Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

‘I did. I was in the chapel when I was sent for. The body was just outside in the courtyard. It was clear that Botulf had been struck several times about the head with a battle-axe.’

‘A battle-axe? What makes you say that?’

‘I have seen enough wounds in battle to recognise the type of injury inflicted by such a weapon.’

‘And what was the conclusion that you reached?’

‘That he had been bludgeoned to death.’

‘And why would Garb accuse the abbot of having some interest in that act? If Botulf was a witness at Gélgeis’s death, is the inference that he was killed because of something he knew?’

Brother Higbald shrugged. ‘It is not for me to comment, Brother. I would simply urge you not to delay here unnecessarily. I shall tell the abbot that the sister needs some time to recover from her fever, but after that …’

He raised a shoulder and let it drop as if in dismissal. Eadulf stood gazing thoughtfully after him as the apothecary walkedaway. Then he turned towards the guests’ hostel and went in to see Fidelma.

‘I understand we may stay here until I am recovered sufficiently to travel,’ she greeted him in between bouts of coughing. ‘You seem to have been diplomatic in your plea to the abbot.’

Eadulf smiled broadly. ‘Diplomatic? Not exactly. Abbot Cild is of a very peculiar temperament.’

‘Did you find out any more about the matter of the troscud, the ritual fast against him?’ Fidelma hesitated and pointed to the side table. ‘Give me some more of that noxious brew of yours, Eadulf. It tastes foul but I am persuaded that it does ease the soreness of my throat and chest.’

Eadulf gave the beaker to her.

‘I tried to find out more,’ he replied. ‘I think there is a bigger mystery here than appeared at first glance.’

He recited in as much detail as possible his conversations with the abbot and Brother Higbald.

‘I don’t recall you mentioning this strange woman to me before,’ frowned Fidelma. ‘But if there is a woman here, why are they denying it?’

Eadulf shrugged. ‘The matter did not seem important to me before. It was only when Abbot Cild started lecturing me on how women were not permitted in his precious abbey that I brought the matter up.’

‘And you say that she was not a religieuse?’

‘No. She was well dressed and therefore someone of rank and prosperity but certainly not a member of the community.’

‘What made you think that it was the abbot’s wife?’

‘It was just an idea, that’s all. It would have explained his reaction to Garb’s accusations.’

‘There are some weaknesses in that argument, Eadulf. If she were still alive, why not simply tell Garb and his father in order to prevent the public accusation against him? And you say that Brother Higbald denied the existence of the woman in the abbey?’

‘He did, but one does not necessarily have to believe him.’

‘Or, maybe, he and other members of the community simply do not know of her existence. Perhaps she comes and goes in secret.’

‘A mistress, perhaps?’

‘You do not have enough information to leap to these conclusions, Eadulf,’ sighed Fidelma. ‘And now, I want to rest a while. Ask more questions and make fewer deductions.’ She took another sip of the herbal remedy and then turned on her side.

Eadulf left quietly.

Outside he met Brother Willibrod. He was standing with another member of the community, a broad-shouldered young man. The dominus was looking less anxious than before as he greeted Eadulf.

‘I understand all is well. It is not the Yellow Plague but an ague. Abbot Cild has told me that you can stay for a few days until Sister Fidelma is recovered. Is there anything that can be done to aid her recovery?’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘Rest, warmth and perhaps someone could take her some clear broth at midday?’

‘It shall be done. Young Brother Redwald shall be instructed in this. By the way, this is Brother Wigstan. You asked to see him.’

Eadulf looked at the young man. ‘I am told that you saw this outlaw — Aldhere?’

Brother Wigstan nodded slowly. ‘I was returning to the abbey early yesterday morning. I was hurrying to join the brethren in singing Matins-’

‘Where had you been?’ interrupted Eadulf.

‘I was returning from a visit to the coast, bringing some fish to the abbey. As my cart came along the road nearby, I swear I saw Aldhere riding away.’

Eadulf frowned slightly. ‘You do not sound positive?’

‘I am positive. It was by the little copse at the side of the abbey that I saw him.’

‘And in order to recognise him, you have obviously seen him before?’

‘I have been robbed twice by him on journeys to and from the coast,’ agreed Brother Wigstan with bitterness. ‘I know him.’

‘And each time he let you go with your life? He does not sound the depraved villain that I have been led to believe.’

‘Is that all, Brother?’

Eadulf nodded absently and when Brother Wigstan had departed, he turned to Brother Willibrod.

‘And on such an observation, a man may be killed?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘It is hardly evidence. I have another favour to ask of you.’

‘Which is?’ demanded the dominus cautiously.

‘I have told you that I was a good friend of Brother Botulf. I would like to see his personal possessions.’

‘The brethren of Christ have no possessions,’ admonished Brother Willibrod gruffly. ‘You know the ruling of the Didache ?’

The Didache or Teaching of the Twelve Apostles was a book dealing with church order and ecclesiastical life said to have been handed down from the earliest Christian community. But Eadulf had never read it nor consciously followed its rules. He shook his head.

‘The Didache says, ’ quoted the dominus in sonorous tones:

‘“share everything with your brother. Do not say ‘it is private property’. If you share what is everlasting, you should be that much more willing to share things which do not last.”’

‘I have heard the teaching from other church fathers,’ admitted Eadulf. ‘Do you claim that this is the rule which you practise here?’

‘We try to retain the true rules of the faith,’ replied Brother Willibrod with some stiffness.

‘Even so, I would like a moment in the cell of my good friend.’

‘I do not know whether his cell has been cleared.’

‘Please?’

Brother Willibrod suddenly shrugged as if to dismiss the matter. ‘Very well. A moment of contemplation can be allowed. Come.’ He turned and led the way through the abbey, past the main dormitory and refectory buildings. ‘Brother Botulf, as the steward of the abbey, had his chamber here,’ he said, pointing to a door and standing aside.

Brother Eadulf entered the small chamber.

There was hardly anything within. A robe and a cloak were still hanging on wooden pegs, along with a book satchel. A pair of worn sandals were placed underneath them on the floor. The bed was a single straw mattress on a wooden frame with severalneatly folded blankets on it. A candle and a tinder box stood on a small table. There was also a beaker, a jug and a wash basin.

‘As you see, Brother Eadulf,’ intoned the dominus standing in the doorway, ‘Brother Botulf had no possessions.’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘I find it sad. A life gone by and nothing to show but a few memories of those who knew him. And memory dies, too, and is gone like smoke in the wind.’

‘Possessions are an abomination, leading men into temptation,’ replied Brother Willibrod in a stony voice. ‘Did not St Basil the Great declaim that property is theft? We of the faith must do away with all personal possessions. We are all equal in the faith.’