The Monk Who Vanished (27 page)
Read The Monk Who Vanished Online
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland
Fidelma looked grim. ‘I know all about the ambition of Ultán of Armagh. He is not the first Comarb of Patrick who has wished for Armagh to be established as the primacy in all five kingdoms and the churches to be brought under the Rule of Rome. To do that he must first ensure that Imleach’s claims to be the primacy of Muman are discredited. But, surely, this is not what these events are all about?’
‘I scarce know myself, Sister,’ confessed Brother Mochta. ‘All I know is that my brother turned to the subject once again and this time to the Holy Relics of Ailbe. How clever he was. He played on my vanity. I had told him that there was a date on some of the Relics which would prove the date when Ailbe was made bishop. He said he would believe if he could see the Relics. I told him to come to the abbey but he refused, saying that it was not seemly that my twin brother should be seen at Imleach with the tonsure of Rome. It was a silly excuse but I did not think more of it. Instead, I suggested that he came in secret to the gate which led into Bardán’s herb garden one evening and I would show him the Relics. He agreed and said that this would resolve the dispute between Armagh and Imleach.’
Fidelma looked thoughtful. ‘It was naïve of you to believe him.’
‘He was my brother. Even then I did not suspect his devious mind.’
‘So what happened?’
‘The following evening, at the appointed time, I went to the chapel
and, unobserved, took down the reliquary box. I was about to take it to the assignation when something made me pause. Perhaps I had begun to suspect him, so I decided to take only Ailbe’s crucifix as a token of proof, for there is a date inscribed on the back. I brought the crucifix from the reliquary to the gate of the herb garden. There was my brother outside with the archer … God forgive Baoill! He snatched the crucifix from my hand and demanded to know where the rest of the Relics were. When he realised that I had not brought them, he became uncontrollable. He struck me so that I fell against the gate and blood poured from a wound.’
and, unobserved, took down the reliquary box. I was about to take it to the assignation when something made me pause. Perhaps I had begun to suspect him, so I decided to take only Ailbe’s crucifix as a token of proof, for there is a date inscribed on the back. I brought the crucifix from the reliquary to the gate of the herb garden. There was my brother outside with the archer … God forgive Baoill! He snatched the crucifix from my hand and demanded to know where the rest of the Relics were. When he realised that I had not brought them, he became uncontrollable. He struck me so that I fell against the gate and blood poured from a wound.’
‘That explains the dried blood on the gatepost,’ Eadulf said.
‘It was then I realised that my brother’s intention had been to steal the Relics all along.’
‘Do you think that it was his own plot or had someone put him up to it?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Ultán of Armagh, for example? The plan to discredit both Ailbe and Imleach seems clear.’
‘All I know is that my life was in the balance. I think my brother would have killed me. Then Brother Bardán came along. He had come to gather herbs. He saw the attack and used a staff to beat back my brother and his companion. They had Ailbe’s crucifix. As Bardán secured the gate my brother threatened that others would come and take what I would not give.’
‘Then surely it implies that your brother, Baoill, and his archer friend were not acting on their own account?’
Brother Mochta inclined his head in agreement.
‘That is true. I was in too great a state of shock to take such matters in at that time. Bardán helped me back to my chamber and I told him the story as I knew it. He told me to tell Abbot Segdae at once that the crucifix of Ailbe had been stolen. I could not bring myself to do so because I wanted to give Baoill time to reflect on his crime and return it. I still could not believe that my own brother had turned into such an evil person.’
‘But he did not return it, obviously,’ Eadulf pointed out.
‘Some days went by. He did not return with it. I decided to go in search of him.’
‘Wasn’t that dangerous?’
‘I asked Brother Bardan to come with me. We went to Cred’s inn. There was one of the Cashel merchant’s drivers there, looking strangely at me.’
‘That was because he had seen you come to the inn several days before,’ murmured Eadulf.
‘I did not see him.’
‘He saw you.’
‘Well, Cred came out and I told her that I was looking for the archer and his companion.’
‘She said that she knew nothing of a companion …’
‘Which is true,’ asserted Fidelma. ‘Your brother, being your twin, could not afford to show himself openly in the township because of his likeness to you. He would be remarked upon. He stayed outside.’
‘Cred said that the archer was hunting in the hills,’ Brother Mochta continued. ‘Bardán and I walked on a bit, rather aimlessly, in case we discovered the archer. Then we returned to the abbey. Bardán usually left the side gate open and we returned towards the herb garden. We were in the stretch of yew-trees before crossing the heather field, not far from the gate, when my brother suddenly appeared. He had, apparently, been waiting for us.
‘I demanded the crucifix that he had stolen and he demanded the entire reliquary and its contents. He threatened me. I refused and he laughed and said that he only sought to make things easy. We would not like the next visitors to Imleach.’
‘What then?’
‘I told him that he was mad. He replied that he had the backing of a powerful prince and that it was Muman that was mad not to bow down to the inevitable. There would be one primacy for all five kingdoms and one power ruler over the whole.’
Fidelma brightened. ‘Those were his exact words?’
‘Yes. Those were his exact words.’
‘I think I see the hand of Mael Dúin, King of Ailech, in this plot. What the Comarbs of Patrick seek for Armagh, the Uí Néill kings seek for their dynasty. They want to turn the High Kingship of Eireann into a strong central kingship, like the emperors of Rome. This mystery is dissolving. Go on, Mochta. What then?’
‘We turned in disgust, Bardan and I, and left Baoill to his ranting. We began to walk across the field to the gate …’
‘We know the spot,’ intervened Eadulf.
‘We were halfway across the field when there was a whistle in the air and the next thing I felt this pain in my shoulder.‘He raised a hand and touched his wound. ‘I fell forwards. Bardán later said that he saw the archer, my brother’s companion, standing at the edge of the yew-trees and fitting another arrow to his bowstring. Bardán grabbed me and began to half drag and half propel me to the gate. We just made it when the man’s second shot caught me in the leg.’
‘Did no one in the abbey observe this?’
Mochta shook his head. ‘You have seen that area. It is not overlooked by any window nor is it a frequented area. Bardán helped me inside, shot home the bolts, and then helped me to my chamber. Being
the apothecary, he was able to remove the arrows, which, thank God, had not penetrated deeply, and dress the wounds.
the apothecary, he was able to remove the arrows, which, thank God, had not penetrated deeply, and dress the wounds.
‘It was then we discussed what best we should do. It had become clear that my brother and his friend were part of some conspiracy to discredit Muman as well as Imleach. But why? For what purpose, I do not know. What was of more immediate concern to me was the threat to attack and steal the Relics. I was afraid many of the brethren would be killed in such an event.
‘We spent some time talking about this and then we decided that I should disappear with the remaining Holy Relics. Bardán would ensure that on the following day the news that the Relics and I had disappeared was spread. We hoped, by this method, that we would deflect any attack or attempt to steal them from the abbey and the community would therefore be saved from harm.
‘No one had seen me come back injured to the abbey. Having had my wounds bound I would go to Vespers and be seen. Then I would return to my chamber. That was an uncomfortable experience for while my wounds were bound, they were painful. I was in considerable distress. However, once the service was over, I returned to my chamber.
‘We arranged for Bardan to take the reliquary box from the chapel and bring it to me. We carefully arranged my room, so that it appeared that I had been carried off against my will. Then we took a few items. I had placed one of the arrows with which I had been shot where it could be seen, hoping to provide a clue to my assailant.’
‘We saw it,’ observed Eadulf.
‘Then Bardán conducted me to this spot. Being a local man, the cave was known to him and is infrequently used. He thought I could hide here until Baoill and his friends came into the open. The day afterwards, you arrived at the abbey with news that my brother and his companion had been killed trying to assassinate Colgú and the Prince of the Uí Fidgente. Bardán said it was not so simple as it appeared for whoever was behind this plot was not revealed. This meant that we had to consider our next step; to decide who was safe to trust.’
Fidelma gave a long drawn-out sigh. ‘I wish you had trusted me before this.’
‘It would have made little difference in diverting the attack on the abbey,’ pointed out Brother Mochta.
‘Who do you say the attackers were? Warriors from this King of Ailech, supporting Armagh’s plan to exert its control here?’ pressed Eadulf.
‘No, I think they were Uí Fidgente,’ replied Brother Mochta. ‘There
were stories early this year that the Uí Fidgente were seeking some alliance with the Uí Néill kings of the north against Cashel. They have not forgiven Colgú for their defeat at Cnoc Aine and the death of their king. They would join with the Uí Néill and Armagh to see Cashel weakened and defeated. How better to defeat the kingdom than to divide it?’
were stories early this year that the Uí Fidgente were seeking some alliance with the Uí Néill kings of the north against Cashel. They have not forgiven Colgú for their defeat at Cnoc Aine and the death of their king. They would join with the Uí Néill and Armagh to see Cashel weakened and defeated. How better to defeat the kingdom than to divide it?’
‘You may well be right, Mochta,’greed Fidelma. She paused as if a thought struck her. ‘You are a close friend of Bardan, of course?’
‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Being a good penman, you helped Bardan in preparing a book on the properties of herbs?’
Brother Mochta was surprised. ‘How did you know that?’ he demanded.
‘It’s of no consequence. Don’t you think it curious that Bardan has not put in an appearance and-’ she glanced through the mouth of the cave towards the sky - ‘it must be about midday?’
Brother Mochta frowned. ‘It is a worry,’ he confessed. ‘He was going to see Finguine this morning to tell him our story. That is all I know.’
Fidelma stood up and went to the mouth of the cave. She negotiated some boxes and stared down the hillside. At the foot of the hill, woodland stretched as far as the banks of the River Ara. Fidelma turned back with decision.
‘Mochta, you are an important witness for Cashel. We must get you there immediately for you will be better protected by my brother’s warriors. You and the reliquary.’
‘What about Bardan?’ protested Mochta.
‘We will see to him later. Right now, do you think you can ride?’
‘Not all the way to Cashel,’ he protested.
‘Then we will take it in easy stages,’ she assured him. ‘The worst part of the journey is for you to leave this cave with Brother Eadulf here and walk it down the hill towards that wood there.’ She turned to Eadulf. ‘Let no one see you until I come along with the horses.’
Eadulf was bemused. ‘Where are you getting horses from?’
‘I will pick up our horses from the abbey.’ She pointed to a lamp by Mochta’s palliasse. ‘If you will lend me that lamp, I will go back through the tunnels and come back as quickly as I can by the track around the bottom of the hill. Do not bring anything other than the reliquary, Mochta. You may also trust Brother Eadulf here with your life. In fact, that is what it amounts to. Understand this clearly, Mochta, every minute you now stay here, in this cave, you are in the most deadly danger.’
Fidelma entered the side gate into the herb garden. Obviously, Brother Bardán had still not returned this way; the bolts were withdrawn as earlier. She made her way immediately to Abbot Ségdae’s chamber and knocked cautiously upon the door. The elderly, hawk-like abbot was seated in his high-backed, carved wooden chair before his fire, his chin resting on his hands, his eyes staring meditatively into the flames. He looked up as she entered with an expression of some hope.
‘What news, Fidelma?’ he asked.
Fidelma did not like telling lies to the man whom she had known all her life and who was more like an uncle to her than merely a religious adviser.
‘Little enough,’ she said cautiously.
The abbot’s face fell.
‘However,’ she went on, ‘I believe that I will be able to supply all the answers to these matters when the Brehons meet at Cashel in a few days from now.’
Ségdae’s face resumed a hopeful look. ‘You mean that you can discover the whereabouts of the Holy Relics of Ailbe?’
‘That I can guarantee,’ she said briskly. ‘But I want no one else to know. Say nothing to anyone, not even Brother Madagan.’
The abbot was reluctant to make such a promise.
‘It is a matter affecting the morale of the abbey, Fidelma. Surely I can give the community something to hope for?’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘There are many dark forces at work here which may mean the downfall of this kingdom. I need your solemn word on this, Ségdae.’
‘Then, of course, you shall have it.’
‘Brother Eadulf and I are returning to Cashel immediately for there is no more that I can do here. However, I would like you to start your own journey to Cashel tomorrow.’
The abbot looked surprised. ‘Why must I come?’
‘Have you forgotten the protocol, Ségdae? You are the Comarb of Ailbe, the principal abbot-bishop of Muman. When the court of Cashel
is in session over such a serious matter, you, as the King’s principal bishop, must sit at his side.’
is in session over such a serious matter, you, as the King’s principal bishop, must sit at his side.’
Ségdae sighed softly. ‘I had forgotten about the hearing. The loss of the Relics and the attack on Imleach drove it from my mind. Then there is the matter of Brother Bardan.’
‘What about Brother Bardan?’ she asked innocently.
‘He has not been seen all morning. Do you remember that you asked me where he was? He seems to have vanished … just like Brother Mochta’
Fidelma compressed her lips. ‘I do not think the circumstances will be found to be similar. I have a feeling that all will be answered in Cashel.’
‘Should I alert your cousin, Finguine? His men are still in the township helping to repair the damage of the raid.’
‘You may tell Finguine. If I do not see him as I leave, I shall see him at Cashel at the hearing. It is sad that there has been so much destruction.’
‘Well, there are small mercies. It seems Brother Madagan has been able to make a donation of silver coins which will go some way to mending the destruction.’ He gestured at a small bag on the table.
‘May I?’ Fidelma took the bag and dropped a few of the coins onto her palm. She stared at them. ‘How did Madagan come into this largesse?’ she asked.
‘I believe he said something about a relative from the north.’ Ségdae barely paused. ‘Are you really confident about your ability to find a resolution to these mysteries?’ he pressed.
Fidelma replaced the coins and put the purse back on the table.
‘You know me better than that, Ségdae. I am never confident until after the event. Remember
Corinthians
, one, chapter ten, verse twelve?’
Corinthians
, one, chapter ten, verse twelve?’
Fidelma knew that Ségdae had an almost encyclopedic mind when it came to scripture. The abbot answered her smile.
‘If you feel sure that you are standing firm, beware!’ he quoted. ‘You may fall.’
‘So, I will not commit myself but I shall say that the probability is that all will be resolved.’
‘You have not garnered your reputation for no reason at all,’ Ségdae remarked. ‘When will you and our Saxon brother leave?’
‘I am going to start out at once. Do not worry, Ségdae. All will be well … eventually.’
‘I shall be in Cashel on the day of the hearing, then.’
‘Bring Brother Madagan with you. I might need his testimony.’
‘Will you need Brother Bardan, if he can be found?’
‘If he can be found,’ affirmed Fidelma.
Ségdae rose and offered her his hand. ‘Where is our Saxon brother?’
‘I shall meet him along the way,’ Fidelma replied hastily. ‘Farewell, Ségdae. Until we see each other in Cashel.’
She went on to the guests’ hostel and bundled her few belongings into her saddle bags. Eadulf had moved into a nearby chamber after the first night, following the departure of the pilgrims. It took her a moment to pack his saddle bag. She remembered to take the pilgrim’s staff of which he had become so fond. She was glad that Sister Scothnat was not about for she did not want to go to the trouble of having to explain her intentions again.
She took the bags and made her way to the stables.
Brother Tomar was at work, as usual, feeding the horses there.
‘Are you leaving us?’ he asked immediately as his eyes fell on the saddle bags.
Fidelma groaned inwardly. ‘For a while,’ she responded brightly. ‘Perhaps you could help me saddle our horses? Mine and the Saxon brother’s horse.’
Brother Tomar turned from the grain bag and regarded her, head to one side.
‘The horse of the Saxon as well?’ he questioned.
‘Yes. If you will saddle Brother Eadulf’s horse there, I will get mine ready.’
‘You are both leaving then?’
‘Yes,’ she replied patiently.
‘Is the mystery of Brother Mochta’s disappearance solved?’
‘We will know more when the Brehons meet in Cashel in a few days’ time,’ she replied, taking the bridle and drawing it over her mare’s head. She busied herself adjusting the straps and then swinging the saddle onto the patient beast.
Reluctantly, Tomar began to put the bridle on Eadulf sorrel.
‘I heard that the Uí Fidgente lawyer has already gone on to Cashel.’
Fidelma did not want to show too much interest but she was surprised. So that was why she had not seen Solam about that morning.
‘Really? I thought that he might be asking some more questions here in Imleach before he went on to Cashel?’
Brother Tomar chuckled sardonically.
‘He would have a hard task with all the feeling against the Uí Fidgente. No, he had to seek protection from the Prince of Cnoc Aine even to ride through the territory just now. I saw him riding in the company of Finguine only an hour ago when he left here.’
‘Do you mean that Solam is being escorted by Finguine, personally, on the road to Cashel?’
Brother Tomar was chuckling. ‘If he went alone, I doubt whether he would have reached Ara’s Well. In fact, I think that Finguine might suspect that there will be an attempt to waylay Solam on the Cashel road.’
Fidelma turned to the stableman who had her complete attention. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because when Finguine and Solam left here, saying they were departing for Cashel, they took the road northwards. The road to Cashel is directly east. I believe that Finguine took Solam on a circular route to avoid the main road to Ara’s Well and Cashel.’
Fidelma bent her head in thought for a moment and then continued saddling her mare.
‘Are you sure that they said that they were going to Cashel?’ she asked.
Brother Tomar smirked indulgently. ‘Solam told me himself that Cashel was his destination.’
Fidelma did not make any further comment. What Solam told Brother Tomar did not have to be true. What she couldn’t understand was why Finguine would have accompanied Solam in person and not left the task to some of his warriors if it was merely a matter of providing safe passage for the Uí Fidgente out of Cnoc Aine territory.
Fidelma finished saddling the horse in silence. She made sure that the saddle bags were firmly tied and that Eadulf’s staff was strapped to the saddle. Brother Tomar led Eadulf’s horse out of the stall.
‘Where is the Saxon?’ he asked, looking round.
‘I am meeting him in the township,’ Fidelma lied swiftly, justifying herself by remembering the proverb
minima
de
malis
- of evils, the least - choosing between the less desirable alternatives. The most desirable of the alternatives here was not to let Brother Tomar know what she was about.
minima
de
malis
- of evils, the least - choosing between the less desirable alternatives. The most desirable of the alternatives here was not to let Brother Tomar know what she was about.
She led her mare from the stable before mounting and taking the reins of Eadulf’s colt in her hand. She bade farewell to Brother Tomar who stood, an interested spectator, at the doors of the stables. She walked the horses across the courtyard and through the gate, glad that only the inquisitive Brother Tomar was there to see her departure. Outside the gate she sent the horses into a canter across the green towards the township. A mixture of the townsfolk and some of Finguine’s warriors were still engaged in clearing up the debris of the raid.
At the edge of the town she slowed down, walking the horses by
the smith’s forge and turning through a side alley, away from prying eyes. She saw Nion, the
bó-aire,
with his assistant Suibne, working at the wreckage of their forge. Nion raised his head to watch her but she pretended not to notice him. She did not like the way he was staring at her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him say something to his assistant and hurry away. She turned quickly along the main street in the direction of the ruined shell of Cred’s inn before turning down a side alley between the buildings towards the surrounding fields. She had plotted her route carefully in her mind as she wanted no prying eyes to follow her.
the smith’s forge and turning through a side alley, away from prying eyes. She saw Nion, the
bó-aire,
with his assistant Suibne, working at the wreckage of their forge. Nion raised his head to watch her but she pretended not to notice him. She did not like the way he was staring at her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him say something to his assistant and hurry away. She turned quickly along the main street in the direction of the ruined shell of Cred’s inn before turning down a side alley between the buildings towards the surrounding fields. She had plotted her route carefully in her mind as she wanted no prying eyes to follow her.
She rode firstly in a direction away from the edge of the town, away from the Hill of the Cairn, where she was due to meet with Eadulf and Mochta. If anyone from the abbey or township observed her, she thought that they would presume that she would continue in that direction. There was enough open grassland between the town and the skirting woodland through which she planned to ride, and only after she had reached the cover of the trees would she swing in a semi-circle towards the pre-arranged rendezvous.
Indeed, once in the shelter of the woods, along the small woodland track, she nudged her mount into a canter again, with Eadulf’s colt following patiently behind. She was not sure if she had been seen. It took a full ten minutes or so before she decided to slow the pace to a walk. Only then did she allow herself a glance behind. She could still see the edge of the township between the trees and shrubbery. From this distance, the township, and the abbey behind it, seemed almost deserted. There was no sign of movement anywhere. Fidelma gave a small sigh of relief. The way should be easy now.
She continued along the track and altered her direction, swinging round in the start of the semi-circle which she had planned would lead her to the Hill of the Cairn. It was cold and dank within the woods. She wondered whether it was here that the wolves had their lairs and she shivered slightly. She did not want to be reminded of the dangers of that night.
She was aware of constant movement within the woods. The passage of its denizens, varying from the stealthy tread of smaller mammals to the crack of twigs that marked the passage of a deer. There was also the cacophony of nesting birds from the higher branches.
She moved as fast as safety allowed through the woods, crossing a shallow stream here and there, before coming on a brief stretch of meadowland. She had almost exited from the woods into the meadow when she became conscious of a new sound rising above the other noises of the forest. It was the sound made by hooves. Shod hooves. They were moving rapidly. Swiftly she turned the horses
back into the forest, her eyes searching for thick cover away from the track.
back into the forest, her eyes searching for thick cover away from the track.
There was a suitable thicket nearby and she slid from the saddle of her horse, gathered the reins of both animals, looping them securely to a branch. Then, keeping low, she edged forward.
Half a dozen horsemen appeared along the side of the woodland and came to a halt near the entrance to the track from which she had been proceeding.
She stared in unbelief at the leading horsemen.
One was the Uí Fidgente
dálaigh,
Solam, and the other was her cousin, Finguine, Prince of Cnoc Aine. The other four men were obviously members of Finguine’s warriors.
dálaigh,
Solam, and the other was her cousin, Finguine, Prince of Cnoc Aine. The other four men were obviously members of Finguine’s warriors.
‘Well?’ she heard Solam’s high-pitched, querulous tones. ‘Have we lost the tracks or not?’
She heard her cousin’s voice, tight and also irritable. ‘Do not concern yourself. I know this country. There is little choice in the places where they can hide. We shall find them.’
Fidelma found herself growing cold.
To whom were they referring? What was Finguine doing with Solam when he claimed to be suspicious of him; when he blamed the Uí Fidgente for the raid against Imleach? Had Finguine been riding only with his men, she would have undoubtedly contacted him and explained all about Brother Mochta. But why was he with Solam?
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