Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

Eadulf had whirled back towards Brother Willibrod, his heart beating fast.

‘One explanation? What do you mean?’

‘The abbot believes that your companion has conjured the spirit of his dead wife by foul rites. We have locked Sister Fidelma in her chamber to await her punishment for witchcraft.’

Eadulf halted abruptly outside the door of the guest chambers. Further progress was impeded by a thick-set, muscular brother who stood, arms folded and immovable, in front of it. For a moment it seemed that Eadulf would fling himself physically on the man but Brother Willibrod came up behind him.

‘Let him through,’ the dominus instructed.

The brother stood aside immediately and Eadulf moved into the room at once.

Fidelma lay in the bed, her breath coming in deep rasping tones.

Eadulf halted inside the door for a moment and brought himself under control. He then walked slowly forward. Fidelma appeared to be asleep, but not exactly in a natural sleep. The perspiration stood out on her forehead and she lay in a profusion of sweat. It was clear that her ague had reached a point where she was in a serious fever; a fever which must break that night or become dangerous. Eadulf had seen such fevers before.

He turned as he heard the soft tread behind him.

Brother Willibrod had entered and stood at his side.

‘I told you that your companion was not harmed,’ he said softly. ‘No one has been near here, only Brother Redwald and whatever it was that he saw.’

Eadulf glanced down at the medication that he had left on her side table.

‘And no one has given her anything except what I have prescribed for her?’

‘Brother Redwald only gave her some water this morning and then, at lunchtime, he came in and found her in this sleep. So he left her alone. Brother Higbald looked in on her a short time ago. She has not been neglected.’

‘And when was Brother Redwald supposed to have seen this apparition?’

Brother Willibrod looked uncomfortable.

‘Brother Redwald came here just after dusk to light candles and see if she needed anything else.’

‘And when did the pious brethren try and condemn her for witchcraft?’ Eadulf could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Brother Willibrod shuffled his feet awkwardly.

‘No one has tried her … you must see Abbot Cild for it is on his order that she is confined. He asked that you be escorted to his presence as soon as you arrived back.’

Eadulf’s lips thinned in irritation.

‘Abbot Cild can wait. I need to attend to Sister Fidelma first. She is at a crucial stage of this ague she has contracted.’

Brother Willibrod’s one eye widened in dismay.

‘But the Father Abbot will be angry …’

Eadulf wheeled round, thrusting his face directly to an inch before that of the startled dominus. The man flinched before his gaze.

‘I am angry now. Angry that a man who calls himself abbot of a holy community can talk of witchcraft, of ghosts and demons, and …’

Eadulf pretended he was too worked up to continue, but what made him pause was a remembrance of his own emotions a short while before when he had seen the ignis fatuus dancing on the marshes. He turned back to Fidelma to hide his confusion.

There was no doubting that he had also seen a woman, a woman whose description had clearly had an effect on the abbot. What was the mystery here? Did the abbot really think he was being haunted by the ghost of his dead wife? The woman Eadulf had seen had corporeal existence. She was no shade, he was sure.

‘Is there any hot water ready?’ he demanded.

The dominus indicated the fireplace without speaking.

Eadulf moved to the simmering pot and took a beaker to scoop out a little of the liquid. He began to busy himself mixing an infusion of fresh herbs which he chose carefully from his bag. The dominus watched him with growing impatience. Finally, he said: ‘I will go to the abbot to tell him that you have returned and will see him as soon as you have finished your administrations.’

Eadulf did not bother to respond and was barely consciousof Brother Willbrod’s exit. He bent to the task of mixing the concoction before moving back to Fidelma’s side.

‘Fidelma,’ he whispered.

She moved and moaned in her fever.

Gently, he put a hand behind her head and raised it and then, taking the beaker of his medicinal infusion, he placed it against her lips.

‘Drink this. It will do you good. A few sips only.’

He let the liquid dribble against her lips. As some of it reached her mouth she swallowed automatically without waking or opening her eyes.

Eventually he let her head down slowly to the pillow and placed the beaker back on the table.

He felt her forehead. It was still hot and damp.

It was going to be a long night. The fever had to break. Meantime, he had Abbot Cild to deal with.

He turned to the door. The burly brother was still standing outside. He stood aside to let Eadulf out but he did not speak. His eyes merely observed Eadulf, watchful but not unfriendly.

‘Where will I find Brother Redwald’s cell?’ Eadulf demanded. He was not going to confront the abbot until he knew precisely what young Redwald had seen.

The big guard merely pointed to his mouth and shook his head. It became obvious to Eadulf that the man could not speak. Before he could do anything further, the brother had taken his arm and pointed with one hand along the cloisters. Then he held up four fingers.

‘The fourth door along that passage?’ asked Eadulf.

The man nodded without a change of expression.

Eadulf walked swiftly in that direction and counted the doors along the shadowy passageway. Outside the fourth door he saw some of the brethren were gathered. They were talking softly. For some reason Eadulf found himself drawing back into the shadows.

‘Come, Brother Wigstan,’ one of the religieux was calling. ‘It is time to sound the bell for supper. Leave him. He will come to his senses soon enough.’

Eadulf saw Brother Wigstan come out of the doorway and join the others. They moved off together, their leather-soledsandals slapping the granite flagstones and dying away in the distance.

Eadulf waited a moment or two and then entered through the door. To his surprise, it was not locked but latched from the outside. On opening it he found himself in a small cell-like room. Young Brother Redwald was sitting on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. The boy glanced up in terror.

‘It’s all right,’ whispered Eadulf, holding up a hand. ‘I mean you no harm. I must speak to you about what you saw.’

The boy shook his head. His lips were trembling.

‘It was a demon, I tell you. It was …’ He glanced at Eadulf with another terrified look. ‘The abbot says that the Irish woman has conjured the demon up … and she is your companion!’

He began to back across the bed away from Eadulf.

Eadulf shook his head. ‘I mean you no harm, Redwald. Neither does Fidelma. She is ill and would be no more capable of conjuring spirits than you are. Put this idea out of your mind. Tell me what you saw. Describe it to me.’

The boy appeared to calm himself a little.

‘It would be a great wrong if Sister Fidelma was blamed for something that she is not responsible for,’ insisted Eadulf in a gentle tone. ‘Only you can tell the true story. So tell me and I swear that you will come to no harm.’

The boy began to look less terrified but scarcely reassured. However, with a little more coaxing, Eadulf managed to get the story from the boy. It was substantially as Brother Willibrod had told him.

‘I went to the guests’ chamber to see if there was anything I could do for the Irish sister,’ the boy confided. ‘I suffered an ague like that once …’