Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

Brother Willibrod was immediately apologetic. ‘It is just that we still live in fear of outbreaks of the dreadful Yellow Plague … it carried off many of our people, and-’

‘The sooner you send Brother Higbald to attend to the woman, the sooner we can confirm what afflicts her, Brother Willibrod,’ Abbot Cild snapped.

Brother Willibrod jerked his head in a nervous acknowledgment towards the abbot and turned hastily from the room.

‘I should go to explain to the apothecary what I have done for her,’ Eadulf suggested but Abbot Cild stayed him.

‘I presume that she is capable of communicating with Brother Higbald and will tell him herself?’ he sneered. ‘It is best if Brother Higbald look for himself without being told what it is that he should see.’

Eadulf’s expression tightened. The man was fully back in control, impatient and arrogant. Eadulf did not mean to rise to his antagonism — after all, it was necessary that Fidelma be allowed to recover before travelling on — but he could not help himself.

‘Had I been in your position, Abbot Cild, I would have welcomed the happy coincidence that brought such a person as Fidelma of Cashel to your abbey at this time.’

Abbot Cild’s eyes narrowed.

‘Explain yourself,’ he demanded.

‘Easy enough. Sister Fidelma is a lawyer of some reputation in her own land. In fact, she was a legal counsel to the Irish deputation at the Synod of Whitby two years ago.’

For a moment Abbot Cild’s eyes widened as a memory stirred.

‘Sister Fidelma? She stopped the Council from breaking upand the kingdoms plunging into civil war after one of the leading delegates was murdered?’

‘That is the same Sister Fidelma. She is a friend of King Oswy of Northumbria and Abbess Hilda.’

Abbot Cild relaxed suddenly, in one of the curious, inexplicable mood swings which Eadulf had observed him to be capable of. He sat back in his chair, gazing closely at Eadulf.

‘Why should her presence here be of interest to me? What are you implying?’

‘I merely point out that she might be able to advise you on this matter of Gadra’s troscud. ’

Abbot Cild blinked rapidly and then exhaled slowly. ‘That is a matter which is of no concern to you or, indeed, to anyone else.’

‘Law is my concern, Abbot Cild. The rituals of the law take different forms but its morality is not to be denied. If you are a victim then speak out and let Fidelma help find a way to end this ritual fasting against you. If you have to answer before the law, then let someone who knows something of this ritual of troscud advise you. If handled wrongly, this matter could escalate into war and much blood will be shed.’

Abbot Cild raised his head to Eadulf, his dark eyes suddenly unfathomable.

‘When or if that time comes, I will know how to protect myself,’ he said grimly.

‘That sounds like a recourse to violence. Surely that is an odd position for one in holy orders to take?’ observed Eadulf. ‘Why not protect yourself in accordance with law if, as you claim, you are innocent of any wrongdoing?’

Abbot Cild’s eyes suddenly flashed brightly and Eadulf noticed his hands gripping the edge of the table.

‘I do not have to defend myself to you.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Eadulf agreed with equanimity. ‘Tell me, did you have a wife named Gélgeis?’

There was a colour on the abbot’s cheek. He made no reply and Eadulf pressed him further.

‘Did you change your mind about the celibacy of the religious before or after you married?’

‘I married when I was …’ began Abbot Cild, off guard for amoment. Then he stopped and stared defiantly at Eadulf. ‘I have told you that it is no concern of yours. You are no longer gerefa at Seaxmund’s Ham.’

‘How much of the accusation of Garb was true?’ Eadulf asked calmly, ignoring Abbot Cild’s outrage.

‘Not a word of it!’

‘But you have just agreed that you married this girl, Gélgeis. I presume that she was, indeed, Garb’s sister, and the daughter of Gadra, and that you married her in the kingdom of Connacht?’

‘I do not deny that. But how do you know it was in Connacht? Garb did not mention that.’

‘Maigh Eo — the Plain of the Yew — is in Connacht.’

‘You are well informed, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ muttered the abbot.

‘You are not the only Saxon who has studied in the universities of Éireann,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Anyway, the answer to my question is that you did marry your wife according to the Law of the Fénechus?’

‘I do not deny that.’

‘And she is now dead?’

Abbot Cild’s jaw tightened and he rose from his chair.

‘She is dead. I know that for a fact. No one can prove otherwise! Do you hear me? I will not tolerate your suggestions to the contrary!’

Eadulf was astonished.

‘I have not …’ he began. Then, observing the look in Abbot Cild’s eye, he went on: ‘I am merely trying to help. It is a very serious accusation that has been levelled against you. Surely you would wish for advice from someone who knows the law under which you are accused?’

‘A foreign law which has no force in this land. If I am attacked, there is a good mediator here.’

For a moment, Eadulf was puzzled. Then he followed the abbot’s meaningful glance towards the wall nearby. On it hung a sword and a shield. It had been too dark on the previous night for Eadulf to spot the incongruous items of decoration. A warrior’s sword and shield hanging in an abbot’s chamber.

Eadulf opened his mouth to speak again but the abbot stayed him with a gesture.

‘We will speak no more of this, Brother Eadulf. And you will say nothing about this to anyone. You will not mention the … the woman you claim to have seen last night. Do you understand?’

Without waiting for a response, Abbot Cild turned and left the chamber. Eadulf stood for a moment considering the abbot’s reaction. The thought came into his mind that he had caught the abbot out in his moral stance. Could the woman he had seen be Cild’s mistress, or … his eyes widened. He had had an inspiration worthy of one of Fidelma’s deductions. Could the woman have been Cild’s wife, Gélgeis, and Cild be pretending to the rest of the world that she was dead in order to cover up the fact that he was still living with her while professing to support celibacy? Now that was an idea! Perhaps that was why her family thought that he had done away with her. He wished Fidelma was well enough to discuss the matter but he decided not to bother her. Abbot Cild was undoubtedly a sly fellow.

Eadulf was leaving the abbot’s chamber when a tall, fair-haired brother came striding along the corridor towards him. He was a pleasant-faced man of nearly thirty, his flaxen hair falling in curled ringlets from the corona spina, the tonsure of St Peter. He had a fair skin, bright eyes and a friendly smile. He carried himself proudly upright — almost too proudly to be a member of the religious.

‘Good morning, Brother,’ he said brightly, halting in front of Eadulf. ‘I presume that you are Brother Eadulf, the companion of Sister Fidelma?’

Eadulf inclined his head slightly. ‘You have the advantage of me, Brother.’

‘I am the apothecary of the abbey. My name is Higbald.’

Eadulf relaxed and returned his smile. ‘Have you seen Sister Fidelma?’

‘I have. A fever brought on by exposure to the harsh elements. You appear to have already prescribed all the necessary remedies. I could do nothing more for her. The sister tells me that you were trained in one of the medical schools of Éireann? They have a good reputation.’

‘I studied at Tuaim Brecáin,’ confirmed Eadulf. ‘But tell me your recommendation, Brother Higbald. Abbot Cild wants us to leave the abbey immediately.’