The Haunted Abbot (8 page)

Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘I would agree with you in that the death of your friend is oppressive enough.’

‘I do not mean that. I grieve for him, but my grief must give way to resolving the manner of his death.’

Fidelma sipped her broth while examining him with some concern. ‘What else can it be but a coincidence that he had asked you to be here before midnight?’

‘Before midnight,’ repeated Eadulf with emphasis, ‘and I then find that this is the hour in which his body is to be laid to rest. A coincidence? Why did he want me to be here at that specific hour?’

‘A few discreet inquiries might tell us something,’ observed Fidelma.

Eadulf did not appear enthusiastic. ‘Much depends upon the abbot of this place as to whether I will be allowed to make those inquiries. If Brother Willibrod’s word is anything to go by, I do not think that we shall be invited to stay long.’

Fidelma sneezed again.

‘I hope that I am not going to suffer a cold from the excesses of our journey,’ she muttered. Then she added: ‘Abbot Cild seems to have little charity in his heart if Brother Willibrod presents a true picture of the man. Have you planned your further intentions if we are told to leave here?’

Eadulf shook his head. ‘We can only go on to Seaxmund’s Ham, for there is nowhere nearer to stay.’

‘Well, in truth, I shan’t be sorry to leave this place, Eadulf. I not only have a chill in my body but I have rarely encountered a place which strikes such a chill in my soul.’

At that moment there was a rap on the door and it opened to allow the one-eyed Brother Willibrod to enter. He looked fidgety and concerned.

‘Abbot Cild will see you immediately, Brother Eadulf. Will you come with me?’

Eadulf glanced apologetically to Fidelma. She did not even look at him but sat hunched by the fire nursing the hot drink in both hands.

Eadulf followed Brother Willibrod through the dark brick-built corridors of the abbey until the
dominus
halted before a heavy oak door and knocked upon it in a discreet manner. A voice barked an order from inside and Brother Willibrod threw open the door, stood aside and motioned Eadulf to enter. When he did so, the door was closed silently behind him with Brother Willibrod waiting outside.

The abbot sat at the far end of a long oak table on which two ornate candlesticks bore tallow candles which fluttered and hissed, sending out a curious light in the darkness of the chamber. He gave the impression of a tall man, seated upright in a carved oak chair, his hands placed palm downwards on the table as he gazed before him with dark eyes.

The abbot’s face was long, pale of skin and with sharp, etched features. The forehead was high-domed and surrounded by long, dark hair. It was a face filled with a strength of purpose that Eadulf found unusual in a religious, although such features were often found in warriors. His nose was thin and had a high bridge and strangely arched nostrils. The dark eyes seemed to reflect the light of the flickering candles, causing them to glow with some red aura. The effect was threatening. The thin mouth was fixed and cruel.

‘I am told that you are an emissary from Theodore, the new archbishop of Canterbury, that you are also hereditary
gerefa
of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

‘I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

‘This does not allow you to maintain special privileges. At least not in my abbey. You do not appear to have informed Brother Willibrod that your rank of
gerefa
was lost the moment you took your vows as a religieux.’

‘Perhaps Brother Willibrod assumed too much. I did use the word “was”,’ Eadulf replied spiritedly. ‘As for special privileges? I do not understand.’

‘To bring a woman into this abbey. To persuade my
dominus
to defy my cardinal rule. We are a closed house to womenkind.’ The abbot’s voice was sharp.

Eadulf coloured hotly. ‘My travelling companion is Fidelma of Cashel, sister to the King of Muman and a famed lawyer in her own land.’

‘She is not in her own land and this is my abbey where I set the rules.’

‘If you glance through the window you will see that the weather makes it impossible for anyone to continue on a journey this night,’ Eadulf snapped back.

The abbot was not put out by Eadulf’s attitude.

‘You should not have attempted any journey in the first place without being assured of a welcome,’ he replied with equal firmness.

‘Forgive me. I thought that in coming to a Christian house I would find Christian charity,’ Eadulf replied sarcastically. ‘This is my own country, my own people, and the steward of this abbey was a friend with whom I had grown up. I did not expect to find a Christian house that displays an inflexible, uncompassionate and mean-spirited rule.’

The abbot regarded him without any change of expression. He did not respond to the insult.

‘You have been away some time, I am told. You will find many things changed in this land. This abbey, for example, is now under my rule,
mutatis mutandis
.’

‘Things having been changed that had to be changed?’ Eadulf turned the Latin saying into a question. ‘So compassion had to be excluded from this place?’

The abbot ignored the interjection. ‘I will show Christ’s generosity this night. But tomorrow morning, after Matins, you and the woman will leave this place. In the meantime, she must not move from the chamber in which she has been placed. You, Brother Eadulf, may attend services in our chapel.’

Eadulf swallowed angrily. ‘I must protest that—’

‘The woman will not be allowed to stay longer and set my rules at naught. Now, I demand to know what business brings you here. Do you have messages from Archbishop Theodore for me?’

Eadulf ground his teeth to control his anger.

‘Not for you. No,’ he replied with malicious sharpness.

The imperturbable features of the abbot did not flicker. However, his voice rose sharply again.

‘Then why did you come here? You gave my
dominus
to believe—’

‘I gave him to believe nothing. I merely told him who I was. I came to see my friend, Brother Botulf.’

For the first time the abbot’s eyes widened slightly. ‘And that is all?’

‘Should there be anything else?’

There was a pause. Eadulf noticed a tiny pulse throbbing in the abbot’s temple. He wondered at the man’s state of nerves.

‘Are you saying that you brought a message from Canterbury to my steward? Is that the reason why you have come here?’

‘I have nothing further to tell you,’ replied Eadulf, feeling irritated by the interrogation.

‘I have been told that you have seen the body of Brother Botulf. If that is all, you may leave tomorrow morning with your purpose achieved.’

‘My purpose achieved?’ For a moment Eadulf found himself speechless. Then he fought to control himself again. Truly, this man was insufferable. Eadulf’s voice became tinged with an icy hardness. ‘My purpose now is to find out who killed my friend and to ensure that the culprit is brought to justice.’

Abbot Cild’s eyelids lowered slowly, paused, and then rose. It reminded Eadulf of a hawk hooding its eyes before a kill. A faint smile now seemed to hover on those thin lips. It was, the thought came to Eadulf, like moonlight glinting on a tombstone. There was no feeling in the abbot’s voice other than that tone which implied a sinister threat. Eadulf shivered slightly as the hairs tingled for a moment on the nape of his neck.

‘I can tell you that the outlaw Aldhere, a marsh dweller, is to blame. And tomorrow at midday I shall take some of our brethren and go into the marshes and hunt him down like the dog that he is. If we catch him then we shall hang him. Now your purpose is achieved and you will quit this abbey as I have requested. I hope that I have made myself clear, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham?’ Abbot Cild rose leisurely in one smooth movement, reminding Eadulf of the way he had seen a snake uncoil itself after basking in the sun.

‘Is there to be a trial of this man Aldhere?’ he ventured, trying to quell the feeling of dread which the abbot seemed to have no trouble in conjuring in him.

‘A trial? What need is there for a trial? Aldhere is a murderer. Trials are not for such as him.’

‘What was the motive and where is the evidence?’ demanded Eadulf, determined not to be put off.

‘The motive is theft and the evidence is that Aldhere was seen leaving the abbey shortly after the body of Botulf was discovered.’

‘Who saw Aldhere?’

Abbot Cild let out a hiss of annoyance. ‘You try my patience too far, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Now be gone. I have a burial to prepare for.’

He waved his hand in dismissal and Eadulf, in spite of protests, found himself standing outside the abbot’s door, so forceful a personality was Cild’s.

Brother Willibrod awaited him.

‘I presume that you will attend the funeral ceremony?’ he asked.

Eadulf nodded moodily.

‘Is it clearly understood that the foreign woman will not be allowed to attend services in this abbey?’ added the
dominus
. ‘I have strict instructions from the abbot.’

Eadulf, still angered by his meeting with Abbot Cild, did not respond to the question.

‘What is the evidence against this outlaw, Aldhere?’ he demanded. ‘He was seen near the abbey but what ties him to the death of Botulf?’

Brother Willibrod took a moment to adjust to the change of subject and then shrugged.

‘Do you doubt Abbot Cild’s word that he was seen?’

‘So far, I have heard nothing to make me accept or reject Abbot Cild’s word. I have no doubt that he means to hang this man, Aldhere. However, before a man’s life is forfeit it is customary to demand evidence. The abbot tells me that the motive was theft, yet I understand nothing was taken. I am told that someone saw Aldhere leaving the abbey but not who it was. Was it this Brother Osred? The one you told me discovered Botulf’s body?’

Brother Willibrod smiled grimly. ‘You have been away among strangers too long, Brother. You have forgotten that here we live among animals. Kill or be killed. If a man covets another’s land or his wife, and he is strong, then he will take what he wants. The weak will always lose.’

‘The faith has reformed our pagan ways,’ protested Eadulf.

‘Only if we have allowed it to. For some, it is impossible to change.
Naturam expelles furca tamen usque recurret
.’

‘You may drive nature out with a pitchfork, but it will still return,’ translated Eadulf, showing that he had understood.

‘Our faith may alter but not our ways.’

‘You are supposed to follow the way of Christ.’

‘Only if we live long enough to do so. Those without the law, such as Aldhere, would not have this abbey survive. He is a mad dog.’

‘So the dog has a bad name and thus he will be hanged? His guilt or innocence is of no consequence?’

‘If he is not guilty of this act then he is guilty of some other. What difference does it make?’

Eadulf was concerned that his friend’s killer should be found and punished, but any suspect should be tried under law. Eadulf vowed to himself that if the Abbot did indeed lead a hunting party into the marshes the next day, he would accompany them to see that justice was done. Justice, not blind vengeance.

‘And so by such logic we reach paradise?’ he protested sharply. ‘Come,
dominus
, I would like to see the person who appears to be the only witness in the case of Brother Botulf’s murder. This is a matter far too grave to be judged by prejudice. A mistake will reflect ill on this abbey and on anyone who has a hand in any event which may lead to a miscarriage of justice.’

Brother Willibrod still hesitated a moment before finally relenting.

‘Brother Wigstan was the person who saw Aldhere. He will be at the funeral service tonight. Will you be able to find your way back to the guests’ quarters from here?’

Eadulf nodded and Brother Willibrod turned abruptly and left at his usual rapid pace.

When Eadulf returned to the guests’ quarters he went immediately to Fidelma’s room and found her in the middle of a coughing fit. He brought her some water. She peered up with reddened eyes.

‘Oh, for a good Irish sweat bath,’ she muttered. ‘A sore throat, sneezing and a cough … all because of this awful climate. I have never known weather so cold anywhere.’

‘It is because the country is low lying,’ offered Eadulf in explanation. ‘There is nothing to protect us from the cold northerly winds from the sea. No tall hills nor mountains shield us.’

‘So the result is that I have to suffer a cold.’

Eadulf had studied medicine at the great Irish medical school of Tuaim Brecáin and was already searching one of his bags.

‘We have a fire and thus a means of heating water, and while we have these things all is not lost.’ He smiled confidently. ‘I will prepare an infusion of elderflowers and woodbine and stir in a little of the honey that I carry. You will soon be well.’

As he set to preparing his mixture, Eadulf told her of his meeting with Abbot Cild. Fidelma listened attentively, asking one or two questions to clarify points.

‘It seems that he is exactly as Brother Willibrod painted him,’ she murmured at the end of his recital.

‘He brings shame on the faith.’

‘He brings shame only on himself,’ replied Fidelma. ‘A man of such shabby arrogance brings derision only on himself, not on the faith. Let us hope I will be well enough to travel tomorrow morning. But as for tonight, I intend to retire. I am sorry that I shall miss the funeral of your friend, Eadulf.’

Eadulf shrugged. He did not bother to inform her that she would not have been allowed into the chapel in any case.

‘You cannot help Botulf. It is now more important that you recover your health. I have prepared enough of this infusion for you to sip through the night. Do not swallow it in large draughts, only small sips. Remember that.’ With a preoccupied smile, he turned for the door.