‘Tell me more about Botulf and what you know of the events leading to his death.’
Aldhere nodded. ‘I was coming to that. But, as I said, holy gerefa, it is a story with a long preamble. Botulf had remained a good friend to me and to my people and hoped to persuade Ealdwulf to rescind his outlawing of our band. But it has been difficult for him, confined as he was to the abbey. A few days ago, I received a message from him that I was to meet him in the copse by the abbey, as I have told you. Dawn yesterday. The rest you already know. But you can be assured that I did not kill him.’
‘Have you any idea of why Botulf wanted to meet with you?’
‘None at all,’ replied Aldhere. ‘Though I did presume …’ He hesitated.
‘Presume? What?’ prompted Eadulf.
‘That it was something to do with his attempts to persuade the King to reconsider his sentence on my people and myself. He had promised that he would make an effort to contact Sigeric, the high steward of the King, and make a new plea on my behalf.’
‘Sigeric? Is he still living?’
‘Aye, and still an unremitting adherent of the old gods. Buthe is highly regarded by the King and even the bishops for his knowledge of the law.’
Eadulf reflected for a moment and then returned to the subject in hand. He detested meeting with blank walls.
‘I received a message in Canterbury several days ago to come to the abbey. Botulf seems to have learnt that I had returned there. He urged me to be at the abbey before midnight last night. I cannot see how these matters can be connected.’
Aldhere shrugged. ‘Nor I. Although last night did mark the start of the twelve-day festival of Yule. That is the only significance I can see in respect of the date and time.’
‘I hardly think that it would be significant so far as Botulf was concerned.’ Eadulf massaged his forehead with his fingertips for a moment or two. ‘One thing still puzzles me. Cild is a very bellicose man for a Christian abbot. He was quick to denounce you and gather a band of his brethren, fully armed, to ride out and hunt you down. I had no doubt that he meant to hang you if he caught you. That was why I rode out to find you — in order to prevent injustice.’
Aldhere chuckled grimly. ‘For that, I must thank you, holy gerefa. You seem to be a man in the same mould as poor Botolf.’
‘One thing I must know,’ insisted Eadulf. ‘Tell me about your relationship with Abbot Cild. What is the cause of the antipathy between you and him? I doubt that it can merely be because the King has outlawed you.’
Aldhere shook his head with a curious smile. ‘Cild was once a warrior as well. He has, at heart, never ceased to be a warlord. He knows enough of warfare to know that during the skirmish of Betta’s Ham, the fault lay not with me.’
‘Then how do you explain his intense dislike of you? That he would seize this opportunity to hang you?’
Aldhere’s lips thinned a little. ‘It is a long story.’
‘And you have said that before. A story does not get shorter in the telling if one keeps pointing out how long it is. Let us commence. What is it between Cild and yourself that can cause such dislike?’
Aldhere raised a shoulder in a half shrug.
‘It has its roots in the fact that Cild and I share the same mother and father.’
For a moment Eadulf was uncertain of what he had just heard. Finally he said: ‘Then you are …?’
‘Cild and I are brothers,’ confirmed Aldhere.
Chapter Seven
In the sudden confusion of thoughts, only one made any sense to Eadulf. Now he knew why he found Aldhere’s face so familiar. He was looking at an echo of Abbot Cild’s features.
Aldhere was chuckling at his bewilderment. ‘You look surprised, holy gerefa.’
Eadulf drew his thoughts together. ‘I am shocked that Abbot Cild is so violent against his own brother — to the point where he seeks him out to kill him.’
The outlaw grimaced. ‘Fratricide is no stranger to our people, my friend, especially among those who seek power.’
‘You will have to explain that to me.’
‘It is easily explained. Cild and I are both the sons of Bretta. Cild was the elder-’
‘But you became thane of Bretta’s Ham.’ Eadulf frowned quickly.
‘Exactly so. Our father, Bretta, did not like my brother. Cild was often given to rages and tantrums as a child. Once, he went so far as to slaughter a black cat which belonged to our mother on the altar of our chapel and declare his allegiance to Woden instead of Christ. Even when he grew up he could be overcome by a terrible temper. He became a warrior who relied on the power of his battle-axe and not his brain to win his victories. He was an individual, not one who could marshal his forces and devise plans. Bretta felt that he had no qualities for the just leadership of our people. He disinherited him and proclaimed that I would succeed him as thane after he died.’
‘And Cild disliked you for that?’
‘Of course. All through our youth, Cild had assumed that he would become thane. Now I was placed over him — his young brother to whom he would have to bend the knee. He was angry with our father and with me. It was not at first apparent because Cild announced that he was joining the brothers of the faith.’
‘Did that come as a surprise?’
‘A complete surprise. Cild was not interested in anything but fighting, drinking, womanising and power. My father was right — Cild would have made a bad thane. Anyway, he left Bretta’s Ham and the next thing we heard was that he had gone to Connacht in the land of Éireann to enter the service of the faith. Our father died whilst he was away — died in the service of the King fighting his enemies, the forces of Wulfhere of Mercia. Then I became thane. This was three years ago.’
‘When did Cild return?’
Aldhere rubbed the bridge of his nose and frowned at the question.
‘I suppose it was just before the big council in the kingdom of Northumbria …’
‘The Synod at Whitby?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Indeed, the council at the abbey of Hilda.’
‘When did you first know that he had returned?’
‘When I heard that he was appointed abbot. After his wife died he chased most of the brothers out of Aldred’s Abbey and declared it to be a closed community.’
‘Your tone tells me that you think this was illegally done,’ pointed out Eadulf.
‘Not illegally done, holy gerefa, for he had the support of Ealdwulf, our King, who followed Oswy of Northumbria in proclaiming that he would follow the Rule of Rome rather than the Rule of Columba.’
Eadulf recalled that the Blessed Colmcille was called Columba by the Angles and Saxons.
‘But you suspected … what?’
‘Suspected …? I do not believe that a fox may turn into a lamb.’
‘Nor could your brother change his personality to a man of peace and Christian charity,’ muttered Eadulf.
Aldhere grinned broadly but said nothing.
‘He must hate you a great deal to wish you dead,’ Eadulf observed. ‘Have you met him since he returned?’
‘I met him once only. When I heard that he had become abbot at Aldred’s Abbey, I went to see him.’
‘There was no other meeting?’
‘He did come to see my disgrace before King Ealdwulf,’ grinned Aldhere. ‘But I disappointed him by not keeping the appointment.’
‘Did you ever meet his wife?’
‘He did not deserve her,’ Aldhere said quietly. ‘She was a gentle young thing. Gélgeis was her name. Yes, I met her. That was when I went to the abbey. Cild had not then claimed the tonsure of Roman and declared for celibacy. Gélgeis was still alive then. They came to Aldred’s Abbey together.’
‘How did she die? Do you know?’
A curious expression crossed Aldhere’s features.
‘What makes you interested in Gélgeis, holy gerefa?’
Eadulf told him of the events of the previous night in the chapel.
Aldhere sat
back with a soft smile.
‘If I have understood you well on this business of ritual fasting,’ he finally said, ‘then these poor fools do not stand any chance of forcing justice upon Cild at all. Who understands this ritual among us? They will simply be killed by my brother’s men if given the opportunity.’
Eadulf leaned forward. ‘Do you think Gélgeis was murdered by your brother?’
Aldhere hesitated. ‘It is possible. I cannot say. She disappeared while crossing the marshes near the abbey one day.’
‘Did Botulf ever speak of the matter? I am told that he knew the girl well.’
‘Botulf? He never spoke of it to me.’
Eadulf sat back in disappointment. ‘What do you know about her death?’
‘I know little enough. When I heard that Cild had returned from Connacht, I was prepared to greet him as a long lost brother. As I said, I came to the abbey. Cild’s wife showed more friendship and courtesy to me than he did. She was very sweet and charming but frail and gentle. I could not believe that my brother had been able to attract such a creature …’
He paused for a minute in his remembrance, then continued. ‘As soon as I saw my brother and realised the enmity that he still held for me, I resolved to have no more to do with him. Then came the battle and my downfall. When I was outlawed, mybrother went to King Ealdwulf to claim my rank and possessions. Ealdwulf is a wily monarch. He sympathised, approved of my brother’s appointment as abbot but said he could not also make him thane of Bretta’s Ham nor give him all my possessions. In truth, Ealdwulf wanted them for himself, but he gave Cild one eighth share of my father’s treasure. This did not mollify Cild but he could not argue further with the King.’
Aldhere paused and reached for the flagon of mead which stood on the table and poured himself a beaker, draining it with two swift gulps.
‘That, holy gerefa, is my unhappy story, and indeed the unhappy story of my brother.’
They sat in silence for a moment or two.
‘It does raise some further questions,’ Eadulf pointed out.
‘Which are?’
‘Was it Cild or Botulf’s presence in the abbey that caused you to set up your base in these marshes?’
Aldhere grinned. ‘In truth, it was a mixture of both.’
‘How would one set about finding this man, Garb, and his father, Gadra of Maigh Eo? For Garb to come to the abbey in the snowstorm last night and proclaim this ritual would indicate that these Irish warriors must be dwelling in the vicinity. I would like to speak with them and maybe save them from Cild’s wrath.’
The outlawed thane pursed his lips in thought.
‘A band of Irish warriors would find it hard to conceal themselves in this country. But there are still a few religious houses where the Irish missionaries have refused to abandon them to Roman clerics. That may be your answer.’
Eadulf was suddenly hopeful.
‘Do you know where there are such houses?’
Aldhere nodded slowly.
‘But I fail to see your interest in this, holy gerefa,’ he countered. ‘You are surely a stranger to all these matters — what are you interested in?’
‘I am interested,’ returned Eadulf, ‘in bringing to justice the murderer or murderers of my friend Botulf. If I have to unravel a ball of twine to reach that end, then so be it. I will do so.’
‘You sound a determined man, my friend. Are you such a man? And are you without fear?’
‘You may rest assured that I am determined and you may judge whether I am without fear or not.’
‘It is not I who will judge that. I think you are up against some strange mysteries, my friend. Strange mysteries and evil people. Be warned.’
‘The nearest houses of Irish missionaries — you were about to tell me their whereabouts?’
‘I am told there are a few elderly missionaries from Éireann in Domnoc’s Wic to the north of here, but that might be too far away …’ Aldhere paused, then smiled. ‘There is the forest of Tunstall, the place of the farmstead, that is much closer, just south of the river. I heard tell that a monk named Laisre and some of his brethren were hiding there.’
Eadulf was eager.
‘I know the forest of Tunstall. It is close enough to the abbey to be accessible but it is large and would be impossible to search single-handed. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’
‘There is only one place in that forest where Laisre would be, and that is the old farmstead itself. That is easy to find. But there is no guarantee that these Irish warriors are there. However, it is the nearest place where they might receive refuge.’
‘It is worth a try,’ agreed Eadulf, feeling positive. ‘I think that this Garb and his father might know much of the mystery of your brother’s wife. And I believe it is linked to the murder of my friend, Botulf.’
‘Will you tell my brother that you have seen me?’
‘There is an old proverb,’ reflected Eadulf. ‘Let not your tongue cut your throat.’
Aldhere smiled wanly. ‘You are right. And I will give you another old saying of our people that you would do well to remember while you reside at my brother’s abbey — be afraid and you’ll be safe.’
Eadulf glanced towards the sky beyond the open window. Darkness came early in these winter months and he estimated that it would be less than an hour before it was dusk.
‘Speaking of safety, it is time that I returned to the abbey.’
He rose and Aldhere rose with him.
‘I’ll send Wiglaf to put you on the right path. At least the skyis clear and the snow has stopped falling. Your journey back will be easy.’
‘Should I want to get in touch with you again …?’ Eadulf left the question unfinished.
Aldhere smiled. ‘There is a clump of trees a few hundred yards upriver from the abbey. I will have Wiglaf there who will know how to find me. That was how we used to keep in touch with poor Botulf. The copse was where I was due to meet with Botulf yesterday.’
Eadulf thrust out his hand. He found himself liking and trusting the outlaw.
‘God be with you, thane of Bretta’s Ham.’
‘And luck follow your path, holy gerefa.’
The journey back was longer than Eadulf expected and Wiglaf, the former honey thief, was a loquacious travelling companion. He chattered constantly. In desperation, and trying to convert the conversation to something more positive than just idle gossip, Eadulf interrupted to ask him how he had joined up with Aldhere.
The man laughed uproariously and leaned forward towards Eadulf, pulling down his collar. There were faint red marks around his neck.
‘See that? Marks of a slave collar, gerefa. That was the price of the path I started on in my youth. I’m afraid your birching did not persuade me to alter my ways. I progressed, was caught and became a slave. It so happened that when Aldhere raided the King’s fortress at the mouth of the Yar, in search of his men, I was there and chained to one of them. That is why I am now here. He couldn’t take his man without taking me.’
Eadulf looked at him suspiciously. ‘And you have not repented of your ways? Are you still a thief?’
The man smiled broadly. ‘And still a good one. Aldhere does not need the religious, he needs thieves to help him stay alive in this marshland. It is all very well taking a stand against injustice, but when one is still declared outlaw, then one must live without the law.’
He roared with laughter at his own joke.
‘Do you have any principles, Wiglaf?’ Eadulf demanded in disapproval.
‘Why, yes, gerefa. To stay alive and not be caught again,’ replied the thief, unabashed.
‘Aldhere, for all his outlawry, appears to me to be a moral man. I wonder that he has any dealings with you.’
Wiglaf turned towards him. The gloom of descending dusk obscured everything but Eadulf was sure that the man winked at him.
‘Appearances? Remember that they are not all saints who use holy water, gerefa.’
Eadulf shook his head sadly. ‘I wish that you had learnt the lesson which I tried to give you when I was gerefa, Wiglaf.’
‘I have no illusions as to what I am nor what my fate will be,’ replied the thief.
‘Do you not? I wonder. Surely, you must know that the path to crime leads to one destination? You cannot have sunshine without shadows.’
‘Spoken well, gerefa,’ agreed Wiglaf with humour. ‘But there is a saying that a man born to be hanged will not drown. I don’t doubt I will probably hang but I will not drown first.’
‘So be it. Tell me, you were rescued by Aldhere and his men simply because you were chained to one of the men he wanted to rescue. Is that right?’
‘You have the truth of it, gerefa.’
‘How did you manage to persuade him to accept you in his band? I would have thought that he would have left you to your fate, he being a moral man and fighting to clear his name and those of his men from any hint of wrongdoing.’
Wiglaf chuckled. His sense of dark humour was constant.
‘You have a good mind, gerefa. That was the very thing he proposed to do.’
‘Then how …?’
‘Good luck was on my side. He was persuaded.’
‘And how was that?’
‘My cousin persuaded him, knowing that he would need someone who knew these marshes well and could move about them with speed; someone with my special talents.’
‘I see. So your cousin was known to Aldhere?’
‘And to you also, gerefa. Have you forgotten that I come from Seaxmund’s Ham also?’
Eadulf was not following his logic and said so.
‘Why, my cousin is … was,’ Wiglaf corrected with a droop of his mouth, ‘Botulf.’
Eadulf sat up in surprise, jerking slightly at the reins of his mule which snorted in protest.
‘Botulf was your cousin?’ he asked incredulously.
‘Did I not say so?’ replied the thief with humour.
Eadulf was furiously trying to remember back to his youthful days in Seaxmund’s Ham. Vague memories did come back then, of course. Botulf had spoken of his cousin who had been disowned by the family. Wiglaf had been brought up on a farmstead outside the tiny village and did not enter it much.
The Haunted Abbot sf-12 Page 10
