The Haunted Abbot (40 page)

She paused to gather her thoughts.

‘There have been several killings within these walls and even emanating from these walls. Blood almost saturates them. That is not right for a house of religious devotion. Since coming here I have heard how the original brethren were chased out and some were executed. Brother Pol, for example, was hanged outside the gates as a heretic. We have heard that the abbot’s wife, unhappy and alone, also met her death. Some claim she met that death by her husband’s own hand, others say that she wandered into a nearby mire to meet her tragic end.

‘We have heard that local people, during the last six months, have come to expect raids on their farms and homesteads. Mul, a local farmer who is present, lost his wife and two children to the swords of these raiders.

‘Brother Eadulf’s friend, Brother Botulf, asked us to come to this place because he needed help. The morning of the day we arrived, he was murdered. Two days ago, Botulf’s cousin, one of Aldhere’s outlaws, and several more of his men were slain. The evidence indicated that they were slain by the brethren of this abbey and, indeed, Mul will tell you that the evidence at his farmstead points to the raiders’ being the religious of this abbey.’

This brought forth gasps of astonishment from many of the brethren, while the men of Aldhere and Gadra cast angry and threatening glances towards the abbey’s religious.

Fidelma held up a hand to quiet them.

‘Throughout all these troubles, the abbot claimed that he was haunted by the ghost of his wife, Gélgeis.’

‘God’s justice!’ sang out Brother Tola from the ranks of the Irish religious. ‘The shade of a wronged woman, murdered. May she haunt him to hell!’

An uneasy muttering broke out and Fidelma had to hold up her hands to still it once again.

‘So obsessed was Abbot Cild that he even accused me of conjuring this wraith that seemed to haunt the abbey grounds. Last night he came across a young woman who he thought was that shade and in his madness he struck out with a knife and slew her.’

She saw Brother Redwald sitting shivering.

‘It was her,’ he whispered, loud enough to be heard. ‘It was the lady Gélgeis. I saw her.’

Gadra had sprung up, his face contorted by anger, when the statement had been interpreted.

‘What nonsense is this?’ he demanded. ‘My daughter was murdered by Cild months ago. Who says that she was slain last night?’

‘Peace, Gadra of Maigh Eo,’ instructed Fidelma. ‘Things will be revealed but all in their time. This mystery has several strands - separate strands that, in some predestined pattern, seem to entwine and meet together in this gloomy spot. I will unravel each in turn, or make the best attempt I can. I have the word of the high steward Sigeric that no one need fear this process unless they are directly connected to treason or an unlawful death.’

Sigeric nodded from his chair.

‘I have made clear my intentions,’ he announced firmly. ‘Continue.’

‘Let us start firstly with an area in which I have some expertise. Gadra’s
troscud
. Gadra.’ She turned towards him.

The elderly chieftain from Maigh Eo rose again from his seat.

‘You know well the conditions of the ritual fast, Sister Fidelma. You will not dissuade me from it.’

‘Indeed. But you have heard that Abbot Cild is insane. The law in the text
Do Brethaibh Gaire
, which is designed to protect society from the insane, and likewise protects the insane from society, states that you cannot fast against someone who is insane.’

She had begun speaking to him in Irish while Eadulf interpreted for those who did not understand the language.

Gadra was not perturbed.

‘Should it be that Cild is proved to have gone insane - and proof is required under the law - then it does not affect the outcome of my search for justice.’

‘How so?’ replied Fidelma, knowing full well but wishing him to explain the law to the assembly.

‘Because the crime against my daughter, Gélgeis, was committed when he was sane. Therefore, he was still legally responsible and the matter of compensation for my daughter’s death is still payable.’

‘But a
dásachtarch
,’ Fidelma resorted to the legal term for an insane person subject to violent and destructive moods, ‘is not liable.’

‘No, but his kin are,’ replied the old chieftain sourly. ‘In this case, as a religieux, the community of this abbey are his kin and must recompense me for the death of my daughter. If they do not, my ritual fast becomes a fast against this abbey and I will maintain it to the death.’

Fidelma shook her head sadly.

‘Never have I seen a man pursue death so eagerly, Gadra,’ she murmured.

Aldhere arose and was smiling his usual cynically amused expression.

‘At least my brother, Cild, did one good thing, Sister. He went into the church and the church became his family. So I am absolved, under your laws, from paying compensation for his deeds.’

‘The law is as Gadra says,’ she agreed. ‘So, Gadra, you are determined to continue with the
troscud
and all that will come of it?’

Garb was on his feet in support of his father.

‘My father has said so,’ he snapped. ‘Just because the murderer now seeks asylum in the dark reaches of his mind it does not abrogate his responsibility.’

‘But what if the girl whom the abbot stabbed to death in his torment last night was Gélgeis, what then?’ Eadulf intervened, much to Fidelma’s disapproval. ‘That would mean that Gélgeis had fabricated her death some months ago and was playing some game of her own devising.’

There was a shocked silence for a moment. Then Garb chuckled.

‘If such a ridiculous claim were true, are you trying to tell us that Cild would not be responsible under law?’

Before Fidelma could intervene, Eadulf spoke again, having caught sight of her disapproving features.

‘I was hypothesising, Garb.’

An angry murmur began but Garb’s voice rang out: ‘A cruel hypothesis, when we know the facts! But I will answer. It would still mean that Cild murdered my sister whether that act took place last year or last night! Recompense would still be due.’

There was a growing unrest.

‘Is this your argument?’ intervened Sigeric. ‘Are you claiming that Gélgeis was still alive until last night and part of some plot? What was its purpose? To drive Cild insane?’

‘I intend to prove that a real person was haunting this abbey and not a ghost,’ replied Fidelma calmly. ‘What I cannot yet prove is who this person was. I believe that Cild, whether in his madness or in reality, thought that it was his wife. The next step in the process is to find out who the dead girl was.’

Sigeric looked bewildered. Fidelma continued.

‘Certainly, the abbot was seeing a person who he thought was the ghost of his wife and that encouraged his dementia,’ she explained. ‘Cild was of an abnormal mentality right from the start of his life. Aldhere was telling the truth about his brother’s fits and rages as a young man, which was why his father dispossessed him. He knew that his eldest son was insane. How that insanity began I do not know. What evil possessed him is difficult to say. A single leaf of the oak does not go brown, wither and fall on its own account. It does so with the knowledge of the whole tree. In search of that reason, we should examine Cild’s family.’

Aldhere gave a bark of laughter. ‘You’ll not find insanity in me, Sister.’

‘We will accept your word for it … for the time being.’ Fidelma smiled icily. ‘However, that does not immediately concern us. We are concerned with Cild’s behaviour. It was growing more aberrant as time went by. When he started to see what he thought was the apparition of his wife, it merely pushed him further, more quickly, into the abyss of insanity.’

Sigeric nodded appreciatively. ‘And then, when he had the opportunity, he struck out at the girl?’

‘That is so. He came across Lioba in the chapel and, in the darkness, unreason overtook him and in his fear and rage he struck her down.’ She looked around at the assembly. ‘There is one thing, however, which is the most important point.’

‘What is that?’ demanded Sigeric, when Fidelma paused.

‘Someone instigated the appearance of these apparitions. I am told that during this particular time of year, what you called Yuletide before the coming of the Christian celebrations, the dead could seek vengeance on the living. I believe that these apparitions were timed to this period. Someone meant to drive Cild insane.’

There was a sudden hush.

Slowly, Fidelma turned to where Brother Higbald was sitting. He saw her eyes resting on him, saw a faint smile at the corner of her mouth, and he returned her gaze with a frown crossing his features. After a few minutes he coughed nervously.

‘Why do you stare at me so, Sister?’ he demanded in a tight voice.

‘Lioba came into the abbey last night to meet someone by the chapel,’ she said. ‘She came to meet you, Brother Higbald.’

The apothecary’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘I do not think it, Higbald. I know it to be so. You knew Lioba well—’

‘So did many people,’ snapped the apothecary. ‘Many knew her very well. She sold her body for what she could get—’

Brother Willibrod moved with such alacrity for one of his girth and visual handicap that most people were surprised. Only Eadulf managed to reach him before the
dominus
made contact with the apothecary. He twisted his arm in a tight hold and pushed him back towards his seat.

‘Control yourself, Willibrod,’ he hissed. ‘Our aim is to get to the truth, unpalatable or not. Sit and control yourself otherwise I must eject you from these proceedings.’

When order had been restored, Fidelma resumed: ‘Lioba may well have sold her body but not to you, Higbald. With you she seemed to have a different relationship. Why was that?’

The apothecary shrugged in feigned indifference. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Let me enlighten you. You persuaded Eadulf and myself to escape from the abbey by telling us a warband was marching on the abbey. It was not true. Lioba and a band of warriors were waiting at the spot where they thought we would emerge from the tunnels. You had carefully directed us. It was thanks to Eadulf’s confusion that we emerged at another place.’

Higbald did not answer but sat scowling at her.

‘Lioba was also in your band of warriors when you came to what you thought was a rendezvous with Cild and Willibrod the other night. Cild had already left the appointed place. That was when you made the arrangement to meet Lioba in the abbey last night.’

Sigeric started forward in his chair. ‘You will have to explain this, Fidelma, because it has gone far beyond my understanding. I am not following this at all.’

‘I will now explain very clearly,’ Fidelma assured him.

At that moment the doors of the chapel crashed open and one of the brethren of the abbey came rushing in breathlessly. He was wringing his hands in an almost comical fashion.

‘It’s the abbot! The abbot has fled his chamber!’

As Sigeric struggled to call for order as the babble of reaction greeted the news, a new chaos ensued when Garb leapt from his seat shouting: ‘The beast is escaping! He shall not elude his responsibility so easily!’ Then, with several of his warriors at his heels, the young man hurried from the chapel, ignoring calls from Sigeric to stay where he was. Behind him, the religious and warriors were in disarray.

Eadulf was conscious of Fidelma’s frustration. She barely concealed her anger at the turn of events as the assembly arose beyond control. Sigeric gave up the task. With Fidelma and Eadulf following, he hurried towards the religieux standing by the chapel doors.

‘What happened?’ demanded Sigeric loudly, trying to make himself heard above the noise.

The religieux waved his hands in a fluttering, helpless gesture.

‘I am not at fault, lord …’

‘What happened?’ Sigeric thundered again in a tone that seemed to reverberate around him.

‘I was tricked,’ the man complained, in a whining voice. ‘I thought Abbot Cild had fallen asleep and so I took the opportunity to go to the
defaecatorum
but when I returned he had gone. I rushed to the gates and saw him heading off along the road on horseback. ’

‘By the wounds of Thunor!’ cried Sigeric. ‘He will be well away by now. Which way did he go?’

‘Towards Hob’s Mire.’

They rushed into the main courtyard of the chapel to see a group of Irish warriors clattering out of the courtyard on horseback, led by Garb.

Sigeric turned to Werferth, who had kept close to his side.

‘Go after them,’ he instructed sharply. ‘See that they inflict no harm on the abbot if they retake him.’

Gadra, who had joined them unnoticed with Brother Laisre, said softly: ‘My son will not inflict harm on Cild. He is under the constraint of the
troscud
. To inflict injury on the abbot now is prohibited. Sister Fidelma, tell the Saxon that what I say is true.’

‘Gadra is correct,’ she said at once. ‘Once the
troscud
is announced, no harm may be inflicted by either party until they are come to arbitration.’

Werferth had already left, urging his horse out of the abbey gates after the others.

Fidelma was shaking her head in frustration.

‘This is most vexing,’ she breathed.

Sigeric was in agreement.

‘If I remember correctly, you were about to accuse one of the brethren here …’

‘Brother Higbald, the apothecary,’ pointed out Eadulf in excitement. ‘He was involved in a conspiracy with Lioba.’

Fidelma suddenly turned round with a startled expression. She raced back into the chapel, the others on her heels. As she suspected, there was no sign of Higbald, nor of Beornwulf and a half-dozen other of the younger religious. She stamped her foot and turned quickly to Sigeric.