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.
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.
The Haunted Abbot sf-12 Page 31