The Haunted Abbot (41 page)

‘How many warriors do you have left here to rely on?’

Sigeric was startled.

‘Werferth has just gone after the Irish. I only have three men left and my coachman, who is no warrior. What danger is there that you need warriors?’

She ignored the question and turned to Gadra.

‘And you? How many warriors?’

‘Two men, my personal bodyguard. My son has taken the rest. What troubles you, Sister Fidelma?’

‘Higbald,’ replied Fidelma. ‘He intends to trouble all of us. He is a warrior of Mercia and so are six, at least, of the young men who have gone with him, including Beornwulf.’

Sigeric was bewildered.

‘I don’t understand. What are Mercian warriors doing in this abbey?’

Fidelma compressed her lips momentarily.

‘It is easy to explain. Your neighbour, Wulfhere of Mercia, is trying to reassert the power of his kingdom. Higbald was sent here with some of his warriors because Mercia had heard of the dissensions between Cild and Aldhere. He came here to incite violence and increase the tension so that King Ealdwulf would have to intervene with force …’

‘Which is precisely what he is thinking of doing,’ agreed Sigeric. ‘That is why I was sent here, to answer Botulf and give Cild and Aldhere warning that if the violence did not end then Ealdwulf would end it.’

‘Higbald and his men came to this abbey pretending to be religious. It was a good disguise and the abbey a good base from which to stir up unrest. As it is an old fortress, they were able to keep their weapons in one of the disused chambers below the abbey. There are several chambers and passageways there. Botulf had discovered this but he was killed by Higbald or one of his men before he could reveal it. His body was found outside the crypt door.’

Sigeric was still puzzled.

‘Are you saying that Botulf brought you to the abbey because of this?’

‘His discovery of Higbald’s hidden armoury was coincidental,’ explained Fidelma. ‘He had called Eadulf here simply because of the
troscud
.’

‘So when you were about to accuse Higbald of conspiracy with Lioba, this was where your accusations were leading?’ asked Sigeric.

‘I was hoping to make Higbald admit the conspiracy,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘The proof seems to be in his flight. When several of Aldhere’s men were slaughtered two days ago, evidence was planted with the bodies to show that it was the religious of this abbey who were responsible. Higbald had conducted several raids in the surrounding area, each time leaving evidence to incriminate either Cild and his men or Aldhere and his men. Finally, in one last act to incite King Ealdwulf to march to this region with a small force to attack Aldhere, Higbald planned to slaughter Abbot Cild and some of the brethren. He lured them with a message to a spot near here, where he intended to ambush them. As fortune had it, Abbot Cild thought he saw the ghost of his wife on the marsh and fled before Higbald came along. When Higbald arrived, Lioba was riding with him.’

‘How do you know this?’ asked Sigeric.

‘Because we were there, under cover, watching the event transpire.’

‘And what are you saying that the purpose of these slaughters was?’

‘To ensure that the people remained at each other’s throats. Above all, as I said, to entice King Ealdwulf to come to this area with a small force, large enough to attack Aldhere but not large enough to withstand an ambush which would have been prepared using Wulfhere’s main army from Mercia. King Ealdwulf would have been killed and Mercia would have taken over the kingdom.’

‘You will have to prove this,’ Sigeric said heavily.

‘I will. But now Higbald and his men have gone for their arms, we might be in danger.’

Sigeric realised why Fidelma was now anxious about the number of warriors they could rely on. He glanced quickly across to Gadra.

‘Well, Gadra, will your men join me in defending this place against Higbald?’

The old chieftain shook his head when Brother Laisre interpreted the request. His face wore a stubborn expression.

‘This quarrel with Mercia is no quarrel of mine. My quarrel is with Abbot Cild.’

Sigeric’s face fell.

‘I am with you!’ cried Mul the farmer, who was now brandishing a wicked-looking sickle.

‘You have not asked me,’ intervened Aldhere, who had been standing nearby. ‘I have half a dozen men with me. If it was Higbald who slaughtered Wiglaf and my men the other day then I owe him a debt that must be settled in blood.’

‘I cannot use outlaws …’ protested Sigeric.

‘There is no time to quibble, Sigeric,’ Fidelma advised sharply. ‘We must find Higbald before he finds us.’

The old man hesitated a moment and then shrugged.

‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ he muttered. ‘We’ll search the abbey. Where first?’

‘The chamber where they hid their weapons,’ Eadulf suggested immediately. ‘They will have gone there to get their armour.’

Gadra and his followers, with the rest of the religious, remained in the chapel. Fidelma and Eadulf led the way to the guests’ chambers and through the tunnel. They realised that there must be an entrance through the crypt but Higbald might have prepared an ambush for them on that direct route. With Sigeric and his men, and Aldhere and some of his warriors, pressing after them, they made their way cautiously along the tunnels. The chamber was lit but empty. However, it was clear that Higbald and his men had been there and taken what equipment they could. Discarded items lay scattered on the floor. Eadulf pointed out the Mercian emblems to Sigeric.

‘Have they gone back to attack the abbey?’ Aldhere asked.

‘I don’t think so, at least not yet,’ Fidelma said. ‘Higbald has only half a dozen men and he is probably not sure how many we can rely on. I think he will withdraw to consider his next move.’

Aldhere laughed grimly.

‘Then I’ll go after him. He’ll not get far.’

Fidelma surprised him by firmly shaking her head.

‘Not yet, Aldhere. He might have anticipated that and be waiting in ambush. From what I’ve seen, he had good archers among his men. Wiglaf found that out the hard way. We should make ourselves secure, that is all. Besides, we are still in the middle of bringing the story of these mysteries at Aldred’s Abbey to a conclusion. If we defend ourselves from a surprise attack we may then conclude our deliberations in the chapel.’

The outlaw shrugged nonchalantly.

‘Whatever you say, Sister. The sooner this charade is ended the better. From what Sigeric has already said, it will do me no good. I am judged guilty no matter how this affair turns out.’

Sigeric did not respond to his gibe. They made their way back to the main quadrangle of the abbey in silence. As they reached it, Garb and his men, together with Werferth, came riding back through the gate. Their faces were grim and there was no sign of Abbot Cild, only a single riderless horse.

Garb addressed himself directly to Fidelma.

‘The abbot is dead,’ he said flatly.

When Fidelma translated, Aldhere gave a strange sound, like a sharp bark. But he said no more.

‘What happened?’ demanded Sigeric threateningly. ‘Did any of your men lay a hand on him? I thought you said that such a thing would not happen under your law?’

‘My men laid no hand on him,’ snapped Garb.

Werferth had dismounted and came with confirmation of the facts.

‘Lord Sigeric,’ he said, ‘we rode after the abbot, who made for the marshlands near here. We had no chance of catching up with him. He came to the marsh, flung himself from his horse and leapt into a bog.’ The man shrugged. ‘He had gone under by the time we reached it. There was nothing we could do.’

Sigeric exhaled in a long, deep sigh.

‘Then Abbot Cild is dead by his own hand?’

‘Sunk into the bog, lord. No other man was involved in his death.’

‘Exactly as Gélgeis met her end,’ said Garb. ‘He has gone to join her in the shifting mud of the marsh.’

‘Hob’s Mire. A fitting end. A fitting end.’ It was the mournful voice of the
dominus
, Brother Willibrod, who had joined them unnoticed.

‘An end too easy for a murderer,’ replied Garb. ‘I will report this to my father.’

He turned and strode into the chapel, followed by his companions.

Fidelma turned to Werferth.

‘Are you sure that Cild has met his end in the marshlands? There is no possibility that he could have escaped from the bog?’

The warrior glanced nervously at Sigeric, as if waiting for his permission to respond to her. Then he inclined his head.

‘I swear to it. I was a witness. There was nothing that could be done. I saw him jump into the mire and by the time the foreigner and I reached the spot there were but bubbles on the surface.’

‘Very well,’ said Sigeric. ‘You are a good tracker, Werferth. The men will remain here, but see if you can follow the tracks of half a dozen riders who have recently left here. You should pick up their trail from the back of the abbey. They are Mercian warriors. Higbald leads them. I want to know where they are or in what direction they have gone. Be absolutely vigilant. They might be waiting in ambush or they might be planning an attack on the abbey.’

If Werferth was surprised, he did not show it, but went quickly to his horse and left through the abbey gates.

Aldhere was now standing with a forced smile on his lips. He seemed to have made a quick recovery from the news of his brother’s suicide.

‘So Cild has met a fitting end, eh? In which case, there is no need for my men and me to stay.’

Fidelma eyed him coldly. ‘On the contrary, as I said before, there is every need. We have yet to finish summing up this mystery. Please, go back to the chapel.’

He shrugged but did not argue with her orders.

Fidelma, Eadulf and Sigeric walked slowly after him.

‘Does Cild’s death end the threat of this
troscud
by Gadra?’ asked Eadulf.

‘No. But the truth must come out even though it is unpalatable to him,’ replied Fidelma inscrutably.

They entered the chapel and took up their positions. There was a restlessness among the assembly that had not been there before. Gadra and his followers were talking among themselves.

‘Gadra!’ cried Fidelma, stilling their murmurs. ‘You have heard that Abbot Cild has taken his own life, plunging into the bog in his insanity. Do you now call off your
troscud
?’

Gadra stood up. ‘While the news is greeted as a just and fitting end to a base and evil life, I am still left without a daughter. I have told you before that if Cild was unable to compensate me for her honour price then his family, that is this abbey, is responsible. The
troscud
goes on until I am recompensed for the loss of my daughter.’

Fidelma sighed softly.

‘You are a hard man, Gadra.’

‘I am Gadra of the Uí Briúin, chieftain of Maigh Eo!’ he replied with dignity.

‘So be it.’ Fidelma paused. ‘I said, when I started, that I would take matters step by step. Lord Sigeric, will you lead the way to the crypt where the body of the girl slaughtered by Abbot Cild has been laid out?’

The old man rose, his features expressing his perplexity, but he had long since given up any hope of following Fidelma’s argument.

‘Gadra, Garb - I want you both to accompany us. Also, I want you, Brother Willibrod, and you, Brother Redwald, to come. You all knew Gélgeis and the girl called Lioba.’

Eadulf was instructed to see that no one left the chapel in their absence.

In grim procession they proceeded down the short flight of steps to the crypt. On a stone slab, the girl’s body had been laid out ready for burial.

Gadra and Garb gave a gasp as they saw her red hair and slim pale figure.

‘By the …’ began Gadra, moving quickly forward, and then he sighed, shaking his head. ‘There is a superficial resemblance, Fidelma, but you are wrong if you thought that this was my daughter. I do not know who this poor girl was but I know that it is not Gélgeis.’

Brother Redwald, at Fidelma’s firm prompting, bent forward and his face was crimson.

‘Well?’ she pressed him. ‘What have you to say?’

The boy look anguished.

‘In the shadows, I swore … she does look so like. Maybe I imagined the likeness when she was leaning over you in the chamber.’

‘But this is not Gélgeis as you remember her?’

The boy shook his head.

Fidelma swung round to Brother Willibrod.

‘But you can confirm that it is Lioba, can’t you?’

Brother Willibrod was doing his best to control his features and stop his lips trembling. He nodded. Then he gave a long sob.

‘That is Lioba. There was never any question of its being Gélgeis. I loved Lioba. Now let us be gone from this place and I will tell you what you want to know.’

Back in the chapel, Fidelma explained.

‘The girl is not Gélgeis but a local girl called Lioba who bears a superficial resemblance to Gélgeis,’ she announced. She turned to Brother Willibrod. ‘Do you confirm this?’

He stood with his head hung low as everyone resumed their seats.

‘Several in this abbey knew Lioba. She was the daughter of a farmer up in the hills behind the abbey while her mother had been a slave taken in a raid on the shores of Éireann.’

‘She spoke both languages?’ queried Eadulf. ‘Irish as well as Saxon?’

Brother Willibrod nodded.

‘And you were her lover? You disobeyed the rule of celibacy that Abbot Cild was trying to enforce?’

Again the
dominus
hung his head and nodded.

‘How often did Lioba come to the abbey?’ went on Eadulf after Fidelma had indicated that he should continue with his questions.

‘Come to the abbey?’ Brother Willibrod shrugged. ‘Now and again. Not often. But I used to meet her at her father’s hut, some way from here in the woods.’