Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and shook her head warningly. It was useless to pursue the matter of evidence among people intent on vengeance.

‘Brother Botulf was a kindly and generous man,’ Brother Laisre was saying. ‘We would have had a good ally in him. I had already gathered that Botulf was at the abbey because of a punishment decreed by King Ealdwulf and that there was little love lost between him and Cild. I trusted Botulf. I fear his involvement with us was the cause of his death.’

‘The abbot must have found him out and slaughtered him as he had slaughtered others,’ Garb added. ‘Evil walks with him and in him and he must pay for it.’

‘Well spoken, my son,’ came a new voice, quiet and firm. ‘But it shall be done within the law.’

They turned towards the door.

An elderly man stood there. His features showed a resemblance to the younger man, Garb. He was tall, firm-jawed in spite of his advancing years. On his shock of white hair sat a silver circletshowing his rank. His eyes were deep blue, almost violet. His mouth was thin but firm. The graven lines on his face spoke of grief and suffering. He was dressed with the finery that bespoke his chieftainship.

There was little need to have him identified as Gadra, chief of Maigh Eo.

They stood respectfully as the man walked forward and sat down at the table.

‘There are strangers among us, Brother Laisre. Perhaps you will be good enough to introduce your guests to me?’

Brother Laisre inclined his head.

‘This is Brother Eadulf, emissary of the Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury, who travels with Fidelma of Cashel.’

The old chieftain’s eyes showed that he recognised the name.

‘Fidelma, sister of King Colgú of Cashel? Your fame as a dálaigh and dispenser of justice precedes you, Fidelma. My heart rejoices to see you here, for you may guide me in matters of law. I am about to undertake a course that may lead to serious consequences.’

‘Father,’ Garb cleared his throat nervously. ‘Sister Fidelma has already been acquainted with the facts of the action you are about to undertake.’

The old man inclined his head.

‘That is good. I do not wish to die in a foreign land with my name unrecorded and my fate unknown, and yet I fear it may be so. Yes, I do fear it.’

Eadulf shook his head slowly. He thought that most of the time he knew and understood these people. But it was at times like these that he came face to face with the fact that they were of an entirely different culture. This matter of the troscud, of ritual fasting to death to obtain one’s rights, to obtain justice, was alien to him. In his culture, if a person wanted to obtain rights they did not harm themselves; they took their sword and forced their antagonist to give them what they wanted. To ritually starve to death just to shame their enemy was a bizarre concept. He would never understand it.

‘Are you truly set upon this path, Gadra?’ Fidelma asked softly. ‘Is there no other way of seeking the truth than by the troscud ?’

Gadra smiled with humour. ‘The ritual began when my intention was announced. The words have left my son’s mouth and cannot be returned to it.’

Garb nodded slowly. ‘If my father dies during the troscud and Abbot Cild has not come to arbitration and confessed his guilt, then the shame is his and he is cursed in this life and the next. Any man may slay him with impunity. I shall be that man, and if I am not, then my clansmen will see that retribution is taken.’

‘The people of this country will not see the justice in that,’ Eadulf pointed out.

‘But the people in my country will,’ replied Garb with equanimity.

‘I would still want to find the truth by some other means than this,’ Eadulf said stubbornly.

The old chieftain turned to him, his eyes sparkling.

‘There is nothing stopping you. You may proceed in your way but do not seek to prevent me proceeding in mine.’

Fidelma nodded solemnly. ‘No one will do that, Gadra.’ She glanced warningly at Eadulf and continued. ‘But as for seeking the truth by any other means, the problem is that all the witnesses as to what exactly happened to Gélgeis are dead.’

‘Save for the very man who killed her. May her shade haunt him to his grave,’ snapped Garb.

Eadulf jerked his head up. His eyes widened.

‘Haunt?’ he exclaimed. ‘What makes you say that?’

Garb laughed outright.

‘Do not tell me that your people are afraid of spirits from the Otherworld? If so, may the abbot share that fear for then I will rejoice if the shadows cause him to look twice to each corner of the room, or down each dark corridor that he traverses.’

Eadulf saw Fidelma shake her head so slightly that no one else noticed the gesture. She stood up and stretched uncomfortably.

‘I am afraid that I must beg your forgiveness.’ She smiled around the assembled company. ‘I would like to find a bed to rest for this night. It is not that the hour grows late but I am still weak from the days of illness that caused my confinement in the abbey.’

Brother Laisre moved forward with concern on his features.

‘Of course, Sister. But have you forgotten what night this is? At midnight we celebrate the birth of the Christ child.’

Fidelma looked embarrassed. She had forgotten that it was the eve of Christ’s Mass.

‘If I may lie down until it is time to celebrate …?’

‘Even in our poor circumstances, dwelling in these woods, we have made a little guests’ hostel,’ Brother Laisre replied with dignity. ‘Allow me to instruct one of the brethren to take you there and see that the fire has been adequately prepared.’

Fidelma glanced at Gadra.

‘You will excuse me, Gadra of Maigh Eo?’

‘Rest well,’ the elderly man replied gravely. ‘We will talk further in the morning.’

She was moving to the door when a thought struck her and she turned back.

‘There is one thing that occurs to me before I retire, Brother Laisre. I presume that you will be in touch with the abbey to let the abbot know of the progress of the troscud. It seems to me that unless he knows and is informed of the progress of the ritual it would have little effect. Who replaces Brother Botulf as your contact within the abbey?’

It was Gadra who answered.

‘You have a sharp mind, Fidelma, as befits a dálaigh of your standing. A means of communication was opened up through the apothecary of the abbey. He has agreed to keep the abbot informed.’

‘The apothecary? Brother Higbald?’ Eadulf was surprised. ‘And how is he told?’

‘We have a number of brothers who take it in turn to watch the abbey and leave messages at a prearranged spot where this apothecary can pick them up or, indeed, leave messages for us if he feels it necessary.’

Fidelma was thoughtful.

‘How did Brother Higbald come to agree to act as your new intermediary?’ she asked.

‘Two days ago, the abbot led a party out into the marshes,’ Garb said. Then he smiled. ‘Not long afterwards one of the abbey brethren set out alone on a mule in the direction they had taken. We were going to waylay him …’

Eadulf looked astonished and was about to identify himself as the lone rider when Garb continued.

‘Then we saw another member of the brethren following. It turned out to be Brother Higbald. He turned in the same direction. My men and I waylaid him instead. We did so as soon as he was in the shelter of the woods … I hasten to say that we stopped him at swordpoint otherwise I doubt whether our conversation would have been very fruitful.’

‘He had no prior knowledge of the task you wanted him to fulfil for you?’ asked Eadulf with interest, wondering why Higbald was following him from the abbey.