The Haunted Abbot (36 page)

‘Should we not discuss it first?’ Eadulf sounded almost petulant at her mystifying pronouncement.

‘When would I not discuss any matter with you?’ she countered irritably. ‘Of course we’ll discuss it. But let us start out for Mul’s farmhouse rather than stand here wasting time.’

 

Although dawn had come an hour before, the day was grey and gloomy, almost like dusk. White clouds edged with grey hung low and almost motionless in the sky. There was no hope that the pale winter sun would ever penetrate the overcast that seemed at one with the grey snow-covering that spread across the landscape. It was a melancholy vista.

Mul was leading the way on one of his mules, sitting easily astride it without benefit of saddle. Behind him came Fidelma and Eadulf on their borrowed ponies. The countryside through which they moved was like some fantastic dream landscape. The snow-covered panorama was mainly flat with little dark patches of evergreen woodland here and there and a distant grey, jagged rock summit poking sharply up in the evenness of the place, like a huge stone thrown down in the middle of the plain by the giant hand of some god. It was a bleak and wild vista and the only movement was the gush of an occasional stream across their tracks, fed by gently melting snow. The gaunt leafless trees were almost sinister as they rose in the gloomy landscape. There seemed little to distinguish the flat stretch of marshland. Apart from the occasional dark shadow of a flitting unidentifiable bird in the sky, there seemed no other animals abroad, nor any sound to distinguish them.

Mul halted his mule and swung round to watch Fidelma and Eadulf come up to him and halt.

‘Well, there is Hob’s Mire.’ He gestured with an outstretched arm. ‘You can see the lines of trees ahead. Those run by the river. That is the River Alde ahead and about a mile over there, beyond that tree-covered hill, is Aldred’s Abbey.’

Eadulf frowned slightly.

‘We are approaching the mire from the wrong direction, ’ he complained. ‘I cannot estimate where the
ignis fatuus
was situated.’

Mul grimaced cynically. ‘I am taking you the safest way into the mire,
gerefa
. If you want to kill yourselves, then that is your concern. You asked me to show you into the mire and that I will, but do not ask me to put myself in danger.’

Fidelma smiled in reassurance. ‘We would not ask you to do that. However, we do need to get our bearings. It is important that we find the exact place.’

Mul sniffed in disgust and pointed with his finger towards a bank of trees in the distance.

‘See that line? That is where a track runs which would lead you to the river bank and then along to the wooden bridge across the Alde and to the abbey. I think that is the road you say you were on last night.’

Eadulf screwed up his eyes to examine the distant terrain.

‘I think I have the position now,’ he admitted slowly. ‘See that small hill covered in trees? That is where we were last night.’

Fidelma followed his gaze.

‘So we must aim our steps in that direction. Mul, is there a path from here which would cross towards that point?’

‘Not directly, but I can take you across. It will be a tight path, though. Only room for one horse at a time. Are you willing to try it?’

She inclined her head in confirmation.

‘That, after all, is why we came to you,’ she answered gravely.

The farmer pulled a face. He glanced to Eadulf.

‘Are you ready,
gerefa
?’

‘Of course,’ Eadulf almost snapped.

‘Then follow me in single file and do not stray from where I lead with my horse. One false step and you and the horse will disappear in these treacherous mud flats. Do you understand?’

He turned his mount and set off into the white landscape. Fidelma realised that under that coating of snow lay the soft green sedges and bog holes that waited eagerly to clutch their victims and drag them down to oblivion. She leaned forward over her pony’s shoulder and kept a careful eye on the pathway which the farmer’s mule picked out for them.

Here and there, poking through the snow, were thin spikes of dying rushes, and now and then there was a strange plopping sound as a bubble of air burst through the mud from some indescribable depth, pushing upwards perhaps from the rotting remains of some animal that had been dragged under.

There was a sudden movement and something took off from a clump of reeds in front of her. She thought for a moment that it was an owl, but then she saw the brown and black streaked plumage and the green legs which were usually an effective means of camouflage to eyes less sharp than Fidelma’s. Then came a resonant booming sound.

‘A bittern!’ she exclaimed.

‘You have a good eye, Sister,’ called Mul appreciatively.

‘Do you know anything about
ignis fatuus
, Mul?’ she called back.

‘What?’

‘She means firedrake,’ called Eadulf.

‘Oh, that.’ Mul shrugged carelessly. ‘You can see firedrake quite regularly in these marshlands. Corpse fire, it is called in these parts. It’s a pale flickering light that appears on the marshland. A lot of people don’t like it but I’ve grown up on the marshes. There’s no call to be alarmed by it. You saw it last night?’

‘We did indeed,’ replied Fidelma.

‘You should have told me. If you wanted to know what it is I could have told you. No need to come all the way out here into the marsh.’

Fidelma shook her head. ‘No, it was not just the
ignis fatuus
that I wanted to see—’

Mul interrupted her. ‘You really only see it in the dark because the flame is too light to see in daylight. This will be a wasted journey.’

‘No; I need to see the ground nearby,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘But tell us, what causes it?’

‘What causes corpse fire? You know of the gases given off by animal corpses … in fact, the smell both plant and animal corpses give off when they disintegrate? The smell is the gas. Sometimes there is a spontaneous ignition and that’s when you see the light. It is the gas burning. It’s eerie and you can understand why people are sometimes afraid of it.’ He waved his hand across the flat marshes. ‘Plenty of animals have been sucked down into this mire so there are plenty of rotting corpses underneath it to create the corpse fire. Do you still want to go on?’

Fidelma looked up and measured the distance to the track which she could see they were now nearing.

‘Is it possible to work our way a little to the right?’ she asked, not answering the question directly.

Mul glanced in the direction she indicated and shrugged.

‘Yes, but stay close,’ he advised.

They moved on for a while and when Mul halted they found themselves on a large island of firm ground, a slight rise which was surrounded by the level flat area of the mire. The layer of snow barely covered the surrounding area and they could see the dark threatening mud beneath.

‘Stop!’ cried Fidelma, suddenly sliding from her pony. ‘Don’t move further.’

Mul looked at her as if she were mad.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘this place is as firm as anywhere …’

But that was not what Fidelma had meant.

She walked quickly forward and went down on one knee. The area of snow, lying more thickly here on firm ground than on the warmer mud flats, was churned up. There were prints in the hardened snow which were only just beginning to melt in the warmer air of morning.

Eadulf had dismounted and come up behind her.

‘What is it?’ he demanded.

She pointed downwards.

‘Someone stood here both on foot and then on horseback. One horse … see the prints. One person. Small footprints. What does that tell you?’

‘A small man or …’

‘A woman. They stood near the edge of the mire here. They must have known what they were doing. A false step and there would have been another corpse rotting in the mire.’

Mul was standing patiently holding the reins of their mounts.

‘I don’t understand. What are you looking for?’ he demanded.

‘I have found it,’ replied Fidelma with satisfaction, turning slightly towards him. Then to Eadulf she said:

‘This is the mystery of the so-called ghost that appeared last night. Someone obviously navigated their way here by horseback. That was the figure we all saw.’

Eadulf glanced across the mire to the knoll on which they had stayed hidden on the previous night watching Abbot Cild.

‘But how did she appear in that shimmering light? What about the firedrake? It is hard to manipulate that.’

Fidelma sniffed the air. ‘Smell that?’

Eadulf cautiously sniffed and caught a malodorous reek. He had been among the dead often enough to know the signs.

‘That is a gaseous smell of rotting corpses,’ he admitted.

Fidelma glanced at Mul. ‘What do you say, Mul? Is he right?’

The farmer looked confused by their comments.

‘There’s plenty of fuel here for the firedrake,’ he said. ‘And your sharp eyes should have picked out the flame already. See?’

He pointed in front of them.

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 she had 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.