Chapter Nine
As Eadulf was leaving the abbot’s chambers he encountered the flaxen-haired Brother Higbald, the abbey’s apothecary. Higbald greeted him in a concerned but friendly fashion, still wearing the bright and humorous appearance he had that morning. Humour seemed a natural attitude to him. He had that ease of manner which reminded Eadulf of Aldhere’s jocular attitude to the world.
‘So, Brother Eadulf, you have heard that mass hysteria has taken over our poor community?’
Eadulf halted, frowning. It took him a moment to realise what the apothecary was referring to. His eyes lighted.
‘Then you do not believe in this ghostly apparition?’
Brother Higbald shook his head. If anything it seemed his smile broadened.
‘I cannot believe we have a wraith or phantom wafting through these dismal corridors. I believe that young Redwald was imagining things. Yet I have to point out that it was you who first raised the image of a woman who, by poor Brother Willibrod’s account, bore a striking resemblance to the dead wife of the abbot. Perhaps young Redwald overheard you talking about the matter and then, with an overfull imagination, he embroidered something he saw in the shadows. That’s all.’
Eadulf put his head to one side reflectively.
‘That is a possibility, though I have spoken to young Redwald and his fear is genuine enough.’
‘It might well be. It is possible to convince yourself that you have seen something when you have not. Youth is impressionable.’
Eadulf smiled grimly. ‘Granted that is so. Can the same explanation be ascribed to my sighting of the lady?’
Brother Higbald chuckled. ‘I do not know you, Brother, and therefore I cannot say. All I know is — as I told you this morning- we are a small community and I would know if there was a woman in this place.’
‘But would you know if it were a shadow, an image from the Otherworld?’ demanded Eadulf.
Brother Higbald shook his head firmly. ‘You do not believe in such things, my friend. Neither do I.’
‘Unfortunately, your abbot and many of the brethren here do.’
‘That is a difficulty, I know. In fact, I was just on my way to see how Sister Fidelma is faring. I’ll accompany you, if I may?’
‘She has fallen into a fever,’ Eadulf said as they walked together along the corridor.
Brother Higbald did not appear perturbed.
‘It is usually the way with such agues. The fever comes and must break naturally, although we can help with some medication. Usually, the fever breaks in the early hours of the morning. There is nothing we can do but wait.’ Higbald paused and glanced at him. ‘Where did you disappear to this morning?’
‘I rode out after Abbot Cild and his party,’ Eadulf replied. ‘I did not catch up with them, but I caught up with the abbot’s brother.’
Brother Higbald halted almost in mid-stride and stared at Eadulf.
‘You met and spoke to Aldhere?’
Eadulf nodded. ‘An interesting man. Not quite as the abbot would describe him. There seem some interesting undercurrents here. If I had my way, I would turn the matter over to the King’s high steward to investigate.’
Brother Higbald resumed the walk and Eadulf fell in with him.
‘I try to avoid fraternal strife. But you are aware of where Abbot Cild’s accusation against Sister Fidelma may lead?’
Eadulf nodded grimly.
‘Would you accept some advice?’ Brother Higbald asked.
Eadulf gave him a curious glance. ‘Advice?’
‘As soon as your companion’s fever has broken, I would leave this place.’
Eadulf sighed with resignation. ‘I think that is exactly what you counselled me this morning.’
‘It is the best advice I can give,’ replied Brother Higbald. ‘I will show you a means through which you may pass out of the abbey unnoticed; one which is not generally known to the brethren. With luck, you could escape Cild’s wrath with ease. I, for one, do not want innocent blood on my hands.’
Eadulf glanced at him in surprise.
‘If you are so sceptical of your abbot, why do you stay here, Brother Higbald?’
The apothecary chuckled dryly.
‘We all have reasons for being where we are in life. I choose here. My reasons are of no consequence to this matter.’
A thought suddenly struck Eadulf.
‘Didn’t you tell me this morning that Brother Botulf had been a witness to the lady Gélgeis’s death? I have heard that she was returning alone to the abbey one night and wandered into a quagmire, Hob’s Mire, and disappeared. No one saw the body afterwards. So who told you that Botulf was a witness to her death?’
Brother Higbald paused again and turned to Eadulf. There was a frown on his face.
‘I never heard that she was alone when she met her death,’ he said with some hesitation. ‘Indeed, I think that it was Brother Botulf himself who told me the story.’
‘Tell me what Botulf actually said. Can you remember?’
Brother Higbald thought for a moment.
‘It was several months ago. The subject of the abbot’s wife came up, I can’t recall why. Brother Botulf said … oh, something about failing the lady. That it was his fault that she was killed. Something like that. That … ah, I recall now! Botulf said that he had failed to protect Gélgeis from the evil she had found here. That her face, in death, haunted him. Then … that was all. He ended the conversation abruptly.’
Eadulf was silent for a moment or so, reflecting on the words. He could find nothing substantial in them but much to give him food for conjecture. He sighed softly.
They had reached the guests’ chamber but the burly silent brother still stood guard outside. Eadulf had realised by this time that the man was a mute.
Brother Higbald greeted him with mockery in his voice.
‘How is your prisoner, Brother Beornwulf? Has she tried to escape and overpower you with the forces of the Evil One?’
Brother Beornwulf shifted his weight from one foot to the other and scowled at the jocular apothecary.
‘I know, I know,’ Brother Higbald said pacifically, patting him on the arm. ‘You do what you are told. The abbot told you to remain here and so you remain here until he tells you not to.’ He shook his head at Eadulf. ‘It is good to know one’s place and duty,’ he said, still smiling. Then he opened the door to the guests’ chamber and went inside, motioning Eadulf to follow him. As he closed the door he turned and grimaced at Eadulf. ‘A good strong arm is Brother Beornwulf. But what he possesses in strength, he lacks in mental agility. He does what he is told. No more, no less.’
Fidelma still lay in the cot, huddled under blankets, and still in the grip of the fever.
Brother Higbald felt her moist forehead with the back of his hand. She moaned softly but did not open her eyes.
‘Ah, febricula incipit — still feverish. There is no change as yet, Brother Eadulf,’ he said. ‘That is to be expected. You understand these things, don’t you?’
Eadulf nodded. ‘I would prescribe something to help her fight the fever and reduce it, though.’
‘I agree. What would you suggest?’
‘An infusion of wormwood, catnep …?’
‘I would suggest devil’s bit,’ replied Brother Higbald firmly.
‘Equally good,’ agreed Eadulf.
Brother Higbald took the small sack-like bag he carried over his shoulder. ‘It so happens that I have already made up a potion of it.’
Eadulf took the miniature amphora that the apothecary gave him, unplugged the cork and smelt the contents. Then he nodded.
‘Shall I administer it?’ he asked.
Brother Higbald indicated his assent.
Eadulf carefully placed his hand behind Fidelma’s hot, perspiration-soaked head and lifted her up. She groaned in protest but Eadulf placed the small amphora at her lips, gently forcing them open and making the liquid trickle into her mouth.
‘A good swallow or two,’ instructed Brother Higbald.