The Haunted Abbot sf-12

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘I know, I know,’ interrupted Abbot Cild irritably. ‘Though why he could not tell me this important news on returning to the abbey, I don’t know. Are you sure that he said it was to do with Gadra and his claims?’

  ‘You know all that his messenger told me.’

  ‘I do not understand it. Who gave Brother Higbald permission to leave the abbey and go traversing the countryside?’

  ‘All should be explained when he arrives. I am sure it will,’ Brother Willibrod assured him.

  There came a startled exclamation from one of the figures below.

  ‘Christ and His Apostles protect us!’ was the hoarse shout. ‘Look!’

  One of the riders had raised an arm to point across the marshes on the far side of the track.

  Fidelma and Eadulf raised their heads to see what was causing the alarm. Out on the marshes they could see a flickering blue light. Eadulf shivered slightly.

  ‘Corpse fire,’ he whispered to Fidelma.

  ‘Ignis fatuus,’ she responded in the same tone. ‘A natural phenomenon. Why does it cause such distress among them?’

  Abbot Cild’s sharp cry drowned her out.

  ‘God protect me!’

  He had turned and was urging his horse back along the track towards the abbey. Brother Willibrod and his companions were hard on his heels.

  It was then that Eadulf placed a hand on Fidelma’s arm and pointed in the direction of the flickering blue flame. A shape seemed to be actually glowing there. Fidelma’s eyes narrowed as she sought to make it out. It was a figure. A figure on horseback. She exhaled sharply. It was the figure of a woman.

  Eadulf, at her side, groaned softly.

  ‘It is the woman I saw in the abbey on that first night.’ His voice was edged in horror. ‘It is the ghost of Gelgéis’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eadulf was frozen for the moment by the sheer horror of what he thought he was seeing. Then he was aware that Fidelma was on her feet and moving rapidly down the knoll to the now deserted track before them. For a second he was undecided what to do, then he gave a cry of alarm and started chasing her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he gasped as he attempted to reach her and halt her rapid advance.

  ‘I’m going to get closer to whatever that is,’ replied Fidelma as she darted across the track and went plunging into the darkness beyond, heading towards the distant flickering blue light.

  ‘Stop! For heaven’s sake, stop! This is Hob’s Mire,’ cried Eadulf in desperation.

  She did not heed his warning cry and, oblivious of the dangers, she plunged on with Eadulf in hot pursuit. They heard the startled whinny of a horse and then the curiously glowing figure seemed to disappear abruptly. Fidelma did not pause but continued to press forward. Behind her, Eadulf, trying to keep up, slipped and found himself sinking into the mud which lay just below the surface snow.

  ‘Help me!’ he cried in panic as he felt himself slipping.

  Fidelma hesitated, glanced behind, saw him struggling in the gloom and grabbed at his arm. He had only sunk up to the calves and it was easy to pull him back onto the path. He accomplished the feat more by his own strength than Fidelma’s; but she gave him the impetus to do so, steadying his panic. However, the incident made Fidelma realise that she had let her determination to close on the ghost-like figure overturn her sense of danger. She silently cursed herself for a fool.

  ‘Are you all right, Eadulf?’ she asked with concern as he sat on the firm strip of pathway breathing heavily from his exertion.

  ‘I think I might be,’ he confessed uncertainly.

  ‘I am sorry. I behaved foolishly. There is nothing for it butto make our way back to the track. It is no use trying to pursue whoever it was tonight.’

  Eadulf gazed up in the darkness but she could not see his bewildered expression.

  ‘Whoever?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you mean whatever it was?’

  ‘I mean whoever. If only there was some means of lighting a path to that spot. I wonder if we could find our way to the ignis fatuus in daylight. I’d like to examine the ground.’

  Eadulf rose and shook his head slowly.

  ‘Right now, I would settle on finding my way back out of this mire safely rather than go forward in search of a will o’ the wisp.’ He looked around, shivering.

  Dusk had given way to darkness and the countryside seemed to coalesce into an unfriendly backdrop of threatening shadows. There were few points of reference to guide them back. The path on which they had entered the mire had not been a straight one.

  Eadulf led the way, treading slowly and cautiously from one position to another, testing the firmness of the ground before each guarded step. It was some time before they came back to the main track. They were just about to collapse and rest on the firm ground when the sound of horses came to their ears.

  ‘It may be Cild returning,’ whispered Eadulf. ‘Quick! Let’s get back in the trees, behind the rocks.’

  Fidelma obeyed, but she realised that the horses were coming in the opposite direction from the abbey.

  They plunged breathlessly up the knoll through the trees and flung themselves behind the cover of the rocks. They had barely reached them when a half-dozen horsemen came to a noisy halt below. One of them held aloft a brand torch but it did not throw out sufficient light to illuminate their faces.

  ‘Not here!’ cried a female voice. ‘Are you sure this is the place you told them to be?’

  ‘Of course,’ came Brother Higbald’s voice out of the gloom. ‘Are you sure that you delivered the message correctly, Arwald?’

  A male voice rose indignantly. ‘Word for word as you gave it to me, my lord Higbald. I gave it word for word to Brother Willibrod.’

  Lord Higbald! Eadulf’s eyebrows rose in the darkness.

  ‘He did not suspect?’ came Higbald’s voice again. But the female voice interrupted with a licentious chuckle.

  ‘That old idiot? He would not be suspicious about anything. He thinks only of one thing.’

  ‘Nevertheless, was he suspicious when you gave him the message, Arwald?’ insisted Higbald.

  ‘Not at all,’ came the response.

  ‘Then God rot them! They may have gone back to the abbey instead of waiting for us.’

  ‘More than likely, Higbald.’ It was the female speaker again, a firm assured voice.

  ‘Then God rot them!’ Higbald repeated.

  The woman chuckled again. ‘That’s no way for a pious brother to behave, Higbald. Try to maintain your holy orders a little longer. Anyway, there is no cause to fret. I think we have done enough to set the wheels in motion.’

  ‘But if I return to the abbey now, Lioba, then I will have to make some excuse about Gadra.’

  ‘Easy enough,’ declared Lioba. ‘Anyway, perhaps tonight might have oversalted the dish.’

  ‘Very well,’ came Higbald’s voice again. ‘I will return to the abbey and make my excuses. We’ll see if this old man, Sigeric, is as astute as he is reputed to be. We will meet tomorrow evening in the chapel.’

  ‘Is that wise?’

  ‘No one is suspicious. Let us give the pot one more stir and then I am sure King Ealdwulf will be forced to march against Aldhere.’

  The band of horsemen moved on, sliding rapidly into a canter and disappearing down the track towards the abbey.

  Eadulf rose to his feet and helped Fidelma up.

  ‘What do you make of that? This grows more mysterious by the hour.’

  ‘On the contrary, Eadulf, I am beginning to see some light for the first time. We have another call to make before going back to the abbey. How far is Mul’s farmhouse from here?’

  ‘Mul’s farmhouse?’ Eadulf was surprised. ‘Why …?’ He paused. Although he could not see Fidelma’s face in the darkness he realised that it would be registering irritation at hishalf-finished question. ‘It is under an hour’s ride. Less, if those clouds pull away from the moon and we are able to see the path more clearly. I know the way to Frig’s T
un well from here.’

  ‘That is good,’ said Fidelma. ‘Do you think Mul would know the paths through Hob’s Mire well enough to guide us in daylight?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose that he would know ways through the mire. Why do you want him to guide you?’

  ‘I have already told you. I want to examine the area where we saw the ignis fatuus. I am beginning to piece things together and if I am right about that particular piece … well, I think that I will have the whole picture of what is happening in this place.’

  ‘Truly?’ Eadulf was astounded.

  ‘Truly,’ Fidelma responded firmly. ‘But first we will have to persuade Mul to give us hospitality for one more night.’

  ‘Mul can probably be persuaded to do anything for a coin,’ replied Eadulf cynically. ‘So you do not plan to go on to the abbey and speak with Sigeric?’

  ‘Not yet. I think what has happened here in the last hour or so has given a new dimension to this problem and I need that final piece of information before I can present a believable case to Sigeric.’

  ‘Should we not discuss it first?’ Eadulf sounded almost petulant at her mystifying pronouncement.

  ‘When would I not discuss any matter with you?’ she countered irritably. ‘Of course we’ll discuss it. But let us start out for Mul’s farmhouse rather than stand here wasting time.’

  Although dawn had come an hour before, the day was grey and gloomy, almost like dusk. White clouds edged with grey hung low and almost motionless in the sky. There was no hope that the pale winter sun would ever penetrate the overcast that seemed at one with the grey snow-covering that spread across the landscape. It was a melancholy vista.

  Mul was leading the way on one of his mules, sitting easily astride it without benefit of saddle. Behind him came Fidelma and Eadulf on their borrowed ponies. The countryside through which they moved was like some fantastic dream landscape. The snow-covered panorama was mainly flat with little dark patchesof evergreen woodland here and there and a distant grey, jagged rock summit poking sharply up in the evenness of the place, like a huge stone thrown down in the middle of the plain by the giant hand of some god. It was a bleak and wild vista and the only movement was the gush of an occasional stream across their tracks, fed by gently melting snow. The gaunt leafless trees were almost sinister as they rose in the gloomy landscape. There seemed little to distinguish the flat stretch of marshland. Apart from the occasional dark shadow of a flitting unidentifiable bird in the sky, there seemed no other animals abroad, nor any sound to distinguish them.

  Mul halted his mule and swung round to watch Fidelma and Eadulf come up to him and halt.

  ‘Well, there is Hob’s Mire.’ He gestured with an outstretched arm. ‘You can see the lines of trees ahead. Those run by the river. That is the River Alde ahead and about a mile over there, beyond that tree-covered hill, is Aldred’s Abbey.’

  Eadulf frowned slightly.

  ‘We are approaching the mire from the wrong direction,’ he complained. ‘I cannot estimate where the ignis fatuus was situated.’

  Mul grimaced cynically. ‘I am taking you the safest way into the mire, gerefa. If you want to kill yourselves, then that is your concern. You asked me to show you into the mire and that I will, but do not ask me to put myself in danger.’

  Fidelma smiled in reassurance. ‘We would not ask you to do that. However, we do need to get our bearings. It is important that we find the exact place.’

  Mul sniffed in disgust and pointed with his finger towards a bank of trees in the distance.

  ‘See that line? That is where a track runs which would lead you to the river bank and then along to the wooden bridge across the Alde and to the abbey. I think that is the road you say you were on last night.’

  Eadulf screwed up his eyes to examine the distant terrain.

  ‘I think I have the position now,’ he admitted slowly. ‘See that small hill covered in trees? That is where we were last night.’

  Fidelma followed his gaze.

  ‘So we must aim our steps in that direction. Mul, is there a path from here which would cross towards that point?’

  ‘Not directly, but I can take you across. It will be a tight path, though. Only room for one horse at a time. Are you willing to try it?’

  She inclined her head in confirmation.

  ‘That, after all, is why we came to you,’ she answered gravely.

  The farmer pulled a face. He glanced to Eadulf.

  ‘Are you ready, gerefa?’

  ‘Of course,’ Eadulf almost snapped.

  ‘Then follow me in single file and do not stray from where I lead with my horse. One false step and you and the horse will disappear in these treacherous mud flats. Do you understand?’

  He turned his mount and set off into the white landscape. Fidelma realised that under that coating of snow lay the soft green sedges and bog holes that waited eagerly to clutch their victims and drag them down to oblivion. She leaned forward over her pony’s shoulder and kept a careful eye on the pathway which the farmer’s mule picked out for them.

  Here and there, poking through the snow, were thin spikes of dying rushes, and now and then there was a strange plopping sound as a bubble of air burst through the mud from some indescribable depth, pushing upwards perhaps from the rotting remains of some animal that had been dragged under.

  There was a sudden movement and something took off from a clump of reeds in front of her. She thought for a moment that it was an owl, but then she saw the brown and black streaked plumage and the green legs which were usually an effective means of camouflage to eyes less sharp than Fidelma’s. Then came a resonant booming sound.

  ‘A bittern!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘You have a good eye, Sister,’ called Mul appreciatively.

  ‘Do you know anything about ignis fatuus, Mul?’ she called back.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She means firedrake,’ called Eadulf.

  ‘Oh, that.’ Mul shrugged carelessly. ‘You can see firedrake quite regularly in these marshlands. Corpse fire, it is calledin these parts. It’s a pale flickering light that appears on the marshland. A lot of people don’t like it but I’ve grown up on the marshes. There’s no call to be alarmed by it. You saw it last night?’

  ‘We did indeed,’ replied Fidelma.

  ‘You should have told me. If you wanted to know what it is I could have told you. No need to come all the way out here into the marsh.’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘No, it was not just the ignis fatuus that I wanted to see-’

  Mul interrupted her. ‘You really only see it in the dark because the name is too light to see in daylight. This will be a wasted journey.’

  ‘No; I need to see the ground nearby,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘But tell us, what causes it?’

  ‘What causes corpse fire? You know of the gases given off by animal corpses … in fact, the smell both plant and animal corpses give off when they disintegrate? The smell is the gas. Sometimes there is a spontaneous ignition and that’s when you see the light. It is the gas burning. It’s eerie and you can understand why people are sometimes afraid of it.’ He waved his hand across the flat marshes. ‘Plenty of animals have been sucked down into this mire so there are plenty of rotting corpses underneath it to create the corpse fire. Do you still want to go on?’

  Fidelma looked up and measured the distance to the track which she could see they were now nearing.

  ‘Is it possible to work our way a little to the right?’ she asked, not answering the question directly.

  Mul glanced in the direction she indicated and shrugged.

  ‘Yes, but stay close,’ he advised.

  They moved on for a while and when Mul halted they found themselves on a large island of firm ground, a slight rise which was surrounded by the level flat area of the mire. The layer of snow barely covered the surrounding area and they could see the dark threatening mud beneath.

  ‘Stop!’ cried Fidelma, suddenly sliding from her pony. ‘Don�
��t move further.’

  Mul looked at her as if she were mad.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘this place is as firm as anywhere …’

  But that was not what Fidelma had meant.

  She walked quickly forward and went down on one knee. The area of snow, lying more thickly here on firm ground than on the warmer mud flats, was churned up. There were prints in the hardened snow which were only just beginning to melt in the warmer air of morning.

  Eadulf had dismounted and come up behind her.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded.

  She pointed downwards.

  ‘Someone stood here both on foot and then on horseback. One horse … see the prints. One person. Small footprints. What does that tell you?’

  ‘A small man or …’

  ‘A woman. They stood near the edge of the mire here. They must have known what they were doing. A false step and there would have been another corpse rotting in the mire.’

  Mul was standing patiently holding the reins of their mounts.

  ‘I don’t understand. What are you looking for?’ he demanded.

  ‘I have found it,’ replied Fidelma with satisfaction, turning slightly towards him. Then to Eadulf she said: ‘This is the mystery of the so-called ghost that appeared last night. Someone obviously navigated their way here by horseback. That was the figure we all saw.’

  Eadulf glanced across the mire to the knoll on which they had stayed hidden on the previous night watching Abbot Cild.

  ‘But how did she appear in that shimmering light? What about the firedrake? It is hard to manipulate that.’

  Fidelma sniffed the air. ‘Smell that?’

  Eadulf cautiously sniffed and caught a malodorous reek. He had been among the dead often enough to know the signs.

  ‘That is a gaseous smell of rotting corpses,’ he admitted.

  Fidelma glanced at Mul. ‘What do you say, Mul? Is he right?’

  The farmer looked confused by their comments.

  ‘There’s plenty of fuel here for the firedrake,’ he said. ‘And your sharp eyes should have picked out the flame already. See?’

  He pointed in front of them.