The Haunted Abbot (22 page)

The boy was quiet, reflecting.

‘She was substantial, truly. But she was a ghost. What else could she be when she was dead? Anyway, it was clear that she was a ghost in spite of the substantialness.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because her face was ghastly white. Even in the flickering candlelight, her face was pale, white … Truly, she was not of this world.’

Fidelma pressed her lips together in thought. She realised that Brother Redwald was trembling slightly and she felt that it would not be wise to press him for further information. She was about to dismiss him when the sounds of hurrying footsteps halted outside the door. Brother Higbald opened the door and entered without knocking. He looked agitated. His eyes fell first on Sister Fidelma. He smiled and was about to say something when he noticed Brother Redwald.

‘Go to your cell and I will meet you there in a moment. Hurry, do not delay.’ His tone was curt.

Eadulf and Fidelma exchanged a glance of surprise.

‘What is the matter?’ demanded Eadulf, as the young boy hurried obediently away.

Brother Higbald paused, glancing after Brother Redwald, as if to make sure that he was out of earshot. Then he spoke softly and urgently, speaking directly to Fidelma first and then to Eadulf.

‘Look to your safety, Sister Fidelma; look to your safety, Brother Eadulf.’ His voice was filled with foreboding. ‘Terrible news …’

‘News? What news?’ inquired Eadulf.

‘Warriors of the East Saxons have landed on the shore, not far away from here. Word has come that they are marching in this direction.’

Eadulf was dismissive. ‘It is probably the men I encountered from the longship two days ago. There were but a few men. They can surely do you no harm?’

Brother Higbald was still worried.

‘The news is that there are many longships and it may well be that they are Sigehere’s men come to destroy all the Christian houses that give succour to his Cousin Sebbi. The word is that they are marching this way. Take my advice and look to your own safety now! You know what to do, Brother. I must go to prepare our own defence.’

He gave them one last pleading glance before leaving hurriedly.

Eadulf turned back to Fidelma. His face was anxious.

‘This is bad news. But it might be to our advantage. I think we must do as he asks. Are you well enough to travel now?’

Fidelma hesitated and then nodded in silent agreement.

‘I suggest that we leave immediately, before Abbot Cild claims that you have conjured an army of the East Saxons to fall on his abbey,’ Eadulf said.

‘Perhaps you are right.’ Fidelma smiled softly. ‘This does seem an appropriate time to make our departure.’

Eadulf grabbed the bread and cold meats which Brother Redwald had just brought them and thrust them into his bag. He uttered a small prayer of thanks for his wisdom in transferring his belongings to Fidelma’s room while he was nursing her. He helped her put on her cloak and slung his own around his shoulders.

Her steps were unsteady in her weakness but Eadulf held out a hand to balance her. She steadied herself and looked questioningly at him.

‘Now, where is this escape route? We would be spotted trying to leave the abbey any other way now that there is such an alarm.’

Eadulf went directly to the wall behind her bed and drew aside the tapestry.

Fidelma’s eyes widened a little at the door which Eadulf pushed. It swung inwards.

‘A secret tunnel?’ she asked.

‘It is supposed to lead to the outside.’

‘And if our ghost is tangible, this is doubtless the way she came into this chamber and departed without being seen by anyone other than young Redwald.’

Eadulf had not given the matter a thought but realised that it was a logical deduction. But now they had no time for such contemplation.

They entered the tunnel. Just inside was a wooden shelf on which there was a tallow candle. Eadulf returned to the room to secure a light from the glowing embers of the fire and then rejoined her, drawing the tapestry down behind him and swinging the door shut. The dark stone tunnel was damp and musty and, as they moved cautiously along it, they heard the alarmed squeaking as mice scampered before them.

Eadulf realised that the tunnel was not a single one but part of a network which must cover the entire abbey. He was trying to concentrate on remembering the directions that Brother Higbald had given him. Had it been two turns to the right and one to the left or the reverse? He uttered a silent curse as he realised that he had forgotten. The only thing to do now was trust in luck. He dared not tell Fidelma that he had forgotten such simple instructions.

They came to an intersection, one way going right and one going left. Eadulf hesitated for a moment and turned right. The tunnel narrowed slightly. There was another intersection and he turned right again. It was damp now, the walls fairly dripping with moisture. Behind him he heard Fidelma coughing. This atmosphere was not going to be good for her after her bout of illness. He moved on as rapidly as he could.

‘There’s some light ahead,’ came Fidelma’s whisper from behind him. Eadulf had already seen a flickering glow. It was obviously torchlight which seemed to emanate from a side chamber. He turned quickly.

‘We should proceed quietly,’ he whispered. It was an unnecessary instruction.

They moved silently towards the chamber from which the light was coming and Eadulf halted before the open entrance. Stealthily he peered round. A torch lit a chamber beyond the archway. Thankfully, it was empty - empty of people, that is. There were benches and wooden pegs along one side of the wall from which hung an amazing array of shields, swords and lances. Eadulf took a step forward and regarded the warriors’ accoutrements with bewilderment. They were all brightly polished and well kept.

‘Curious,’ he whispered.

Fidelma peered over his shoulder.

‘Didn’t someone say that this had been an old fortress before it became an abbey?’ She spoke irritably, distracted by another bout of coughing.

‘Torches do not burn for a hundred years, nor do weapons and shields keep their sheen,’ Eadulf said reprovingly.

Fidelma was too concerned to get out of the damp atmosphere to be inclined to linger.

‘Well, you told me that Abbot Cild was once a warrior. Perhaps he finds the habit hard to break. Let’s move on. I am cold.’

‘But the shields bear Iclingas images, and—’ Eadulf’s jaw clenched shut and he moved forwards into the chamber. He had caught sight of an object on the floor beneath a row of shields. It was a small dark leather purse of rectangular shape with a pattern branded on it which struck a distant chord in his memory. He reached forward and picked it up, noting that it had obviously been wrenched off someone’s belt with a degree of violence for the leather thongs were stretched and torn.

‘Merciful God!’ he breathed as he examined it.

Fidelma stood impatiently at the door. ‘What is it?’

He turned and held it out so that she could see it in the light. Burned onto the leather below the patterned symbol, probably by means of a red-hot needle or similarly pointed object, was a name. The name was ‘Botulf’.

‘It is empty,’ she observed, quickly peering inside. ‘What is your friend’s purse doing here?’

Eadulf had been looking closely around the spot where he had found it. There were dark stains there. He followed a splattering of them to where some steps led upwards to be blocked by an old, wooden door, bolted on the inside.

Fidelma had recognised the stains.

‘Blood. I think your friend Botulf might have met his death here?’ she observed softly.

Eadulf shivered and not with cold. He was aware that she was coughing again.

‘I’ll wager that door leads through the crypt to the small courtyard by the chapel. Poor Botulf’s body was found there. I’ll keep this,’ he said, putting the purse in his
sacculus
. ‘We’d best move on. We can consider this matter later.’

The passage seemed to continue for ever and he was coming to the awful conclusion that he had mistaken the directions. Perhaps it had been two left turns after all, instead of two right? He was about to suggest that they turn back when he saw some light up ahead.

It was the end of the tunnel. The exit was covered with creepers. Trailing growths hung over it like a curtain. Eadulf had a little difficulty in pushing them aside, halting to draw back the foliage for Fidelma to squeeze though. Clearly no one had been through this way in some time.

Cautiously he moved forward. The dankness and cold of the passage had prepared them for the chill of the day outside. Although the sky was clear and blue, the snow lay like a crisp covering over every exposed place.

They had actually emerged twenty or so paces from the abbey walls, in the shelter of a hillock where trees provided a thin screen from watching eyes.

Eadulf peered cautiously round.

‘Down!’ he suddenly hissed.

Fidelma obeyed him without question.

Close by the south wall of the abbey were gathered half a dozen men. With them, seated on horseback, was a slim figure with long red hair. It appeared to be a girl. One of the men was talking to her. Then she raised her hand in acknowledgment and urged her horse forward, straight towards their hiding place. The track brought her very close to where they were concealed, but the black mare she was riding raced by without their being spotted. Eadulf was frowning as he gazed after her vanished form.

‘What is it?’ asked Fidelma, noticing his curious expression.

‘I could swear that was the same woman I saw the other night - the one everybody is making such a fuss about.’ He looked back towards the men by the abbey walls. ‘I wonder what they are doing?’

Fidelma followed his gaze.

‘Men from the abbey preparing for this Saxon attack?’

Eadulf shook his head.

‘A strange place to set up a defensive position,’ he said. ‘Any attack from the sea is going to come from the east.’ He paused and listened. There was no sound of any approaching warband, nor of any personal pursuit. He looked around cautiously. ‘I am afraid that it is going to be a fair walk to Tunstall. I wish we could have procured some horses.’

Fidelma, feeling much better since leaving the dark, damp confines of the tunnels, was mischievous.

‘I thought that you did not enjoy riding?’

Eadulf smiled briefly. Her humour was a sign that she was returning to her old self.

‘I am worried for you. It is a long way to trudge through the cold snow in your condition.’

‘Don’t worry, Eadulf. It is true that I would prefer to be seated before a good fire with a hot drink but beggars cannot choose. The sooner we start, the sooner we will arrive.’

Eadulf nodded but he insisted on carrying both their travelling bags so that Fidelma would not be burdened with hers. They moved deeper into the woods and Eadulf tried to find tracks that were clear of snow and so would not leave a trail that could easily be seen by those wishing to pursue them. He kept a slow but steady pace but, even so, Fidelma had to rest now and then for her breathing was fast and shallow. It was obvious that she was not entirely recovered from the illness.

Picking his way carefully, Eadulf led the way through the forest and undergrowth. After some time he glimpsed what appeared to be a woodsman’s cottage through the trees. It was a short distance above them on the slopes of the hill. A thin blue wisp of smoke was curling from the chimney. Although they had not come very far from the abbey, Eadulf felt it might be a suitable place for Fidelma to rest in comfort for a while. He turned to Fidelma who was only just catching up with him.

‘I am going to see if we can claim hospitality at that woodsman’s hut,’ he told her. ‘Why don’t you sit down on that log for a moment while I go up there?’

Fidelma sank down thankfully onto the log to recover her breath. She glanced up towards the hut.

‘Aren’t we too close to the abbey to rest for a while? If the abbey is attacked then the attackers may well march in this direction.’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘I think we will be safe for a while yet.’

‘I would prefer to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the abbey, but …’ She shrugged. She was too weak to argue with him.

Eadulf left her and made his way towards the woods-man’s hut. From the outside it appeared deserted as there were no dogs or other animals about. But the wisp of smoke indicated there was a fire lit inside and where there was a fire there must be someone to stoke it. He walked confidently to the door. Then he saw a horse, still saddled, with its reins hitched to a nearby post. It was blowing a little as if it had just had a hard ride. It was a black mare.

He drew near and was about to raise his fist to the door to announce his presence when a scream stopped him. It was a female scream which ended in a peal of laughter. Then a voice, a woman’s voice, began to speak. The words were punctuated with squeals and groans.

‘Come, lover … oh, it is good … good … oh …’

It was obvious what was taking place inside and Eadulf dropped his arm. He felt a surge of embarrassment. Then he suddenly realised, with some shock, that the voice was speaking in the language of Éireann.

He hesitated, wondering what to do. Half of him wanted to turn away and the other half of him was curious to know who was speaking in such a fashion.

He suppressed his embarrassment and moved cautiously along the wall to where he had seen a window. There was no glass in it and the piece of sacking was torn. He edged near and took a quick glance into the hut. Then, ascertaining that he was not being observed by those inside, he took a longer look, feeling like some heteroclite; like some perverted peeper.

He saw what he had expected to see: a man and woman making love. It seemed that the woman was more active than the man, talking and moaning all the time. She was young and slim, with a shock of reddish-blonde hair. Above her naked body was a thick-set man of middle age. The first thing that Eadulf noticed about him was that he wore the tonsure of St Peter. Then the man raised his face but, fortunately for Eadulf, his good eye was tight shut in his ecstasy. The other was still covered by its leather patch.