They entered the tunnel. Just inside was a wooden shelf on which there was a tallow candle. Eadulf returned to the room to secure a light from the glowing embers of the fire and then rejoined her, drawing the tapestry down behind him and swinging the door shut. The dark stone tunnel was damp and musty and, as they moved cautiously along it, they heard the alarmed squeaking as mice scampered before them.
Eadulf realised that the tunnel was not a single one but part of a network which must cover the entire abbey. He was trying to concentrate on remembering the directions that Brother Higbald had given him. Had it been two turns to the right and one to the left or the reverse? He uttered a silent curse as he realised that he had forgotten. The only thing to do now was trust in luck. He dared not tell Fidelma that he had forgotten such simple instructions.
They came to an intersection, one way going right and one going left. Eadulf hesitated for a moment and turned right. The tunnel narrowed slightly. There was another intersection and he turned right again. It was damp now, the walls fairly drippingwith moisture. Behind him he heard Fidelma coughing. This atmosphere was not going to be good for her after her bout of illness. He moved on as rapidly as he could.
‘There’s some light ahead,’ came Fidelma’s whisper from behind him. Eadulf had already seen a flickering glow. It was obviously torchlight which seemed to emanate from a side chamber. He turned quickly.
‘We should proceed quietly,’ he whispered. It was an unnecessary instruction.
They moved silently towards the chamber from which the light was coming and Eadulf halted before the open entrance. Stealthily he peered round. A torch lit a chamber beyond the archway. Thankfully, it was empty — empty of people, that is. There were benches and wooden pegs along one side of the wall from which hung an amazing array of shields, swords and lances. Eadulf took a step forward and regarded the warriors’ accoutrements with bewilderment. They were all brightly polished and well kept.
‘Curious,’ he whispered.
Fidelma peered over his shoulder.
‘Didn’t someone say that this had been an old fortress before it became an abbey?’ She spoke irritably, distracted by another bout of coughing.
‘Torches do not burn for a hundred years, nor do weapons and shields keep their sheen,’ Eadulf said reprovingly.
Fidelma was too concerned to get out of the damp atmosphere to be inclined to linger.
‘Well, you told me that Abbot Cild was once a warrior. Perhaps he finds the habit hard to break. Let’s move on. I am cold.’
‘But the shields bear Iclingas images, and-’ Eadulf’s jaw clenched shut and he moved forwards into the chamber. He had caught sight of an object on the floor beneath a row of shields. It was a small dark leather purse of rectangular shape with a pattern branded on it which struck a distant chord in his memory. He reached forward and picked it up, noting that it had obviously been wrenched off someone’s belt with a degree of violence for the leather thongs were stretched and torn.
‘Merciful God!’ he breathed as he examined it.
Fidelma stood impatiently at the door. ‘What is it?’
He turned and held it out so that she could see it in the light.Burned onto the leather below the patterned symbol, probably by means of a red hot needle or similarly pointed object, was a name. The name was ‘Botulf’.
‘It is empty,’ she observed, quickly peering inside. ‘What is your friend’s purse doing here?’
Eadulf had been looking closely around the spot where he had found it. There were dark stains there. He followed a splattering of them to where some steps led upwards to be blocked by an old, wooden door, bolted on the inside.
Fidelma had recognised the stains.
‘Blood. I think your friend Botulf might have met his death here?’ she observed softly.
Eadulf shivered and not with cold. He was aware that she was coughing again.
‘I’ll wager that door leads through the crypt to the small courtyard by the chapel. Poor Botulf’s body was found there. I’ll keep this,’ he said, putting the purse in his sacculus. ‘We’d best move on. We can consider this matter later.’
The passage seemed to continue for ever and he was coming to the awful conclusion that he had mistaken the directions. Perhaps it had been two left turns after all, instead of two right? He was about to suggest that they turn back when he saw some light up ahead.
It was the end of the tunnel. The exit was covered with creepers. Trailing growths hung over it like a curtain. Eadulf had a little difficulty in pushing them aside, halting to draw back the foliage for Fidelma to squeeze though. Clearly no one had been through this way in some time.
Cautiously he moved forward. The dankness and cold of the passage had prepared them for the chill of the day outside. Although the sky was clear and blue, the snow lay like a crisp covering over every exposed place.
They had actually emerged twenty or so paces from the abbey walls, in the shelter of a hillock where trees provided a thin screen from watching eyes.
Eadulf peered cautiously round.
‘Down!’ he suddenly hissed.
Fidelma obeyed him without question.
Close by the south wall of the abbey were gathered half a dozenmen. With them, seated on horseback, was a slim figure with long red hair. It appeared to be a girl. One of the men was talking to her. Then she raised her hand in acknowledgment and urged her horse forward, straight towards their hiding place. The track brought her very close to where they were concealed, but the black mare she was riding raced by without their being spotted. Eadulf was frowning as he gazed after her vanished form.
‘What is it?’ asked Fidelma, noticing his curious expression.
‘I could swear that was the same woman I saw the other night — the one everybody is making such a fuss about.’ He looked back towards the men by the abbey walls. ‘I wonder what they are doing?’
Fidelma followed his gaze.
‘Men from the abbey preparing for this Saxon attack?’
Eadulf shook his head.
‘A strange place to set up a defensive position,’ he said. ‘Any attack from the sea is going to come from the east.’ He paused and listened. There was no sound of any approaching warband, nor of any personal pursuit. He looked around cautiously. ‘I am afraid that it is going to be a fair walk to Tunstall. I wish we could have procured some horses.’
Fidelma, feeling much better since leaving the dark, damp confines of the tunnels, was mischievous.
‘I thought that you did not enjoy riding?’
Eadulf smiled briefly. Her humour was a sign that she was returning to her old self.
‘I am worried for you. It is a long way to trudge through the cold snow in your condition.’
‘Don’t worry, Eadulf. It is true that I would prefer to be seated before a good fire with a hot drink but beggars cannot choose. The sooner we start, the sooner we will arrive.’
Eadulf nodded but he insisted on carrying both their travelling bags so that Fidelma would not be burdened with hers. They moved deeper into the woods and Eadulf tried to find tracks that were clear of snow and so would not leave a trail that could easily be seen by those wishing to pursue them. He kept a slow but steady pace but, even so, Fidelma had to rest now and then for her breathing was fast and shallow. It was obvious that she was not entirely recovered from the illness.
Picking his way carefully, Eadulf led the way through the forest and undergrowth. After some time he glimpsed what appeared to be a woodsman’s cottage through the trees. It was a short distance above them on the slopes of the hill. A thin blue wisp of smoke was curling from the chimney. Although they had not come very far from the abbey, Eadulf felt it might be a suitable place for Fidelma to rest in comfort for a while. He turned to Fidelma who was only just catching up with him.
‘I am going to see if we can claim hospitality at that woodsman’s hut,’ he told her. ‘Why don’t you sit down on that log for a moment while I go up there?’