The Haunted Abbot (43 page)

Fidelma inclined her head.

‘In our law, divorce is permitted for many reasons. There are several grounds for divorce and eleven circumstances for a separation without fine or penalty from either partner.’

Gélgeis chuckled without humour.

‘And here, in this land, there is no right for women to divorce. And still my father spoke to me of obedience to law and ritual. Now he comes here with his law and ritual but without care for me.’

Perhaps only Fidelma heard the lonely wail of a lost child that lay behind the girl’s coldness.

‘And so you met Aldhere?’ she prompted.

‘Yes, I met Aldhere and we shared a hatred of Cild. I ran off with him and stayed with him in the guise of a badly treated Frankish slave woman, thus explaining my veil and accent. We managed to convince people that Gélgeis had perished in Hob’s Mire. It was only when we heard recently from Wiglaf that his Cousin Botulf was increasingly concerned that Cild was growing more and more demented that we decided that we would help that beast suffer.’

‘Did Botulf know that you were not dead?’

Aldhere intervened. ‘Botulf, as I have said before, was an old friend of mine. He knew Gélgeis was unhappy. He knew that she had found happiness with me and had decided to leave Cild. Botulf knew our secret and kept it until death.’

‘From Wiglaf I learnt the secret of the tunnels into the abbey,’ went on Gélgeis, ‘and using them I made the ghostly appearances.’

‘Your purpose was to drive Cild into such insanity that he would take his own life?’ Fidelma pressed.

‘My purpose was to revenge myself on him,’ Gélgeis said simply.

‘Surely he had some feelings of love for you? He would not have been so emotionally disturbed by the appearance of a dead wife for whom he felt nothing.’ Eadulf frowned.

Gélgeis laughed. It was not a humorous sound.

‘He felt only fear and guilt and, in his madness, thought the spirits of the dark world were taking their vengeance on him.’

‘Did Botulf approve of this?’ Eadulf was incredulous.

Gélgeis shook her head. ‘Your friend Botulf was a moral man, as Aldhere will confirm. No, he did not even know of my plan to revenge myself. But he did not betray me - even to my own brother, Garb, when he arrived with this ridiculous plan of a
troscud
.’

‘Ridiculous? We came and placed ourselves in danger for you and yet you never thought of informing us, your family, that you were alive!’ exploded Garb, staring angrily at his sister.

Gélgeis shook her head with a cynical smile.

‘My family did not care about me until I was dead and then only because he’ - she pointed to her father - ‘wanted to act out his concern with ritual.’

Aldhere now rose and took Gélgeis’s hand. His men rose too and gathered around him.

‘As Gélgeis says, you are a clever woman, Fidelma. I am still not sure how you knew. It surely cannot have been that Bertha and Gélgeis shared a scar?’

Fidelma smiled briefly at him. ‘You made a mistake. You spoke of your knowledge of Mella’s death. You said that Gélgeis had told you. But the news of Mella’s death was not known until after Gélgeis was supposed to have died in Hob’s Mire. Unless you were communing with the dead, then Gélgeis was still alive. If she was still alive, and Lioba was not Gélgeis, then it was simple, when Eadulf mentioned the scar, to work out who she must be.’

Aldhere looked thoughtful for a moment and then he smiled thinly.

‘As neither Gélgeis nor I have played any part in the bloodshed that has taken place here, we will take our leave.’

‘Where will you go?’ asked Eadulf in astonishment. He could not help liking the outlaw.

Aldhere smiled broadly. ‘Back to the marshlands, holy
gerefa
, where else? There we will remain until King Ealdwulf changes his mind or has need of us. When the armies of Wulfhere of Mercia march across our borders King Ealdwulf will need us. I was thane of Bretta’s Ham and will be so again. Tell him that from me, lord Sigeric.’

Sigeric went to say something, hesitated and then waved his hand in dismissal.

‘One moment, Gélgeis!’ Fidelma’s voice stayed them and the girl looked around with a frown. ‘There is one final question I would like to ask before you leave. When you manifested your ghostly appearance the other night before Cild in Hob’s Mire, how did you know that Cild and some of the brethren would be there to see you?’

Gélgeis chuckled, this time with genuine humour.

‘Do not tell me that the great
dálaigh
is not omniscient?’ She smiled sarcastically. ‘Is it not said that a person of learning should understand half a word?’

‘It is also said that when you admit ignorance, then you obtain wisdom.’

Gélgeis pouted. ‘Many events are not planned. I was on my way to the abbey to make another appearance to Cild. As I was crossing the marsh, I saw a band of riders by the trees. I seized the opportunity, not knowing it was Cild. When I saw the riders return to the abbey and saw two figures coming into the marsh towards me, I decided that it was manifestation enough for that night. So I departed home.’

‘So it was mere coincidence?’

‘Our fate is written more by coincidence than by careful planning.’

Fidelma inclined her head to the girl.

‘You have become a philosopher, Gélgeis. May you find peace and contentment.’

There was a silence as Aldhere and Gélgeis, with Aldhere’s men, walked out of the chapel. Gélgeis did not look once in the direction of her father and brother.

As they left, Eadulf turned quietly to Fidelma.

‘I cannot make up my mind whether Gélgeis is possessed of a good or evil character.’

Fidelma smiled. ‘As you will recall, neither could others. Some in the abbey thought of her as kindly and well loved while others did not like her. The fact is that no person is all good or all bad and can display both qualities at the same time to different people. I tend to the conclusion that the badness was brought out by circumstance.’

She glanced across to Gélgeis’s family. She could not help a tinge of sympathy as they sat, pale and hunched. Brother Laisre was leaning forward and patting the old chieftain on the arm.

‘And you, Gadra of Maigh Eo, will you depart now in peace and abandon this
troscud
?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Remember that I did not want to bring you to this realisation. Only your blind insistence to pursue …’ She paused and lifted her shoulder slightly before letting it fall.

It was Garb who answered her on behalf of his father.

‘The
troscud
is abandoned, Sister. If there is no cause then there can be no effect. We will return to Maigh Eo.’

They were leaving the chapel when Werferth, the commander of Sigeric’s bodyguard, entered and came to Sigeric.

‘I have followed the tracks of the Mercian Higbald and his men, lord Sigeric. They are heading directly to Mercia. They have fled from this place.’

Sigeric sighed in resignation.

‘So it would seem that we cannot even punish Higbald for the crimes here? There is one part of this sad tale that I do not understand. Why did Higbald want to lead you both into a trap? Cild was going to charge you with witchcraft. Why not let Cild judiciously murder you? Why go to the trouble?’

‘Remember that Higbald was an agent of Mercia, sent here to cause the maximum dissension and trouble,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘I realised, in retrospect, that when I rode out after Cild so that I would be with him when he caught up with Aldhere - that morning when Cild pretended to go in search of his brother - I was just saved from death at the hands of Higbald myself.’

Sigeric was puzzled and even Fidelma turned with interest.

‘Remember that Garb told us that Higbald followed me from the abbey?’ went on Eadulf. ‘Had not Garb and his men waylaid Higbald, I believe it was Higbald’s intention to kill me and blame that act on Aldhere. The spreading of dissonance, suspicion and discord was his primary aim. Garb probably saved my life. The same motivation applied when he made an elaborate plan to get Fidelma and me to escape. Had Cild executed Fidelma for witchcraft, insane as the act would be, it could be argued that it was done within the law. But if we were murdered outside the abbey, then there would be no excuse. More suspicion and alarm could be created. What a consummate liar Higbald proved to be.’

‘Ah well, we may meet Higbald again one day,’ Sigeric sighed. ‘If Mercia does attack, let us hope our sword arms are stronger than Mercian intrigue.’ The old man glanced around the chapel. Now all that was left of the assembly were the dozen or so religious with Brother Willibrod at their head. He was chastened, still red-eyed but now in doleful command. The high steward waved him forward.

‘There is still a stench of evil in this abbey, Brother Willibrod,’ Sigeric announced. ‘I will apportion no blame here but I will report this to King Ealdwulf’s bishop, who should take responsibility for this place. Woden’s blessing that I am not Christian to upbraid you. Why were no reports sent to King Ealdwulf or to his bishop on the behaviour of your abbot?’

When Brother Willibrod opened his mouth, Sigeric held up his hand, palm outwards.

‘No, I do not want to hear. Save your excuses for the bishop of your faith. I will merely report on what I have found. Meantime, you will remain here in charge of the brethren of this place until you hear from the bishop. It will be your task to set this abbey to rights.’

He rose from his seat and moved forward to Fidelma with his hand outstretched.

‘I have learnt much in the last few hours, Fidelma of Cashel. I apologise for my cultural ignorance. I regret it. May your God be on all the roads you travel. You, too, Brother Eadulf. You have a companion whose beauty is matched by her wisdom.’

Signalling to Werferth to accompany him, the old man turned and left the chapel.

Brother Willibrod turned to his brethren and started to issue orders, leaving Fidelma and Eadulf to exit into the main quadrangle together. They emerged in the pale sunshine of the late winter afternoon. Another hour and it would be dark. Mul the farmer was waiting for them.

‘Well,’ the farmer smiled nervously, looking from one to the other, ‘I presume that neither of you wants to stay another night in this evil place? There is always a warm bed in my farmhouse. A warm bed, good sweet cider and a wholesome meal.’

Fidelma exchanged a quick look with Eadulf and nodded slightly.

Mul grinned broadly. ‘In that case, I’ll go and find those ponies of yours. I don’t think your countrymen will be wanting them back, Sister. They’ve all set out for Tunstall in a great hurry. I’ll meet you back here in a moment.’

Fidelma sat down on the stone bench in the quadrangle and looked around at the oppressive dark walls of the abbey.

‘A sad business, Eadulf. Truly sad.’

‘Will you come on to Seaxmund’s Ham, then?’ Eadulf suddenly asked. ‘You have not seen where I was born. Not that there is much to see. Poor Botulf is gone and he was the friend of my youth. Nor is there anyone left there whom I can call kin. Nevertheless, I would like to see the place as I am so close.’

Fidelma smiled softly at him.

‘Indeed, since we are so close, I will not refuse to come with you, Eadulf,’ she said quietly. ‘After all, it is your birthplace.’

‘And after that, what then?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘After that?’ The corners of Fidelma’s mouth turned downwards with a suggestion of her old humour. ‘I want to return to my brother’s kingdom. I want my baby to be born in Cashel.’