Fidelma was surprised when Eadulf halted outside it and from his marsupium brought forth a piece of candle which he proceeded to light from his flint and tinder box. He looked up and grinned.
‘I had a feeling that we might be returning by this tunnel and so took the opportunity to appropriate a piece of candle from Mul’s farmhouse.’
He turned and pushed into the tunnel, dank and chill. The darkness closed in oppressively as soon as they were a few paces along the tunnel. The candle did not throw out much of a light and what it did was flickering and unstable, not enough to see far ahead.
‘Strange,’ Fidelma said after a while, ‘I imagined that we would have passed that chamber filled with weapons before now. I wanted to examine that place again.’
‘We have passed a few darkened entrances,’ came Eadulf’s voice in front of her. ‘Perhaps the lights in that chamber have been doused and we have already passed it.’
Fidelma admitted that his suggestion was probably the right one.
‘Can you find your way back to the guests’ chambers? I think that is where we should find this Sigeric.’
Eadulf acknowledged her question with an affirmative grunt. He moved slowly, trying to remember the turns he had taken but reversing them. After a short while, as he turned a corner, he saw a faint light ahead, permeating through a hanging cloth. It was a tapestry.
He halted and turned to Fidelma with a whisper.
‘I think I might have reached the guests’ chamber where we were. It should be beyond that tapestry.’
‘You have done well, Eadulf,’ she said, moving forward to join him.
He put a restraining hand on her arm.
‘When we left the chamber,’ he whispered, ‘I remember closing the door behind the tapestry. Someone must have opened it.’
She was not worried. ‘Brother Higbald doubtless checked our escape route after we had left.’
‘Perhaps,’ he replied reluctantly.
‘Are you ready, then?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Then let us proceed!’
Eadulf moved forward along the tunnel to the tapestry. He could not see through it but was aware that there was a light filtering through the strands of the material. It could only come from candlelight beyond. He did not pause but reached forward, drew the cloth aside and stepped into the room behind. Fidelma followed him closely.
There was an elderly man seated in the chamber where Fidelma had been confined during her stay at Aldred’s Abbey. He was seated with his bent back towards then, his head down as he appeared to be studying some sheets of vellum on the table before him. There were several candles lighting the room. The old man was making notes with a scratchy quill.
Perhaps it was the draught of air from the tunnel, a slight flickering of the candle on his desk, but the occupant of the room swung round in his chair and started up as his pale blue eyes fell upon them.
It was clear that in his youth he had been a handsome man. His features were strong. The jaw was still determined. His white hair grew thickly. He had the look of a man used to command; a warrior by build although age had caused his back to bend a little and his hand to tremble, although so slightly as to be not immediately noticeable until one examined it for a while.
He looked from one to another, his eyes now narrowing slightly.
‘And who are you that creep up on me like thieves in the night?’ he demanded. Then, without warning, he bellowed: ‘Guards! To me!’ His voice was still strong and resonant in spite of his age.
No sooner had he spoken than the door burst open. Two warriors rushed in with drawn swords. A moment later the muscular but mute Brother Beornwulf looked in and then disappeared. A bell began a clamour further down the corridor.
The old man slowly stood up and examined them.
‘And who do we have here?’ His voice was now soft but with a steely quality to it. ‘Assassins? Thieves?’
Eadulf was about to speak when there came the sound of movement along the corridor.
Abbot Cild strode into the room, followed by an anxious-looking Brother Willibrod, his dark eye glinting. Behind them, Brother Beornwulf stood, still clutching the handbell by which he had summoned them.
Abbot Cild’s features broke into a smile of triumph as he beheld them.
‘Seize them!’ he cried. ‘Before they murder the lord Sigeric! No need for a trial now. We’ll take them out and hang them immediately.’
Chapter Seventeen
‘Wait!’
The old man spoke quietly, almost under his breath, but the word halted Abbot Cild and his companions. The abbot turned in protest to him.
‘Lord Sigeric, they are foreigners who have come to our land spreading witchcraft and evil …’
Eadulf took a step forward.
‘That is a lie. I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham, one time gerefa of that place …’
‘Silence!’ roared Abbot Cild. ‘How dare you address the high steward without permission?’
The old man examined Eadulf with bright grey eyes.
‘And you are now a Christian?’ He smiled thinly. ‘Who is it that you travel with?’ His eyes turned to Fidelma. ‘She has the appearance of one of the Irish missionaries who have turned this land away from its old gods. Irish missionaries that King Ealdwulf has ordered to quit the kingdom.’
‘It is true that Sister Fidelma is of the kingdom of Muman in the land of Eireann. Her brother reigns as King of that distant land. But she is no missionary here but a reputed advocate of the Irish laws.’
Sigeric sighed gently.
‘I have heard of the kingdom of Muman. I have learnt much of that country from missionaries who have come to our land. Why did you sneak up on me like assassins? Is that what you are? Did you plan to kill me?’
Abbot Cild moved a step forward. His voice was loud and eager.
‘Lord Sigeric, they clearly meant you harm, or they would not have come creeping up on you-’
‘It is not so!’ interrupted Eadulf. ‘We needed to speak with you-’
Abbot Cild had nodded to Brother Beornwulf who took a step to Eadulf and, without warning, slapped him hard across the mouth, sending him staggering back against Fidelma. He lost his footing and stumbled to the ground. Blood appeared from his mouth. Fidelma bent to help him back on his feet.
‘These are the evil pair that I warned you about, lord Sigeric,’ Abbot Cild continued in his rage. ‘The woman who conjures spirits. They escaped from my justice a few days ago. Search them and they will have weapons on them. They meant to kill you. I have no doubt about it.’
Sigeric’s face, however, wore an expression of disapproval.
‘You have no doubt? Well, perhaps I should be the best judge of their intentions, Cild. There is no need to ill-treat them. The laws of the Wuffingas say that each is allowed to speak in their defence. Would you deny the law?’
‘My lord Sigeric, I say-’
‘I will deal with this matter,’ he said sharply. ‘Now, Cild, you may take your people and leave this to me.’
The abbot hesitated a moment more. His features were still inflamed and for a moment it seemed that he would argue with Sigeric. Then he turned, still angry, and left without another word. He was followed by Brother Willibrod and the mute Brother Beornwulf.
Fidelma was still dabbing at Eadulf’s bloodied mouth with a cloth which she had damped from a jug of water. She turned to Sigeric.
‘I thank you for your intervention.’
Sigeric sat back and there was no humour in his face.
‘You may soon have no cause to thank me, Sister Fidelma. I am merciless to those who transgress our laws be they high born or low born, native or foreign.’
‘Yet I have heard that you are a judge of sound qualities who seeks truth and justice for all, be they high born or low born, native or foreign,’ replied Fidelma with a faint smile.