The Haunted Abbot

Eadulf exhaled deeply in resignation.

‘That presupposes I can find my way back to his hideout and that he has not moved from it since.’

‘I am sure you can, Eadulf. You said that you knew the countryside here like the back of your hand.’

Just then Garb entered and greeted them gruffly. He dropped to a bench and reached for the jug of mead that was still on the table, draining a beaker in one swift gulp.

‘Any news?’ asked Fidelma.

‘There is still no sign that anyone from the abbey followedyou, if that is what you mean,’ replied Garb ungraciously.

‘I was fairly certain that if we had been followed, we would have known about it before now,’ agreed Fidelma, keeping her tone pleasant. ‘What I was wondering about was whether you had heard any word of raids along the coast?’

Garb shook his head. ‘The countryside is quiet enough. I think you may rest assured that the only dangers that threaten lurk within the walls of the abbey.’

‘You are doubtless correct,’ she replied. ‘Tell me, Garb, is it possible to obtain two horses here? Brother Eadulf and I need to make some short journeys which we can do better and more quickly on horseback than on foot.’

Garb regarded her speculatively.

‘If you can ride the tiny wild ponies that are bred in this country, then we have some to spare. We could not bring our own horses with us and so we purchased several of the native ponies, shortlegged and broad-chested and not high at all.’

‘If it resembles a horse, then I can ride it,’ Fidelma replied determinedly.

Garb seemed amused. ‘These are not fast mounts but sturdy little animals just right for this weather, with a thick wiry coat that insulates them. I can certainly give you the loan of two of them.’

‘That is excellent.’ She hesitated and added, ‘How is your father today?’

Garb regarded her for a moment with interrogation in his eyes.

‘If you mean, is he still determined to carry through the ritual, then — he is so determined.’

Fidelma sighed softly. ‘I supposed that I had little doubt of it.’

‘A chieftain’s word is the binding of his honour. It is not made lightly. As his tánaiste, his heir-apparent, my sad duty is to ensure that he carries out his intention or be dishonoured in Maigh Eo and beyond.’

Fidelma frowned abruptly. ‘I had forgotten that part of the ritual, that the heir-apparent needs to be present at a chieftain’s troscud. Tell me, who governs in Maigh Eo while you and your father are here?’

‘My younger brother.’

‘Do you have a large family?’

‘My father bore three sons and three daughters.’

‘And with the exception of Gélgeis, are all living?’

Garb shook his head. ‘One son died in the war against the Uí Néill of the north and my sister Mella was taken in a Saxon slave raid.’

Eadulf coughed, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Fidelma ignored him.

‘Mella?’ She was thoughtful. ‘Wasn’t she the sister who tried to persuade Gélgeis not to marry Cild?’

‘She was indeed. You have a good memory, Sister. Mella was a few hours younger than Gélgeis, and-’

Fidelma’s eyes widened.

‘A few hours? You mean that Mella and Gélgeis are twins?’

Garb nodded briefly.

‘They were so.’

‘Tell me what happened to Mella,’ Fidelma pressed.

‘A sad story but one that becomes common among the communities that dwell by the sea these days. There was a raid by a Saxon longship and a dozen young women were carried off that day. Mella was among them.’

‘Did you make an attempt to discover where this Saxon slave ship came from?’ demanded Eadulf.

Garb turned to him. ‘That we did. It was a ship from Mercia.’

‘And did you attempt to discover her fate?’

‘Merchants trading with Mercia were asked to make inquiries and it was put about that Gadra, as chieftain of Maigh Eo, would pay the honour price for the return of his daughter unharmed. Alas, we learnt nothing.’

‘When did this happen?’ asked Fidelma, thoughtfully.

‘About the same time as we heard of the death of Gélgeis, perhaps a little before.’

‘And you have heard no more of her?’

‘We did. The captain of the ship bringing us hither reported the gossip of the ports of Mercia. This slave ship, which was apparently identified by its sail markings, was claimed to be the ship of Octha. It was reported to have foundered on the journey back from Éireann and everyone lost.’

Fidelma was quiet for a moment and then she asked: ‘Was that ever confirmed?’

Garb shrugged. ‘There would be little point in making the story up. If this Octha were alive, then he would have learnt that my father was offering ransom for the return of Mella. If would have been worth his while to return her for her honour price. But the only word we ever had was that Octha and his men, and all the prisoners he had taken, went down in the cruel seas.’ He sighed. ‘So we lamented and mourned poor Mella. It reinforced my father’s determination to seek reparation for the death of Gélgeis.’

‘Have you mentioned the story of Mella’s fate to anyone since arriving here?’

‘Botulf actually raised it with us.’

‘How did Botulf know about Mella?’

‘He said that on the night Gélgeis died, he met her outside the abbey looking pale. She said that she had just met a wandering religieux who had told her what had happened. She went off into the night and Botulf never saw her again.’

‘So Gélgeis knew about Mella before she disappeared?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘Did you ask Botulf if he had mentioned this news to anyone else?’

Garb gestured negatively. ‘Botulf told us that with Gélgeis’s death, he had forgotten the story of her sister until we arrived. Only then did he remember it.’

‘I see.’ Fidelma was still thoughtful. ‘Were your sisters much alike? Being twins, I mean?’

There was a faraway smile on Garb’s features.

‘Some people could not tell them apart. They were like two peas from the same pod. Only close family could tell which was which.’

‘I understand. It seems that your family has suffered much hardship and grief.’

‘It may be so. Yet there is a saying in our country that the wood will renew the foliage that it sheds.’

‘There is wisdom in that, Garb. One must not give way to despair for after every tempest comes sunshine.’

They had been speaking in their common language and Eadulf, following the conversation, for he was, of course, fluent in thelanguage of Éireann, fell to reflecting that there was more hyperbole and embellishment to their speech than the basic forms of expression in his own language.

They were silent for the moment before Fidelma slowly rose and looked meaningfully at Eadulf. Then she turned back to Garb.

‘There are now five nights until Gadra begins his ritual fast. This does not give us long.’

Garb sat back, shaking his head.

‘Do you really mean to make Cild admit his guilt and recompense my father?’

‘Only if Cild is guilty,’ replied Fidelma.

‘And how could you prove that he is not guilty?’

‘That is a question that cannot be answered until it is answered,’ Fidelma remarked without humour. ‘Now, let us examine these ponies of which you spoke. The sooner we start out, the sooner we shall return.’