The Haunted Abbot (31 page)

‘Christ was not responsible for the murder of your wife and children,’ admonished Eadulf.

‘No? If this Christ were an omnipotent deity he could have done something. Don’t you teach that he is all powerful, all loving and ordains everything that happens? No,
gerefa
, all gods are alike. Silent to our suffering.’

Fidelma looked at Eadulf and shook her head quickly. It was not wise to pursue the argument further.

‘Have you heard of any trouble between the abbey and those who adhere to the Rule of Colmcille … the blessed one whom you call Columba?’ she asked.

‘Trouble? Cild had two of them executed, I know that. The others he had driven out into the marshes. Perhaps they have returned to your land? Perhaps it is they who are hiding in Tunstall? There are so many deaths here, Sister, that I am surprised you bother to seek the reasons for one or two. The answer to all of them lies between two people - Cild and Aldhere.’

‘It seems that there is no longer any law here,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘I would not believe it. I was brought up to believe that no one would dare to disobey the Law of the Wuffingas and a
gerefa
. Anarchy seems to reign in this land.’

Mul grinned cynically.

‘Not anarchy,
gerefa
; but men who have swords and no compunction about using them. And, of course, such men have no loyalty to anyone other than themselves.’

Fidelma held her head to one side questioningly.

‘Again you seem to imply something more than the words you use, Mul.’

The farmer nodded slowly.

‘Speak to people in any market place and you will hear what they say.’

‘We are not in a market place, so I would like to hear what
you
say. What have you heard?’

‘I have heard that Aldhere would welcome a new King in this land. I have heard too that his brother, Cild, would also welcome a new King. Yet the word is that the brothers have different Kings in mind.’

‘Can you explain further?’ Fidelma pressed.

‘This land is viewed with envy by Wulfhere of Mercia to the west and by Sigehere of the East Saxons to the south. Either King would be a fool not to take advantage of the conflict raging in this small corner of the kingdom.’

‘Are you saying that you have definite word that either Cild or Aldhere is in league with Wulfhere or Sigehere?’ Eadulf was aghast.

‘Definite word? No, of course not. I tell you what I have heard in the market places.’

‘Idle gossip. Speculation without facts!’ suggested Eadulf. Fidelma noticed that even as he spoke Eadulf was less than confident and seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts.

‘If the land of the South Folk fell, then the land of the North Folk would follow swiftly,’ Mul snapped, undeterred.

‘You might well be right,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘It seems that there is no peace between peoples anywhere in the world. There are plots and conspiracies between the five kingdoms of my own island. During our visit to the land of the Britons we found their kingdoms divided against each other. Why should the lands of the Angles and the Saxons be any different? However, that is not why we are here.’

Mul sniffed and once more reached for the cider jug. Finding it empty, he rose and went to the cupboard and drew out another flagon.

‘No,’ he said, ‘you are here to find out how Cild murdered your friend Botulf.’

‘We are here to find out first
if
Cild murdered Botulf,’ corrected Eadulf. ‘If he did so, then the “how” will follow.’

‘And moreover whether he killed his wife, Gélgeis,’ Fidelma added. ‘We are here to prevent more tragedy and such an effusion of blood as this land has never seen before.’

The blizzard had passed on during the night. The morning, while still icy cold, was bright with the sky pastel blue and the sun almost white in its weakness. Fidelma and Eadulf had passed the night in the comfortable warmth of Mul’s farmhouse. They had broken their fast with Mul but waited until he was out of earshot before they made their prayers to St Stephen, for it was his feast day - the feast of the first martyr for the new faith. Then, after paying Mul the promised coin for the night’s lodging, they left on their journey northwards. The roads were filled with snow banks, crisp flakes that had drifted in the blizzard and piled against hedge and ditch. The journey was not going to be without hardship.

Fidelma, however, had slept well and felt much stronger than before. The ague that she had endured was now receding and she was more comfortable and relaxed.

Mul’s smoking chimney had barely disappeared behind the hill when Eadulf turned to Fidelma. There were several questions that he had wanted to ask but had been unable to in the intimacy of the farmhouse in which Mul would hear even the whispered word.

‘What did you mean by “preventing such an effusion of blood as this land has not seen before”?’ Eadulf demanded.

Fidelma’s expression was serious.

‘Why am I so keen to prevent this ritual fast from taking place, Eadulf?’

‘To prevent the death of Gadra … to find out the truth about the deaths of Gélgeis and Botulf …’ Eadulf thought the reasons were surely obvious.

‘There is one thing that you appear to have overlooked, or perhaps do not realise, about the
troscud
, the ritual fast. Gadra is a chieftain of Maigh Eo. He is a descendant of the Uí Briúin kings of Connacht, and they in turn are related to the Uí Néill High Kings. If Gadra dies, as it is like he will, and Cild does not compensate his family, as it is like he will not, then there will begin a blood feud which will encompass the Uí Briúin and perhaps the Uí Néill, which will spread from Cild to the whole kingdom of the East Angles, and soon, perhaps, every kingdom on these islands might be taking sides. From this incident, there might grow a terrible warfare.’

Eadulf was astounded. ‘Do you really think that it could lead to that?’

Her features told him how earnest she was.

‘As soon as I realised that Gadra was one of the Uí Briúin I knew that we were not dealing with some petty chieftain but one with powerful connections. That is what stirs me to find a solution to this matter.’ She paused and added: ‘What were the thoughts that occupied you when Mul suggested that Aldhere or Cild might be in league with neighbouring kings for their own aggrandisement?’

Eadulf grimaced. He had thought she had not noticed his apprehension when Mul spoke of the gossip in the market places. In fact, he had almost forgotten the subject now that they had left Mul’s farmstead.

‘I was merely thinking that Cild was once a warlord in this land. I remembered how strange it was, the morning after we arrived here, that he and some of the brethren rode out in search of Aldhere almost as if they were warriors in battle array rather than religious. ’

‘I recall that you told me about that,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘However, as you said, he was once a warrior and warriors’ traits never leave them.’

‘That was my reasoning.’

‘There is something else worrying you?’

‘Not worrying me, just irritating me. On our way out from the abbey, we passed a room full of warriors’ equipment. Remember?’

Fidelma pursed her lips. She had forgotten.

‘I confess that I was not feeling well enough to take that in. Perhaps Cild likes to retain that link with his past life.’

‘If it is truly past. It was what Mul said that makes me think that it is not.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Maybe the rumours are true. Cild might well be in league with Wulfhere of Mercia - involved in some plot to betray the South Folk to his kingdom.’

‘Why Mercia?’

‘Because the thing that has been worrying me is that the shields in that chamber each bore the battle emblem of the Iclingas. I had started to mention it to you when we found Botulf’s purse and the discovery drove it from my mind.’

‘Iclingas? What might that be?’

‘The Iclingas are Kings of Mercia.’

They rode on in silence for a while, allowing the ponies their heads to find their own way through the snowdrifts - a task for which the animals’ natural senses were far better fitted than the guidance of their riders.

‘We should be at Aldhere’s camp within the hour.’ Eadulf eventually broke the silence.

‘I shall look forward to meeting him after the conflicting reports of his character given by you and Mul.’

Eadulf snorted indignantly. ‘What does Mul know? Yet again, he repeats only the local gossip. I simply say that I prefer Aldhere to his dour brother Cild.’

‘There is often some truth to be found in gossip. Not so much fact but attitudes. I have known many ruthless men and women who are possessed of the sweetest temperaments until their plans are thwarted. It is often enlightening to listen to gossip.’

Eadulf looked disapproving.

‘You are fond of quoting Publilius Syrus,’ he rebuked her. ‘Did you not once quote him, and quote him approvingly, that it was wrong to take notice of gossip? ’

Fidelma smiled. ‘You did not quote the exact words of Publilius Syrus, Eadulf, but the meaning is probably the same. However, what I said was to listen to gossip for attitudes and not for facts. In this instance the importance of the gossip lies in the context.’

‘And have you been led to any conclusion?’ Eadulf asked. He could not restrain the note of irony in his question.

Fidelma’s features grew serious.

‘I will admit to you, Eadulf, that nothing I have heard so far makes me see any solutions. In fact, this is the most frustrating conundrum I have ever encountered. We only know for certain of one crime. The death of your friend Botulf. We hear accusations of another crime … the abbot’s wife … but is it a crime? We do not know, for accusations do not constitute facts, as you endeavoured to point out at Tunstall. But how are we to proceed? There are no witnesses to these events, only rumours and gossip.’

‘There is another point to be considered.’

Fidelma glanced across at him, frowning at his doleful tone. ‘Which is?’

‘That even if we could miraculously find the truth of what is happening, through what means could we reveal it and force a mediation on those concerned? You have no legal authority in this land. At least in Dyfed, the Welisc king gave you an authority. But here among the Angles and the Saxons, you have none. No authority at all.’

‘That is true,’ she agreed gravely. ‘But this is your country, Eadulf. These are your people. You are a
gerefa
here.’

Eadulf shook his head.

‘I was a
gerefa
here, extolling the laws of the Wuffingas. Once I went into the religious my authority as a
gerefa
ceased to be.’

Fidelma’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Do you mean that a religious in this land cannot be an advocate of the law?’

Eadulf shook his head.

‘It is with irony that Mul addresses me as
gerefa
. It is because as a non-Christian he refuses to call me Brother. Neither, if you noticed, does he call you Sister. I have found many in the religious who have sought my advice because of my legal background but, in truth, I no longer have authority in this kingdom and these people know it.’

Fidelma reflected for a moment. Somewhere in her memory she must have known. It must have been explained to her when she had first met Eadulf at the great council at Whitby. Yet she had in recent times emphasised his legal standing to her people as it gave him a moral authority to help her in her own investigations.

‘Well, we will have to find some other way of exerting influence on matters,’ she said. ‘I believe Gadra and Garb will take notice if I can demonstrate that there is no need to undertake the ritual fast.’

‘But in the meantime,’ Eadulf sighed, ‘we have to keep out of the hands of Abbot Cild. I wonder how he can afford three gold pieces for our capture? It is a large sum to offer and you cannot doubt that many will be tempted by it.’

Certainly Fidelma did not doubt it.

‘More to the point, why is he so concerned to have us caught and silenced?’ she said. ‘He must surely know, as we do, that there is no way we can prove anything against him …’

‘Unless we are overlooking the obvious,’ muttered Eadulf.

Fidelma examined him thoughtfully. She could see his brows drawn together, his lips compressed, as if he were struggling to remember some forgotten information or event that had happened during the time that she lay in her fever.

‘You noticed that the crucifix Mul found was not one usually worn by a religious?’ she asked, after a while.

Eadulf nodded.

‘It was made for a person of wealth, doubtless a woman,’ he replied. ‘It seems logical that it was Gélgeis’s cross.’

‘Logical, but its ownership is not certain, nor is the reason why it came to be at Mul’s farmstead.’

A silence fell between them again before Fidelma broke it once more: ‘You have had conversation with Cild. Tell me, is he truly unbalanced in the mind? If so, have you learnt the cause of it?’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘I would say that Cild is unstable to the point of being deranged. What caused his dementia? I do not know.’

‘The death of his wife and the strange apparitions at the abbey?’

To her surprise, Eadulf shook his head.

‘I think there is more to it than that. Aldhere claims his brother was demented and cruel from childhood and this was why he was disinherited. Perhaps he was born evil.’

Fidelma made a face.

‘Children are not born evil, Eadulf. They are usually created so.’

They had been travelling through a stretch of woodland, mainly of bare, gaunt trees with a few clumps of evergreens here and there. It was flat country close to the sea, so close that they could hear the distant whisper of the waves sliding towards the shore and then receding. Now came the sound of something else.