Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

‘None. In fact, we argued for a little while as to whether he would do it. He finally agreed when he saw that it was better to have some information than no information at all.’

‘What was agreed?’

‘That in a hollow tree, in a certain spot by the abbey walls, a message would be left recording the day the troscud started and counting each day of the ritual until Cild came to arbitration or …’

Garb shrugged and looked at his father under lowered brows.

‘Until I die!’ snapped the old chieftain angrily. ‘Do not be ashamed to say it.’

‘Does Cild know of the role that Higbald plays?’

‘Higbald only agreed to this provided Cild remained unaware of his contact with us. It was up to him to explain how he obtained the information.’

‘And what if Higbald betrays this hollow tree where the messages are left to Cild? What if Cild has armed followers waiting to catch the man who leaves the messages?’ demanded Eadulf.

Garb grimaced wryly. ‘It is possible, I suppose. But again, such a course of action would bring shame on Cild and on Higbald. In our culture, it would be unheard of … however, my friend, we are not fools entirely.’

Eadulf looked puzzled and Garb explained: ‘Our man will be watching the abbey carefully and ensure that he goes to the tree to leave his message when there is no threatening danger.’

Fidelma was looking suddenly alert.

‘Tell me, is someone watching the abbey now?’

Garb nodded. ‘We have had the abbey under surveillance since the pronouncement of the ritual.’

‘When does your man get replaced?’

‘They stay there from sunrise to sunset and then a second man stays from sunset to sunrise. It is quite simple.’

‘The person who has been watching the abbey all today, when does he come back to Tunstall?’

Brother Laisre was bewildered at her eagerness.

‘He has been back half an hour. Why?’

‘And what has he to report?’ Fidelma was almost waspish with impatience.

‘Nothing. What should he report?’

‘Nothing?’ Fidelma was incredulous.

Eadulf was nervous at her change of tone and could not understand what was irritating her.

‘Well,’ he offered in placation, ‘there would not be anything to report until the ritual started, would there?’

He realised that Fidelma was looking pityingly at him. Everyone else was bewildered.

‘Think, Eadulf, think! What made us follow the escape route that Brother Higbald showed you and flee from the abbey this morning?’

‘To avoid Abbot Cild’s trumped-up trial of you for sorcery,’ began Eadulf.

Fidelma’s impatience was undisguised.

‘No, the abbey was supposed to be in a panic. We were brought the news that a Saxon warband had landed on the coast not far away and were marching on the abbey. Now that would surely be something for your man to report, wouldn’t it, Brother Laisre?’

Garb was at the door calling for someone by name. A tiredlooking brother entered and glanced round in bewilderment.

‘You were watching Aldred’s Abbey from sunrise today?’ demanded Garb.

The man nodded. ‘Until I was relieved at sunset by Brother Tola. Then I returned-’

‘Did anything untoward happen today?’

The religieux was bewildered.

‘Not a thing. Well, soon after dawn some brethren came out of the monastery and they seemed armed. They walked aroundthe walls to a point where they halted and took up positions as if waiting for something.’

‘Ah, were they watching the roads from the east?’ inquired Eadulf.

The religieux shook his head.

‘They seemed more concerned about watching the abbey wall. I think they were covering some hole there. I am not sure. Then, after some time, someone called to them and they returned into the abbey. I did not think that was worth reporting,’ he added defensively.

‘You saw and heard nothing of any Saxon warband marching from the east?’

The man looked startled. ‘A warband? There was no warband.’

‘No raiding party?’

‘Whoever told you such a thing had happened?’

Garb glanced towards Fidelma who nodded and he dismissed the man.

Eadulf was confused. ‘I do not understand this.’

‘There are two possibilities,’ Fidelma said, pursing her lips in thought. ‘One possibility is that it was a ruse to send us deliberately down the tunnels into the hands of the waiting armed brethren so that we might meet our end. I cannot understand why, seeing that Abbot Cild was determined to kill us anyway.’

Eadulf gave a soundless whistle.

‘But we did not emerge from the tunnel at … oh!’

He suddenly remembered that he had not been sure of the directions Higbald had given him. Perhaps some good fortune had caused him to take another route which had led them safely out of the abbey and away from the ambush.

Gadra the old chieftain was still seated impassively.

‘You said that there was a second possibility, Fidelma of Cashel. What is that?’

She glanced at him with a serious expression.

‘The second possibility is that it was still a ruse to send us deliberately down the tunnels but this time in the hope that we would do exactly what we have done; to come to find you and by so doing … lead Abbot Cild and his men here.’

Fidelma’s fear of the second possibility proved without foundation for the night at Tunstall passed moderately peacefully. She had dozed until being roused for the midnight celebration to mark the birth of Christ. As was usual in the Church which followed the Rule of Colmcille, the service was in Greek as the tongue of the Gospels. Brother Laisre had conducted the Offering, as it was called, while the Roman clerics called it the Mass, from the missa or dismissal.

Brother Laisre stood facing the altar, not behind it, while preparing the Eucharist, the bread and wine. Prayers were said and the community joined in the psalms and the hymns, making their responses with eagerness. The blessing was given before the communion with Brother Laisre holding up his first, third and fourth fingers to symbolise the Holy Trinity, unlike the Roman fashion in which the priest would hold up the thumb, first and second fingers.

Eadulf thought it was significant that the main song of the service, chosen by Brother Laisre, was a traditional invocation for justice.

I will wash my face

In the nine rays of the sun

Just as Mary washed the Holy Child

in rich fermented milk.

Love be in my countenance

Benevolence in my mind

Dew of honey on my tongue

my breath as calming incense.

Black may be yonder fortress

Black may be those within

Yet I am as a white swan

raising myself above them.

I will travel there in the name of God

In the likeness of a deer, in the likeness of a horse

In the likeness of the birds, with the bearing of a

king

Stronger shall I be than the evil I will encounter.

At the end of the Offering, Fidelma returned directly to her bed. Eadulf was not long in retiring also for he, too, had not enjoyed one full night’s sleep in days. He had expected to pass another uneasy night but, so exhausted was he, it seemed as if as soon as he lay down he was being roused by the weak winter sun shining in on them. To his surprise he found that Fidelma was already up. She was outside with Brother Laisre.

‘The blessings of Christ Saviour be with you on this day’s joyous morning and every day hereafter, Brother Eadulf,’ the leader of the community greeted him.

When Eadulf had responded, Brother Laisre turned back to Fidelma. He had obviously been answering a question.

‘Indeed, Sister, we had lookouts posted throughout the night on all the approach roads. There was no sign of any movement at all. No one appears to have followed you to this place.’