Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot: A Mystery of Ancient Ireland
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Peter Tremayne is the fiction pseudonym of a well-known authority on the ancient Celts, who utilises his knowledge of the Brehon law system and seventh-century Irish society to create a new concept in detective fiction.
Peter Tremaynes ten previous Sister Fidelma novels, most recently Act of Mercy, Our Lady of Darkness and Smoke in the Wind, are also available from Headline, as is a Sister Fidelma short story collection, Hemlock at Vespers.
An International Sister Fidelma Society has been established with a journal entitled The Brehon appearing three times yearly. Details can be obtained either by writing to the Society at PO Box 1899, Little Rock, Arkansas 72203-1899, USA, or by logging onto the Society website at www.sisterfidelma.com.
The Sister Fidelma books give the readers a rattling good yarn. But more than that, they bring vividly and viscerally to life the fascinating lost world of the Celtic Irish. I put down The Spiders Web with a sense of satisfaction at a good story well told, but also speculating on what modern life might have been like had that civilisation survived Ronan Bennett
An Ellis Peters competitor... the background detail is marvellous Evening Standard
A brilliant and beguiling heroine. Immensely appealing Publishers Weekly
Chapter One
Please close the door, Brother. The wind is blowing the snow in here and it is already cold enough.
Brother Eadulf turned from where he had been peering in disgust through the half-open door of the inn, out into the dusk at the whirling snowstorm. He reluctantly pushed the door shut and fastened the wooden latch before facing the small, stocky innkeeper. The man, with balding head and cheeks so red that they seemed polished, was regarding him with some sympathy.
Are you absolutely sure that there is no available transport to Aldreds Abbey? Eadulf had asked the question several times before. What was the innkeepers name? Cynric? Yes, that was it.
The innkeeper stood, wiping his hands against the leather apron that covered his corpulent form.
As I have already told you, Brother, you and your companion were lucky to have made it this far before the storm started in earnest. If you had missed this tavern, there is no shelter between here and the River Alde.
The snow was nowhere near as bad as this when we left the river at Maels Tun and began to walk here, Eadulf agreed, moving away from the door into the warmer interior of the inn.
So you came up to Maels Tun by the river then? the innkeeper asked with that interest all hosts have in the comings and goings of their guests.
Aye. We came by barge from the mouth of the Deben. Only after we had left Maels Tun did the wind get up and the snow start to fall like a white sheet. It was so dense that you could scarcely see a hand in front of your eyes. By then we were far enough away from the settlement not to contemplate turning back.
Well, you were lucky to strike on my little tavern, the innkeeper repeated. The marshlands to the north and east of here are no place to be wandering unless you can see the path before you.
But the abbey is no more than four or five miles from here, Brother Eadulf pointed out. Wed be there easily enough if we had a horse.
If you had a horse, the innkeeper replied with emphasis. I have one mule and that I need, Brother. And youd be very lucky to find the abbey even if you had such an animal to transport you. There is no one else on the roads this evening. Look at the snow outside. It is drifting in the valleys and against the hedgerows. The wind is bitter and from the east. No one in their right minds would attempt to travel these roads on such a night.
Brother Eadulf made a clicking sound with his tongue to express his irritation. The innkeeper continued to regard him with sympathy.
Why not seat yourself by the fire? Your companion should join you shortly and I will bring you some refreshment, he suggested cheerfully.
Brother Eadulf still hesitated.
Tomorrow, the storm may abate and the roads to the abbey may be easier to negotiate, the innkeeper added persuasively.
I need to be at the abbey this evening because... Brother Eadulf hesitated and then shook his head. Why should he explain his reasons to the innkeeper? It is essential that I reach the abbey before midnight.
Well, Brother, you will never make it on foot, even if you knew the roads. What could be so important that the difference of a day might count?
Brother Eadulfs brows came together in annoyance.
I have my reasons, he said stubbornly.
Cynric shook his head sadly. You outlanders are all the same. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Well, you will have to bend before the wind this night for you have no other option.
I am not a stranger in this land, my friend, protested Eadulf, irritated at the others use of the word outlander. I am Eadulf of Seaxmunds Ham and was the hereditary gerefa of that place before I took the tonsure of St Peter.
The innkeepers eyes widened. A gerefa was a man of local importance, holding the rank of a magistrate.
Forgive me, Brother. I thought that you spoke our language too well. But I had assumed, as you travelled in the company of an Irish religieuse, that you were of that nation.
Eadulf was defensive. I have been in foreign lands for a while. But, Deo adiuvante, with Gods help, I will see Seaxmunds Ham, my native place, in time for Christs Mass.
Four days to go then, Brother. But why stop at Aldreds Abbey? Why not wait until the storm clears and then go straight on to Seaxmunds Ham which is only a little distance beyond?
Because... because I have my reasons for doing so, Eadulf replied tersely.
The innkeeper pursed his lips at Eadulfs agitated reticence. He shrugged and went to the fire. The inn was deserted. No one else had managed to make their way to the snowbound crossroads where it was situated. The innkeeper bent to a pile of logs and lifted one, balancing it in his arms for a moment before dumping it on the fire.
You will find many things altered in this land, Brother, he said as he turned from the hearth. In fact, you have been lucky to reach here in safety.
Ive seen snows before and travelled through blizzards that would put this - Eadulf gestured with his hand towards the door - to shame. What threat in that?
I was not thinking so much of the weather. Man is often more cruel than natures elements, my friend. In many places now, the Christian communities are under siege and attack. There is much animosity towards the new faith.
Under siege and attack? From whom? demanded Eadulf, reluctantly taking a seat at the side of the fire, while the innkeeper went to draw a tankard of cider from a wooden barrel.
From those who have returned to the worship of Woden, who else? In the kingdom of the East Saxons there is civil war between Sigehere, the King, and his own cousin, the Prince Sebbi. Not only do they fight for the kingship, but each represents one of the two beliefs. Surely you must have travelled through the land of the East Saxons to get here? You must have seen something of the conflict?
Eadulf shook his head and reached forward to take the tankard from Cynrics hand. He sipped at it cautiously. It was sweet and strong.
I did not know that there were such divisions which had caused actual warfare, he said, after he had taken another sip. Sigehere and Sebbi were both firmly on the path of Christ when I left this kingdom and there was no animosity between them.
As you say, they were both Christians. But when the Yellow Plague struck among the East Saxons two years ago, Sigehere came to the belief that it was a punishment of the old gods on those who had renounced them and so he turned his back on the new faith and reopened the pagan temples. His cousin, Sebbi, has remained true to the new faith. Both have followers who ravage the countryside, burning the sacred sites of the others religion and killing the religious who fall into their hands, whether they be of Christ or of Woden and the old gods.
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