The Haunted Abbot sf-12

by Peter Tremayne

  Some way away they saw a curious shimmering against the white snowy background, something like a heat haze. That, in fact, was exactly what it was.

  ‘If you were able to put your hand in that,’ observed Mul, ‘you would be burnt. That’s a flame, but it’s so faint that you can’t really see it until night falls and then you get the eerie blue light which people call corpse fire.’

  Fidelma breathed out gently.

  ‘So these lights burn both by day and by night and we don’t really see them until there is darkness enough to give the contrast?’

  ‘Exactly so.’

  Eadulf stood up and glanced around with hands on hips.

  ‘I see your reasoning, Fidelma. But there is still an explanation needed.’

  ‘Which is?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘You told me last night that you felt that the figure we saw was no ghostly apparition, but a real woman. You have now demonstrated that the firedrake was simply a natural phenomenon. Fine. But how can you explain that as well as the firedrake we saw the outline of the woman glowing? That she — not merely the firedrake flame — had a ghostly appearance? That is what scared Abbot Cild and his men — not anything else.’

  Fidelma had also risen and walked back to her pony. She stroked its muzzle for a few moments before speaking.

  ‘A few years ago, Eadulf, it was a midwinter much like this, and I was on my way home to Cashel. I was coming through the snowbound mountains and was forced to stop the night at an inn. The innkeeper and his wife thought they were being haunted. They had seen this vision. It turned out to be someone trying to scare them. That person was also able to give himself a curious glowing aura.’

  ‘How?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘How did they do it?’

  ‘In my country there is a yellow clay-like substance that gives off a curious luminosity. It is scooped from the walls of caves. We call it mearnáil. It glows in the gloom. I don’t know what it might be called here. But I believe the woman who came here had it smeared on her clothing and with the flickering flame of the firedrake before her, it reflected on the clay shehad smeared on herself and that is why we saw the ghostly image.’

  Eadulf pursed his lips in a soundless whistle.

  ‘You mean this “haunting” of Cild is some strange conspiracy?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘And Botulf knew about it? He had discovered who was behind it? That is what led to his death?’

  ‘It will take a little time to work out,’ cautioned Fidelma.

  Mul had been standing watching them with a look of incomprehension on his features. Fidelma turned to him with a smile.

  ‘You have been a great help, Mul. It may well be that we shall be able to procure a larger sum in recompense than the few coins we have been able to give you. If my idea works out correctly, I think you will also be avenged for the murder of your wife and children.’

  Mul returned her smile grimly.

  ‘For the avenging of my family, I am prepared to give what little I own in the world,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Then I would ask you to indulge us further, Mul. We are going to the abbey to find this man …’ She glanced at Eadulf in interrogation.

  ‘The lord Sigeric,’ he supplied.

  ‘Sigeric. He went to the abbey yesterday and, if Brother Eadulf is correct, then he is the one person who will help us. If he is willing, we might need your help further. Is there anywhere in the vicinity of the abbey where you can wait until we contact you?’

  ‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘There is a smithy just south of the bridge. I’ll wait there for word from you. If it means the destruction of Cild I am prepared to wait until the crack of doom. You may find me there.’

  Fidelma glanced up at the sky. There was still no sun to regulate the day but she guessed that it lacked only a couple of hours until noon.

  ‘If you do not hear from us by mid-afternoon, then I think you can conclude that we have not been able to persuade Sigeric to help us.’ She paused and grimaced. ‘Now, Mul, you can lead us out of this mire and set us on the right path to the abbey.’

  Having left Mul to continue on to the bridge, Fidelma and Eadulf turned off through the woods behind the abbey buildings. They found the path they had taken on their escape from the abbey and now discovered a little copse where they decided to leave the ponies, tethered in case they needed to reclaim them in a hurry.

  Eadulf led the way back to the tunnel entrance. He remembered the route better than Fidelma, for she had not been entirely well when they had left by that means. The entrance, despite being overgrown with evergreens, was not too difficult for Eadulf to find.

  Fidelma was surprised when Eadulf halted outside it and from his marsupium brought forth a piece of candle which he proceeded to light from his flint and tinder box. He looked up and grinned.

  ‘I had a feeling that we might be returning by this tunnel and so took the opportunity to appropriate a piece of candle from Mul’s farmhouse.’

  He turned and pushed into the tunnel, dank and chill. The darkness closed in oppressively as soon as they were a few paces along the tunnel. The candle did not throw out much of a light and what it did was flickering and unstable, not enough to see far ahead.

  ‘Strange,’ Fidelma said after a while, ‘I imagined that we would have passed that chamber filled with weapons before now. I wanted to examine that place again.’

  ‘We have passed a few darkened entrances,’ came Eadulf’s voice in front of her. ‘Perhaps the lights in that chamber have been doused and we have already passed it.’

  Fidelma admitted that his suggestion was probably the right one.

  ‘Can you find your way back to the guests’ chambers? I think that is where we should find this Sigeric.’

  Eadulf acknowledged her question with an affirmative grunt. He moved slowly, trying to remember the turns he had taken but reversing them. After a short while, as he turned a corner, he saw a faint light ahead, permeating through a hanging cloth. It was a tapestry.

  He halted and turned to Fidelma with a whisper.

  ‘I think I might have reached the guests’ chamber where we were. It should be beyond that tapestry.’

  ‘You have done well, Eadulf,’ she said, moving forward to join him.

  He put a restraining hand on her arm.

  ‘When we left the chamber,’ he whispered, ‘I remember closing the door behind the tapestry. Someone must have opened it.’

  She was not worried. ‘Brother Higbald doubtless checked our escape route after we had left.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he replied reluctantly.

  ‘Are you ready, then?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Then let us proceed!’

  Eadulf moved forward along the tunnel to the tapestry. He could not see through it but was aware that there was a light filtering through the strands of the material. It could only come from candlelight beyond. He did not pause but reached forward, drew the cloth aside and stepped into the room behind. Fidelma followed him closely.

  There was an elderly man seated in the chamber where Fidelma had been confined during her stay at Aldred’s Abbey. He was seated with his bent back towards then, his head down as he appeared to be studying some sheets of vellum on the table before him. There were several candles lighting the room. The old man was making notes with a scratchy quill.

  Perhaps it was the draught of air from the tunnel, a slight flickering of the candle on his desk, but the occupant of the room swung round in his chair and started up as his pale blue eyes fell upon them.

  It was clear that in his youth he had been a handsome man. His features were strong. The jaw was still determined. His white hair grew thickly. He had the look of a man used to command; a warrior by build although age had caused his back to bend a little and his hand to tremble, although so slightly as to be not immediately noticeable until one examined it for a while.

  He looked from one to another, his eyes now narrowing slightly.

  ‘And who are y
ou that creep up on me like thieves in the night?’ he demanded. Then, without warning, he bellowed: ‘Guards! To me!’ His voice was still strong and resonant in spite of his age.

  No sooner had he spoken than the door burst open. Two warriors rushed in with drawn swords. A moment later the muscular but mute Brother Beornwulf looked in and then disappeared. A bell began a clamour further down the corridor.

  The old man slowly stood up and examined them.

  ‘And who do we have here?’ His voice was now soft but with a steely quality to it. ‘Assassins? Thieves?’

  Eadulf was about to speak when there came the sound of movement along the corridor.

  Abbot Cild strode into the room, followed by an anxious-looking Brother Willibrod, his dark eye glinting. Behind them, Brother Beornwulf stood, still clutching the handbell by which he had summoned them.

  Abbot Cild’s features broke into a smile of triumph as he beheld them.

  ‘Seize them!’ he cried. ‘Before they murder the lord Sigeric! No need for a trial now. We’ll take them out and hang them immediately.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Wait!’

  The old man spoke quietly, almost under his breath, but the word halted Abbot Cild and his companions. The abbot turned in protest to him.

  ‘Lord Sigeric, they are foreigners who have come to our land spreading witchcraft and evil …’

  Eadulf took a step forward.

  ‘That is a lie. I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, one time gerefa of that place …’

  ‘Silence!’ roared Abbot Cild. ‘How dare you address the high steward without permission?’

  The old man examined Eadulf with bright grey eyes.

  ‘And you are now a Christian?’ He smiled thinly. ‘Who is it that you travel with?’ His eyes turned to Fidelma. ‘She has the appearance of one of the Irish missionaries who have turned this land away from its old gods. Irish missionaries that King Ealdwulf has ordered to quit the kingdom.’

  ‘It is true that Sister Fidelma is of the kingdom of Muman in the land of Eireann. Her brother reigns as King of that distant land. But she is no missionary here but a reputed advocate of the Irish laws.’

  Sigeric sighed gently.

  ‘I have heard of the kingdom of Muman. I have learnt much of that country from missionaries who have come to our land. Why did you sneak up on me like assassins? Is that what you are? Did you plan to kill me?’

  Abbot Cild moved a step forward. His voice was loud and eager.

  ‘Lord Sigeric, they clearly meant you harm, or they would not have come creeping up on you-’

  ‘It is not so!’ interrupted Eadulf. ‘We needed to speak with you-’

  Abbot Cild had nodded to Brother Beornwulf who took a step to Eadulf and, without warning, slapped him hard across the mouth, sending him staggering back against Fidelma. He lost his footing and stumbled to the ground. Blood appeared from his mouth. Fidelma bent to help him back on his feet.

  ‘These are the evil pair that I warned you about, lord Sigeric,’ Abbot Cild continued in his rage. ‘The woman who conjures spirits. They escaped from my justice a few days ago. Search them and they will have weapons on them. They meant to kill you. I have no doubt about it.’

  Sigeric’s face, however, wore an expression of disapproval.

  ‘You have no doubt? Well, perhaps I should be the best judge of their intentions, Cild. There is no need to ill-treat them. The laws of the Wuffingas say that each is allowed to speak in their defence. Would you deny the law?’

  ‘My lord Sigeric, I say-’

  ‘I will deal with this matter,’ he said sharply. ‘Now, Cild, you may take your people and leave this to me.’

  The abbot hesitated a moment more. His features were still inflamed and for a moment it seemed that he would argue with Sigeric. Then he turned, still angry, and left without another word. He was followed by Brother Willibrod and the mute Brother Beornwulf.

  Fidelma was still dabbing at Eadulf’s bloodied mouth with a cloth which she had damped from a jug of water. She turned to Sigeric.

  ‘I thank you for your intervention.’

  Sigeric sat back and there was no humour in his face.

  ‘You may soon have no cause to thank me, Sister Fidelma. I am merciless to those who transgress our laws be they high born or low born, native or foreign.’

  ‘Yet I have heard that you are a judge of sound qualities who seeks truth and justice for all, be they high born or low born, native or foreign,’ replied Fidelma with a faint smile.

  ‘And I am not susceptible to flattery, especially from a pretty woman,’ snapped Sigeric. He turned to Eadulf. ‘Well, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham — are you able to answer my questions?’

  Eadulf took the cloth from Fidelma’s hands and straightenedup before the high steward of the King of the East Angles. He dabbed gently at his still bloodied mouth.

  ‘I can only tell you the truth as I know it, lord Sigeric.’

  ‘That is all anyone can do,’ agreed Sigeric gravely. He sat back in his chair, his hands before him, fingertips pressing fingertips, and gazed from one to the other. ‘What purpose brought you hither?’

  ‘To appeal to you,’ replied Eadulf. ‘You are our only hope in our search for the truth in this place.’

  ‘I have heard strange stories about you from Abbot Cild,’ replied Sigeric. ‘I have heard that you both forced your way into this abbey, and from that moment many evil portents appeared. The abbot says that the Irish woman conjured a spirit to haunt him. That when he charged her with witchcraft you both fled from the abbey, escaping his custody. Now you suddenly appear from I know not where and sneak into my chamber. Your purpose — according to the abbot — is to kill me. You deny it. Very well. What have you to say?’ ‘It is not true,’ replied Eadulf simply.

  Sigeric sighed and nodded slowly.

  ‘Of course it is not true.’ He smiled thinly, sarcastically. ‘No charge is ever true according to the person being charged. However, you must convince me that it is not so.’

  ‘Let me explain,’ began Fidelma, but Sigeric held up a hand.

  ‘I am told that in your culture, Sister Fidelma, women have equal rights to be heard with men. That is not so among our people. I will listen only to Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’ He turned to Eadulf, who had flushed nervously at the expression on Fidelma’s face.

  ‘Lord Sigeric,’ he began hesitantly, ‘as I have said, Sister Fidelma is a learned judge in her own land. She has been asked by King Oswy of Northumberland to act in a legal capacity at Whitby and, indeed, by the Holy Father when she was in Rome …’

  Sigeric shook his head. ‘I do not doubt your good intentions, Eadulf, but those are foreign places. We are here in the kingdom of the East Angles and should I not follow our laws and customs? Let me remind you that those laws are the laws of the Wuffingas. Come, spare my impatience and let us proceed. Do you deny the charges of Abbot Cild?’

  ‘We do,’ Eadulf said with emphasis. ‘There was evil in this abbey before we arrived.’

  ‘Evil? Much power in that word “evil”. Yet it is the individual who interprets what evil is and that interpretation varies from individual to individual,’ Sigeric replied. ‘Perhaps it is better to proceed with the story of how you came to this place, what you found and how matters unfolded.’

  ‘It began, lord Sigeric, when Sister Fidelma and I were in Canterbury. I was emissary of the Archbishop Theodore and had been on my embassy to King Colgu of Cashel, who is the brother of Sister Fidelma.’

  Sigeric nodded slowly.

  ‘So you move in illustrious circles, Eadulf?’ he said in a dismissive tone. ‘And so?’

  ‘I was not meaning to impress you, lord Sigeric. It is a fact that I was at Canterbury and while there received a message from my old fried Brother Botulf, who was steward at this abbey.’

  The name seemed to have an impact on the old man.

  ‘Botulf? Botulf of Seaxmund …? Of course you would know him. He was your friend?
I knew him also for he tried to protect a coward who was outlawed. Botulf was sent to this abbey as a punishment.’

  ‘So I have heard. But he was a moral man. When I was at Canterbury, I received a message requesting that I come to this abbey by a certain hour on a certain day as it was important. I did so, and Sister Fidelma accompanied me.’

  Slowly, step by step, Eadulf began to trace the events of the last few days.

  Sigeric sat quietly. He did not intervene further but sat, head bowed, nodding as if he were asleep.

  When Eadulf finished, he glanced quickly at Fidelma, who smiled her approval at his recital. He had not left out any significant point.

  Sigeric was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.

  ‘You make claims that appear incredible and yet you present me with no solutions.’

  ‘If Sister Fidelma were allowed to conduct-’

  Sigeric interrupted with a sniff of disdain.

  ‘I have told you of my decision on the matter of keeping to our customs. I do not like words like “if”, either.’

  Eadulf was outraged. ‘Your reputation is great, lord Sigeric, but how can you justify shutting your ears to the truth simply because it comes from the mouth of a woman?’

  ‘You are impertinent, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’ The high steward glowered. ‘Perhaps you have dwelt too long among foreigners to recall your own cultural values?’

  ‘The values that concern me are beyond cultures. They are intrinsic to all peoples,’ snapped Eadulf, causing Fidelma to look at him in surprise. She had hardly seen him so angry before.

  Sigeric’s bodyguards moved uneasily forward but the old man motioned them back.

  ‘Your concern to speak up for your companion is laudable, Eadulf …’

  ‘My concern is to speak up for truth and justice,’ replied Eadulf sharply.

  ‘Whatever the purpose, there is a way of proceeding. In the first place, I need to put your version of the events to those who are concerned with them. You will be held until such time as I have done so.’

  ‘Held?’ demanded Eadulf, anger once more flushing his features.

  This time Sigeric did not stop the two warriors moving forward and interposing themselves between Fidelma and Eadulf.