The Haunted Abbot

‘He loved her as only a father loves,’ agreed Garb. ‘But we are also bound by honour as well as love and the troscud is our court of last resort. By the ritual fast we seek justice when our enemies are too powerful and arrogant to give it of their own volition.’

‘One thing that intrigues me, and forgive me for asking, but, as you perceive, I am a foreigner in these matters. What manner of person was your sister?’

Garb regarded Eadulf with some perplexity.

‘I do not know if I have understood your question, Saxon.’

‘I mean her temperament. Was her nature so unusual that her father, and perhaps yourself and your warriors, might give their lives willingly in her memory?’

Fidelma was slightly puzzled. She thought that Eadulf had understood the essence of the troscud and was wondering whyhe asked this question. Something made her realise that it was for a purpose.

Garb was not annoyed at the question. He smiled indulgently.

‘Gélgeis was my favourite sister. She brought tranquillity to any situation. She made a grey day fair, made the storm peaceful, made the troubled blithe of spirit. She was possessed of such a nature that she brought happiness to all who knew her.’

Eadulf blinked, thinking of Brother Willibrod’s words. Garb’s words sounded almost glib. While he hesitated, Fidelma took up the questions again.

‘Is there no dissuading your father from the course on which he has embarked? You must see that it will mean nothing to a man of Cild’s culture and, especially, to a man like Cild. Your father will simply be allowed to die. Cild — indeed, any Saxon not used to our ways — might simply regard the troscud as a joke.’

‘My father believes in the old ways and is determined.’

‘I will speak to him, for he must be dissuaded,’ replied Fidelma.

‘You will speak to him in vain.’

Eadulf was sitting staring ahead of him, his eyes unfocused as he turned over the facts and the differing pictures of Gélgeis that had been presented to him.

‘Brother Laisre, have you spoken to Botulf again? More recently?’ asked Fidelma.

‘A few weeks ago. That was when Gadra, together with Garb and his men, arrived here. I contacted Botulf and explained matters to him.’

‘How did Botulf react to your news?’

Brother Laisre glanced uncomfortably at Garb.

‘To be truthful, Brother, he shared your feelings that it was a waste of time. I explained the meaning of the troscud to him and he felt that no Saxon would truly understand its intent. I explained how Garb would have to come to the abbey to announce the start of the ritual and he promised to help.’

‘Did he?’

‘Oh yes. He managed to get Garb in to see the abbot on his own. That was a preliminary contact to ensure the abbot knew what was to take place. Cild laughed at Garb.’

‘Did Botulf warn you that this would be Cild’s reaction?’

‘Botulf said he was fearful … fearful for the relatives of Gélgeis. He said that there was an old saying of the Saxons — woe to him who is in a country where there is none to take his part.’

‘So he advised against the troscud?’

‘His advocacy was strong but I could only act as an intermediary. I told him the time and day that Garb would present himself at the abbey for the official announcement. We agreed that it would be on the tolling of the midnight Angelus bell when the brethren had been summoned to prayers in the abbey chapel. The announcement had to be made before the community.’

‘And it turned out to be the hour of Botulf’s funeral,’ muttered Eadulf.

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘So Botulf knew that this would happen at the precise hour that it did?’

‘Indeed he did.’

‘No other words were exchanged?’

‘He mentioned that he knew that a friend of his was at Canterbury who knew something of the laws of both our peoples. He was going to send for that friend to come to the abbey.’

Eadulf’s shoulders slumped. ‘That was myself. I received the message from him asking me to be at the abbey before that time and on that day. Sister Fidelma and I arrived — but Botulf had already been slain.’

‘Did Botulf provide you with any other facts concerning Gélgeis’s death?’ Fidelma asked.

Brother Laisre shook his head.

‘What worries me,’ Eadulf intervened reflectively, ‘and I say this with all sincerity, is the lack of basis in law for any accusation to be made against Cild. Suspicion does not make for fact.’

Garb turned angrily on Eadulf.

‘Do you seek to defend Cild?’

‘Remember, I was the friend for whom Botulf sent. I seek what we should all be seeking. That is the truth. So far as I can see, we have only suspicion. We suspect that the lady Gélgeis met her death by foul means. We suspect that it was her husband, Cild, who encompassed that death. But so far, I have not been offered proof, only hearsay. The gerefa in me cries out for evidence.’

Brother Laisre stared at Eadulf aghast.

‘Cild’s reputation goes before him. He is evil. He is responsible for many deaths …’

‘A reputation does not make a man guilty. Nor does the fact that he is known to have killed others in the name of his religion make him guilty of the murder of Gélgeis.’

Fidelma, seeing the anger on their faces, intervened quickly.

‘Hurtful as it may sound to you, who believe that Cild is guilty, my comrade has a point. A belief is not evidence in law.’

‘Cild’s reputation is black. Doesn’t the old saying go that every colour will take black but black will take no colour?’

‘In other words, the cow with the longest horns will always be accused of butting,’ pointed out Eadulf with cynicism.

‘Truly,’ Fidelma sighed, ‘you are embarked on a bitter course of vengeance.’

‘Sometimes, dálaigh,’ replied Garb, ‘there is little between justice and injustice but much between justice and law.’

‘Is it not better to get more facts about what happened to your sister before this course is undertaken?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘Just as we must also find out what happened to Botulf?’

‘We know the hand that struck down both Gélgeis and Botulf,’ Garb said firmly.

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf and shook her head warningly. It was useless to pursue the matter of evidence among people intent on vengeance.

‘Brother Botulf was a kindly and generous man,’ Brother Laisre was saying. ‘We would have had a good ally in him. I had already gathered that Botulf was at the abbey because of a punishment decreed by King Ealdwulf and that there was little love lost between him and Cild. I trusted Botulf. I fear his involvement with us was the cause of his death.’

‘The abbot must have found him out and slaughtered him as he had slaughtered others,’ Garb added. ‘Evil walks with him and in him and he must pay for it.’

‘Well spoken, my son,’ came a new voice, quiet and firm. ‘But it shall be done within the law.’

They turned towards the door.

An elderly man stood there. His features showed a resemblance to the younger man, Garb. He was tall, firm-jawed in spite of his advancing years. On his shock of white hair sat a silver circletshowing his rank. His eyes were deep blue, almost violet. His mouth was thin but firm. The graven lines on his face spoke of grief and suffering. He was dressed with the finery that bespoke his chieftainship.

There was little need to have him identified as Gadra, chief of Maigh Eo.

They stood respectfully as the man walked forward and sat down at the table.

‘There are strangers among us, Brother Laisre. Perhaps you will be good enough to introduce your guests to me?’