Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

Eadulf sighed in resignation. ‘I think it was Aristotle who said that it was not the possessions but the desires of mankind which required to be equalised.’

He turned to the satchel hanging on the wall. There was a little book of scripture quotations in Latin there. As Eadulf lifted it out he saw a piece of crunched paper beneath it at the bottom of the satchel. He drew it out surreptitiously so that Brother Willibrod did not observe him tucking it in the sleeve of his robe.

‘I should remove that book to the scriptorium ,’ Brother Willibrod said, holding his hand out for it.

‘Was it not Botulf’s book?’ queried Eadulf.

‘All is common property here,’ Brother Willibrod replied.

Eadulf watched the dominus return the book to the satchel and take it from the peg. As he did so, Eadulf took the opportunity to secure the piece of paper in the small sacculus that he carried on his belt. Brother Willibrod turned back to him.

‘Have you seen enough?’

Eadulf bowed his head in confirmation. As they were walking back to the main quadrangle, he asked: ‘Tell me, Brother Willibrod, as dominus of this abbey you know everyone who comes and goes, don’t you?’

Brother Willibrod regarded him curiously. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that you know all the visitors here, don’t you?’

‘If you wish to question me about the intrusion last night, I have already explained that the foreign warriors scaled the walls, and-’

‘I am not asking about that. I want to know the identity of thewoman who was in the abbey last night. And I don’t mean my companion.’

Brother Willibrod regarded him with outrage on his features.

‘Are you mad? A woman, here in the abbey? Impossible!’

‘Not impossible. I saw her in the quadrangle by the chapel. A slim woman, fair-haired, with a red dress and jewels.’

Brother Willibrod took a physical step backwards. A look of astonishment crossed his face. Then it hardened into a mask.

‘There was no such woman in the abbey last night nor any night.’ He swung round and walked away so quickly that Eadulf was left staring after him in surprise at his reaction.

As he stood there, the youthful Brother Redwald came round a corner of the building carrying two buckets of water for the guests’ chambers.

‘Good morning, Brother Eadulf,’ he said nervously. ‘Is there anything I can do for you and Sister Fidelma?’

‘Thank you,’ replied Eadulf grimly. ‘I think everything that needs to be done is being done.’ He was about to move on when he paused and said: ‘You could tell me where I might find Brother Osred. I was going to have a word with him last night but didn’t get the chance.’

‘Brother Osred? The smith?’ Brother Redwald pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘I suppose he’s gone with the others.’

Eadulf frowned. ‘Gone with the others? What do you mean?’

‘Abbot Cild led a small group of the brethren out a short time ago. They have gone to the marshes in search of the outlaw, Aldhere.’

‘What?’ Eadulf recalled his vow to accompany Cild to ensure some sort of law prevailed if the abbot caught up with the outlaw. A moment later Eadulf was running after Brother Willibrod.

The lonely bittern with its mournful cry caused Eadulf to draw rein on the mule that he was riding and glance in frustration about him. A short distance away, among the waving reeds, he saw the black and brown streaks of the bird’s plumage as it gently climbed the stalks, clutching at them in little clumps with its talons in order to haul itself up to scan the surrounding area. Then its bright eyes spotted Eadulf and it disappeared back into the shelter of the growth.

Only a few months ago, Eadulf knew that these tall reeds would have made a wild and dramatic image against the stormy skies; an image that would have enchanted him by its beauty. Now, however, they were flowerless and bent by the onslaught of the snow; they were humbled by the cold and frosty weather. It was only a passing thought, however, for more important things impinged on his mind.

Eadulf had to admit to himself that he was lost.

He had managed to persuade Brother Willibrod to lend him one of the few remaining mules in the abbey stables in order to ride out after Abbot Cild and the half-dozen armed brethren who had accompanied him. He had allowed the dominus to think that Abbot Cild had accepted his offer to go with them, and must have forgotten to wait for him.

‘It’ll be easy to catch up with them,’ Eadulf had assured Brother Willibrod. ‘I can follow their tracks in the snow.’

The dominus had agreed to let him go, but with utmost reluctance. The reluctance had been justified, for Eadulf had forgotten that the snow was dry and powdery and that the wind constantly gusted, blowing the snow this way and that. In fact he had only ridden a short way from the abbey when he realised that the wind had covered all tracks of Abbot Cild and his companions.

Eadulf should have turned back but some obstinacy drovehim forward, a determination which often helped him overcome adversity. He urged the mule on, but with a less than confident feeling. It was a sturdy animal, strong-limbed and used to the hardship of the cold weather, but it was also renowned for an obstinacy that was the equal of Eadulf’s. And Eadulf was the first to admit that he was not entirely comfortable in any saddle. He was not like Fidelma who had ridden almost before she could walk. He was nervous and he found that animals sensed his nervousness, especially this heavy-muscled mule.

In spite of the thick snowy carpet, Eadulf knew he was in the marshlands now and not far from the coast. He had grown up within reach of this countryside but had never really ventured into it. The scenery, the small streams and lagoons, the mixed woodland broken up by stretches of thinly disguised heathland under its covering of snow, were all typical of the low-lying marshes that constituted the coastal strips of the kingdom of the East Angles. But there were no tracks to follow; there was nothing substantial, nothing tangible by way of landmarks to take a bearing from.

From nearby a scolding ‘chickabee-bee-bee-bee’ sound seemed to sweep close to his head and then fade in the distance. He had a fleeting glimpse of a tiny white and brown shape, with a glossy black crown. The marsh-tit had been disturbed and soon Eadulf saw the reason. A female marsh harrier, identifiable by its large size, dark brown body, and buff shoulders and head, came swooping in search of prey. The raptor fed on the tiny birds as well as mice and other small mammals.

Eadulf found himself hoping that the tiny marsh-tit would elude its hungry pursuer.

He realised that he was very near the sea now. He could smell the salt tang on the air and he saw the snow on the ground thinning slightly as the heath gave way to a stretch of sand dunes and shingle beyond which the sea’s long, dim level appeared out of the grey that made sky and water seem momentarily one. Little clusters of sea buckthorn grew here and there among the sand dunes, an ancient little shrub, willow-like, slender, green with a silver underside. Eadulf noticed that it still bore a few of the faintly orange berries which, as a child, he used to gather for hismother to make marmalade. It formed a thicket and was all but indestructible.

Some way ahead he saw a small outcrop of land, a grassy knoll like a tiny headland jutting from a fairly thick-wooded area and rising to a high point from which the land dropped away like miniature cliffs into the sea on all sides except its landward connection. It formed a tiny little peninsula. Eadulf realised that it was a vantage point from which he would probably be able to see a fair distance across the marshlands and he might be able to spot the abbot and his brethren.