12- The Haunted Abbot by Peter Tremayne

Author:Peter Tremayne [Tremayne, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: _NB_fixed, _rt_yes, Church History, Clerical Sleuth, Fiction, Mystery:Historical, Medieval Ireland
ISBN: 9780747271222
Publisher: London : Headline, 2002.
Published: 2005-12-05T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

‘Put up your sword, Garb of Maigh Eo! We are not members of Abbot Cild’s fraternity,’ snapped Eadulf.

Garb sneered in disbelief. ‘I saw you among the brethren, Saxon. You are a liar!’

‘He does not lie!’ Eadulf suddenly found Fidelma had stepped between him and the Connacht warrior, her hand raised, palm outward. ‘I am Fidelma of Cashel. Put up your sword, Garb. You would not wish to kill innocent people!’

Garb had actually started to swing his sword back and now he hesitated, momentarily confused.

‘I said, put up your sword,’ ordered Fidelma once again, ‘unless you wish to kill an advocate of the Laws of the Fénechus and a king’s daughter.’

The warrior examined her closely with narrowed eyes. Then he slowly began to lower his sword.

‘You say that you are Fidelma of Cashel?’ It was the religieux at his side who spoke. ‘Are you Fidelma the dálaigh, the advocate who solved the mysterious theft of the High King’s sword?’

‘I am Fidelma the dálaigh,’ she confirmed without embellishment.

The religieux now regarded her with an expression of surprise mingled with awe. He was a man of middle years, his grey hair shaven in the style of the Irish tonsure. His face was still handsome, commanding, with dark eyes and a firm mouth.

‘Are you Fidelma, sister to King Colgú?’

‘I am.’

‘What are you doing here, in this place, and with this Saxon?’ demanded Garb gruffly. His sword was lowered but still held in his hand. ‘I saw him in the abbey run by Cild only two nights ago. How is it that he claims not to be one of Cild’s men?’

‘I was also in that abbey, Garb,’ she said to him. ‘Brother Eadulf is my companion and emissary of Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury. We were guests there, having just arrived that night. I was ill and Brother Eadulf here was attending the funeral rites of his friend, Brother Botulf, when you made your unorthodox entrance.’

Garb frowned suddenly. ‘Was Botulf your friend?’

‘He was a friend of Brother Eadulf,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘So perhaps you should think with your head instead of with your sword hand.’

Garb was still suspicious.

‘What are you doing here? Did Cild send you?’

Fidelma gave an impatient gesture with her hand.

‘He did not. We became prisoners in the abbey. Cild planned my execution and we thought it wise not to wait for it. Because of the remarks about Botulf which you made to Cild in the abbey chapel, Brother Eadulf and I came in search of you. You are not hard to find.’

The religieux came forward with hands outstretched, ignoring the petulant warrior.

‘I am Brother Laisre. I am leader of this small religious group here and I would bid you welcome, Fidelma of Cashel. Welcome to Tunstall. I welcome your companion also. Let us go in by the fire so that we may hear your story and why your footsteps have been guided here.’

They followed Brother Laisre to one of the wooden buildings, with Garb following, his sword now sheathed, although he still regarded Eadulf menacingly.

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