulf was uncertain of what he had just heard. Finally he said: ‘Then you are … ?’

‘Cild and I are brothers,’ confirmed Aldhere.

In the sudden confusion of thoughts, only one made any sense to Eadulf. Now he knew why he found Aldhere’s face so familiar. He was looking at an echo of Abbot Cild’s features.

Aldhere was chuckling at his bewilderment. ‘You look surprised, holy
gerefa
.’

Eadulf drew his thoughts together. ‘I am shocked that Abbot Cild is so violent against his own brother - to the point where he seeks him out to kill him.’

The outlaw grimaced. ‘Fratricide is no stranger to our people, my friend, especially among those who seek power.’