Aldhere actually looked uncomfortable for a moment. He knew that Fidelma was making fun of him.
‘I was the friend she needed, the person she needed to confess her anguish and fears to. There was nothing else in it.’
‘Accepting that,’ agreed Fidelma, ‘you say that you did have an assignation with her two days before she died?’
‘We had arranged to meet — yes. We met in the woods along the river near the abbey. We went for a walk and she told me how bad the situation had become with Cild. She had been in touch with her family through the intermediacy of a religieux named Pol. Cild had found out and lost his temper and had Pol hanged out of hand. His excuse was that Pol was a heretic. Gélgeis said she was fearful and wanted me to put her in touch with some Columban religious who might help her to return to her father’s estates.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said that I would do my best to help her.’
‘Then?’
‘Then she left me.’
‘Having heard what she had to say, you let her return to the abbey?’ queried Eadulf incredulously.
‘It was her decision,’ replied Aldhere defensively. ‘She could have come with me there and then and I would have protected her, but …’ He shrugged.
‘When did you hear that she was dead?’ Fidelma asked.
‘The news came the day after she had wandered into the mire.’
‘Would her route to come to see you lie through the marshes? Through this place called Hob’s Mire?’
‘Not really. When she came to see me we usually met at the little copse near the abbey. I know what you are thinking. She did know the marsh.’
‘Did she know it well?’
Aldhere was looking at her curiously.
‘I would say she knew it very well,’ he said at last.
‘She knew about the dangers of Hob’s Mire?’
‘Most people know about the mire. It is notorious.’ He hesitated and anticipating a demand for specifics added: ‘Yes; she did know of it.’
‘So why do you think that she would have departed from the known and safe route to go through the bog?’
‘I do not think so and I know what you are suggesting.’
‘Suggesting? I am merely seeking the answers to some questions. I just find it curious that if she knew the dangers of the marshes, she would have gone out of her way on that particular occasion to court them.’
Aldhere fell silent.
‘Did you not attempt to make some inquiries when you heard of her death?’ Fidelma asked.
‘She was dead. Why would I need to know the reason why she wandered into the mire?’
‘To ascertain if she was assisted in wandering into that mire.’
Aldhere was silent for a moment or two before he replied.
‘The idea only occurred to me months later when it was too late. Indeed, I scarcely thought more of it until the other day when the holy gerefa here came wandering out of the marshes and had to be rescued from East Saxon raiders. He told me that Gélgeis’s father and brother had arrived here in some vain attempt to force Cild to confess to her murder.
‘I said then, and I say it to you now, Sister, that they have nohope. Only Cild’s conscience would force him to admit his guilt — if, indeed, he is guilty — and the fact is that my brother has no conscience. So there is little hope of achieving anything by that means.’
Fidelma sighed softly. ‘Rumours, surmises — I have not one hard fact to prevent the tragedy that will soon overtake us.’ She stared abruptly into the eyes of Aldhere. ‘Did you ever meet Mella?’
The outlaw’s eyes widened a little.
‘Mella?’ he muttered.
‘Gélgeis’s twin sister. They were so alike that only the close family could tell them apart.’
‘Of course not. What makes you ask if I met her?’
‘She tried to dissuade Gélgeis from marriage to Cild. It was said that she was brought to this land.’
‘But Mella-’ began Aldhere. He stopped suddenly.
‘Yes? Mella … what?’ snapped Fidelma.
‘Mella was taken in a slave raid and perished at sea.’
‘How do you know that?’
Aldhere raised his hands helplessly. ‘Gélgeis must have told me.’
‘But this happened after Gélgeis came to the land of the South Folk. How did she know?’
‘I don’t know. She told me. She knew.’
‘When did she tell you?’
‘I can’t remember. On one of our walks, I suppose.’
‘And what did she say exactly?’
‘About Mella?’ countered Aldhere.
‘About Mella,’ repeated Fidelma solemnly.
‘That her sister had been reported taken by slavers and that the slave ship was lost at sea. I know no more than that.’
It was clear that Aldhere was lying. But why was he doing so?
He was rising.
‘Enough of this talk,’ he said brusquely, ‘I have duties to see to. Stay here and rest until I return.’
He went out, leaving them alone in the hut.
Eadulf turned to Fidelma but she raised a hand and placed a finger to her lips, gesturing with her head towards the door.
‘Tell me about this man Sigeric,’ she commanded in a slightly raised voice.
Eadulf was disappointed.
‘As I said, he is high steward to the King and was high steward to King Athelwold before him. He is said to be a bastard son of Ricbert who ruled here for about three years. Ricbert was a pagan who assassinated Eorpwald who had converted to Christianity.’
Fidelma raised her hands in protest.
‘Truly, I cannot get my tongue around these Anglo-Saxon names. You say that Sigeric is high steward? Is he a bishop?’
‘No, he is still a pagan. Our kings have found him an excellent adviser and chief judge. There is no one who knows more of the laws of the Wuffingas. That is the law which we hold here-’
‘I did gather that,’ Fidelma said waspishly. Then she relaxed a little. ‘What I am interested in is why would Sigeric, your chief Brehon, be sent to Aldred’s Abbey? Is it truly to announce a pardon for Aldhere or is there some other purpose?’
Eadulf realised what Fidelma was thinking.
‘Do you think that it has something to do with the accusation against Cild? Perhaps Gadra or his son contacted him. Perhaps Sigeric is here to forestall the same tragedy that you are seeking to prevent?’
‘I wish I could believe that,’ Fidelma said. ‘I don’t think your King Ealdwulf would know anything about the problems that would arise from the troscud of Gadra. But what is his purpose? The trouble is that the answer to that question is back at Aldred’s Abbey.’
Chapter Fifteen
Eadulf regarded her with some nervousness.
‘Are you really serious about going back to the abbey? The idea is fraught with danger.’
Fidelma grimaced indifferently.
‘Name me another method of finding the truth other than going back. It is in Aldred’s Abbey that the strands of this mystery entwine. It might well be a godsend that this lawyer or judge of your people has gone there. If he is an honest man then he may well be our salvation.’
‘But if he prefers to take the side of Abbot Cild, then where will we be?’ protested Eadulf.
‘At least we have an advantage — we can get into the abbey without anyone observing us and perhaps we can get to the guests’ quarters and find this old judge before Abbot Cild is alerted.’
‘That is something of a desperate measure,’ observed Eadulf. ‘Most likely we would be seized by Cild or even Sigeric’s bodyguard and would then be unable to help ourselves, let alone help anyone else or solve the mystery.’
There came the sound of raised voices outside. Eadulf went to the door of the hut and looked out.
‘It’s Aldhere’s woman … the Frankish woman of whom I spoke to you.’
Fidelma joined him at the door.
Outside, the flaxen-haired woman had dismounted from a horse and was speaking rapidly to Aldhere. Another man was just dismounting and unloading some panniers of items which seemed to be foodstuffs. It seemed to confirm Aldhere’s story that they had been to the neighbouring town to purchase goods. Aldhere was replying to Bertha quietly and also with rapidity. Bertha intervened and as she spoke she punched the air with her fist to emphasise whatever point she was making. She turned abruptly, remounted her horse and rode away. Theyhad been too far away for Eadulf and Fidelma to hear any of what was said.