Eadulf painstakingly administrated the dosage.
‘You may give her another dose later if the fever is not abating. But she is a strong, healthy woman. I think that is something we should be thankful for.’
Eadulf put the amphora on a side table.
‘Now we must wait,’ Brother Higbald said approvingly. ‘I will leave you to your watch, my friend, but I earnestly believe that you should take my advice and leave this place at the first opportunity.’
He crossed the room rapidly to a wall where a large tapestry denoting some religious scene was hanging. He turned and looked about him with a conspiratorial air.
‘Behind here you will find a small passageway which will lead you outside the walls of the abbey. Remember it.’
He pulled the drape aside. To Eadulf’s surprise, there was a small doorway behind it. It opened inwards and was not locked. Brother Higbald opened it and pointed through into the darkness.
‘Following the passage, take the first two left turnings and then the first right. Remember that. Two left turns and one right. The abbey has several such tunnels, for it was built on an old Welisc fortress that was overthrown by Tytila, son of Wuffa, when our people conquered this area.’
‘I’ll remember that, Brother Higbald, and your advice, for which I am most truly grateful.’
The apothecary said nothing but shut the door and returned the tapestry to its original position. Then he smiled briefly and raised a hand in a gesture of farewell before leaving the chamber. Eadulf heard him speaking to Brother Beornwulf outside. He hesitated for a moment and went to look down at Fidelma. Then he crossed to sit in the chair near the hearth.
He suddenly realised how tired he was. It had been a long day. He had ridden far on muleback and ached all over. He sat back, hands resting his lap, and closed his eyes.
The events of the day revolved slowly in his mind and he tried desperately to connect them.
Above all, the danger to Fidelma kept nagging at his thoughts. She lay on the bed before him oblivious of that danger, fightingthe more immediate threat of her fever. His first duty was to protect her. Brother Higbald had, at least, shown him an alternative to waiting for Abbot Cild’s inquisition. But flight from Aldred’s Abbey was surely the last resort?
What had he learnt of this mystery? He had been summoned by his good friend to the abbey. That friend had been murdered hours before he arrived. He found the abbot and his blood brother locked in a deadly quarrel and the abbot blaming that brother, Aldhere, for Botulf’s murder. In return, Aldhere accused his brother, the abbot, of the murder. In addition, Garb, from Maigh Eo in the kingdom of Connacht, had appeared to accuse the abbot of the murder of his wife, Gélgeis, who had been Garb’s sister. A ritual fast against the abbot had been announced. The facts of Gélgeis’s death seemed unclear. A woman had been seen in the abbey, by both Eadulf and young Redwald. Brother Redwald claimed the woman was the dead Gélgeis. And now the most ominous fact of all — Fidelma was accused of conjuring the spirits of the dead.
Eadulf could have dismissed Brother Redwald’s tale of seeing the ghost of Gélgeis as some hysterical reaction of youth. However, he was unable to reconcile the fact that he, too, had seen a woman outside the chapel on the previous night. Both Abbot Cild and Brother Willibrod had appeared to recognise his description. It was evident that both men thought that Eadulf was describing Gélgeis, the dead wife of the abbot.
Eadulf groaned slightly and shook his head.
Nothing seemed to have a logic to it; nothing made sense. It was at that moment that he suddenly remembered the piece of paper he had taken from the book satchel in Brother Botulf’s chamber. He fumbled with the sacculus hanging on his belt and took the paper out, spreading it on his knee. It consisted of a few notes in Latin and Eadulf recognised the firm hand of his friend Botulf.
The first sentence Eadulf saw was from the Book of Samuel. ‘The Lord sees not as a man sees; for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’
Eadulf frowned. There seemed something familiar about this admonition and he could not recall why.
The next line he did not recognise but Botulf had written thename Lucretius beside it: ‘Whenever a thing changes and quits its proper limits, this change is at once the death of that which was before.’ Then added and underscored: ‘The change is definite — how long before the death?’
Then there followed a passage almost revealing but totally perplexing. ‘God willing, my friend will be here soon. Is it not written that mercy is the support of justice? Not so in the man of Merce. We will be destroyed by the people of the …’ Eadulf paused, trying to make out the word, which was distorted by an ink blot. It looked like ‘marshes’. He thought of Aldhere and his marshland outlaws and shivered slightly. ‘God willing, my friend will be here soon.’ It could only be a reference to Botulf’s wait for Eadulf’s arrival, and he had arrived too late to help his friend.
The final note was also curious and again Brother Botulf had noted its provenance. ‘Can a man carry fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk upon hot coals, and his feet not be scorched? Proverbs.’ Added was the line: ‘Thus is it with Bretta’s son.’
Eadulf sat back frowning and trying to make sense of these notes by his dead friend. What was going on in Botulf’s mind? The only thing that made some sense was the comment about Bretta’s son. As he had learnt, Aldhere and Cild were Bretta’s sons and both certainly had ‘fire in his bosom’, but nothing else made sense. He put the paper back in his sacculus.
He stood up thoughtfully and walked to the bed to have another look at Fidelma. There was no change. Perhaps Higbald was right. His wisest course was to leave the abbey with Fidelma as soon as she was able.
He returned to his seat and tried to relax.
What choice would Fidelma make in the circumstances? He knew that she would want to get to the bottom of the mystery which permeated this dark, brooding abbey. He also knew that safety must come first. It was evident that Abbot Cild had no compunction about fulfilling his threat. Rank or station did not cause him a second thought.
Eadulf had come back to the abbey intent on going to find Garb and his men. He had learnt that the most likely place would be among a community in the forest of Tunstall which lay south of the abbey. That had been his intended goal. Perhaps that oughtto be where he should take Fidelma when she was sufficiently recovered? At least, she would be with her own kind who would protect her because of her rank and office.
Eadulf’s thoughts seemed to be becoming slower and slower in registering, drifting, diverging; and then he was sleeping an uncomfortable slumber full of apprehensive visions, jumbled images which made no sense at all.
He was aware of someone shouting at him; angry, demanding.
He awoke with a start. He was slumped uncomfortably in his chair. A foot or so from his face were the scowling features of Abbot Cild. Eadulf started up.
‘What is it?’ he demanded, trying to gather his wits.
‘Do you claim that you have been asleep here?’
Eadulf was still trying to shake the fuzziness from his head. He saw an anxious-looking Brother Willibrod hovering behind the abbot, wringing his hands in his anxiety. To one side stood the implacable Brother Beornwulf.
‘It is as I said, Father Abbot,’ Brother Willibrod intoned, ‘neither the woman nor the man has left this chamber. Brother Beornwulf has been outside the door all night.’
Eadulf was now wide awake and he rose, causing the abbot to step backwards, for he had been leaning right over the chair.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Eadulf, his voice strong but hushed. He glanced towards Fidelma and then, frowning, he went to her side and felt her forehead. A surge of relief rushed through him.