The Haunted Abbot (34 page)

‘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.’

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. ’

‘But if he prefers to take the side of Abbot Cild, then where will we be?’ protested Eadulf.

‘At least we have an advantage - we can get into the abbey without anyone observing us and perhaps we can get to the guests’ quarters and find this old judge before Abbot Cild is alerted.’

‘That is something of a desperate measure,’ observed Eadulf. ‘Most likely we would be seized by Cild or even Sigeric’s bodyguard and would then be unable to help ourselves, let alone help anyone else or solve the mystery.’

There came the sound of raised voices outside. Eadulf went to the door of the hut and looked out.

‘It’s Aldhere’s woman … the Frankish woman of whom I spoke to you.’

Fidelma joined him at the door.

Outside, the flaxen-haired woman had dismounted from a horse and was speaking rapidly to Aldhere. Another man was just dismounting and unloading some panniers of items which seemed to be foodstuffs. It seemed to confirm Aldhere’s story that they had been to the neighbouring town to purchase goods. Aldhere was replying to Bertha quietly and also with rapidity. Bertha intervened and as she spoke she punched the air with her fist to emphasise whatever point she was making. She turned abruptly, remounted her horse and rode away. They had been too far away for Eadulf and Fidelma to hear any of what was said.

Fidelma shrugged and returned to her seat.

‘It seems not all Saxon women are quiescent in front of their menfolk.’ She smiled thinly.

‘Bertha is a Frank,’ pointed out Eadulf.

‘A fine distinction. Anyway, I need to question our friend Wiglaf before we leave here,’ she said as Eadulf turned back into the room.

‘He said he would be returning to the camp by now,’ replied Eadulf with a frown. ‘I wonder where he is?’

‘Where who is?’ came Aldhere’s voice. He had come through the door behind Eadulf unobserved.

Fidelma was not perturbed.

‘Wiglaf. The man who brought us here.’

Aldhere’s eyes narrowed for a moment.

‘What can he tell you that I can’t?’ he demanded suspiciously.

‘Perhaps nothing. None the less, he was in personal touch with Brother Botulf at the monastery until the other night when Botulf asked to meet you.’

Aldhere nodded slowly. ‘That is correct.’

‘So he might have something to add which may be useful.’

‘Well, as you know, he is posted as a lookout but he should be returning to camp shortly. I trust you will join us in the midday meal?’

‘It will be a pleasure.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Will your Frankish friend be joining us?’

Aldhere hesitated for a moment and then smiled back. ‘Bertha has other matters to attend to for the moment, Sister. Perhaps she will join us later.’

‘And Lioba?’ asked Eadulf, with a sudden burst of mischievousness. ‘Is she often a guest here?’

Aldhere’s face reddened a little. His jaw came up defensively.

‘What do you know of Lioba?’

‘I am told that she is rather a wilful girl, well known at the abbey … and at your camp.’

Aldhere thought for a moment and then he shrugged.

‘You have a good ear for gossip, holy
gerefa
. The girl is a local peasant’s daughter who needs must make a living. She has contacts at the abbey and so she comes to my camp to supply me with news that I might not be able to gather in other ways.’

It was clear that Aldhere was not interested in amplifying the subject. Fidelma changed it, for there was something else on her mind.

‘Have you heard of rumours of attacks made by East Saxon warbands recently?’ she asked abruptly.

Aldhere smiled and looked at Eadulf.

‘Your friend, the holy
gerefa
, should be able to give you information on that. He was nearly killed by an East Saxon longship’s crew the other day.’

‘Ah, that I know about. I meant a major attack by several ships.’

Aldhere expression was one of derision.

‘Are you talking about Sigehere and his warbands? They have not the capability to invade in force. The kingdom of the East Saxons is too divided. Sigehere and Sebbi are at each other’s throats. Individual longboats may strike here and there from time to time and there have been a few attacks along the border but never a major attack. The men of Sigehere are like gnats, darting over a summer’s marshland. Pinpricks of irritation but no more. What makes you ask such a question?’

It was what she had expected to hear.

‘Someone said that there had been such an attack two days ago. I suppose they were mistaken?’

Aldhere nodded emphatically. ‘When people are fearful they imagine all manner of things. I would know of such an attack.’

‘I was wondering,’ Fidelma adopted a musing tone, ‘as you are in enmity with your own King, whether you might welcome the King of the East Saxons in this land?’

Aldhere drew himself up with an angry scowl.

‘I might be an outlaw but no traitor am I,’ he snapped. ‘From a man, those words would invite me to draw my sword.’

‘Then it is lucky that I am merely a woman,’ replied Fidelma without contriteness. ‘You see, there are those who would say it would be logical that in your anger against Ealdwulf you might turn to Sigehere.’

‘Show them to me and I will test their truth against mine with a sword blade,’ growled Aldhere.

Fidelma smiled faintly. ‘All that you would test would be who is the better swordsman. Why do you think that such stories circulate about you?’

‘I presume that such evil tales circulate because my brother spreads them. Who else would do so?’

‘So they are malicious and entirely without foundation? ’

‘You are lucky that I am of a tranquil nature, Sister,’ smiled Aldhere, without any humour in his features. ‘I have told you that I would not sell my people. Ealdwulf may one day regret that he listened to prejudice in order to outlaw me. But he is the King and my quarrel is with him within the confines of this kingdom. I might raise a body from within this land to force him to see my viewpoint but I would not consort with any outside enemy to overthrow him.’ He paused and then said: ‘Now I fear your questions have come to an end. There is bread, meat and mead. We will eat and await the coming of Wiglaf.’

Fidelma accepted this curtailment to her inquiries and they fell to a meal which was spent by Aldhere in asking questions about the countries they had seen and the attitudes of the people there. He was particularly interested about the pilgrimage Fidelma and Eadulf had made to Rome. His questions were posed with wit and acumen.

Some time passed and they realised that there was no sign of the return of Wiglaf and his men. Fidelma could see that Aldhere, in spite of his bland and genial exterior, was growing concerned. It was long past the time when Wiglaf had been expected back and finally Aldhere could no longer conceal his anxiety. He stood up and apologised to them: ‘If you will permit, I shall take a couple of my men and go in search of Wiglaf.’

Fidelma rose at once.

‘In that case, we will ride with you. The hour grows late and we have much to do also. With luck, we may meet Wiglaf on the way and I can put my few questions to him then.’

Aldhere did not object and within a short time he and two of his men, along with Fidelma and Eadulf, were striking south on horseback along the woodland trail.

They had not gone far when one of the men raised a cry.

They did not have to look hard to see the reason.

A body was stretched on the ground before them. They swiftly ascertained that it was one of Wiglaf’s men. There were two arrows embedded in the man’s chest and blood was staining the snow around him.

Another cry.

Through the trees a few yards away two more bodies were revealed. Once again, arrows showed the means of their death.

Aldhere and his men had unslung their shields and carried their swords in their hands, glancing around nervously at the surrounding woods.

A few yards more and they came across the body of Wiglaf. An arrow had transfixed his throat, another had penetrated under the breast bone. Eadulf looked down and sighed sadly.

‘A man born to hang will never drown,’ he whispered.

Fidelma looked at him in bewilderment. Eadulf shrugged. ‘That was his philosophy,’ he explained.

‘Hey!’>

They turned to where one of Aldhere’s men had dismounted and was examining one of the other men.

‘This man is still alive, thane of Bretta’s Ham,’ cried the man.

They dismounted and gathered round.

‘I know something of medicine. Let me see,’ insisted Eadulf, pushing them gently aside. One swift glance at the arrow wounds and he turned back with a quick shake of his head. The man was beyond help.

‘Who did this?’ called Aldhere softly, bending down to the man. ‘Did you see who it was?’

The dying man looked up, eyes vacant, not really seeing those bending over him. His lips were dried and bloodied. They quivered a little. No sound came.

‘Who was responsible?’ cried Aldhere, bending down close to the man’s ear. ‘Speak. Try to speak.’

The lips trembled again.

‘The … the abbot …’

There was a sigh and the man fell back.

Aldhere stood up and his face was full of anger.

‘Cild!’ he muttered.

‘Lord!’ cried one of his men, who had been examining the other bodies. He came forward and held something out.

Adhere took the object and turned it over in his hands, and then he showed Fidelma and Eadulf.

‘There is no doubt about it,’ he said softly.

The object that he held was a crucifix on a leather thong which had been snapped off.

‘Cild is responsible for this atrocity.’

Fidelma was surprised at the bitterness in his voice.

‘This hatred between you and your brother seems to run deep. More deeply than I think you are telling me.’

Aldhere’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I speak of the fact that the abbot, Abbot Cild, leads his religious brethren out, armed, in order to attack you and your followers. He slays your men without compunction. You ask me to believe that it is an enmity born of the fact that your father disinherited him in favour of you. I find it hard to understand the depth of hatred that he must feel to do this simply because of a disinheritance.’

Aldhere’s face was grim.

‘You do not know the depth of my brother’s soul, Sister. A soul filled with black hatred against everyone.’ He pointed around at the bodies that lay in the woods. ‘Do you need further evidence of his evil?’

He turned and began to issue instructions to his men to gather the bodies ready for transportation back to the encampment.

‘What will you do now?’ he demanded, turning back to Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘Do you want to stay within the protection of my camp?’

‘There is little to be done,’ muttered Fidelma with a shake of her head. ‘Wiglaf was the last person to speak with Botulf and Botulf was probably the only lead we had to discover what is really going in Aldred’s Abbey. We will press on. There is little point in remaining here with you.’

‘Do you mean that you will return to Canterbury?’ demanded Aldhere in surprise.

‘Perhaps,’ replied Fidelma shortly.

They mounted their ponies and left Aldhere and his men to their gruesome task.

They were some distance away when Eadulf said: ‘I know you, Fidelma. I am sure that you do not mean to go back to Canterbury yet.’

Fidelma grimaced.

‘Of course not,’ she pouted.

‘Then you still mean to go back to the abbey? Even after this example of Cild’s brutality?’

‘Had you any doubt of that?’

Eadulf was silent for a moment and then he shrugged. ‘I suppose not.’ He hesitated and then added: ‘You really mean to appeal for assistance to Lord Sigeric?’

‘It seems as if that is our only hope of preventing the
troscud
. If we cannot discover what happened to Gelgéis and Botulf then we must find another way of preventing Gadra’s ritual fast.’

‘Would the consequences really be as serious as you say they would?’

Fidelma looked at him and he read the answer in her face.

‘If they were not,’ she said, ‘then I would be on the road to a port looking for a ship bound for home and not spending one hour more in this wilderness of hate and war.’

Eadulf blinked at the brutality of her words. She saw his reaction and immediately felt contrite.

‘It is no good my pretending that I like this country with its customs, Eadulf. I find it a place of violent and intemperate nature. A place of extremes, aggressive, presumptuous and inconsiderate of others.’

Eadulf looked shocked. ‘You have hardly seen enough to come to that decision.’

‘Have I not?’

‘These are my people, Fidelma. Yes, they are sprung from a tradition more used to handling a sword than a plough but I know my people to be straightforward, ingenious and disposed to leadership in enterprises of danger. We are a combative people, that is true, but we are enthusiastic in our religion and our politics and at all times we are determined.’