Eadulf’s thoughts seemed to be becoming slower and slower in registering, drifting, diverging; and then he was sleeping an uncomfortable slumber full of apprehensive visions, jumbled images which made no sense at all.
He was aware of someone shouting at him; angry, demanding.
He awoke with a start. He was slumped uncomfortably in his chair. A foot or so from his face were the scowling features of Abbot Cild. Eadulf started up.
‘What is it?’ he demanded, trying to gather his wits.
‘Do you claim that you have been asleep here?’
Eadulf was still trying to shake the fuzziness from his head. He saw an anxious-looking Brother Willibrod hovering behind the abbot, wringing his hands in his anxiety. To one side stood the implacable Brother Beornwulf.
‘It is as I said, Father Abbot,’ Brother Willibrod intoned, ‘neither the woman nor the man has left this chamber. Brother Beornwulf has been outside the door all night.’
Eadulf was now wide awake and he rose, causing the abbot to step backwards, for he had been leaning right over the chair.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Eadulf, his voice strong but hushed. He glanced towards Fidelma and then, frowning, he went to her side and felt her forehead. A surge of relief rushed through him.
‘Good! The fever has broken. She is on the mend.’ Eadulf swung round to the surly abbot. ‘Let us leave her to a natural sleep.’
By force of personality, he was able to push the abbot, the dominus and the bodyguard out of the chamber into the corridor outside. After he closed the door he turned his scowling features on them. His voice rose sharply.
‘I hope you have some good explanation for bursting into a sickroom in the middle of the night?’
Abbot Cild was not abashed.
‘Have you and your companion been in that room since the time you left me last night?’
Eadulf was aware of a soft light permeating the windows. He suddenly realised that it was not far from dawn. There came the distant sound of waking birds. He must have been asleep for several hours.
‘Where else would I be?’ he countered brusquely. ‘And certainly Sister Fidelma is incapable of leaving her bed.’
‘It is as I have said, Father Abbot,’ repeated Brother Willibrod sulkily. ‘Brother Beornwulf has been outside the door all night.’
‘What are we supposed to have done now?’ challenged Eadulf. ‘Have you invented some new claim against us?’
Abbot Cild looked ready to explode with anger but Brother Willibrod reached forward and laid a restraining hand on his arm.
‘Come with me, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ Abbot Cild finally said, turning and leading the way at a swift pace along the corridor and through the quadrangle towards the chapel of the abbey. There were a few of the brethren about who passed with lowered heads and hands folded before them. Eadulf was conscious of their eyes watching as he followed the abbot. Behind him came Brother Willibrod. Brother Beornwulf had been ordered to remain behind at his post outside the guests’ chamber.
Abbot Cild made his way directly to the chapel and entered. Inside, he did not pause but marched straight towards the high altar. Then he halted. He threw out one hand in a gesture towards it.
He did not speak. He did not have to, for what he had brought Eadulf to see was plain and its implications were obvious.
On the centre of the high altar was a dead cat. Skewering the animal to the altar was a bone-handled knife. Eadulf had seen such knives before. In the old days, before the new faith had reached the people of Wuffa, in the land of the East Angles, the priests of Woden and Thunor had carried such implements, with the elaborately carved sacred symbols on their bone handles. They were sacrificial knives.
‘It is the sign of the pagan worship,’ whispered Brother Willibrod, genuflecting. ‘We all know this is the feast of Yule.’
In spite of himself, Eadulf could not prevent a shudder catchinghim. He tried hard to recall where he had recently heard about a black cat being sacrificed on an altar.
‘The conjuring of a spirit and now … this!’ muttered Abbot Cild.
Eadulf glanced quickly at him.
‘You appear to link the two things together?’
‘They both smell of the evil arts!’ cried the abbot.
‘They smell of an evil mind,’ retorted Eadulf. ‘The question is … whose mind?’
‘My answer is not altered. Nothing like this happened at Aldred’s Abbey until you and the foreign woman came here.’
‘And I have said, that is no answer at all. What would an Irish religieuse know of pagan Saxon gods and practices? We are not responsible for this’ — he gestured towards the high altar — ‘this desecration any more than we are responsible for any of the evil acts that have take place in this abbey.’
‘That you will have to prove,’ snapped the abbot. ‘Brother Willibrod, you will see to it that this is cleared away. I shall have to bless and reconsecrate the altar.’
‘It shall be done, Father Abbot,’ muttered the dominus, casting an almost apologetic glance at Eadulf. He moved off to do the abbot’s bidding.
The abbot regarded Eadulf with a look in which dislike was tinged with something else. Eadulf suddenly realised that the man’s eyes held fear. Abbot Cild was actually afraid of him.
‘You will return to the guests’ chambers and remain there until I send for you. That I shall do when I am ready to hear the charges formally and give judgment.’
Eadulf was astounded. ‘What of my right to present a defence for Sister Fidelma and myself?’
‘You will have that right at the proper time.’
‘But have I not the right to my freedom in order to investigate and prepare a defence?’ he demanded.
Abbot Cild’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have no right to freedom now. After this desecration you have no right to freedom at all. Were I a less benign man, I would have you both taken and burnt to death immediately for the evil you have visited on this abbey.’
Eadulf snapped his mouth shut. He realised that there wouldbe no moving this man’s locked mind. At that moment he knew that Brother Higbald was probably right. He would have to take Fidelma to safety as soon as possible. Yet, coming out of such a fever, it would be reckless in the extreme to attempt to move her into the cold, snowbound world outside without a few days to recuperate.
‘Very well, Abbot Cild,’ he replied slowly. ‘I see that you are intent on pursuing your course against us, blind and malicious as that course is. I shall not come out of the door of the guests’ chambers until I am summoned to come through it. You accuse us of evil, yet it is a perverse course upon which you have embarked. In appealing to whatever humanity is left in you, I ask only this — it will take a few days for Fidelma of Cashel to recover from the infirmity she has suffered. In the name of the God that you claim to represent, allow us that time for her to recover before you drag her forth to enact your blind cruelty.’
Eadulf spoke evenly but his voice was filled with a vehemence which made Abbot Cild blink.
‘I am not an inhumane man,’ the abbot replied defensively. Eadulf noticed that the fear had not left his eyes. ‘But I cannot allow further evil to be visited on this place. The woman will have two days to recover — no more. Then you can prepare to defend yourselves.’
He turned, finding the dominus, Brother Willibrod, returning with several of the brethren with pails and brushes ready to clean up the mess on the high altar.
‘Brother Willibrod, you may escort Brother Eadulf back to the guests’ chambers. He is to remain there until further orders from me.’
The dominus bowed his head and then gestured to his companions to continue with their work while the abbot left the chapel. Brother Willibrod then glanced apologetically at Eadulf and fell in step beside him.
‘I do not know what to say, Brother,’ he muttered. ‘These happenings are strangely disconcerting.’
‘You surely don’t believe that the shade of Gélgeis is haunting thes
e walls, do you?’ Eadulf demanded. ‘There is a human agency at work here.’
Brother Willibrod shrugged. ‘Yesterday, I recognised yourdescription of the woman you said you had seen outside the chapel.’
‘I saw you were disturbed by it,’ agreed Eadulf.
Brother Willibrod pursed his lips for a moment.
‘In truth, it did sound like the Lady Gélgeis. And what young Redwald saw seems to confirm that opinion.’
‘So you do believe that the shade of Gélgeis is haunting the abbot? Why?’
Brother Willibrod pulled a face, but Eadulf was not sure what it was meant to express.
‘I would say that it is precisely the sort of action Gélgeis would take if she had the power to do so.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Brother Willibrod halted and suddenly looked around with a quick, conspiratorial glance.
‘I will tell you the truth. The lady Gélgeis was not the most malleable of women. She was hard, dominant, and ruthless. I might even say that I could understand if Cild was pushed so far from propriety as to rid himself of her.’ He hesitated and a flush came over his face. ‘I am not saying that he did,’ he added quickly. ‘In fact, I do not believe that he did. But the lady Gélgeis was spiteful and immoral.’
Eadulf stared at him in surprise.
‘Did you know her well?’
‘As well as my role of dominus here would allow.’
‘How long have you been dominus here?’
‘I was in the abbey when Cild and Gélgeis came here.’
‘Did anyone else share your views about her character?’
Willibrod sniffed with disdain.
‘You will have to ask them, although most here did not know her as long and as well as I did. I have my opinion. It is not an opinion that I share with Abbot Cild, so I wish you not to reveal that I held his wife in such low esteem.’ He paused and indicated along the passage with a jerk of his head to where Brother Beornwulf was seated on a three-legged wooden stool, his massive arms folded across his chest. ‘You will remain in your rooms in accordance with the abbot’s orders. I am sorry that things have come to this, Brother Eadulf.’
He turned and walked swiftly away.
Eadulf returned to Fidelma’s chamber and found himself feeling cold apprehension. Spirits walking abroad, desecration of a high altar, and people who had known the abbot’s wife in life swearing that it was her form returned to haunt him. In spite of his dread he went to check on Fidelma and found her deep in a natural sleep.
He sat down in his chair and tried to pick up his scattered thoughts.
There was no decision to be made now. They had to accept Brother Higbald’s suggestion. Safety came before the solution of this mystery. His mind full once more of conflicting thoughts, he felt into another troubled slumber.
When he awoke again, a brilliant morning light illuminated the room. He realised that he had been disturbed by young Brother Redwald who had entered bearing a tray with two steaming bowls, some bread and apples on it. He started up.
The young boy smiled apologetically. He seemed embarrassed.
‘I have brought you and the Sister breakfast, Brother.’
Eadulf examined him cautiously.
‘How do you feel now?’ he asked.
The boy set down the tray.
‘I apologise for my condition of last night. I was truly alarmed. I have calmed down this morning and am able to fulfil my duties.’ He bobbed nervously and moved to the door. ‘If there is anything else you need, Brother Beornwulf will be outside the door.’
He hesitated still, as if trying to make up his mind. Then he smiled quickly at Eadulf.
‘You have shown consideration to me, Brother. I am sorry to see you in this predicament. I hope no action of mine has brought it on you. But I did see the lady Gélgeis, I swear it. If she be spirit, then she seemed to mean me no harm, so I regret if harm will follow.’
Eadulf responded reassuringly.
‘Do not worry, Redwald. You cannot be held responsible for the actions of others.’
When the boy made to leave, Eadulf stayed him.
‘Did you like the lady Gélgeis?’ he asked.
The boy looked bemused for a moment and then nodded.
‘She was kind to me. I have told you that she nursed me when I was ill.’
‘I remember. You were a boy newly come to the abbey. So you liked her?’
‘I think I did.’
‘Aren’t you sure?’
‘I thought she was an angel, when I was ill. But later on, when I was well and growing, I found that she was distant, as if she cared little about me.’
‘Are you scared of seeing her image now?’
The boy considered the question and then shook his head.
‘The abbot told me that I have the faith to use as my shield. If I am steadfast in the faith, I need not fear.’
The boy left abruptly and Eadulf turned back to the tray and the bowls of steaming broth. He realised that he had not eaten for some time.
‘Water,’ came a croaking voice from the bed. ‘I need a drink.’
‘Fidelma!’ Eadulf turned and found a pale but more normallooking Fidelma easing herself up against a pillow.
‘I feel like death,’ she added.
‘You should feel like life, having come through a dangerous fever,’ smiled Eadulf, sitting at the side of the bed and taking her cold hand in one of his while he held out a beaker of water with the other.
She sipped cautiously.
‘How long have I been in the grip of the fever?’
‘Only twenty-four hours.’
‘It seems longer. I had the most bizarre dreams, if dreams they were. People rushing in and out and shouting and anger, lots of anger. Are we still at the abbey of …’ She frowned.
‘Aldred’s Abbey,’ Eadulf supplied. ‘We arrived two nights ago. Do you remember anything?’
Fidelma tried to recollect.
‘The last thing I remember was a visit from the apothecary, and something about a woman being seen in the abbey. After that things have become extremely hazy. I must have gone into the fever then.’
Eadulf turned and picked up the bowl of broth and some bread.
‘After a fever is passed, it is necessary to get some sustenance into you. Have that and afterwards I shall tell you what has been going on here.’
It became obvious during the meal that Fidelma was still weak and unstable. Her hands trembled as she tackled the soup. Eadulf had to help her. She seemed exhausted. Eadulf realised that there was no way they would be able to move her that day.
She finished half of the bowl of broth and nibbled at a piece of bread, before pushing the rest away from her. Eadulf took it and she lay back down on the pillow and closed her eyes.
‘You were going to … to tell me something,’ she yawned.
Eadulf shook his head. ‘Not at the moment. You need to sleep awhile.’
‘I feel so … tired …’
A moment later, Eadulf realised that she had passed again into a natural sleep.
He finished his own meal and then sat back to reconsider matters.
Over the next hour or so he did not progress far with his thoughts. The door opened softly and Brother Higbald entered. He nodded to Eadulf and glanced at Fidelma’s recumbent form.
‘The fever’s broken,’ Eadulf replied in answer to his raised eyebrow. ‘She’s having a natural sleep now.’
Brother Higbald pointed to a corner of the room, indicating that he wished to talk without disturbing Fidelma.
‘I heard what happened last night,’ he whispered. ‘Someone profaned the high altar.’
‘And we are blamed for it,’ Eadulf cut in sharply, in irritation. ‘I know. I am now determined to follow your advice. It is foolish to remain here in harm’s way any longer.’
Brother Higbald was approving.
‘A wise choice of action. But when will Sister Fidelma be able to travel?’
‘Not before tomorrow at the earliest, I think.’
‘Does she know of what she is accused?’
‘I have not told her yet. When I do, I doubt if she will have any understanding of it. Such things do not happen in her country.’
‘Well, the sooner you are gone from here the better.’
‘Have you heard anything more about what is happening?’
Brother Higbald shook his head. ‘I believe Abbot Cild is scared of something. However, he blames you both as being the cause of it.’
‘There is some mystery going on that I do not understand, Brother Higbald. You seem to be the only person here that I can get sense from. What is this darkness that enshrouds this abbey? Do you have any idea?’
Brother Higbald shrugged. ‘I have never seen it as a darkness. Abbot Cild is a man of uncertain temperament, as are we all — each to his own. There are undercurrents of emotion between us all. Jealousies, suspicions, rivalries. But that is surely normal? Not until the death of Botulf and the subsequent events of the other night was there any hint that there was a real problem.’
‘Nothing at all?’ demanded Eadulf in frustration. ‘No hint that Botulf was in danger? No hint of suspicion about the death of the lady Gélgeis?’
‘Well, there were Cild’s changes of mood after Garb’s first visit and there was always gossip among the brethren. I think we were all shocked when Botulf’s body was found. But Brother Wigstan said he had seen the notorious outlaw Aldhere nearby at the same time. There was no cause to question Abbot Cild when he pointed the finger at Aldhere.’
‘Even though Aldhere is Cild’s own brother?’
‘Wasn’t Cain the brother of Abel? Being brothers does not make men of the same mind.’
‘You never questioned Cild’s antipathy to his brother?’
‘The King himself, King Ealdwulf, had outlawed Aldhere. That was all one needed to know.’
‘So when Garb, the Irishman, arrived here the other night, identified himself as the brother of the lady Gélgeis, and accused Cild of her murder, what then?’
The Haunted Abbot sf-12 Page 14
