Peter Tremayne - Our Lady of Darkness

Fidelma caught a smell of onions on the breath of the burly figure as he came forward and peered closely at her.

‘Very well,’ came the harsh tones. ‘If it is all right with Étromma, you may enter.’ The figure seemed to recede back into the darkness.

‘Who was that?’ whispered Fidelma, slightly awed by the size of the guard.

‘That was my Brother Cett who now acts as gaoler,’ replied Étromma.

‘ Your Brother Cett?’ Fidelma asked, wondering about the prefix ‘my’.

Sister Étromma’s voice was distant. ‘Both brother in flesh as well as in Christ. Poor soul, my brother is a simple man. We were caught in a raid by the Uí Néill when we were children and he received a wound to the head so that now he only does menial tasks, and those involving the need for strength.’

Sister Étromma withdrew the iron bolts from the cell door.

‘Call me when you are ready to leave. Brother Cett or I will be in earshot.’

She drew open the door and Fidelma entered the cell beyond, standing for a moment blinking in the beam of light which came through the barred window in the opposite wall.

A startled voice exclaimed: ‘Fidelma! Is it really you?’

As the door swung shut behind her, and the bolts rasped in their sockets, Fidelma stepped to the centre of the small room and held out her hands to the young man who rose swiftly from the stool on which he had been sitting. Brother Eadulf took her hands in his and for a moment the two stood gazing at each other; no words passed between them but their eyes met and spoke silently of their concern and anxieties for each other.

Eadulf looked haggard. He had not been allowed to shave regularly and, as a result, a stubble covered his cheeks and jowl. His brown curly hair was untidy and matted and his clothing was dirty and rank. Eadulf saw her expression of dismay at his condition and he grinned in apology.

‘I am afraid that the hospitality in this place has not been of the best, Fidelma. The good abbess does not believe in wasting soap and water on one who is not destined to stay long in this vale of tears.’ He paused. ‘But I am so glad to see you once again before I depart.’

Fidelma made a sound, inarticulate, it could even have been a small sob. Then she grimaced, making the contortion of her features an attempt to disguise her feelings.

‘Are you well otherwise, Eadulf? You have not been ill-treated?’

‘Roughly handled … at first,’ confessed Eadulf lightly. ‘Emotions can run high, due to the nature of the crime of which I am accused. It was a young girl who was raped and killed. But how are you, Fidelma? I thought you were on a pilgrimage to Iberia? To the Tomb of St James?’

Fidelma made a small dismissive gesture with her hand.

‘I returned as soon as I heard the news. I hurried here to be your counsel.’

Eadulf smiled brightly for a moment and then he grew serious again.

‘Have they not told you that it is all over? The so-called trial did not last long and tomorrow I have an appointment in the quadrangle down there,’ he jerked his head to the window. ‘Did you see the gibbet?’

‘I have been told.’ Fidelma glanced round and chose to sit on the stool which Eadulf had vacated.

Eadulf took his seat on the bed. ‘I forget my manners in this place, Fidelma. I should have invited you to sit.’ He tried to sound humorous but his voice was hollow and flat.

Fidelma sat back, hands clasped in her lap, and gazed inquisitively at Eadulf.

‘Did you do this thing that they accuse you of?’ she asked abruptly.

Eadulf’s gaze did not falter.

‘ Deus miseratur, I did not! You have my word on that, though I am afraid my word does not count in this matter.’

Fidelma nodded slightly. If Eadulf gave his word then she accepted it.

‘Tell me your story. I left you at Cashel when I went to take the pilgrim ship for Iberia. Take up your story from there.’

Eadulf was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

‘My story is not complicated. I decided to accept your advice and return to Canterbury, to Archbishop Theodore. I have been away for a year now. There was nothing to stay in Cashel for, anyway.’

He paused but Fidelma, though she shifted her position slightly on her stool, did not comment.

‘Your brother had messages for me to take to Theodore and to the Saxon kings.’

‘Verbally or in writing?’ queried Fidelma.

‘One message, to Theodore, was in writing. The other messages, to the kings, were verbal ones, mere salutations and expressions of friendship.’

‘Where is the written message now?’

‘My personal belongings were confiscated by the abbess.’

Fidelma thought for a moment. ‘Did you have anything to identify you as a techtaire ?’

Eadulf knew the word and smiled.

‘He gave me a white wand of office. Now that I think of it, I believe I removed that and the written letter from my travelling bag and hid them for safekeeping under the bed in the guests’ room.’

‘So that they would have been removed by now and put with your other belongings?’

‘I expect so. Your brother offered me the loan of a good horse. However, not knowing when and how I could return that kindness, I took the offer of a place on the wagon of a merchant who was travellinghere to trade. I knew that I could get a passage in a boat going downriver where I could expect to find a Saxon merchant ship on which to get passage home. The journey to this place was without incident.’

He paused for a moment as though to put the events in sequence before recounting them.

‘I arrived at the abbey in the late afternoon and, naturally, I came asking for hospitality for the night, thinking to find a boat the next morning. I spoke to the rechtaire , Sister Étromma, who asked me my business. I told her that I was on my way back to Canterbury. I did not think it worth mentioning that I was bearing messages to the archbishop. She offered me a bed in the guests’ dormitory. There was no one else staying that night. I attended devotions, had a meal and went to bed. Oh, and Sister Étromma introduced me to Abbess Fainder … but the abbess seemed preoccupied, or else she does not like Saxons. She more or less ignored me.’

‘What then?’

‘I was in a deep sleep. It must have been early morning, perhaps an hour before dawn, when I found myself being dragged out of bed. There was shouting all around me and I was punched and pummelled. I did not know what was happening. I was dragged here and thrown in a cell …’

Fidelma leaned forward with interest.

‘Did anyone explain to you what was happening? Did anyone accuse you of anything or say why you were being dragged from your bed at such an hour?’

‘No one said anything except to scream abuse at me.’

‘When did you first know what you were being accused of?’

‘Not for a long time. I would say that it was about midday when that giant, Brother Cett, came into this cell. I demanded to be told what was going on, but almost immediately, Abbess Fainder entered with a young girl. The girl was dressed in the robe of a novitiate although she seemed very young.’

‘What then?’

‘The girl simply pointed at me. Nothing was said and then she was led from the cell.’

‘She did not say anything? Anything at all?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘She just pointed at me,’ repeated Eadulf. ‘Then the abbess took her away. Nothing was said at any time and Brother Cett withdrew and locked the door.’

‘When were you actually informed of the crime of which you were being accused?’

‘It was not until two days later that I was told.’

‘You were left here for two days without anyone telling you anything?’ Fidelma’s tone rose angrily.