The Haunted Abbot (11 page)

Abbot Cild blinked rapidly and then exhaled slowly. ‘That is a matter which is of no concern to you or, indeed, to anyone else.’

‘Law
is
my concern, Abbot Cild. The rituals of the law take different forms but its morality is not to be denied. If you are a victim then speak out and let Fidelma help find a way to end this ritual fasting against you. If you have to answer before the law, then let someone who knows something of this ritual of
troscud
advise you. If handled wrongly, this matter could escalate into war and much blood will be shed.’

Abbot Cild raised his head to Eadulf, his dark eyes suddenly unfathomable.

‘When or if that time comes, I will know how to protect myself,’ he said grimly.

‘That sounds like a recourse to violence. Surely that is an odd position for one in holy orders to take?’ observed Eadulf. ‘Why not protect yourself in accordance with law if, as you claim, you are innocent of any wrongdoing?’

Abbot Cild’s eyes suddenly flashed brightly and Eadulf noticed his hands gripping the edge of the table.

‘I do not have to defend myself to you.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Eadulf agreed with equanimity. ‘Tell me, did you have a wife named Gélgeis?’

There was a colour on the abbot’s cheek. He made no reply and Eadulf pressed him further.

‘Did you change your mind about the celibacy of the religious before or after you married?’

‘I married when I was …’ began Abbot Cild, off guard for a moment. Then he stopped and stared defiantly at Eadulf. ‘I have told you that it is no concern of yours. You are no longer
gerefa
at Seaxmund’s Ham.’

‘How much of the accusation of Garb was true?’ Eadulf asked calmly, ignoring Abbot Cild’s outrage.

‘Not a word of it!’

‘But you have just agreed that you married this girl, Gélgeis. I presume that she was, indeed, Garb’s sister, and the daughter of Gadra, and that you married her in the kingdom of Connacht?’

‘I do not deny that. But how do you know it was in Connacht? Garb did not mention that.’

‘Maigh Eo - the Plain of the Yew - is in Connacht.’

‘You are well informed, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ muttered the abbot.

‘You are not the only Saxon who has studied in the universities of Éireann,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Anyway, the answer to my question is that you did marry your wife according to the Law of the Fénechus?’

‘I do not deny that.’

‘And she is now dead?’

Abbot Cild’s jaw tightened and he rose from his chair.

‘She is dead. I know that for a fact. No one can prove otherwise! Do you hear me? I will not tolerate your suggestions to the contrary!’

Eadulf was astonished.

‘I have not …’ he began. Then, observing the look in Abbot Cild’s eye, he went on: ‘I am merely trying to help. It is a very serious accusation that has been levelled against you. Surely you would wish for advice from someone who knows the law under which you are accused?’

‘A foreign law which has no force in this land. If I am attacked, there is a good mediator here.’

For a moment, Eadulf was puzzled. Then he followed the abbot’s meaningful glance towards the wall nearby. On it hung a sword and a shield. It had been too dark on the previous night for Eadulf to spot the incongruous items of decoration. A warrior’s sword and shield hanging in an abbot’s chamber.

Eadulf opened his mouth to speak again but the abbot stayed him with a gesture.

‘We will speak no more of this, Brother Eadulf. And you will say nothing about this to anyone. You will not mention the … the woman you claim to have seen last night. Do you understand?’

Without waiting for a response, Abbot Cild turned and left the chamber. Eadulf stood for a moment considering the abbot’s reaction. The thought came into his mind that he had caught the abbot out in his moral stance. Could the woman he had seen be Cild’s mistress, or … his eyes widened. He had had an inspiration worthy of one of Fidelma’s deductions. Could the woman have been Cild’s wife, Gélgeis, and Cild be pretending to the rest of the world that she was dead in order to cover up the fact that he was still living with her while professing to support celibacy? Now that was an idea! Perhaps that was why her family thought that he had done away with her. He wished Fidelma was well enough to discuss the matter but he decided not to bother her. Abbot Cild was undoubtedly a sly fellow.

Eadulf was leaving the abbot’s chamber when a tall, fair-haired brother came striding along the corridor towards him. He was a pleasant-faced man of nearly thirty, his flaxen hair falling in curled ringlets from the
corona spina
, the tonsure of St Peter. He had a fair skin, bright eyes and a friendly smile. He carried himself proudly upright - almost too proudly to be a member of the religious.

‘Good morning, Brother,’ he said brightly, halting in front of Eadulf. ‘I presume that you are Brother Eadulf, the companion of Sister Fidelma?’

Eadulf inclined his head slightly. ‘You have the advantage of me, Brother.’

‘I am the apothecary of the abbey. My name is Higbald.’

Eadulf relaxed and returned his smile. ‘Have you seen Sister Fidelma?’

‘I have. A fever brought on by exposure to the harsh elements. You appear to have already prescribed all the necessary remedies. I could do nothing more for her. The sister tells me that you were trained in one of the medical schools of Éireann? They have a good reputation.’

‘I studied at Tuaim Brecáin,’ confirmed Eadulf. ‘But tell me your recommendation, Brother Higbald. Abbot Cild wants us to leave the abbey immediately.’

Brother Higbald laughed pleasantly. ‘In this inclement weather? The snow may have stopped falling, and the sun is high and shining, but the air is without any warmth. It is truly cold enough to freeze a fair-size pond. It is not the weather to go travelling. In her condition, it would not be wise at all. I will tell the abbot so.’

Eadulf gave a little sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, Brother Higbald. I am afraid Abbot Cild’s hospitality towards Fidelma leaves much to be desired.’

Brother Higbald looked sympathetic and took Eadulf’s arm in his in a confiding gesture.

‘Let us walk for a moment, Brother Eadulf.’

Eadulf allowed himself to be led along the corridor and out into a covered walkway that opened on one side to the central square, the main quadrangle around which the buildings of the abbey were clustered. It had stopped snowing, as Brother Higbald had said, but the air was chill and the snow lay thick. It was a dry, fine snow which swirled in the sharp gusts of wind.

Brother Higbald spoke in a confidential tone.

‘I will ensure, of course, that the abbot realises the situation. However, do not condemn him for his uncompromising attitude. He has been through much. It is merely his means of protecting himself.’

‘I understand that all is not well with him,’ conceded Eadulf. ‘I was here last night in the chapel.’

Brother Higbald grimaced. ‘Ah, you mean the somewhat dramatic entrance of the Irish warrior Garb? He appears to be given to dramatic gestures.’

‘You know him, then?’

‘Know is, perhaps, too strong a word. I have seen him twice, to be exact.’

‘And what times were these?’

‘The first was when he came to the abbey to speak with Abbot Cild. The second time was last night. On both occasions his appearance was dramatic.’

‘Dramatic? When did he first come to the abbey, then?’

‘You are inquisitive, Brother Eadulf.’ Brother Higbald’s look was suspicious but still edged with amusement.

‘It is my nature,’ explained Eadulf. ‘I was hereditary
gerefa
at Seaxmund’s Ham before I began to travel for the faith.’

Brother Higbald’s smile broadened.

‘A
gerefa
, eh? A legal mind as well as a medical one and both in service of the faith. An extraordinary combination, Brother. Well, the warrior Garb came to the abbey about nine days ago. I was with the abbot when he made a similarly dramatic entrance though the door. I was removed from the chamber under guard of one of his warriors. I do not know what passed between them. However, Garb departed in anger. Abbot Cild was upset for some days. Since that day I believe he has become more extreme in his moods.’

Eadulf examined Brother Higbald with some scepticism. ‘Are you saying that before Garb came here that first time, the abbot was a different person? How did this metamorphosis manifest itself?’

Brother Higbald chuckled warmly. ‘If you mean, was he jovial and good-natured and of a free and easy disposition before that day, then I have to say - absolutely not! Nature did not endow Abbot Cild with such attributes as kindliness and humour. The abbot has always been a man of extreme moods - more or less as you observe him now. I would say that he has become fearful. He has, to my knowledge, always been distrustful and somewhat illogical in his dealings with people.’

‘Garb’s charge of murder is a very serious one,’ pointed out Eadulf.

‘Accepting that, how can such a charge be made here under a foreign law?’

‘From the viewpoint of our law, it cannot,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘From the viewpoint of the law of the Brehons it can because Cild was married in Connacht under that law. So, I am told, it is serious.’

‘Fate has worked a cruel blow on the abbot.’

‘Cruel?’ queried Eadulf in surprise. ‘In what way?’

‘In respect of Brother Botulf’s death. Had he been alive, Botulf would have been able to defend Abbot Cild from these accusations.’

‘I do not follow you.’

‘I only know that Brother Botulf knew the full story about the abbot’s wife and was a witness to her death.’

‘When did she die?’ Eadulf hid his disappointment that his theory that Cild was hiding his wife from the world was so easily demolished.

Brother Higbald shook his head. ‘I should not be gossiping about the abbot.’

‘I do not ask you to gossip,’ Eadulf replied easily. ‘I asked for an answer to a question. A date, a time.’

‘Gélgeis must have died some months before I joined this community. When I came here, which was the end of the summer, Cild had already established the abbey as a fraternity of religieux in which no women would be allowed to distract our contemplations. But there are still some of the brethren who knew her. Poor Brother Botulf, of course, and Brother Willibrod. Oh, and young Redwald. From what I heard, Gélgeis was not too well liked.’

‘Was the abbot’s concern about celibacy just a reaction to his wife’s death?’

‘Who knows what motivates people in their designs?’ Brother Higbald observed with a shrug. ‘Grief is often a spur in such matters.’

‘It is certain that the abbot’s wife is dead?’ Eadulf asked, struck by a sudden thought.

‘Of course. What makes you ask such a question?’ The apothecary seemed amused.

‘I was wondering about the identity of the lady who is currently a guest in this abbey?’

Brother Higbald’s expression was slightly bewildered. ‘I presume that you are not referring to your companion … ?’

‘I am not. I mean the slim, fair-haired and richly dressed woman whom I observed in the cloisters by the chapel last night.’

The apothecary appeared to be serious for the moment. ‘Truly, Brother, as far as I know, there is no female in this abbey other than your companion.’

‘Yet I have seen her,’ Eadulf repeated firmly.

‘And you would recognise her again?’ asked Brother Higbald quickly.

Eadulf hesitated and then shrugged. ‘I am not sure.’

‘Well, would we not know if there was a woman here?’

Eadulf decided not to pursue the matter further.

‘Does anyone know how Abbot Cild’s wife came by her death?’ he asked. ‘Could it be that Garb’s accusation has some truth in it? Abbot Cild acts as though he has something to hide in this matter.’

Brother Higbald shook his head quickly. ‘There is no secret about her death. She wandered into a bog and was sucked under. My friend, granted that you were a
gerefa
, my advice to you would be that as soon as your companion is recovered in health, you should move on from here and stop asking questions. It would be unwise to take the side of Garb and seek out a mystery where there is none. If Abbot Cild does not wish to answer Garb, then surely that is his own affair?’

Eadulf returned his level, still humorous gaze for a moment. Yet there was something mysteriously serious about the smiling face of the apothecary.

‘There is a mystery here, Brother Higbald.’ Eadulf was not deterred. ‘Botulf was the friend and companion of my youth. I will not rest until I discover who killed him. I do not like leaving mysteries in my wake. Nor do I react to threats, however diplomatically articulated.’

The apothecary sighed ruefully. ‘I did not mean to sound as if I was issuing a threat. The matter is no concern of mine. I simply meant to warn you that Abbot Cild is a man of unstable temperament. He says that Botulf was killed by—’

‘I know what Abbot Cild says. Outlaws? Thieves from the marshlands? All because a Brother Wigstan claims that he saw an outlaw called Aldhere in the vicinity of the abbey not long after the body of Botulf was discovered. By the way, as apothecary, I presume you examined Botulf’s body when it was found?’

‘I did. I was in the chapel when I was sent for. The body was just outside in the courtyard. It was clear that Botulf had been struck several times about the head with a battle-axe.’

‘A battle-axe? What makes you say that?’

‘I have seen enough wounds in battle to recognise the type of injury inflicted by such a weapon.’

‘And what was the conclusion that you reached?’

‘That he had been bludgeoned to death.’

‘And why would Garb accuse the abbot of having some interest in that act? If Botulf was a witness at Gélgeis’s death, is the inference that he was killed because of something he knew?’