Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

‘It is a curious tale,’ Eadulf commented.

‘It is a tale that is common among the South Folk these days. We give too much power to too few who then dispense it according to their prejudices and not according to what is right and just.’

‘Tell me more about Botulf and what you know of the events leading to his death.’

Aldhere nodded. ‘I was coming to that. But, as I said, holy gerefa, it is a story with a long preamble. Botulf had remained a good friend to me and to my people and hoped to persuade Ealdwulf to rescind his outlawing of our band. But it has been difficult for him, confined as he was to the abbey. A few days ago, I received a message from him that I was to meet him in the copse by the abbey, as I have told you. Dawn yesterday. The rest you already know. But you can be assured that I did not kill him.’

‘Have you any idea of why Botulf wanted to meet with you?’

‘None at all,’ replied Aldhere. ‘Though I did presume …’ He hesitated.

‘Presume? What?’ prompted Eadulf.

‘That it was something to do with his attempts to persuade the King to reconsider his sentence on my people and myself. He had promised that he would make an effort to contact Sigeric, the high steward of the King, and make a new plea on my behalf.’

‘Sigeric? Is he still living?’

‘Aye, and still an unremitting adherent of the old gods. Buthe is highly regarded by the King and even the bishops for his knowledge of the law.’

Eadulf reflected for a moment and then returned to the subject in hand. He detested meeting with blank walls.

‘I received a message in Canterbury several days ago to come to the abbey. Botulf seems to have learnt that I had returned there. He urged me to be at the abbey before midnight last night. I cannot see how these matters can be connected.’

Aldhere shrugged. ‘Nor I. Although last night did mark the start of the twelve-day festival of Yule. That is the only significance I can see in respect of the date and time.’

‘I hardly think that it would be significant so far as Botulf was concerned.’ Eadulf massaged his forehead with his fingertips for a moment or two. ‘One thing still puzzles me. Cild is a very bellicose man for a Christian abbot. He was quick to denounce you and gather a band of his brethren, fully armed, to ride out and hunt you down. I had no doubt that he meant to hang you if he caught you. That was why I rode out to find you — in order to prevent injustice.’

Aldhere chuckled grimly. ‘For that, I must thank you, holy gerefa. You seem to be a man in the same mould as poor Botolf.’

‘One thing I must know,’ insisted Eadulf. ‘Tell me about your relationship with Abbot Cild. What is the cause of the antipathy between you and him? I doubt that it can merely be because the King has outlawed you.’

Aldhere shook his head with a curious smile. ‘Cild was once a warrior as well. He has, at heart, never ceased to be a warlord. He knows enough of warfare to know that during the skirmish of Betta’s Ham, the fault lay not with me.’

‘Then how do you explain his intense dislike of you? That he would seize this opportunity to hang you?’

Aldhere’s lips thinned a little. ‘It is a long story.’

‘And you have said that before. A story does not get shorter in the telling if one keeps pointing out how long it is. Let us commence. What is it between Cild and yourself that can cause such dislike?’

Aldhere raised a shoulder in a half shrug.

‘It has its roots in the fact that Cild and I share the same mother and father.’

For a moment Eadulf was uncertain of what he had just heard. Finally he said: ‘Then you are …?’

‘Cild and I are brothers,’ confirmed Aldhere.

In the sudden confusion of thoughts, only one made any sense to Eadulf. Now he knew why he found Aldhere’s face so familiar. He was looking at an echo of Abbot Cild’s features.

Aldhere was chuckling at his bewilderment. ‘You look surprised, holy gerefa.’

Eadulf drew his thoughts together. ‘I am shocked that Abbot Cild is so violent against his own brother — to the point where he seeks him out to kill him.’

The outlaw grimaced. ‘Fratricide is no stranger to our people, my friend, especially among those who seek power.’

‘You will have to explain that to me.’

‘It is easily explained. Cild and I are both the sons of Bretta. Cild was the elder-’

‘But you became thane of Bretta’s Ham.’ Eadulf frowned quickly.

‘Exactly so. Our father, Bretta, did not like my brother. Cild was often given to rages and tantrums as a child. Once, he went so far as to slaughter a black cat which belonged to our mother on the altar of our chapel and declare his allegiance to Woden instead of Christ. Even when he grew up he could be overcome by a terrible temper. He became a warrior who relied on the power of his battle-axe and not his brain to win his victories. He was an individual, not one who could marshal his forces and devise plans. Bretta felt that he had no qualities for the just leadership of our people. He disinherited him and proclaimed that I would succeed him as thane after he died.’

‘And Cild disliked you for that?’

‘Of course. All through our youth, Cild had assumed that he would become thane. Now I was placed over him — his young brother to whom he would have to bend the knee. He was angry with our father and with me. It was not at first apparent because Cild announced that he was joining the brothers of the faith.’

‘Did that come as a surprise?’

‘A complete surprise. Cild was not interested in anything but fighting, drinking, womanising and power. My father was right — Cild would have made a bad thane. Anyway, he left Bretta’s Ham and the next thing we heard was that he had gone to Connacht in the land of Éireann to enter the service of the faith. Our father died whilst he was away — died in the service of the King fighting his enemies, the forces of Wulfhere of Mercia. Then I became thane. This was three years ago.’

‘When did Cild return?’

Aldhere rubbed the bridge of his nose and frowned at the question.

‘I suppose it was just before the big council in the kingdom of Northumbria …’

‘The Synod at Whitby?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Indeed, the council at the abbey of Hilda.’

‘When did you first know that he had returned?’

‘When I heard that he was appointed abbot. After his wife died he chased most of the brothers out of Aldred’s Abbey and declared it to be a closed community.’

‘Your tone tells me that you think this was illegally done,’ pointed out Eadulf.

‘Not illegally done, holy gerefa, for he had the support of Ealdwulf, our King, who followed Oswy of Northumbria in proclaiming that he would follow the Rule of Rome rather than the Rule of Columba.’

Eadulf recalled that the Blessed Colmcille was called Columba by the Angles and Saxons.

‘But you suspected … what?’

‘Suspected …? I do not believe that a fox may turn into a lamb.’

‘Nor could your brother change his personality to a man of peace and Christian charity,’ muttered Eadulf.

Aldhere grinned broadly but said nothing.

‘He must hate you a great deal to wish you dead,’ Eadulf observed. ‘Have you met him since he returned?’

‘I met him once only. When I heard that he had become abbot at Aldred’s Abbey, I went to see him.’

‘There was no other meeting?’

‘He did come to see my disgrace before King Ealdwulf,’ grinned Aldhere. ‘But I disappointed him by not keeping the appointment.’

‘Did you ever meet his wife?’

‘He did not deserve her,’ Aldhere said quietly. ‘She was a gentle young thing. Gélgeis was her name. Yes, I met her. That was when I went to the abbey. Cild had not then claimed the tonsure of Roman and declared for celibacy. Gélgeis was still alive then. They came to Aldred’s Abbey together.’