‘There is often some truth to be found in gossip. Not so much fact but attitudes. I have known many ruthless men and women who are possessed of the sweetest temperaments until their plans are thwarted. It is often enlightening to listen to gossip.’
Eadulf looked disapproving.
‘You are fond of quoting Publilius Syrus,’ he rebuked her. ‘Did you not once quote him, and quote him approvingly, that it was wrong to take notice of gossip?’
Fidelma smiled. ‘You did not quote the exact words of Publilius Syrus, Eadulf, but the meaning is probably the same. However, what I said was to listen to gossip for attitudes and not for facts. In this instance the importance of the gossip lies in the context.’
‘And have you been led to any conclusion?’ Eadulf asked. He could not restrain the note of irony in his question.
Fidelma’s features grew serious.
‘I will admit to you, Eadulf, that nothing I have heard so far makes me see any solutions. In fact, this is the most frustrating conundrum I have ever encountered. We only know for certain of one crime. The death of your friend Botulf. We hear accusationsof another crime … the abbot’s wife … but is it a crime? We do not know, for accusations do not constitute facts, as you endeavoured to point out at Tunstall. But how are we to proceed? There are no witnesses to these events, only rumours and gossip.’
‘There is another point to be considered.’
Fidelma glanced across at him, frowning at his doleful tone. ‘Which is?’
‘That even if we could miraculously find the truth of what is happening, through what means could we reveal it and force a mediation on those concerned? You have no legal authority in this land. At least in Dyfed, the Welisc king gave you an authority. But here among the Angles and the Saxons, you have none. No authority at all.’
‘That is true,’ she agreed gravely. ‘But this is your country, Eadulf. These are your people. You are a
Eadulf shook his head.
‘I was a
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Do you mean that a religious in this land cannot be an advocate of the law?’
Eadulf shook his head.
‘It is with irony that Mul addresses me as
Fidelma reflected for a moment. Somewhere in her memory she must have known. It must have been explained to her when she had first met Eadulf at the great council at Whitby. Yet she had in recent times emphasised his legal standing to her people as it gave him a moral authority to help her in her own investigations.
‘Well, we will have to find some other way of exerting influence on matters,’ she said. ‘I believe Gadra and Garb will take notice if I can demonstrate that there is no need to undertake the ritual fast.’
‘But in the meantime,’ Eadulf sighed, ‘we have to keep out of the hands of Abbot Cild. I wonder how he can afford three gold pieces for our capture? It is a large sum to offer and you cannot doubt that many will be tempted by it.’
Certainly Fidelma did not doubt it.
‘More to the point, why is he so concerned to have us caught and silenced?’ she said. ‘He must surely know, as we do, that there is no way we can prove anything against him …’
‘Unless we are overlooking the obvious,’ muttered Eadulf.
Fidelma examined him thoughtfully. She could see his brows drawn together, his lips compressed, as if he were struggling to remember some forgotten information or event that had happened during the time that she lay in her fever.
‘You noticed that the crucifix Mul found was not one usually worn by a religious?’ she asked, after a while.
Eadulf nodded.
‘It was made for a person of wealth, doubtless a woman,’ he replied. ‘It seems logical that it was Gélgeis’s cross.’
‘Logical, but its ownership is not certain, nor is the reason why it came to be at Mul’s farmstead.’
A silence fell between them again before Fidelma broke it once more: ‘You have had conversation with Cild. Tell me, is he truly unbalanced in the mind? If so, have you learnt the cause of it?’
Eadulf shrugged. ‘I would say that Cild is unstable to the point of being deranged. What caused his dementia? I do not know.’
‘The death of his wife and the strange apparitions at the abbey?’
To her surprise, Eadulf shook his head.
‘I think there is more to it than that. Aldhere claims his brother was demented and cruel from childhood and this was why he was disinherited. Perhaps he was born evil.’
Fidelma made a face.
‘Children are not born evil, Eadulf. They are usually created so.’
They had been travelling through a stretch of woodland, mainly of bare, gaunt trees with a few clumps of evergreens here and there. It was flat country close to the sea, so close that they could hear the distant whisper of the waves sliding towards the shore and then receding. Now came the sound of something else.
Fidelma drew rein and reached out a hand to touch Eadulf upon the arm. He glanced up from his reverie and halted too.
It had been the crack of a whip that had warned her and now came two more cracks in sharp succession. There was a soft rumbling sound and the clink of metal upon metal. A nearby voice shouted.
Fidelma looked quickly towards the direction of the sounds. They were coming from the track ahead, which seemed to twist out of sight through the woods.
Eadulf was examining the landscape in order to identify some place of concealment.
He nudged her arm and pointed inland beyond the tall sessile oaks which bordered the path to a nearby clump of evergreen trees and bushes, perhaps holly and polypody ferns, he was not sure. All he knew was that in this wilderness they offered the only hope of cover. There was no time to question the decision. They turned from the path and urged their ponies swiftly through the trees to ride around the meagre protection offered by the evergreens. As soon as they were behind the shelter, they both dismounted and held tight to their ponies’ reins. Only then did Eadulf realise that in the snow that lay about, their tracks could plainly be seen.
It was too late, however. Around the corner, along the track, swung a light carriage drawn by two strong mares. It was a rich, ornate carriage, and highly decorated. A symbol was painted on the door but they could not discern what it was. Curtains at the window of the carriage flapped in the breeze caused by its momentum. Someone of substance was seated inside. But what astonished them both was the driver.
He was a young man, obviously used to driving a carriage and pair. He held the reins effortlessly in one hand, striking the air with a whip held in the other and crying encouragement to the beasts in their mad headlong plunge through the woods. What astonished them was that he was clad in the robes of a religieux.
Within one horse’s space behind the carriage came four mounted warriors, one carrying a square of silk on a lance which flapped in the wind. They were all well dressed and well armed and were clearly the escort to the carriage.
Such was their momentum that no one noticed the disturbedsnow where Eadulf and Fidelma had turned from the path. The carriage and its escort thundered on through the wood and they could hear the sound of its passing diminishing in the distance.
Eadulf straightened up with an exhalation of relief.
‘Did you recognise the emblem on that coach?’ Fidelma asked as she also straightened up and patted the muzzle of her pony in gratitude for its silence.
