The Haunted Abbot

Chapter Nine

As Eadulf was leaving the abbot’s chambers he encountered the flaxen-haired Brother Higbald, the abbey’s apothecary. Higbald greeted him in a concerned but friendly fashion, still wearing the bright and humorous appearance he had that morning. Humour seemed a natural attitude to him. He had that ease of manner which reminded Eadulf of Aldhere’s jocular attitude to the world.

‘So, Brother Eadulf, you have heard that mass hysteria has taken over our poor community?’

Eadulf halted, frowning. It took him a moment to realise what the apothecary was referring to. His eyes lighted.

‘Then you do not believe in this ghostly apparition?’

Brother Higbald shook his head. If anything it seemed his smile broadened.

‘I cannot believe we have a wraith or phantom wafting through these dismal corridors. I believe that young Redwald was imagining things. Yet I have to point out that it was you who first raised the image of a woman who, by poor Brother Willibrod’s account, bore a striking resemblance to the dead wife of the abbot. Perhaps young Redwald overheard you talking about the matter and then, with an overfull imagination, he embroidered something he saw in the shadows. That’s all.’

Eadulf put his head to one side reflectively.

‘That is a possibility, though I have spoken to young Redwald and his fear is genuine enough.’

‘It might well be. It is possible to convince yourself that you have seen something when you have not. Youth is impressionable.’

Eadulf smiled grimly. ‘Granted that is so. Can the same explanation be ascribed to my sighting of the lady?’

Brother Higbald chuckled. ‘I do not know you, Brother, and therefore I cannot say. All I know is — as I told you this morning- we are a small community and I would know if there was a woman in this place.’

‘But would you know if it were a shadow, an image from the Otherworld?’ demanded Eadulf.

Brother Higbald shook his head firmly. ‘You do not believe in such things, my friend. Neither do I.’

‘Unfortunately, your abbot and many of the brethren here do.’

‘That is a difficulty, I know. In fact, I was just on my way to see how Sister Fidelma is faring. I’ll accompany you, if I may?’

‘She has fallen into a fever,’ Eadulf said as they walked together along the corridor.

Brother Higbald did not appear perturbed.

‘It is usually the way with such agues. The fever comes and must break naturally, although we can help with some medication. Usually, the fever breaks in the early hours of the morning. There is nothing we can do but wait.’ Higbald paused and glanced at him. ‘Where did you disappear to this morning?’

‘I rode out after Abbot Cild and his party,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I did not catch up with them, but I caught up with the abbot’s brother.’

Brother Higbald halted almost in mid-stride and stared at Eadulf.

‘You met and spoke to Aldhere?’

Eadulf nodded. ‘An interesting man. Not quite as the abbot would describe him. There seem some interesting undercurrents here. If I had my way, I would turn the matter over to the King’s high steward to investigate.’

Brother Higbald resumed the walk and Eadulf fell in with him.

‘I try to avoid fraternal strife. But you are aware of where Abbot Cild’s accusation against Sister Fidelma may lead?’

Eadulf nodded grimly.

‘Would you accept some advice?’ Brother Higbald asked.

Eadulf gave him a curious glance. ‘Advice?’

‘As soon as your companion’s fever has broken, I would leave this place.’

Eadulf sighed with resignation. ‘I think that is exactly what you counselled me this morning.’

‘It is the best advice I can give,’ replied Brother Higbald. ‘I will show you a means through which you may pass out of the abbey unnoticed; one which is not generally known to the brethren. With luck, you could escape Cild’s wrath with ease. I, for one, do not want innocent blood on my hands.’

Eadulf glanced at him in surprise.

‘If you are so sceptical of your abbot, why do you stay here, Brother Higbald?’

The apothecary chuckled dryly.

‘We all have reasons for being where we are in life. I choose here. My reasons are of no consequence to this matter.’

A thought suddenly struck Eadulf.

‘Didn’t you tell me this morning that Brother Botulf had been a witness to the lady Gélgeis’s death? I have heard that she was returning alone to the abbey one night and wandered into a quagmire, Hob’s Mire, and disappeared. No one saw the body afterwards. So who told you that Botulf was a witness to her death?’

Brother Higbald paused again and turned to Eadulf. There was a frown on his face.

‘I never heard that she was alone when she met her death,’ he said with some hesitation. ‘Indeed, I think that it was Brother Botulf himself who told me the story.’

‘Tell me what Botulf actually said. Can you remember?’

Brother Higbald thought for a moment.

‘It was several months ago. The subject of the abbot’s wife came up, I can’t recall why. Brother Botulf said … oh, something about failing the lady. That it was his fault that she was killed. Something like that. That … ah, I recall now! Botulf said that he had failed to protect Gélgeis from the evil she had found here. That her face, in death, haunted him. Then … that was all. He ended the conversation abruptly.’

Eadulf was silent for a moment or so, reflecting on the words. He could find nothing substantial in them but much to give him food for conjecture. He sighed softly.

They had reached the guests’ chamber but the burly silent brother still stood guard outside. Eadulf had realised by this time that the man was a mute.

Brother Higbald greeted him with mockery in his voice.

‘How is your prisoner, Brother Beornwulf? Has she tried to escape and overpower you with the forces of the Evil One?’

Brother Beornwulf shifted his weight from one foot to the other and scowled at the jocular apothecary.

‘I know, I know,’ Brother Higbald said pacifically, patting him on the arm. ‘You do what you are told. The abbot told you to remain here and so you remain here until he tells you not to.’ He shook his head at Eadulf. ‘It is good to know one’s place and duty,’ he said, still smiling. Then he opened the door to the guests’ chamber and went inside, motioning Eadulf to follow him. As he closed the door he turned and grimaced at Eadulf. ‘A good strong arm is Brother Beornwulf. But what he possesses in strength, he lacks in mental agility. He does what he is told. No more, no less.’

Fidelma still lay in the cot, huddled under blankets, and still in the grip of the fever.

Brother Higbald felt her moist forehead with the back of his hand. She moaned softly but did not open her eyes.

‘Ah, febricula incipit — still feverish. There is no change as yet, Brother Eadulf,’ he said. ‘That is to be expected. You understand these things, don’t you?’

Eadulf nodded. ‘I would prescribe something to help her fight the fever and reduce it, though.’

‘I agree. What would you suggest?’

‘An infusion of wormwood, catnep …?’

‘I would suggest devil’s bit,’ replied Brother Higbald firmly.

‘Equally good,’ agreed Eadulf.

Brother Higbald took the small sack-like bag he carried over his shoulder. ‘It so happens that I have already made up a potion of it.’

Eadulf took the miniature amphora that the apothecary gave him, unplugged the cork and smelt the contents. Then he nodded.

‘Shall I administer it?’ he asked.

Brother Higbald indicated his assent.

Eadulf carefully placed his hand behind Fidelma’s hot, perspiration-soaked head and lifted her up. She groaned in protest but Eadulf placed the small amphora at her lips, gently forcing them open and making the liquid trickle into her mouth.

‘A good swallow or two,’ instructed Brother Higbald.

Eadulf painstakingly administrated the dosage.

‘You may give her another dose later if the fever is not abating. But she is a strong, healthy woman. I think that is something we should be thankful for.’

Eadulf put the amphora on a side table.

‘Now we must wait,’ Brother Higbald said approvingly. ‘I will leave you to your watch, my friend, but I earnestly believe that you should take my advice and leave this place at the first opportunity.’

He crossed the room rapidly to a wall where a large tapestry denoting some religious scene was hanging. He turned and looked about him with a conspiratorial air.

‘Behind here you will find a small passageway which will lead you outside the walls of the abbey. Remember it.’

He pulled the drape aside. To Eadulf’s surprise, there was a small doorway behind it. It opened inwards and was not locked. Brother Higbald opened it and pointed through into the darkness.

‘Following the passage, take the first two left turnings and then the first right. Remember that. Two left turns and one right. The abbey has several such tunnels, for it was built on an old Welisc fortress that was overthrown by Tytila, son of Wuffa, when our people conquered this area.’

‘I’ll remember that, Brother Higbald, and your advice, for which I am most truly grateful.’

The apothecary said nothing but shut the door and returned the tapestry to its original position. Then he smiled briefly and raised a hand in a gesture of farewell before leaving the chamber. Eadulf heard him speaking to Brother Beornwulf outside. He hesitated for a moment and went to look down at Fidelma. Then he crossed to sit in the chair near the hearth.

He suddenly realised how tired he was. It had been a long day. He had ridden far on muleback and ached all over. He sat back, hands resting his lap, and closed his eyes.

The events of the day revolved slowly in his mind and he tried desperately to connect them.

Above all, the danger to Fidelma kept nagging at his thoughts. She lay on the bed before him oblivious of that danger, fightingthe more immediate threat of her fever. His first duty was to protect her. Brother Higbald had, at least, shown him an alternative to waiting for Abbot Cild’s inquisition. But flight from Aldred’s Abbey was surely the last resort?

What had he learnt of this mystery? He had been summoned by his good friend to the abbey. That friend had been murdered hours before he arrived. He found the abbot and his blood brother locked in a deadly quarrel and the abbot blaming that brother, Aldhere, for Botulf’s murder. In return, Aldhere accused his brother, the abbot, of the murder. In addition, Garb, from Maigh Eo in the kingdom of Connacht, had appeared to accuse the abbot of the murder of his wife, Gélgeis, who had been Garb’s sister. A ritual fast against the abbot had been announced. The facts of Gélgeis’s death seemed unclear. A woman had been seen in the abbey, by both Eadulf and young Redwald. Brother Redwald claimed the woman was the dead Gélgeis. And now the most ominous fact of all — Fidelma was accused of conjuring the spirits of the dead.

Eadulf could have dismissed Brother Redwald’s tale of seeing the ghost of Gélgeis as some hysterical reaction of youth. However, he was unable to reconcile the fact that he, too, had seen a woman outside the chapel on the previous night. Both Abbot Cild and Brother Willibrod had appeared to recognise his description. It was evident that both men thought that Eadulf was describing Gélgeis, the dead wife of the abbot.

Eadulf groaned slightly and shook his head.

Nothing seemed to have a logic to it; nothing made sense. It was at that moment that he suddenly remembered the piece of paper he had taken from the book satchel in Brother Botulf’s chamber. He fumbled with the sacculus hanging on his belt and took the paper out, spreading it on his knee. It consisted of a few notes in Latin and Eadulf recognised the firm hand of his friend Botulf.

The first sentence Eadulf saw was from the Book of Samuel. ‘The Lord sees not as a man sees; for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’

Eadulf frowned. There seemed something familiar about this admonition and he could not recall why.

The next line he did not recognise but Botulf had written thename Lucretius beside it: ‘Whenever a thing changes and quits its proper limits, this change is at once the death of that which was before.’ Then added and underscored: ‘The change is definite — how long before the death?’

Then there followed a passage almost revealing but totally perplexing. ‘God willing, my friend will be here soon. Is it not written that mercy is the support of justice? Not so in the man of Merce. We will be destroyed by the people of the …’ Eadulf paused, trying to make out the word, which was distorted by an ink blot. It looked like ‘marshes’. He thought of Aldhere and his marshland outlaws and shivered slightly. ‘God willing, my friend will be here soon.’ It could only be a reference to Botulf’s wait for Eadulf’s arrival, and he had arrived too late to help his friend.

The final note was also curious and again Brother Botulf had noted its provenance. ‘Can a man carry fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk upon hot coals, and his feet not be scorched? Proverbs.’ Added was the line: ‘Thus is it with Bretta’s son.’

Eadulf sat back frowning and trying to make sense of these notes by his dead friend. What was going on in Botulf’s mind? The only thing that made some sense was the comment about Bretta’s son. As he had learnt, Aldhere and Cild were Bretta’s sons and both certainly had ‘fire in his bosom’, but nothing else made sense. He put the paper back in his sacculus.

He stood up thoughtfully and walked to the bed to have another look at Fidelma. There was no change. Perhaps Higbald was right. His wisest course was to leave the abbey with Fidelma as soon as she was able.

He returned to his seat and tried to relax.

What choice would Fidelma make in the circumstances? He knew that she would want to get to the bottom of the mystery which permeated this dark, brooding abbey. He also knew that safety must come first. It was evident that Abbot Cild had no compunction about fulfilling his threat. Rank or station did not cause him a second thought.

Eadulf had come back to the abbey intent on going to find Garb and his men. He had learnt that the most likely place would be among a community in the forest of Tunstall which lay south of the abbey. That had been his intended goal. Perhaps that oughtto be where he should take Fidelma when she was sufficiently recovered? At least, she would be with her own kind who would protect her because of her rank and office.

Eadulf’s thoughts seemed to be becoming slower and slower in registering, drifting, diverging; and then he was sleeping an uncomfortable slumber full of apprehensive visions, jumbled images which made no sense at all.

He was aware of someone shouting at him; angry, demanding.

He awoke with a start. He was slumped uncomfortably in his chair. A foot or so from his face were the scowling features of Abbot Cild. Eadulf started up.

‘What is it?’ he demanded, trying to gather his wits.

‘Do you claim that you have been asleep here?’

Eadulf was still trying to shake the fuzziness from his head. He saw an anxious-looking Brother Willibrod hovering behind the abbot, wringing his hands in his anxiety. To one side stood the implacable Brother Beornwulf.

‘It is as I said, Father Abbot,’ Brother Willibrod intoned, ‘neither the woman nor the man has left this chamber. Brother Beornwulf has been outside the door all night.’

Eadulf was now wide awake and he rose, causing the abbot to step backwards, for he had been leaning right over the chair.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Eadulf, his voice strong but hushed. He glanced towards Fidelma and then, frowning, he went to her side and felt her forehead. A surge of relief rushed through him.

‘Good! The fever has broken. She is on the mend.’ Eadulf swung round to the surly abbot. ‘Let us leave her to a natural sleep.’

By force of personality, he was able to push the abbot, the dominus and the bodyguard out of the chamber into the corridor outside. After he closed the door he turned his scowling features on them. His voice rose sharply.

‘I hope you have some good explanation for bursting into a sickroom in the middle of the night?’

Abbot Cild was not abashed.

‘Have you and your companion been in that room since the time you left me last night?’

Eadulf was aware of a soft light permeating the windows. He suddenly realised that it was not far from dawn. There came the distant sound of waking birds. He must have been asleep for several hours.

‘Where else would I be?’ he countered brusquely. ‘And certainly Sister Fidelma is incapable of leaving her bed.’

‘It is as I have said, Father Abbot,’ repeated Brother Willibrod sulkily. ‘Brother Beornwulf has been outside the door all night.’

‘What are we supposed to have done now?’ challenged Eadulf. ‘Have you invented some new claim against us?’

Abbot Cild looked ready to explode with anger but Brother Willibrod reached forward and laid a restraining hand on his arm.

‘Come with me, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ Abbot Cild finally said, turning and leading the way at a swift pace along the corridor and through the quadrangle towards the chapel of the abbey. There were a few of the brethren about who passed with lowered heads and hands folded before them. Eadulf was conscious of their eyes watching as he followed the abbot. Behind him came Brother Willibrod. Brother Beornwulf had been ordered to remain behind at his post outside the guests’ chamber.

Abbot Cild made his way directly to the chapel and entered. Inside, he did not pause but marched straight towards the high altar. Then he halted. He threw out one hand in a gesture towards it.

He did not speak. He did not have to, for what he had brought Eadulf to see was plain and its implications were obvious.

On the centre of the high altar was a dead cat. Skewering the animal to the altar was a bone-handled knife. Eadulf had seen such knives before. In the old days, before the new faith had reached the people of Wuffa, in the land of the East Angles, the priests of Woden and Thunor had carried such implements, with the elaborately carved sacred symbols on their bone handles. They were sacrificial knives.

‘It is the sign of the pagan worship,’ whispered Brother Willibrod, genuflecting. ‘We all know this is the feast of Yule.’

In spite of himself, Eadulf could not prevent a shudder catchinghim. He tried hard to recall where he had recently heard about a black cat being sacrificed on an altar.

‘The conjuring of a spirit and now … this!’ muttered Abbot Cild.

Eadulf glanced quickly at him.

‘You appear to link the two things together?’

‘They both smell of the evil arts!’ cried the abbot.

‘They smell of an evil mind,’ retorted Eadulf. ‘The question is … whose mind?’

‘My answer is not altered. Nothing like this happened at Aldred’s Abbey until you and the foreign woman came here.’

‘And I have said, that is no answer at all. What would an Irish religieuse know of pagan Saxon gods and practices? We are not responsible for this’ — he gestured towards the high altar — ‘this desecration any more than we are responsible for any of the evil acts that have take place in this abbey.’

‘That you will have to prove,’ snapped the abbot. ‘Brother Willibrod, you will see to it that this is cleared away. I shall have to bless and reconsecrate the altar.’

‘It shall be done, Father Abbot,’ muttered the dominus, casting an almost apologetic glance at Eadulf. He moved off to do the abbot’s bidding.

The abbot regarded Eadulf with a look in which dislike was tinged with something else. Eadulf suddenly realised that the man’s eyes held fear. Abbot Cild was actually afraid of him.

‘You will return to the guests’ chambers and remain there until I send for you. That I shall do when I am ready to hear the charges formally and give judgment.’

Eadulf was astounded. ‘What of my right to present a defence for Sister Fidelma and myself?’

‘You will have that right at the proper time.’

‘But have I not the right to my freedom in order to investigate and prepare a defence?’ he demanded.

Abbot Cild’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have no right to freedom now. After this desecration you have no right to freedom at all. Were I a less benign man, I would have you both taken and burnt to death immediately for the evil you have visited on this abbey.’

Eadulf snapped his mouth shut. He realised that there wouldbe no moving this man’s locked mind. At that moment he knew that Brother Higbald was probably right. He would have to take Fidelma to safety as soon as possible. Yet, coming out of such a fever, it would be reckless in the extreme to attempt to move her into the cold, snowbound world outside without a few days to recuperate.

‘Very well, Abbot Cild,’ he replied slowly. ‘I see that you are intent on pursuing your course against us, blind and malicious as that course is. I shall not come out of the door of the guests’ chambers until I am summoned to come through it. You accuse us of evil, yet it is a perverse course upon which you have embarked. In appealing to whatever humanity is left in you, I ask only this — it will take a few days for Fidelma of Cashel to recover from the infirmity she has suffered. In the name of the God that you claim to represent, allow us that time for her to recover before you drag her forth to enact your blind cruelty.’

Eadulf spoke evenly but his voice was filled with a vehemence which made Abbot Cild blink.

‘I am not an inhumane man,’ the abbot replied defensively. Eadulf noticed that the fear had not left his eyes. ‘But I cannot allow further evil to be visited on this place. The woman will have two days to recover — no more. Then you can prepare to defend yourselves.’

He turned, finding the dominus, Brother Willibrod, returning with several of the brethren with pails and brushes ready to clean up the mess on the high altar.

‘Brother Willibrod, you may escort Brother Eadulf back to the guests’ chambers. He is to remain there until further orders from me.’

The dominus bowed his head and then gestured to his companions to continue with their work while the abbot left the chapel. Brother Willibrod then glanced apologetically at Eadulf and fell in step beside him.

‘I do not know what to say, Brother,’ he muttered. ‘These happenings are strangely disconcerting.’

‘You surely don’t believe that the shade of Gélgeis is haunting these walls, do you?’ Eadulf demanded. ‘There is a human agency at work here.’

Brother Willibrod shrugged. ‘Yesterday, I recognised yourdescription of the woman you said you had seen outside the chapel.’

‘I saw you were disturbed by it,’ agreed Eadulf.

Brother Willibrod pursed his lips for a moment.

‘In truth, it did sound like the Lady Gélgeis. And what young Redwald saw seems to confirm that opinion.’

‘So you do believe that the shade of Gélgeis is haunting the abbot? Why?’

Brother Willibrod pulled a face, but Eadulf was not sure what it was meant to express.

‘I would say that it is precisely the sort of action Gélgeis would take if she had the power to do so.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Brother Willibrod halted and suddenly looked around with a quick, conspiratorial glance.

‘I will tell you the truth. The lady Gélgeis was not the most malleable of women. She was hard, dominant, and ruthless. I might even say that I could understand if Cild was pushed so far from propriety as to rid himself of her.’ He hesitated and a flush came over his face. ‘I am not saying that he did,’ he added quickly. ‘In fact, I do not believe that he did. But the lady Gélgeis was spiteful and immoral.’

Eadulf stared at him in surprise.

‘Did you know her well?’

‘As well as my role of dominus here would allow.’

‘How long have you been dominus here?’

‘I was in the abbey when Cild and Gélgeis came here.’

‘Did anyone else share your views about her character?’

Willibrod sniffed with disdain.

‘You will have to ask them, although most here did not know her as long and as well as I did. I have my opinion. It is not an opinion that I share with Abbot Cild, so I wish you not to reveal that I held his wife in such low esteem.’ He paused and indicated along the passage with a jerk of his head to where Brother Beornwulf was seated on a three-legged wooden stool, his massive arms folded across his chest. ‘You will remain in your rooms in accordance with the abbot’s orders. I am sorry that things have come to this, Brother Eadulf.’

He turned and walked swiftly away.

Eadulf returned to Fidelma’s chamber and found himself feeling cold apprehension. Spirits walking abroad, desecration of a high altar, and people who had known the abbot’s wife in life swearing that it was her form returned to haunt him. In spite of his dread he went to check on Fidelma and found her deep in a natural sleep.

He sat down in his chair and tried to pick up his scattered thoughts.

There was no decision to be made now. They had to accept Brother Higbald’s suggestion. Safety came before the solution of this mystery. His mind full once more of conflicting thoughts, he felt into another troubled slumber.

When he awoke again, a brilliant morning light illuminated the room. He realised that he had been disturbed by young Brother Redwald who had entered bearing a tray with two steaming bowls, some bread and apples on it. He started up.

The young boy smiled apologetically. He seemed embarrassed.

‘I have brought you and the Sister breakfast, Brother.’

Eadulf examined him cautiously.

‘How do you feel now?’ he asked.

The boy set down the tray.

‘I apologise for my condition of last night. I was truly alarmed. I have calmed down this morning and am able to fulfil my duties.’ He bobbed nervously and moved to the door. ‘If there is anything else you need, Brother Beornwulf will be outside the door.’

He hesitated still, as if trying to make up his mind. Then he smiled quickly at Eadulf.

‘You have shown consideration to me, Brother. I am sorry to see you in this predicament. I hope no action of mine has brought it on you. But I did see the lady Gélgeis, I swear it. If she be spirit, then she seemed to mean me no harm, so I regret if harm will follow.’

Eadulf responded reassuringly.

‘Do not worry, Redwald. You cannot be held responsible for the actions of others.’

When the boy made to leave, Eadulf stayed him.

‘Did you like the lady Gélgeis?’ he asked.

The boy looked bemused for a moment and then nodded.

‘She was kind to me. I have told you that she nursed me when I was ill.’

‘I remember. You were a boy newly come to the abbey. So you liked her?’

‘I think I did.’

‘Aren’t you sure?’

‘I thought she was an angel, when I was ill. But later on, when I was well and growing, I found that she was distant, as if she cared little about me.’

‘Are you scared of seeing her image now?’

The boy considered the question and then shook his head.

‘The abbot told me that I have the faith to use as my shield. If I am steadfast in the faith, I need not fear.’

The boy left abruptly and Eadulf turned back to the tray and the bowls of steaming broth. He realised that he had not eaten for some time.

‘Water,’ came a croaking voice from the bed. ‘I need a drink.’

‘Fidelma!’ Eadulf turned and found a pale but more normallooking Fidelma easing herself up against a pillow.

‘I feel like death,’ she added.

‘You should feel like life, having come through a dangerous fever,’ smiled Eadulf, sitting at the side of the bed and taking her cold hand in one of his while he held out a beaker of water with the other.

She sipped cautiously.

‘How long have I been in the grip of the fever?’

‘Only twenty-four hours.’

‘It seems longer. I had the most bizarre dreams, if dreams they were. People rushing in and out and shouting and anger, lots of anger. Are we still at the abbey of …’ She frowned.

‘Aldred’s Abbey,’ Eadulf supplied. ‘We arrived two nights ago. Do you remember anything?’

Fidelma tried to recollect.

‘The last thing I remember was a visit from the apothecary, and something about a woman being seen in the abbey. After that things have become extremely hazy. I must have gone into the fever then.’

Eadulf turned and picked up the bowl of broth and some bread.

‘After a fever is passed, it is necessary to get some sustenance into you. Have that and afterwards I shall tell you what has been going on here.’

It became obvious during the meal that Fidelma was still weak and unstable. Her hands trembled as she tackled the soup. Eadulf had to help her. She seemed exhausted. Eadulf realised that there was no way they would be able to move her that day.

She finished half of the bowl of broth and nibbled at a piece of bread, before pushing the rest away from her. Eadulf took it and she lay back down on the pillow and closed her eyes.

‘You were going to … to tell me something,’ she yawned.

Eadulf shook his head. ‘Not at the moment. You need to sleep awhile.’

‘I feel so … tired …’

A moment later, Eadulf realised that she had passed again into a natural sleep.

He finished his own meal and then sat back to reconsider matters.

Over the next hour or so he did not progress far with his thoughts. The door opened softly and Brother Higbald entered. He nodded to Eadulf and glanced at Fidelma’s recumbent form.

‘The fever’s broken,’ Eadulf replied in answer to his raised eyebrow. ‘She’s having a natural sleep now.’

Brother Higbald pointed to a corner of the room, indicating that he wished to talk without disturbing Fidelma.

‘I heard what happened last night,’ he whispered. ‘Someone profaned the high altar.’

‘And we are blamed for it,’ Eadulf cut in sharply, in irritation. ‘I know. I am now determined to follow your advice. It is foolish to remain here in harm’s way any longer.’

Brother Higbald was approving.

‘A wise choice of action. But when will Sister Fidelma be able to travel?’

‘Not before tomorrow at the earliest, I think.’

‘Does she know of what she is accused?’

‘I have not told her yet. When I do, I doubt if she will have any understanding of it. Such things do not happen in her country.’

‘Well, the sooner you are gone from here the better.’

‘Have you heard anything more about what is happening?’

Brother Higbald shook his head. ‘I believe Abbot Cild is scared of something. However, he blames you both as being the cause of it.’

‘There is some mystery going on that I do not understand, Brother Higbald. You seem to be the only person here that I can get sense from. What is this darkness that enshrouds this abbey? Do you have any idea?’

Brother Higbald shrugged. ‘I have never seen it as a darkness. Abbot Cild is a man of uncertain temperament, as are we all — each to his own. There are undercurrents of emotion between us all. Jealousies, suspicions, rivalries. But that is surely normal? Not until the death of Botulf and the subsequent events of the other night was there any hint that there was a real problem.’

‘Nothing at all?’ demanded Eadulf in frustration. ‘No hint that Botulf was in danger? No hint of suspicion about the death of the lady Gélgeis?’

‘Well, there were Cild’s changes of mood after Garb’s first visit and there was always gossip among the brethren. I think we were all shocked when Botulf’s body was found. But Brother Wigstan said he had seen the notorious outlaw Aldhere nearby at the same time. There was no cause to question Abbot Cild when he pointed the finger at Aldhere.’

‘Even though Aldhere is Cild’s own brother?’

‘Wasn’t Cain the brother of Abel? Being brothers does not make men of the same mind.’

‘You never questioned Cild’s antipathy to his brother?’

‘The King himself, King Ealdwulf, had outlawed Aldhere. That was all one needed to know.’

‘So when Garb, the Irishman, arrived here the other night, identified himself as the brother of the lady Gélgeis, and accused Cild of her murder, what then?’

‘Most of the brethren were shocked. I had seen him before, you remember.’

‘Then one further question; given all these things, why are you so willing to go against Abbot Cild and help Sister Fidelma and myself?’

Brother Higbald looked a little surprised at the question and reflected on it for a moment.

‘Perhaps it is because I do not believe in spectres or witchcraft.In this matter, I believe that Abbot Cild acts unjustly. But I say that he acts from fear and not from any maliciousness.’

‘But what does he fear? If he acts in the certainty of right, what should he fear?’

‘If, my friend, you are able to find an answer to that, maybe you would find the key to unlocking all these mysteries.’ Brother Higbald smiled. ‘Now, what time shall you leave? Do you remember the way that I showed you?’

‘Two turns left, one right. I know. I have no idea when — it depends on Fidelma and how she feels.’

‘Let me know when you intend to leave and I will do my best to help you.’

‘Thank you, Brother Higbald. I am grateful for all that you have done.’

After Brother Higbald left, Eadulf sat himself down to consider matters again but he had scarcely begun when he realised that Fidelma’s adage that you cannot speculate without information applied to this case. He had no information at all to speculate with.

It was after midday when Fidelma emerged from her natural sleep.

‘Eadulf?’ She raised herself uncertainly and then fell back.

Eadulf went forward with a beaker of cold water and she sipped it gratefully.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked.

‘Terrible. How ill was I?’

‘Ill enough.’ He placed a hand against her forehead. ‘At least the temperature has completely gone now.’

‘I have a terribly sore throat.’

‘You had a bad fever. However, you have pulled through it, Deo gratias.’

‘Are we at the abbey?’

Her eyes were bright and alert to her surroundings now.

‘We are.’

‘How long have I been out of the world?’

‘Do you remember coming out of the fever this morning and asking me the same question?’

Fidelma considered and then smiled.

‘I do. We have still been here only two days?’

‘It is just after midday on the day your fever broke. You must now rest, relax and get stronger.’

Fidelma nodded slowly. ‘And you have nursed me during this time?’

‘I did. I was helped by the abbey’s apothecary, Brother Higbald.’

Fidelma frowned thoughtfully.

‘I thought that I asked a question earlier … about something which was troubling me.’ She paused. ‘Ah, yes. I felt some antagonism while I lay ill. Of people …’

Eadulf interrupted. ‘Patience. If you feel up to it, I will run through the events since we arrived here. They are not pleasant.’

Fidelma regarded him with a faint smile.

‘I am well enough now,’ she replied quietly. ‘Tell me what is troubling you.’

Eadulf began, slowly at first and then having to fight hard to keep his voice from cracking with emotion as he recounted the narrow attitude of Abbot Cild.

Fidelma lay quietly, listening to the story. She did not interrupt for Eadulf was excellent when it came to recounting events without missing any detail.

Her face was grim as he ended his narrative.

‘So I am to be sacrificed to the fears of this strange abbot? Cild is his name?’

‘It won’t come to that. I have a plan to get you away from here as soon as you feel up to it.’

Fidelma grimaced with a cynical humour.

‘I think the idea of being ceremonially buried alive, face downward, has improved my health and motivation very rapidly.’

Eadulf looked sympathetic. ‘The drawback is that while the snow no longer falls, the skies are clear which means the temperature is freezing outside. It will be a long walk whichever direction we go.’

Fidelma’s mind was clearly elsewhere for she said: ‘You are absolutely certain that you saw this woman, the one identified as Gélgeis?’

‘Absolutely certain,’ Eadulf said. ‘She was as tangible and as real as you or me.’

‘Then the obvious must be true. There is a real woman in this abbey. Has any search been conducted?’

Eadulf smiled indulgently as he shook his head.

‘There is some hysteria here about ghosts. Only Brother Higbald, the apothecary, seems sane and treats the matter with any degree of rationality.’

‘There is no chance of doing some investigation into this matter?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘None at all. Abbot Cild is not the best person to deal with. His authority seems absolute. He has already made up his mind on the matter.’

‘I am not going to suffer for his fear and ignorance. But from what you say, there is a great mystery here, Eadulf. It is obvious that your friend Botulf had discovered some answer to the mystery, which was why he was killed.’

‘Before this matter of the haunting came up, I was going to seek out Garb at Tunstall, where I think he will be hiding. He, or his father, may be able to provide some answers.’

Fidelma nodded approval. ‘A good method of proceeding, Eadulf. I agree. I should soon be able to start to make inquiries myself.’

Eadulf looked embarrassed. He coughed nervously.

‘What is it, Eadulf? Do you have something else on your mind?’

‘I just want to say that you must remember that, apart from any other consideration, you are in the land of the Anglo-Saxons and, apart from the courtesy shown you at the Council of Whitby, the law does not recognise your authority.’

‘I understand that.’

‘I mean that women are not accorded the same place here as in your country, Fidelma. Be circumspect if you seek to question the people here. It is thought wrong for women to exert authority.’

Fidelma grimaced. ‘I cannot pretend to be what I am not.’

‘All I say is that you should be prudent.’

‘If I am not, then I am sure that you will caution me.’ She smiled brightly.

‘Well, wisdom dictates that our first priority is to remove ourselves from the reach of Abbot Cild.’

‘But you wish to resolve the mystery of the death of your friend?’

‘I do,’ asserted Eadulf with quiet vehemence.

‘Then we shall do so. Now, if you can mix me some of your noxious brews to cure a sore throat and a headache, perhaps I will soon feel well enough to join you in this trip to Tunstall.’