The Haunted Abbot

Chapter Nineteen

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.

‘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, istrying 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 fledbefore 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 Mercianwarriors. 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 UíBriúin, 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 tothe 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, Bother 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 bearsa 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.’

‘Think about this question carefully, Brother Willibrod,’ Eadulf urged. ‘Let your mind and not your emotions answer it, for I think you had great emotions for this poor girl.’

Willibrod’s eyes flashed a moment.

‘I do,’ he muttered.

‘What sort of things did you discuss with Lioba? Was she interested in events at the abbey? Was she interested in anyone else here?’

‘What are you saying?’ cried Brother Willibrod, suddenly angry.

‘What I am saying,’ Eadulf calmly replied, ‘is that some local people thought that Lioba sold her favours not merely to the brethren but to Aldhere’s men.’

‘It’s a lie! A lie!’ cried the outraged dominus. ‘She loved me. True, I gave her little gifts. She was alone. She had to get the wherewithal to be able to live, but you are suggesting that she was … suggesting that she was a …’ He broke down into outraged sobbing.

Eadulf was not deterred.

‘Come, Brother Willibrod. Isn’t it true that Lioba used toask you many questions about what was happening within the abbey?’

Receiving no reply, Eadulf suddenly turned to Aldhere.

‘You seem to offer a different picture of Lioba from Brother Willibrod’s. Perhaps you might explain that?’

Aldhere stood up hesitantly.

‘It is true that the girl appeared to make her living by visits to my men,’ he said.

Brother Willibrod raised both fists to his forehead and gave forth a wretched cry. He collapsed in his seat and huddled there giving vent to long, inconsolable sobs.

‘And was it noticed that Lioba liked to ask questions of your men?’

The look on Aldhere’s face answered the question.

Fidelma now turned to the young, pale-featured Brother Redwald.

‘You told Abbot Cild that when you entered my chamber as I lay ill you saw the figure of Gélgeis bending over me. You swore that you knew her because she had nursed you when you were sick. Was that figure, in reality, the girl Lioba?’

Brother Redwald stood up, looking around him nervously. He was embarrassed.

‘I was mistaken in thinking this morning that Lioba was Gélgeis,’ he said hesitantly.

‘Think what I am asking you,’ Fidelma pressed.

‘I accept now that the person I saw must have been Lioba,’ said the boy. ‘At the time, I was sure that it was Gélgeis. But it was evening, the chamber was dark. I must have been wrong.’

Sigeric had sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

‘So let us sum matters up. What are we saying? That this girl, who had a superficial resemblance to Gélgeis, the wife of the abbot, was seen at various times at the abbey. That Abbot Cild became demented and thought he was being haunted. In his madness, he killed her?’

Aldhere called out humorously: ‘But since Cild is dead and the abbey has to pay this foreign prince to prevent war, there should be an end to this story. Surely there is no more to hear?’

‘There are the evil deeds of Higbald,’ Sigeric pointed out.‘We are told that he meant to create mayhem and bloodshed in this land.’

‘He was responsible for many murders which have been ascribed to Abbot Cild,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘What?’ It was Gadra’s son rising to his feet, only just having heard what had happened in his absence from his father. ‘You are not suggesting that it was this Higbald and not Cild who murdered my sister, Gélgeis?’

Fidelma shook her head sadly.

‘I am not suggesting that, Garb. Cild was responsible for several deaths, such as that of Brother Pol and many other brothers and even sisters who followed the Rule of Columba. At first I suspected that Cild was responsible for Brother Botulf’s death. Botulf knew all about Gadra’s intended troscud. He became the intermediary after Brother Pol was killed and so knew when Garb would come to the abbey, the hour and the day when he would announce the troscud. That was why he sent a message to Brother Eadulf at Canterbury asking him to come to the abbey before that hour.’

‘He had hoped that I could advise him and, indeed, the abbey, of the laws applying to the troscud,’ added Eadulf unnecessarily.

‘Yet it was not the forthcoming announcement of the troscud nor Botulf’s liaison with Garb that led to his death,’ Fidelma went on. ‘Botulf had begun to suspect that Higbald was not what he appeared. The night before we arrived at the abbey, Botulf discovered where Higbald and his men kept their weapons. He was surprised by Higbald or one of his men who slew him and then removed his body to the courtyard outside this chapel.’

‘How do you know this?’ demanded Sigeric. ‘Do you have a witness?’

‘No,’ replied Fidelma. ‘But there are two pieces of evidence. Firstly, Eadulf found some writing in Brother Botulf’s own hand.’

She gestured for him to produce it.

Eadulf held up the paper that he had discovered in his friend’s cell. The paper that had been hidden in the book satchel.

‘I am sure Brother Willibrod will remember when I searchedthat book satchel,’ he said. ‘And he will recognise the hand of Brother Botulf.’

‘Botulf tells us several things in these encrypted notes,’ Fidelma explained. ‘In the last note, a quotation from Proverbs, he tells us that Bretta’s son was going insane. It was Cild of whom we spoke. More importantly, he indicates that he was waiting for Eadulf to arrive.’

Eadulf handed Sigehere the papers.

Sighere began to read the Latin with a fluency which surprised Fidelma. She had not thought a pagan would have a knowledge of the language.

‘God willing, my friend will be here soon.’ Sigehere frowned. ‘This refers to Eadulf?’

Eadulf nodded. Sigehere continued: ‘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 …’ Sigehere paused and frowned. ‘How does this relate to this matter?’

‘Eadulf and I were confused because the note is encrypted,’ replied Fidelma. ‘We thought it read “people of the marshes”. What are those but Aldhere’s outlaws? But that was not what Botulf was saying. We misread it. He wrote “We will be destroyed by the people of the march.” The borderlands … and who are they?’

Sigeric’s eyebrows rose a little.

‘Not marsh but march, which is the meaning of the name of Mercia,’ he said slowly.

‘Indeed.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘What does he write, Eadulf?’

‘It is written that mercy is the support of justice but not in Higbald, a man of Merce … Merce is the old form of the name Mercia.’

‘Botulf has preceded this by hinting that outward appearances were not what they seemed. That Higbald was no more a religious than Aldhere was a saint.’

‘If Higbald is taken captive, he shall be interrogated closely on this matter,’ Sigeric said. ‘But you said that you have further evidence?’

Fidelma nodded.

‘I said that Botulf was slain in the underground chamber where Higbald and his men kept their weaponry. You willfind bloodstains which lead from there into the crypt. Eadulf and I found Botulf’s purse there. It had been ripped from his belt as he was killed or as he was removed to where his body was later found.’

‘So Higbald’s plot has been uncovered but is unrelated to the conflict between Abbot Cild and his brother Aldhere?’ Sigeric asked.

‘Only in that he was able to play on their quarrel,’ confirmed Fidelma.

Gadra had risen, finally betraying his impatience.

‘All this is no concern of mine. Once more I call upon the people of this abbey to recompense me for the murder of my daughter — murdered at the hands of its abbot. Without compensation, the troscud starts at the intended time and its result is the responsibility of everyone here.’

He rose and turned towards the doors. Garb and his followers began to move with him.

‘Wait, Gadra of Maigh Eo!’ Fidelma called.

The sharp command in her voice caused the old chieftain to turn, frowning at her.

‘I did not want to do this, Gadra, but your determination thrusts this action upon me.’

She had their attention now. They turned to her expectantly.

‘You were right, Gadra, when you said that your daughter Gélgeis made a mistake when she left Maigh Eo with Cild. She discovered that mistake soon afterwards and, as you said, she wrote to you about it. She was young, in a foreign land, and her husband abused her badly. All this you knew.’

‘I am glad that you accept my word on this, Fidelma,’ replied Gadra, frowning but clearly not understanding where Fidelma was leading.

‘Gélgeis was reported dead in Hob’s Mire, where Cild has now taken his own life. Cild had been of an unbalanced nature probably since childhood. On that I have said that we may accept the word of his brother Aldhere.’

The outlaw smiled thinly and gave a mocking bow in her direction.

‘Again, as I have said, a woman was seen about the abbey. She resembled Gélgeis. Her form haunted Abbot Cild. Therewas the slaughter of the black cat on the high altar, recalling an incident from his youthful madness. This wraith pursued him, until it drove him completely out of his mind with the result that he killed Lioba and then took his own life.’

‘We have heard about Lioba’s movements in the abbey,’ agreed Sigeric. ‘So this spectre was one of flesh and blood?’

‘Indeed, it was. There were several witnesses to this spectre, including myself. Yesterday morning, on the marshes with Eadulf and Mul, I found evidence of how one of the manifestations was done and traces of how a ghostly sheen was given to her appearance.’

‘What purpose would this false haunting achieve?’ demanded Gadra.

‘The very thing it has achieved — to drive Cild insane.’

‘Why?’

‘An act of vengeance for the cruelty that he has inflicted.’

Sigeric leaned forward.

‘And Lioba played this role? But what cruelty had the abbot done to her?’ he demanded.

‘The other evening, when Eadulf and I were watching Abbot Cild with Brother Willibrod and the others waiting by the marsh — you’ll recall they had been asked to be there by Higbald who planned to kill them and lay the blame on Aldhere — just as he killed Wiglaf and his men and laid the blame on Abbot Cild … while we were watching, the image of Gélgeis on horseback appeared in the marsh …’

‘That’s right, that’s right,’ cried Brother Willibrod. ‘But that was no ordinary person! It glowed! It was a ghost …!’

‘It was not. As I have said, the next morning we went to the spot and found proof that a real person had been on horseback. She had smeared herself with a special clay which glows and reflects near a light … the light supplied by the ignis fatuus.’

‘Where are you leading us now, Fidelma?’ demanded Sigeric.

‘Shortly after the apparition put Cild to flight, Higbald and his men came along — and Lioba was with them. The apparition had not been Lioba. Young Brother Redwald was right when he pointed out that Lioba only bore a superficial resemblance to Gélgeis … and that he was absolutely certain that it wasGélgeis whom he saw bending over me when I was stricken with fever.’

There was a long silence.

Fidelma turned to Gadra. ‘You see, Gélgeis did not perish in Hob’s Mire. She is alive and sought vengeance on Cild — and was supported in that vengeance by the man who gave her comfort in her misery and with whom she went to live.’

Gadra was shaking his head as if unable to understand what she was saying.

‘I don’t understand.’

Fidelma turned to Aldhere. ‘Tell me, Aldhere, did Botulf ever speak to you of Gélgeis’s sister, Mella? Did he tell you the news that Gélgeis heard just before she left the abbey on the night she disappeared?’

‘News?’ Aldhere was bewildered.

‘Did Botulf tell you that Mella had been taken by a Saxon slaver and had died?’

‘No, why would-?’ His jaw clamped shut suddenly.

Fidelma had turned to the woman at his side.

‘Will you cast aside your veil now, Gélgeis?

Bertha the Frank rose slowly to her feet. Then she drew her veil aside, along with a flaxen hair piece, and revealed a small, pale complexion surmounted by red hair. She smiled at Fidelma, but it was a smile filled with venom, and bowed her head slowly in her direction.

It took a long while for the hubbub to die down.

When it did, Gélgeis spoke, slowly and coldly.

‘You are very clever, Fidelma of Cashel. How did you know?’

‘I suspected when Brother Eadulf observed the scar on the arm of the woman known as Bertha and when Garb told us that Brother Pol had observed the scar on Gélgeis’s arm caused by Cild’s whip. If Bertha and Gélgeis were one and the same, then things began to fit into a pattern. Was it your intention to drive Cild insane when you began these appearances as the ghost of yourself?’

‘I did not drive Cild insane — he was insane when I married him, although I did not realise it. He wanted the money and position that he thought marriage to me would bring him. He did not realise that under our law, no such privileges come byright as they do under Saxon law. When he realised it he showed his true, evil self. He never loved me. His dementia became more extreme. It is a just retribution that he has taken his own life. My satisfaction is but a small token of the payment that I am owed. My life was a misery. Finally I wrote to my father and told him of my unhappiness.’

Gadra had sat down abruptly, pale and bewildered. There was no pity in her look when Gélgeis glanced at the shocked old man.

‘I desperately wanted my father to come and rescue me from my misery. When I needed practical help, all that came back was a message via Brother Pol and that message was no more than a lecture on duty, obedience, law and the rituals of law. That is what he is pursuing now with his stupid troscud. What use is that? Ritual to hide the reality. There is no feeling in ritual.

‘Each day I prayed that my father would come riding up to the abbey and take me away from the pain that my life had become. Yes, I made the choice to go with Cild. Must I suffer forever from a wrong choice? In my own land, I could have been divorced from him by law. Is that not so, ddlaigh?’

Fidelma inclined her head.

‘In our law, divorce is permitted for many reasons. There are several grounds for divorce and eleven circumstances for a separation without fine or penalty from either partner.’

Gélgeis chuckled without humour.

‘And here, in this land, there is no right for women to divorce. And still my father spoke to me of obedience to law and ritual. Now he comes here with his law and ritual but without care for me.’

Perhaps only Fidelma heard the lonely wail of a lost child that lay behind the girl’s coldness.

‘And so you met Aldhere?’ she prompted.

‘Yes, I met Aldhere and we shared a hatred of Cild. I ran off with him and stayed with him in the guise of a badly treated Frankish slave woman, thus explaining my veil and accent. We managed to convince people that Gélgeis had perished in Hob’s Mire. It was only when we heard recently from Wiglaf that his Cousin Botulf was increasingly concerned that Cild was growingmore and more demented that we decided that we would help that beast suffer.’

‘Did Botulf know that you were not dead?’

Aldhere intervened. ‘Botulf, as I have said before, was an old friend of mine. He knew Gélgeis was unhappy. He knew that she had found happiness with me and had decided to leave Cild. Botulf knew our secret and kept it until death.’

‘From Wiglaf I learnt the secret of the tunnels into the abbey,’ went on Gélgeis, ‘and using them I made the ghostly appearances.’

‘Your purpose was to drive Cild into such insanity that he would take his own life?’ Fidelma pressed.

‘My purpose was to revenge myself on him,’ Gélgeis said simply.

‘Surely he had some feelings of love for you? He would not have been so emotionally disturbed by the appearance of a dead wife for whom he felt nothing.’ Eadulf frowned.

Gélgeis laughed. It was not a humorous sound.

‘He felt only fear and guilt and, in his madness, thought the spirits of the dark world were taking their vengeance on him.’

‘Did Botulf approve of this?’ Eadulf was incredulous.

Gélgeis shook her head. ‘Your friend Botulf was a moral man, as Aldhere will confirm. No, he did not even know of my plan to revenge myself. But he did not betray me — even to my own brother, Garb, when he arrived with this ridiculous plan of a troscud.’

‘Ridiculous? We came and placed ourselves in danger for you and yet you never thought of informing us, your family, that you were alive!’ exploded Garb, staring angrily at his sister.

Gélgeis shook her head with a cynical smile.

‘My family did not care about me until I was dead and then only because he’ — she pointed to her father — ‘wanted to act out his concern with ritual.’

Aldhere now rose and took Gélgeis’s hand. His men rose too and gathered around him.

‘As Gélgeis says, you are a clever woman, Fidelma. I am still not sure how you knew. It surely cannot have been that Bertha and Gélgeis shared a scar?’

Fidelma smiled briefly at him. ‘You made a mistake. You spoke of your knowledge of Mella’s death. You said that Gélgeis had told you. But the news of Mella’s death was not known until after Gélgeis was supposed to have died in Hob’s Mire. Unless you were communing with the dead, then Gélgeis was still alive. If she was still alive, and Lioba was not Gélgeis, then it was simple, when Eadulf mentioned the scar, to work out who she must be.’

Aldhere looked thoughtful for a moment and then he smiled thinly.

‘As neither Gélgeis nor I have played any part in the bloodshed that has taken place here, we will take our leave.’

‘Where will you go?’ asked Eadulf in astonishment. He could not help liking the outlaw.

Aldhere smiled broadly. ‘Back to the marshlands, holy gerefa, where else? There we will remain until King Ealdwulf changes his mind or has need of us. When the armies of Wulfhere of Mercia march across our borders King Ealdwulf will need us. I was thane of Bretta’s Ham and will be so again. Tell him that from me, lord Sigeric.’

Sigeric went to say something, hesitated and then waved his hand in dismissal.

‘One moment, Gélgeis!’ Fidelma’s voice stayed them and the girl looked around with a frown. ‘There is one final question I would like to ask before you leave. When you manifested your ghostly appearance the other night before Cild in Hob’s Mire, how did you know that Cild and some of the brethren would be there to see you?’

Gélgeis chuckled, this time with genuine humour.

‘Do not tell me that the great dálaigh is not omniscient?’ She smiled sarcastically. ‘Is it not said that a person of learning should understand half a word?’

‘It is also said that when you admit ignorance, then you obtain wisdom.’

Gélgeis pouted. ‘Many events are not planned. I was on my way to the abbey to make another appearance to Cild. As I was crossing the marsh, I saw a band of riders by the trees. I seized the opportunity, not knowing it was Cild. When I saw the riders return to the abbey and saw two figures coming into the marshtowards me, I decided that it was manifestation enough for that night. So I departed home.’

‘So it was mere coincidence?’

‘Our fate is written more by coincidence than by careful planning.’

Fidelma inclined her head to the girl.

‘You have become a philosopher, Gélgeis. May you find peace and contentment.’

There was a silence as Aldhere and Gélgeis, with Aldhere’s men, walked out of the chapel. Gélgeis did not look once in the direction of her father and brother.

As they left, Eadulf turned quietly to Fidelma.

‘I cannot make up my mind whether Gélgeis is possessed of a good or evil character.’

Fidelma smiled. ‘As you will recall, neither could others. Some in the abbey thought of her as kindly and well loved while others did not like her. The fact is that no person is all good or all bad and can display both qualities at the same time to different people. I tend to the conclusion that the badness was brought out by circumstance.’

She glanced across to Gélgeis’s family. She could not help a tinge of sympathy as they sat, pale and hunched. Brother Laisre was leaning forward and patting the old chieftain on the arm.

‘And you, Gadra of Maigh Eo, will you depart now in peace and abandon this troscud?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Remember that I did not want to bring you to this realisation. Only your blind insistence to pursue …’ She paused and lifted her shoulder slightly before letting it fall.

It was Garb who answered her on behalf of his father.

‘The troscud is abandoned, Sister. If there is no cause then there can be no effect. We will return to Maigh Eo.’

They were leaving the chapel when Werferth, the commander of Sigeric’s bodyguard, entered and came to Sigeric.

‘I have followed the tracks of the Mercian Higbald and his men, lord Sigeric. They are heading directly to Mercia. They have fled from this place.’

Sigeric sighed in resignation.

‘So it would seem that we cannot even punish Higbald for the crimes here? There is one part of this sad tale that I do notunderstand. Why did Higbald want to lead you both into a trap? Cild was going to charge you with witchcraft. Why not let Cild judiciously murder you? Why go to the trouble?’

‘Remember that Higbald was an agent of Mercia, sent here to cause the maximum dissension and trouble,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘I realised, in retrospect, that when I rode out after Cild so that I would be with him when he caught up with Aldhere — that morning when Cild pretended to go in search of his brother — I was just saved from death at the hands of Higbald myself.’

Sigeric was puzzled and even Fidelma turned with interest.

‘Remember that Garb told us that Higbald followed me from the abbey?’ went on Eadulf. ‘Had not Garb and his men waylaid Higbald, I believe it was Higbald’s intention to kill me and blame that act on Aldhere. The spreading of dissonance, suspicion and discord was his primary aim. Garb probably saved my life. The same motivation applied when he made an elaborate plan to get Fidelma and me to escape. Had Cild executed Fidelma for witchcraft, insane as the act would be, it could be argued that it was done within the law. But if we were murdered outside the abbey, then there would be no excuse. More suspicion and alarm could be created. What a consummate liar Higbald proved to be.’

‘Ah well, we may meet Higbald again one day,’ Sigeric sighed. ‘If Mercia does attack, let us hope our sword arms are stronger than Mercian intrigue.’ The old man glanced around the chapel. Now all that was left of the assembly were the dozen or so religious with Brother Willibrod at their head. He was chastened, still red-eyed but now in doleful command. The high steward waved him forward.

‘There is still a stench of evil in this abbey, Brother Willibrod,’ Sigeric announced. ‘I will apportion no blame here but I will report this to King Ealdwulf’s bishop, who should take responsibility for this place. Woden’s blessing that I am not Christian to upbraid you. Why were no reports sent to King Ealdwulf or to his bishop on the behaviour of your abbot?’

When Brother Willibrod opened his mouth, Sigeric held up his hand, palm outwards.

‘No, I do not want to hear. Save your excuses for the bishop of your faith. I will merely report on what I have found. Meantime,you will remain here in charge of the brethren of this place until you hear from the bishop. It will be your task to set this abbey to rights.’

He rose from his seat and moved forward to Fidelma with his hand outstretched.

‘I have learnt much in the last few hours, Fidelma of Cashel. I apologise for my cultural ignorance. I regret it. May your God be on all the roads you travel. You, too, Brother Eadulf. You have a companion whose beauty is matched by her wisdom.’

Signalling to Werferth to accompany him, the old man turned and left the chapel.

Brother Willibrod turned to his brethren and started to issue orders, leaving Fidelma and Eadulf to exit into the main quadrangle together. They emerged in the pale sunshine of the late winter afternoon. Another hour and it would be dark. Mul the farmer was waiting for them.

‘Well,’ the farmer smiled nervously, looking from one to the other, ‘I presume that neither of you wants to stay another night in this evil place? There is always a warm bed in my farmhouse. A warm bed, good sweet cider and a wholesome meal.’

Fidelma exchanged a quick look with Eadulf and nodded slightly.

Mul grinned broadly. ‘In that case, I’ll go and find those ponies of yours. I don’t think your countrymen will be wanting them back, Sister. They’ve all set out for Tunstall in a great hurry. I’ll meet you back here in a moment.’

Fidelma sat down on the stone bench in the quadrangle and looked around at the oppressive dark walls of the abbey.

‘A sad business, Eadulf. Truly sad.’

‘Will you come on to Seaxmund’s Ham, then?’ Eadulf suddenly asked. ‘You have not seen where I was born. Not that there is much to see. Poor Botulf is gone and he was the friend of my youth. Nor is there anyone left there whom I can call kin. Nevertheless, I would like to see the place as I am so close.’

Fidelma smiled softly at him.

‘Indeed, since we are so close, I will not refuse to come with you, Eadulf,’ she said quietly. ‘After all, it is your birthplace.’

‘And after that, what then?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘After that?’ The corners of Fidelma’s mouth turned downwards with a suggestion of her old humour. ‘I want to return to my brother’s kingdom. I want my baby to be born in Cashel.’