‘By God! Yes! Drink. In you, Sister, I find not only a pious religieuse but one with a sense of humour. Indeed, much is accomplished by drinking here for drink unlocks secrets, it confirms our hopes, lifts burdens from anxious minds, teaches us new arts and urges the timorous into battle. For a bad night, there is always the soft mattress of mead, and many a friend and many a lover have met over a jug.’
Fidelma was amused by his response.
‘You sound like a philosopher, Aldhere.’
The outlaw put his head to one side and winked.
‘Only one who has borrowed his learning.’
‘Yet we have a saying in my country — when the cock is drunk, he forgets about the hawk.’
Aldhere shook his head. ‘I do not forget about my brother, Cild, nor about King Ealdwulf. My lookouts keep me posted.’
‘And did they keep you posted about the passage of warriors of Ealdwulf’s bodyguard through your forests?’ asked Eadulf cynically.
To their surprise, Aldhere nodded.
‘Escorting a coach? Oh yes, we knew about them.’
Eadulf shook his head disbelievingly. ‘If you knew that, why did you not stop it?’
‘For what reason, holy gerefa?’ he asked as if amused. ‘It was only the lord Sigeric, who was being escorted to Aldred’s Abbey. He is too elderly to be a threat to anyone. And, really, holy gerefa, why would I want to attack him or his escort? Do you think I am as black as my brother Cild paints me?’
‘Lord Sigeric?’ Eadulf was astonished. ‘He is the high steward to King Ealdwulf,’ he explained quickly to Fidelma.
‘Then you have good reason to attack him,’ Fidelma pointed out.
‘He would have advised on the matter of your outlawry,’ Eadulf agreed. ‘One might think that you would enjoy visiting vengeance on him.’
Aldhere shook his head. ‘Did I not tell you that Botulf was going to send an appeal to him about my sentence of outlawry? It may well be that he has come to hear the matter,’ he told them.
‘I recall that you did say that,’ confessed Eadulf almost reluctantly.
‘It seems, holy gerefa, that you do not accept my good faith. Why should you be so sceptical of my intentions?’
‘There are some people who think you are just as bad as your brother,’ intervened Fidelma as Eadulf hesitated, not knowing how to answer.
Aldhere swung back to her, favouring her with a swift scrutiny although his expression was still one of humour.
‘I don’t doubt it. There are many who would take the word of Cild and paint me as black as Satan. Some more mead?’
‘You did not finish answering my question,’ Fidelma responded.
‘Finish?’
‘I asked you why it was that you remain in this country and so near Aldred’s Abbey when it endangers you and your followers and you could easily find a safer haven elsewhere.’
Aldhere sat down for the first time, poured a large measure into his goblet and sipped it thoughtfully.
‘It is a good question,’ he mused.
‘And does it have a good answer?’ Fidelma pressed.
Aldhere returned her gaze, his face wreathed in a smile.
‘Oh, I believe so. I am here searching for justice.’
Fidelma inclined her head in acknowledgment.
‘Eadulf has told me of your story. Falsely accused of cowardice. An elder brother who wishes to see you destroyed for disinheriting him. But why remain here? How will that achieve justice?’
Aldhere leaned forward, suddenly serious.
‘It is because I have faith, Sister.’
‘Scripture says that faith is the substance of things hoped for without evidence. What is it that you hope for?’
‘I have been robbed of my property. My character has been ruined. My reputation tainted. Yet I have faith that my character may be vindicated and my property restored; that my persecutors may be brought to justice. That is my faith, Sister, and that iswhy I and my followers will not be driven forth from this land of the South Folk, which is our land by right of birth and sword. We came here four generations ago and drove the Welisc from this land, where they had grown indolent and degenerate. We are of the Wuffingas, descendants of Woden, and what we take we will not give back.’
Fidelma sat back with lips pursed in disapproval.
Eadulf glanced at her nervously but she did not say anything for a moment or two.
‘You have explained your philosophy well, Aldhere,’ she said quietly. ‘Now, what can you tell me about your brother? I presume that he would share your principles?’
Aldhere looked uncertain. ‘What do you want to know about Cild?’
‘You have given Brother Eadulf here the impresson that Cild was always unbalanced.’
Aldhere shrugged. ‘He had strange moods and sometimes he would do things which were not driven by logic. He loved power, he loved wealth. Those were the only two things he ever loved.’
‘He did not love Gélgeis?’
‘She was a chieftain’s daughter. He probably loved the power and wealth he thought he would inherit.’
‘But these strange moods — you say he had them from a child? Do you know when they became manifest?’
‘He was not liked by my father,’ Aldhere said. ‘I told the holy gerefa here. Before Cild grew too strong, my father often beat him and used to lock him up as punishment.’
‘Was your father justified in this?’
Aldhere shook his head. ‘I think the rogue moods that Cild displays were inherited from my father, who was a difficult man.’
‘Your father never punished you in the same manner as Cild.’
‘Never.’ Aldhere smiled grimly. ‘Cild was always singled out by him.’
‘And your mother? What role did she play in this?’
Aldhere sniffed. ‘My mother died when we were young and my father’s mistresses did not enter our lives. We were left to ourselves and Cild had his own world to retreat into. But why do you ask these questions?’
‘I am a little confused as to when Cild came back from the kingdom of Connacht. Was that before or after you had been outlawed?’
‘Before.’
‘Did he come back to Bretta’s Ham when he arrived from Maigh Eo?’
‘No. He went straight to the abbey of Aldred. He had managed to be appointed abbot there.’
‘He took his wife with him?’
‘He did. She was not a religieuse but went to live with him.’
‘When did you first meet her?’ asked Fidelma.
‘I told the gerefa here.’
‘Tell me.’
‘It was when I first went to the abbey, after which it was clear that my brother and I would never agree. Then, after I was outlawed, I saw her again.’
‘And what was your opinion of his wife?’
Aldhere rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘As I told the gerefa, she was a sweet girl, innocent. How she had been persuaded to marry Cild, I do not know. She was the opposite to everything I saw in my brother. He was immoral, ambitious, thinking with his sword arm before his mind.’
‘It sounds as if you liked the girl,’ Fidelma observed.
Aldhere flushed slightly. ‘I did not dislike her. She was Cild’s wife. She came to see me here in this encampment simply because I was the brother of her husband. She wanted to help.’
‘Remind me, what happened after you were outlawed?’
‘Cild claimed my title and lands. Ealdwulf only compensated him with a small share and told him that he should remain as a religious. He affirmed Cild as abbot over the community at Aldred. I believe Ealdwulf was already anticipating the decision at Whitby, for the moment that decision was made he issued a decree that all those religious holding to the Columban order should be expelled from the kingdom.’
‘Yet at that time Cild and Gélgeis were living happily together at Aldred’s Abbey?’
‘Happily?’ There was a note of derision in Aldhere’s voice.
‘You ques
tion that?’
‘Such an innocent young girl could not have been happy with Cild,’ he replied sharply.
‘You may well be right. On the other hand, it is amazing in life how couples we believe are mismatched are completely compatible,’ reflected Fidelma. ‘I am more interested in whether you knew of any reason for discord between them? I mean, to your personal knowledge.’
Aldhere say back and gazed moodily at his mead as if an answer lay in the clay pot.
‘I had the impression that she was unhappy,’ he said.
‘Did she tell you as much?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Yes, she did.’
‘When was that?’
‘When I met her.’
Fidelma frowned. ‘She said this on her first meeting with you at the abbey, before you were outlawed?’
He shook his head. ‘No, this was afterwards, when …’
‘How many times did you see her after you came here?’
‘I saw the girl a few times for she used to go walking near the abbey. The river stretches nearby and there are woods there.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘That since Cild had not been able to get his own way about his claim to be thane of Bretta’s Ham, he had become morose and restless. He displayed a cruelty that she had not thought possible in one who claimed to follow the religious life.’
‘Did she say that Cild was cruel to her?’
Aldhere’s lips thinned. ‘She did.’
‘Why do you think that she felt able to confess this to you?’ asked Eadulf thoughtfully. ‘You were, after all, a stranger even though you were Cild’s brother. And the very fact that you were Cild’s brother would surely not be conducive to an exchange of confidences.’
‘I don’t see why not. She knew that Cild had treated me as cruelly as he treated her. She was alone. She wanted someone to talk to. Someone to share her desolation with. I think it is natural.’
‘What do you know of the circumstances of Gélgeis’s death?’
Aldhere glanced at her suspiciously. ‘What should I know of it?’
‘I ask what you know, not what you should know.’ Her reply was so tart that he blinked rapidly for a moment.
‘Only the story that she had wandered into Hob’s Mire near the abbey and been sucked under its treacherous bog,’ he said, regaining his easy manner.
‘And this was a year ago?’
‘About that. Yes.’
‘When was the last time you saw Gélgeis before that?’
‘Two days before she died,’ replied Aldhere.
‘Two days?’ queried Fidelma. ‘You are absolutely sure of that?’
Aldhere grinned. ‘Absolutely sure.’
‘Were you having an affair with your brother’s wife?’ Fidelma asked abruptly.
‘An affair? Not as such,’ came the reluctant response.
Fidelma smiled sceptically. ‘What would be your interpretation of your relationship with your brother’s wife? I am intrigued to know that there is a relationship which can be described as not an affair as such.’
Aldhere actually looked uncomfortable for a moment. He knew that Fidelma was making fun of him.
‘I was the friend she needed, the person she needed to confess her anguish and fears to. There was nothing else in it.’
‘Accepting that,’ agreed Fidelma, ‘you say that you did have an assignation with her two days before she died?’
‘We had arranged to meet — yes. We met in the woods along the river near the abbey. We went for a walk and she told me how bad the situation had become with Cild. She had been in touch with her family through the intermediacy of a religieux named Pol. Cild had found out and lost his temper and had Pol hanged out of hand. His excuse was that Pol was a heretic. Gélgeis said she was fearful and wanted me to put her in touch with some Columban religious who might help her to return to her father’s estates.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said that I would do my best to help her.’
‘Then?’
‘Then she left me.’
‘Having heard what she had to say, you let her return to the abbey?’ queried Eadulf incredulously.
‘It was her decision,’ replied Aldhere defensively. ‘She could have come with me there and then and I would have protected her, but …’ He shrugged.
‘When did you hear that she was dead?’ Fidelma asked.
‘The news came the day after she had wandered into the mire.’
‘Would her route to come to see you lie through the marshes? Through this place called Hob’s Mire?’
‘Not really. When she came to see me we usually met at the little copse near the abbey. I know what you are thinking. She did know the marsh.’
‘Did she know it well?’
Aldhere was looking at her curiously.
‘I would say she knew it very well,’ he said at last.
‘She knew about the dangers of Hob’s Mire?’
‘Most people know about the mire. It is notorious.’ He hesitated and anticipating a demand for specifics added: ‘Yes; she did know of it.’
‘So why do you think that she would have departed from the known and safe route to go through the bog?’
‘I do not think so and I know what you are suggesting.’
‘Suggesting? I am merely seeking the answers to some questions. I just find it curious that if she knew the dangers of the marshes, she would have gone out of her way on that particular occasion to court them.’
Aldhere fell silent.
‘Did you not attempt to make some inquiries when you heard of her death?’ Fidelma asked.
‘She was dead. Why would I need to know the reason why she wandered into the mire?’
‘To ascertain if she was assisted in wandering into that mire.’
Aldhere was silent for a moment or two before he replied.
‘The idea only occurred to me months later when it was too late. Indeed, I scarcely thought more of it until the other day when the holy gerefa here came wandering out of the marshes and had to be rescued from East Saxon raiders. He told me that Gélgeis’s father and brother had arrived here in some vain attempt to force Cild to confess to her murder.
‘I said then, and I say it to you now, Sister, that they have nohope. Only Cild’s conscience would force him to admit his guilt — if, indeed, he is guilty — and the fact is that my brother has no conscience. So there is little hope of achieving anything by that means.’
Fidelma sighed softly. ‘Rumours, surmises — I have not one hard fact to prevent the tragedy that will soon overtake us.’ She stared abruptly into the eyes of Aldhere. ‘Did you ever meet Mella?’
The outlaw’s eyes widened a little.
‘Mella?’ he muttered.
‘Gélgeis’s twin sister. They were so alike that only the close family could tell them apart.’
‘Of course not. What makes you ask if I met her?’
‘She tried to dissuade Gélgeis from marriage to Cild. It was said that she was brought to this land.’
‘But Mella-’ began Aldhere. He stopped suddenly.
‘Yes? Mella … what?’ snapped Fidelma.
‘Mella was taken in a slave raid and perished at sea.’
‘How do you know that?’
Aldhere raised his hands helplessly. ‘Gélgeis must have told me.’
‘But this happened after Gélgeis came to the land of the South Folk. How did she know?’
‘I don’t know. She told me. She knew.’
‘When did she tell you?’
‘I can’t remember. On one of our walks, I suppose.’
‘And what did she say exactly?’
‘About Mella?’ countered Aldhere.
‘About Mella,’ repeated Fidelma solemnly.
‘That her sister had been reported taken by slavers and that the slave ship was lost at sea. I know no more than that.’
It was clear that Aldhere was lying. But why was he doing so?
&nbs
p; He was rising.
‘Enough of this talk,’ he said brusquely, ‘I have duties to see to. Stay here and rest until I return.’
He went out, leaving them alone in the hut.
Eadulf turned to Fidelma but she raised a hand and placed a finger to her lips, gesturing with her head towards the door.
‘Tell me about this man Sigeric,’ she commanded in a slightly raised voice.
Eadulf was disappointed.
‘As I said, he is high steward to the King and was high steward to King Athelwold before him. He is said to be a bastard son of Ricbert who ruled here for about three years. Ricbert was a pagan who assassinated Eorpwald who had converted to Christianity.’
Fidelma raised her hands in protest.
‘Truly, I cannot get my tongue around these Anglo-Saxon names. You say that Sigeric is high steward? Is he a bishop?’
‘No, he is still a pagan. Our kings have found him an excellent adviser and chief judge. There is no one who knows more of the laws of the Wuffingas. That is the law which we hold here-’
‘I did gather that,’ Fidelma said waspishly. Then she relaxed a little. ‘What I am interested in is why would Sigeric, your chief Brehon, be sent to Aldred’s Abbey? Is it truly to announce a pardon for Aldhere or is there some other purpose?’
Eadulf realised what Fidelma was thinking.
‘Do you think that it has something to do with the accusation against Cild? Perhaps Gadra or his son contacted him. Perhaps Sigeric is here to forestall the same tragedy that you are seeking to prevent?’
‘I wish I could believe that,’ Fidelma said. ‘I don’t think your King Ealdwulf would know anything about the problems that would arise from the troscud of Gadra. But what is his purpose? The trouble is that the answer to that question is back at Aldred’s Abbey.’
Chapter Fifteen
Eadulf regarded her with some nervousness.
‘Are you really serious about going back to the abbey? The idea is fraught with danger.’
Fidelma grimaced indifferently.
‘Name me another method of finding the truth other than going back. It is in Aldred’s Abbey that the strands of this mystery entwine. It might well be a godsend that this lawyer or judge of your people has gone there. If he is an honest man then he may well be our salvation.’
The Haunted Abbot sf-12 Page 24
