Brother Willibrod smiled grimly. ‘You have been away among strangers too long, Brother. You have forgotten that here we live among animals. Kill or be killed. If a man covets another’s land or his wife, and he is strong, then he will take what he wants. The weak will always lose.’
‘The faith has reformed our pagan ways,’ protested Eadulf.
‘Only if we have allowed it to. For some, it is impossible to change. Naturam expelles furca tamen usque recurret.’
‘You may drive nature out with a pitchfork, but it will still return,’ translated Eadulf, showing that he had understood.
‘Our faith may alter but not our ways.’
‘You are supposed to follow the way of Christ.’
‘Only if we live long enough to do so. Those without the law, such as Aldhere, would not have this abbey survive. He is a mad dog.’
‘So the dog has a bad name and thus he will be hanged? His guilt or innocence is of no consequence?’
‘If he is not guilty of this act then he is guilty of some other. What difference does it make?’
Eadulf was concerned that his friend’s killer should be found and punished, but any suspect should be tried under law. Eadulfvowed to himself that if the Abbot did indeed lead a hunting party into the marshes the next day, he would accompany them to see that justice was done. Justice, not blind vengeance.
‘And so by such logic we reach paradise?’ he protested sharply.
‘Come, dominus, I would like to see the person who appears to be the only witness in the case of Brother Botulf’s murder. This is a matter far too grave to be judged by prejudice. A mistake will reflect ill on this abbey and on anyone who has a hand in any event which may lead to a miscarriage of justice.’
Brother Willibrod still hesitated a moment before finally relenting.
‘Brother Wigstan was the person who saw Aldhere. He will be at the funeral service tonight. Will you be able to find your way back to the guests’ quarters from here?’
Eadulf nodded and Brother Willibrod turned abruptly and left at his usual rapid pace.
When Eadulf returned to the guests’ quarters he went immediately to Fidelma’s room and found her in the middle of a coughing fit. He brought her some water. She peered up with reddened eyes.
‘Oh, for a good Irish sweat bath,’ she muttered. ‘A sore throat, sneezing and a cough … all because of this awful climate. I have never known weather so cold anywhere.’
‘It is because the country is low lying,’ offered Eadulf in explanation. ‘There is nothing to protect us from the cold northerly winds from the sea. No tall hills nor mountains shield us.’
‘So the result is that I have to suffer a cold.’
Eadulf had studied medicine at the great Irish medical school of Tuaim Brecáin and was already searching one of his bags.
‘We have a fire and thus a means of heating water, and while we have these things all is not lost.’ He smiled confidently. ‘I will prepare an infusion of elderflowers and woodbine and stir in a little of the honey that I carry. You will soon be well.’
As he set to preparing his mixture, Eadulf told her of his meeting with Abbot Cild. Fidelma listened attentively, asking one or two questions to clarify points.
‘It seems that he is exactly as Brother Willibrod painted him,’ she murmured at the end of his recital.
‘He brings shame on the faith.’
‘He brings shame only on himself,’ replied Fidelma. ‘A man of such shabby arrogance brings derision only on himself, not on the faith. Let us hope I will be well enough to travel tomorrow morning. But as for tonight, I intend to retire. I am sorry that I shall miss the funeral of your friend, Eadulf.’
Eadulf shrugged. He did not bother to inform her that she would not have been allowed into the chapel in any case.
‘You cannot help Botulf. It is now more important that you recover your health. I have prepared enough of this infusion for you to sip through the night. Do not swallow it in large draughts, only small sips. Remember that.’ With a preoccupied smile, he turned for the door.
‘I’ll remember,’ Fidelma called after him. ‘And be circumspect with your questions, Eadulf. It seems an easy thing to cause annoyance to the brethren of this place.’
Eadulf left the guests’ hostel as a distant bell began to toll the Angelus. He increased his pace along the dark stone-flagged corridor, trying to remember the route to the chapel. It was icy cold and through the arches that gave onto the quadrangle he could see that the snow was still slanting downward from the black night sky. Making his way through a series of covered ways he came to a smaller quadrangle, encompassed by a covered walkway. On the side that Eadulf was proceeding along, a door at the end was illuminated by a storm lantern. He could see a similar lantern lighting another door on the far side. The snow lay thick where the quadrangle was open to the elements. He realised that this was the small area at the back of the chapel where poor Brother Botulf’s body had been found. He paused. One of the doors must lead to the crypt.
He was standing by one of the pillars, trying to reason how best to get to the other side of the chapel where the main doors were, when he noticed a movement on the far side of the quadrangle, among the shadows of the covered walkway. A slim figure in a long cloak moved from a darkened recess and strode swiftly, silently, along it. He watched the progress of the figure, frowning. There was something incongruous about it, given the surroundings. The figure paused just by the door with the lantern, hesitated and cast a quick glance around, as if to ensure that it was not being observed. Eadulf’s eyes widened a fraction.
The shadowy light revealed the face of a young woman. Even from across the quadrangle, Eadulf had the impression of ethereal beauty, of pale skin — was it too pale? It might have been a trick of the light — and fair hair. The figure was not clad as a religieuse but in some rich, crimson gown and there was evidence of silver jewellery and glittering gemstones.
Then, quickly, silently, the figure vanished through the door.
Eadulf stood for a moment or two wondering who the young woman was and what she was doing in an abbey which he was assured was the preserve only of men pledged to a life of celibacy under the faith. No women were supposed to be allowed within these walls.
When Eadulf reached the chapel, the abbot had already begun the service for the soul of Brother Botulf. He was intoning the blessing and Eadulf was forced to put his questions to one side.
‘May the blessing of light be on you, light without and light within …’
There were some thirty or more brethren gathered in the chapel. Eadulf took his seat on a bench at the back, not wishing to make himself conspicuous among the assembly.
He glanced around. Most of the congregation were young. They seemed to be sturdy men. Several had features that were harsh and would not be out of place in a battle host, seeming more suited to swords and shields rather than a crucifix and a phial of holy water.
They followed the prayers with a song. Eadulf did not know it and so did not join in.
Abbot Cild then came forward and had just started an adulatory soliloquy when the two great wooden doors of the chapel opened with a crash.
Eadulf, along with the rest of the congregation of brethren, swung round startled.
A tall man stood framed in the doorway, feet wide apart, a naked sword in one hand, his shield ready on the other arm in a defensive position. That he was a warrior was easy to see but who or what manner of warrior was more difficult to recognise. He wore a burnished helmet on which was fashioned the head and wings of a goose. The goose had its beak open in a warning; its neck was curved and low while its wingswere swept back on either side of the helmet. It was a truly frightening image. Eadulf vaguely recalled hearing that in some cultures the goose was an emblem of battle. It seemed so now, for below this helmet was a faceguard and only the bright eyes of the warrior glinted in the candlelight from the chapel, emanating a threatening malignancy.