The Haunted Abbot sf-12

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Little bad?’ queried Eadulf. ‘That is unusual, isn’t it? Outlaws tend to be cursed by the local population.’

  ‘Not this man,’ said Dagobert.

  ‘It seems that most people think he is a man unjustly outlawed,’ Dado explained. ‘The story goes that he was a brave warrior unjustly accused of cowardice who had to take to the marshes nearby to save his own life.’

  ‘Was anything said about a brother of this outlaw?’ Eadulf asked innocently.

  ‘A brother?’ Dado looked at his companion and shrugged.

  ‘No brother was ever mentioned. Do you know some more of the story then, my friend?’ inquired Dagobert.

  Eadulf shook his head. ‘I heard the same story as you have recounted but I thought I heard mention of a brother who played a role in ensuring that Aldhere fell under the King’s displeasure.’

  Dado sniffed. ‘We did not hear that. In truth, we were onlyconcerned that we did not fall foul of the outlaw and his band. There are many stories to pick up along the road. I suppose this is one of the pleasures of travelling. Every traveller has a fascinating tale to tell.’ Dado suddenly looked at them with a sly smile. ‘Take yourselves. A Saxon religieux and a woman from the land of Éireann travelling in this wild place on foot. Now you must have a story to tell, surely?’

  Eadulf immediately shook his head but Fidelma gave a low laugh and entered into the spirit of the moment.

  ‘There is a story, indeed, Dado of Frankia,’ she said. ‘But our journey needs must be a long one in order to accomplish the telling of it.’

  The man’s face was full of disappointment.

  ‘Surely you can give us some idea of the nature of this tale?’

  Fidelma dropped her voice to a confidential tone.

  ‘It is a story of a king’s sister and her lover who run away to seek happiness in a strange and frightening land …’

  The man’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened a little.

  ‘Go on, go on,’ he whispered. ‘It sounds a good tale and great in the telling of it.’

  ‘Indeed, for they are pursued in this strange land by both men and phantoms, and they travel quickly under constant threat …’

  ‘A tale, indeed,’ rejoiced Dado, who was clearly a romantic as well as a gossip. ‘Tell us more …’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Well,’ intervened Eadulf in harsh disapproval, ‘it must be left to your imaginings for this is where we must alight. God’s blessing on your charity, my friends; our thanks for giving us the comfort of your wagon for part of our journey. It would have taken some hours to reach this spot on foot in these treacherous snowbound conditions.’

  Dagobert halted the wagon and looked around with surprise.

  ‘There is nothing but thick forest in all directions here, Brother. Are you sure that this is where you want to be left? You have but an hour of daylight left and we mean to halt and make camp for the night soon.’

  ‘Aye, stay and continue your story,’ urged Dado.

  Eadulf shook his head firmly. ‘Our destination is not far from here and we must reach it before darkness falls.’

  Dado looked disappointed. ‘If you are sure …?’

  Eadulf was already out of the wagon, having thrown down the travelling bags, and turned to help Fidelma alight from the vehicle.

  After thanking their Frankish hosts, they stood by the side of the track watching the wagon swaying through the tree-lined path, disappearing out of sight between the wintry evergreens.

  Fidelma looked around at the darkening woods and shivered slightly.

  ‘I hope that you are right, Eadulf, when you say we have not far to go. Are you sure that this is where you want to be?’ she asked. ‘You were not making an excuse to leave our inquisitive friends? I could have spun a story to keep them amused.’

  Eadulf looked hurt. ‘I do not doubt that you could have told them some story. However, this is Tunstall Wood and this is where Aldhere says that there is a community of religious from the five kingdoms of Éireann, still hiding out after the edict from Whitby. If anyone knows where Garb and his family are hidden, I am sure we will find them here.’

  ‘Let us hope so, for as our friend Dado said, it will soon be dark and darkness brings a weakness upon me. I probably should have rested for another full day to complete my recovery.’

  Eadulf was painfully aware of the fact and was trying his best not to show his concern for Fidelma because he realised that she would disapprove of it.

  ‘If I remember the old place, it is less than a mile in that direction,’ he said, pointing along the track.

  The woods were so thick that little snow had lain on the paths that crisscrossed them. Some memory, some instinct, drew Eadulf along the track, crossing paths that might have tempted them in other directions and maintaining a south-easterly course through the woods.

  They stopped now and then, for Fidelma was growing increasingly uncomfortable in the night chill. The journey through the woods was not easy. They could hear animals scuttling around them and now and again came the staccato bark of foxes. The path came upon a stream and led along its bank, around a large hillockon which stood the overgrown earthworks of some ancient fort. It was almost concealed, with brush and trees growing over it.

  Abruptly they came to the edge of a clearing. In the clearing were several wooden buildings and smoke was rising from a number of them.

  Eadulf turned to Fidelma with triumph, although a closer observer might have noticed a predominance of relief in his eyes.

  ‘Tunstall. This is Tunstall. We have reached safety.’

  Fidelma, her breath almost gone in the icy cold dusk of early evening, simply nodded.

  There came a warning shout across the clearing. They had been spotted. Several men emerged from the buildings, most clad in the robes of religious and most wearing the tonsure of the Blessed John.

  As Eadulf and Fidelma began to walk across the clearing towards what Eadulf presumed was the main building of the settlement, Eadulf noticed a small group of warriors. They were clearly not Saxons and Eadulf felt a surge of relief as he realised that he had been right. He did not doubt that these were Garb’s men. He felt a quickening of his pulse as he thought that soon the mystery of the death of his friend Botulf might be explained.

  He halted, for one of the warriors had given a cry and was running towards him with an upraised sword.

  A religious was also running forward as if to intercept the warrior, who skidded to a halt a sword’s length away. To his surprise, Eadulf saw that his antagonist was Garb himself.

  ‘Stand back, Brother,’ Garb cried in Irish to the religieux, who had come to a halt next to him and was looking bewildered. ‘This man is one of Cild’s evil brood. I recognise him. He was in Cild’s abbey when I delivered the ultimatum. It means that murdering abbot has tracked us down. Stand back while I kill them, and then we must be prepared to abandon this place.’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Put up your sword, Garb of Maigh Eo! We are not members of Abbot Cild’s fraternity,’ snapped Eadulf.

  Garb sneered in disbelief. ‘I saw you among the brethren, Saxon. You are a liar!’

  ‘He does not lie!’ Eadulf suddenly found Fidelma had stepped between him and the Connacht warrior, her hand raised, palm outward. ‘I am Fidelma of Cashel. Put up your sword, Garb. You would not wish to kill innocent people!’

  Garb had actually started to swing his sword back and now he hesitated, momentarily confused.

  ‘I said, put up your sword,’ ordered Fidelma once again, ‘unless you wish to kill an advocate of the Laws of the Fénechus and a king’s daughter.’

  The warrior examined her closely with narrowed eyes. Then he slowly began to lower his sword.

  ‘You say that you are Fidelma of Cashel?’ It was the religieux at his side who spoke. ‘Are you Fidelma the dálaigh, the advocate who solved the mysterious theft of the High King’s sword?’

  ‘I am Fidelma the dálaigh,’ she confir
med without embellishment.

  The religieux now regarded her with an expression of surprise mingled with awe. He was a man of middle years, his grey hair shaven in the style of the Irish tonsure. His face was still handsome, commanding, with dark eyes and a firm mouth.

  ‘Are you Fidelma, sister to King Colgú?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘What are you doing here, in this place, and with this Saxon?’ demanded Garb gruffly. His sword was lowered but still held in his hand. ‘I saw him in the abbey run by Cild only two nights ago. How is it that he claims not to be one of Cild’s men?’

  ‘I was also in that abbey, Garb,’ she said to him. ‘BrotherEadulf is my companion and emissary of Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury. We were guests there, having just arrived that night. I was ill and Brother Eadulf here was attending the funeral rites of his friend, Brother Botulf, when you made your unorthodox entrance.’

  Garb frowned suddenly. ‘Was Botulf your friend?’

  ‘He was a friend of Brother Eadulf,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘So perhaps you should think with your head instead of with your sword hand.’

  Garb was still suspicious.

  ‘What are you doing here? Did Cild send you?’

  Fidelma gave an impatient gesture with her hand.

  ‘He did not. We became prisoners in the abbey. Cild planned my execution and we thought it wise not to wait for it. Because of the remarks about Botulf which you made to Cild in the abbey chapel, Brother Eadulf and I came in search of you. You are not hard to find.’

  The religieux came forward with hands outstretched, ignoring the petulant warrior.

  ‘I am Brother Laisre. I am leader of this small religious group here and I would bid you welcome, Fidelma of Cashel. Welcome to Tunstall. I welcome your companion also. Let us go in by the fire so that we may hear your story and why your footsteps have been guided here.’

  They followed Brother Laisre to one of the wooden buildings, with Garb following, his sword now sheathed, although he still regarded Eadulf menacingly. The warmth in the building was a welcome contrast to the chill of the dusk outside. It was clear that the early evening meal was being prepared for several religieux were busy about various tasks and there was an aromatic smell emanating from a steaming cauldron of stew which simmered over the fire.

  ‘You will be our guests here for as long as you like, Fidelma of Cashel,’ said Brother Laisre, smiling. He turned to Eadulf and began to translate what he had said into Saxon but Eadulf sniffed impatiently.

  ‘I have studied in the island of the five kingdoms,’ he said brusquely. ‘I speak your language fluently.’

  Brother Laisre looked relieved.

  ‘It is good to have a language in common,’ he observed, indicating that they should be seated.

  Fidelma was glancing round, noting the small scriptorum at the far end of the room. In fact, the building seemed to act as a general refectory and library for the entire community.

  ‘I am surprised to find that there is still a community in this land which cleaves to the rituals of our Church, Brother Laisre,’ she commented. ‘I thought that after the decision of Whitby whereby the Angles and the Saxons opted to follow the Rule of Rome, all our clergy had departed from these lands.’

  Brother Laisre grimaced humorously. ‘Some of us made the decision not to give in without trying to save some of our principles. Oh, I know after Whitby, Abbot Colman led many of the Irish missionaries and those Angles and Saxons who were of like mind to the island of the white cow — Inis Bó Fin — off the coast of Connacht. Some of them — mostly the Angles and Saxons — set up another centre on the mainland which is called “Maigh Eo of the Saxons”. But we refused to follow Colman and retreat from this land and accept the defeat of our cause. So here we remain — missionaries from the five kingdoms — trying to spread the great truth.’

  He turned and regarded Brother Eadulf’s tonsure, the tonsure of Peter, which indicated his acceptance of the Roman Rule.

  ‘I see that you, Brother, do not follow our path?’

  Eadulf shrugged. ‘Not in all specifics. But there is more to unite us than the little which divides us. Like Sister Fidelma, I was in attendance at the great council at Whitby. If we believe in the one God, then there is room for all our ways of worship.’

  Brother Laisre frowned briefly. ‘I would not agree with that. Had I thought that the revisions of the faith made by the bishops of Rome were right then I would no longer dwell in this inhospitable land but take me back to my own green valleys by the great river An tSiona.’

  Fidelma cleared her throat. She did not want to get sidetracked into arguments of theology and liturgy.

  ‘I presume that this is where Gadra, the chieftain of Maigh Eo, will be carrying out the troscud?’

  Garb started forward. ‘How …?’ His eye fell on Eadulf and he relaxed then. ‘I see. You are clever, Fidelma.’

  Fidelma shook her head.

  ‘It was Brother Eadulf who made the deduction. The point is, does your father Gadra realise that Cild does not even respect the laws of his own people and is far less likely to respect the laws of our people? He would be throwing his life away unnecessarily.’

  Garb pushed out his lower lip and half nodded.

  ‘My father is a stubborn man who cannot conceive of such a thing.’

  ‘I would speak with him.’

  ‘You may, but he is resting now. First, I would want to know what brought you into this affair. You say it was something to do with Brother Botulf?’

  ‘That is so,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But the story is Eadulf’s and I am sure that he will have no objection to the telling of it.’

  Eadulf agreed. ‘I have none, providing that we can exchange some information. Do we agree that there is some evil mystery at the abbey of Aldred?’

  ‘There is one evil there,’ said Garb curtly. ‘That is the Abbot Cild.’

  ‘The abbot seems to be a man of extreme opinions and actions,’ Fidelma intervened, ‘but whether this constitutes evil is a point which we may later consider.’

  Brother Laisre snorted. ‘I think there is no question about his evil. Cild has been responsible for hanging two of my brethren whom he took captive. He had them executed as heretics to the faith — or rather to his particular interpretation of the faith.’

  Fidelma’s eyes widened a little.

  ‘We agree,’ broke in Eadulf, ‘that Cild is a harsh man. You have only to ask the brother of his own blood what his opinion is. But we need information, as I have said before. I came to the monastery because I received a message from the friend of my youth, Brother Botulf, but when I arrived I found that he had been murdered. In the chapel, the other night, you seemed to imply that Abbot Cild had murdered Botulf. Why?’

  Garb glanced at Brother Laisre and then he sighed.

  ‘You say that you are Brother Botulf’s friend? I would hear what you have to impart and then I will tell you what we know.’

  Eadulf exchanged a look with Fidelma, who gestured her approval.

  ‘We must begin somewhere,’ she said. ‘Information for information.’

  Briefly, though not sparing the important details, Eadulf recounted why they had made the journey to Aldred’s Abbey and what had befallen them there, including his dealings with the outlaw brother of the abbot.

  When Eadulf ended his narration, Brother Laisre suggested that they continue over bowls of hot stew. When they were seated round the table, it was Garb who now commenced his story.

  ‘Three summers have passed since my family came to know Cild. He was one of a number of Saxon brothers who came to study at the religious house of Maigh Eo, the Plain of the Yew, where my father Gadra is chieftain. He was not like the other religious that I have known. He was more like a warrior, angry, aggressive and demanding.’

  Garb paused as if gathering his thoughts into some order.

  ‘We were not too interested in him until he began to impress my younger sister, Gélgeis. She became besotted by him.�
�

  Fidelma leaned forward. ‘You do not say that she fell in love with him. How old was Gélgeis?’

  Garb glanced at her. ‘Oh, she was over the age of choice, if that is what you are asking. She was also determined. She was as stubborn as my father is stubborn. My father and I tried to dissuade her from marrying Cild. Even my sister, Mella, tried to discourage her. But Gélgeis was totally intoxicated by Cild. No, I do not say that she loved the man. I believe she was mesmerised by him. Before we could do anything further, she and Cild had left to come to this country.’

  ‘Do I then presume that you also believed that Cild was not in love with your sister?’

  ‘Cild is capable of many emotions,’ replied Garb. ‘I do not think love can be numbered among them. He wanted my sister for the material benefits which he thought he would gain. He did not fully appreciate our laws. He thought that once he was married, my father would set him up with wealth and position.’

  ‘But Cild came here and achieved a position as abbot.’

  ‘A poor abbot at that. However, my father saw the finalityof my sister’s situation and so sent word to Gélgeis that he had forgiven her for breaking his heart by running off with the Saxon. But there would be no dowry and Cild would not be welcome in Maigh Eo. Thereafter only two messages came from Gélgeis over the next year.’

  Eadulf was interested. ‘Messages? By whom were they sent?’

  ‘By a religieux named Brother Pol. As Brother Laisre mentioned earlier, the community of Maigh Eo is called “Maigh Eo of the Saxons”. There is much contact between Maigh Eo and some of the Saxon religious. Gélgeis knew how to cut the Ogham and send her message on hazel wands so that few outside our circle would know what she had to say.’

  ‘And what did she have to say?’ Fidelma pressed.

  ‘The first message told us that Cild had been elevated to become abbot of Aldred’s Abbey and that she and he were living there. She said that she was happy but very homesick.’

  He paused for a moment.

  ‘It was the way she worded the message that made us think that she was not being entirely honest and that she was unhappy with her life. The second message confirmed our anxieties. She was unhappy but she did not explain why. But Brother Pol told us that he thought Cild was treating her badly for he had noticed the searing wound of a whip on her arm. We asked Brother Pol to contact Gélgeis and bring further messages on his next trip.’