Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

‘If it resembles a horse, then I can ride it,’ Fidelma replied determinedly.

Garb seemed amused. ‘These are not fast mounts but sturdy little animals just right for this weather, with a thick wiry coat that insulates them. I can certainly give you the loan of two of them.’

‘That is excellent.’ She hesitated and added, ‘How is your father today?’

Garb regarded her for a moment with interrogation in his eyes.

‘If you mean, is he still determined to carry through the ritual, then — he is so determined.’

Fidelma sighed softly. ‘I supposed that I had little doubt of it.’

‘A chieftain’s word is the binding of his honour. It is not made lightly. As his tánaiste, his heir-apparent, my sad duty is to ensure that he carries out his intention or be dishonoured in Maigh Eo and beyond.’

Fidelma frowned abruptly. ‘I had forgotten that part of the ritual, that the heir-apparent needs to be present at a chieftain’s troscud . Tell me, who governs in Maigh Eo while you and your father are here?’

‘My younger brother.’

‘Do you have a large family?’

‘My father bore three sons and three daughters.’

‘And with the exception of Gélgeis, are all living?’

Garb shook his head. ‘One son died in the war against the Uí Néill of the north and my sister Mella was taken in a Saxon slave raid.’

Eadulf coughed, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Fidelma ignored him.

‘Mella?’ She was thoughtful. ‘Wasn’t she the sister who tried to persuade Gélgeis not to marry Cild?’

‘She was indeed. You have a good memory, Sister. Mella was a few hours younger than Gélgeis, and-’

Fidelma’s eyes widened.

‘A few hours ? You mean that Mella and Gélgeis are twins?’

Garb nodded briefly.

‘They were so.’

‘Tell me what happened to Mella,’ Fidelma pressed.

‘A sad story but one that becomes common among the communities that dwell by the sea these days. There was a raid by a Saxon longship and a dozen young women were carried off that day. Mella was among them.’

‘Did you make an attempt to discover where this Saxon slave ship came from?’ demanded Eadulf.

Garb turned to him. ‘That we did. It was a ship from Mercia.’

‘And did you attempt to discover her fate?’

‘Merchants trading with Mercia were asked to make inquiries and it was put about that Gadra, as chieftain of Maigh Eo, would pay the honour price for the return of his daughter unharmed. Alas, we learnt nothing.’

‘When did this happen?’ asked Fidelma, thoughtfully.

‘About the same time as we heard of the death of Gélgeis, perhaps a little before.’

‘And you have heard no more of her?’

‘We did. The captain of the ship bringing us hither reported the gossip of the ports of Mercia. This slave ship, which was apparently identified by its sail markings, was claimed to be the ship of Octha. It was reported to have foundered on the journey back from Éireann and everyone lost.’

Fidelma was quiet for a moment and then she asked: ‘Was that ever confirmed?’

Garb shrugged. ‘There would be little point in making the story up. If this Octha were alive, then he would have learnt that my father was offering ransom for the return of Mella. If would have been worth his while to return her for her honour price. But the only word we ever had was that Octha and his men, and all the prisoners he had taken, went down in the cruel seas.’ He sighed. ‘So we lamented and mourned poor Mella. It reinforced my father’s determination to seek reparation for the death of Gélgeis.’

‘Have you mentioned the story of Mella’s fate to anyone since arriving here?’

‘Botulf actually raised it with us.’

‘How did Botulf know about Mella?’

‘He said that on the night Gélgeis died, he met her outside the abbey looking pale. She said that she had just met a wandering religieux who had told her what had happened. She went off into the night and Botulf never saw her again.’

‘So Gélgeis knew about Mella before she disappeared?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘Did you ask Botulf if he had mentioned this news to anyone else?’

Garb gestured negatively. ‘Botulf told us that with Gélgeis’s death, he had forgotten the story of her sister until we arrived. Only then did he remember it.’

‘I see.’ Fidelma was still thoughtful. ‘Were your sisters much alike? Being twins, I mean?’

There was a faraway smile on Garb’s features.

‘Some people could not tell them apart. They were like two peas from the same pod. Only close family could tell which was which.’

‘I understand. It seems that your family has suffered much hardship and grief.’

‘It may be so. Yet there is a saying in our country that the wood will renew the foliage that it sheds.’

‘There is wisdom in that, Garb. One must not give way to despair for after every tempest comes sunshine.’

They had been speaking in their common language and Eadulf, following the conversation, for he was, of course, fluent in thelanguage of Éireann, fell to reflecting that there was more hyperbole and embellishment to their speech than the basic forms of expression in his own language.

They were silent for the moment before Fidelma slowly rose and looked meaningfully at Eadulf. Then she turned back to Garb.

‘There are now five nights until Gadra begins his ritual fast. This does not give us long.’

Garb sat back, shaking his head.

‘Do you really mean to make Cild admit his guilt and recompense my father?’

‘Only if Cild is guilty,’ replied Fidelma.

‘And how could you prove that he is not guilty?’

‘That is a question that cannot be answered until it is answered,’ Fidelma remarked without humour. ‘Now, let us examine these ponies of which you spoke. The sooner we start out, the sooner we shall return.’

Outside, with the sun having risen, though still extremely pale and almost translucent in the pastel skies, Fidelma and Eadulf were able to take in their surroundings for the first time. They had arrived at dusk on the previous day and had seen little before nightfall.

Tunstall lay in a large clearing amidst a forest that many years had done little to disturb. Even in their winter guise the trees grew thick and close together and being mainly evergreens they formed a bulwark against the outside world which was even more impenetrable than the stone blocks of Aldred’s Abbey.

There were half a dozen buildings in the clearing, large wooden constructions similar to those Fidelma knew in Eireann and therefore, she estimated, built by the religious of her own land. Living quarters, a refectory and store houses, a chapel, more store houses and barns for the livestock which she could see grazing around them.

Apart from the central area where the activities of men and beasts had ground the snow and earth into mud, a thick covering of snow still lay across the buildings and the clearing. In spite of the pale sun and sky it was not warm enough to melt the snow which lay crisp on the ground. Indeed, everywhere men and beasts were, great clouds of warm breath appeared like cloudsof steam; they stood out momentarily before evaporating into the cold morning air.

She estimated, from what she had seen at the midnight Offering and now that she was able to view the settlement, that there must be a dozen religious and half a dozen warriors now comprising the community.

‘There is not much of a defence here, if this place was attacked,’ she murmured.

‘You have an eye for such things, Sister?’ asked Garb.

‘I am not without some knowledge,’ she replied shortly without expanding further. ‘Just remember that Abbot Cild could track you down if we have been able to do so with such ease.’