The Monk Who Vanished (29 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: The Monk Who Vanished
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Fidelma had discovered a stub of candle which she lit from the lamp which Aona had left.
‘What is it?’ asked Eadulf as she started towards the stairs, carrying it in her hand.
‘I am just curious about what Samradán trades in,’ she replied. ‘I am going to have a look in the wagons.’
Eadulf was disapproving. ‘Is that wise?’ he asked.
‘Curiosity is sometimes a more powerful force than wisdom. Look after Brother Mochta until I return.’
Eadulf shook his head in censure as she disappeared into the stable below.
Aona was not in the stable and the horses had not been unsaddled. Presumably he had gone to give instructions to Adag.
Fidelma went on into the yard. It was now in darkness, except for a lamp which, by law, announced the presence of the inn. The clouds had caused the night to come down rapidly. She made her way to the two heavy wagons. Both were covered in tarpaulins which served to keep the rain off their contents. She sheltered the flickering flame of the candle with her hand and moved round the wagons. Leather thongs kept the tarpaulins secure. She balanced the candle on top of one of the wheels, hoping that no sudden breeze would blow it out, as she undid one of the thongs. Then she heaved the covering aside.
By the light of the candle, she could see a number of tools inside, tools for digging. There were spades and picks and other such implements. She turned to some leather bags nearby. They seemed to be filled with rock of some kind. She reached forward and drew out some of the rocks and examined them. They meant nothing in the candlelight. She replaced them and looked into a second leather bag. There were a number of metal nuggets in it. She drew out one. It reflected and gleamed in her hand.
So Samradan and his men were not merely merchants? She had a feeling that what they were up to was something illegal. The metal was silver. She pursed her lips in disapproval as she replaced it back in the bag.
‘What are you doing?’
The voice cut into Fidelma’s thoughts and she swung round, her heart beating fast.
A small boy stood there with a lantern in one hand.
Fidelma relaxed visibly as she recognised him.
‘Hello, Adag,’ she greeted Aona’s young grandson. ‘Do you remember me?’
The boy nodded slowly.
Fidelma replaced the leather covering and secured the fastener. Then she moved away from the wagon.
‘You did not say what you were doing?’ The boy insisted.
‘No,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘I did not.’
‘You were looking for something.’ The boy sniffed in disapproval. ‘It is wrong to look through other people’s possessions.’
‘It is also wrong to steal other people’s possessions. I was just examining these wagons to see if everything belonged to the people who drove them. Now your grandfather said you can keep a secret. Can you?’
The boy regarded her with some scorn. ‘Of course I can.’
Fidelma looked solemnly at the small boy. ‘Your grandfather has told you not to breathe a word about the presence of my companions or myself to anyone. Especially not those men in the inn?’
The boy nodded solemnly. ‘You still have not told me what you were looking for in the wagons, Sister.’
Fidelma grew conspiratorial. ‘Those men in your grandfather’s tavern are robbers. That is why I was looking in their wagons. I was looking for proof. Your grandfather will tell you that I am a
dálaigh
as well as a Sister.’
The child’s eyes widened. As Fidelma thought, the boy responded more positively to being allowed into an adult secret than simply being told to mind his own business.
‘Do you want me to keep a watch on them, Sister?’
Fidelma was serious. ‘I think that you are the best person for the job. But do not let on to them that you suspect them of anything.’
‘Of course not,’ assured the boy.
‘Just watch them and come and tell me when they leave the tavern and in which direction they go. Do it stealthily, without them knowing.’
‘Whatever time they leave?’
‘Exactly. Whatever time.’
The boy grinned happily. ‘I shall not let you down, Sister. Now I must unsaddle your horses. My grandfather is making a meal for you and your friends.’
When Fidelma explained matters to Eadulf and Brother Mochta, Eadulf said: ‘Is it wise to involve the boy?’
Brother Mochta was a little fearful and added: ‘Are you sure the boy won’t betray himself?’
‘No.’ Fidelma was adamant. ‘He’s a smart lad. And I do need to know when Samradan and his wagons leave here.’
‘What did you mean by telling the boy that they are robbers’ asked Eadulf.
‘Because it is the truth,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘What did I find in the wagons? Tools for digging and bags of rocks. What does that say to you, Eadulf.’
The Saxon shook his head, mystified.
Fidelma was exasperated. ‘Rocks … ore … mining tools!’ she exploded the words like the crack of a whip. Eadulf caught on.
‘You mean, they were the ones mining the silver in the caves?’
‘Exactly. I have heard of metals being mined a little further south of here but I did not know there was a silver vein in these hills until we discovered it. But, whoever the vein belongs to, I am sure it does not belong to Samradan. He is mining illegally, according to the judgements given in the
Senchus Mór
.’
Brother Mochta whistled slightly. ‘Has Samradan anything to do with the rest of this puzzle?’ he asked.
‘That I don’t know,’ confessed Fidelma. ‘Anyway, our first priority now is to eat and then we will see what is to be done. I hope Aona hurries up with that food.’
It was just after dawn that Fidelma was dragged from her sleep by a hand shaking her. She came awake reluctantly, blinking at the eager face of young Adag above her.
‘What is it?’ she mumbled sleepily.
‘The robbers,’ hissed the boy. ‘They’ve gone.’
She was still sleepy. ‘Robbers?’
The child was impatient. ‘The men with the wagons.’
Fidelma was wide awake. ‘Oh. When did they go?’
‘About ten minutes ago. I awoke only because I heard the sound of their wagons on the stone of the road outside.’
Fidelma gazed across the room to where her two companions were still sleeping peacefully.
‘At least you were alert, Adag,’ she smiled. ‘We did not hear a thing here. Which way have they gone?’
‘They went off along the road to Cashel.’
‘Good. You have done well, Adag, and …’ She paused.
There came the sound of horses clattering into the yard outside. ‘Could they have come back?’ she asked Adag quickly.
Eadulf groaned in his sleep and turned over but did not wake, and at that moment Fidelma realised that the sounds were not those of pack animals nor of wagons being pulled. They were the shod hooves of warriors’ horses.
She quickly rose from her palliasse and went to the window, taking care to keep well back, and moved the corner of the sackcloth curtain aside.
Down in the yard were the shadows of seven horsemen. The inn light which had been burning all night, cast a faint and uneven glow. Nevertheless, she caught her breath as she saw the thin, bird-like features of Solam together with her cousin, Finguine. They were
accompanied by four warriors. She could not make out the features of the seventh man. There had been only six men when she had last seen Finguine.
‘Adag,’ she whispered to the boy. ‘You’d better go down and see what they want. Answer them truthfully except do not tell them that we are here. On your life. Do you swear it?’
The boy nodded and went off to do as he was bid.
She returned to the window, peering through the chink in the sackcloth curtain. She could hear her cousin, Finguine, saying: ‘It is clear they are not here, Solam. It is not worthwhile rousing the innkeeper.’
‘Better to make sure than make an assumption which might be false,’ replied the Uí Fidgente lawyer.
‘Very well.’ He turned to one of his men. ‘Rouse the innkeeper and … no, wait. Someone is coming.’
Adag came out of the stable and Fidelma saw him approach the riders.
‘Can I help you, lords?’ he asked, his voice piping up proudly.
‘Who are you, boy?’ she heard Solam demand.
‘Adag, son of the innkeeper here.’
Eadulf groaned from his palliasse and Fidelma turned as he sat up.
‘What is … ?’ he began.
She quickly put a finger to her lips.
The movement distracted her from the conversation below. She glanced back through the window and saw the boy pointing in the direction of the Cashel road.
‘You’ve been of great help, boy,’ Finguine was saying. ‘Here, catch!’
A coin flickered through the air.
Adag caught it deftly.
Finguine dug his heels into his horse and the whole band of them trotted out of the yard and away in the direction of Cashel. It was only then that she caught the features of the seventh rider as he passed momentarily in the light of the inn’s lamp. It was Nion, the
bó-aire
of Imleach.
Fidelma drew the curtain back and heaved a sigh.
‘What is going on?’ demanded Eadulf.
She glanced to where Brother Mochta was still sleeping and then to the stairs for Adag came pounding up with a smile on his face.
‘They rode off for Cashel, Sister,’ he said breathlessly.
‘What did they want?’
‘They wanted to know if there was anyone staying in the inn tonight.
I said that there had been some men with wagons who had left on the Cashel road. But I did not say anything about you nor your friends. The horsemen thanked me and rode towards Cashel. They seemed very interested in the wagons.’
Eadulf was looking from the boy to her in bewilderment. Fidelma met his eye.
‘The horsemen were Finguine and Solam,’ she explained slowly. ‘They were accompanied by Nion.’
The journey back to Cashel from the Well of Ara was uneventful. Surprisingly, there were no warriors guarding the bridge across the River Suir at the little fork of Gabhailín where Fidelma and Eadulf had been prevented from crossing some days before. However, when Fidelma thought the matter over, she realised that it would be logical for Gionga to remove his warriors once he learned that Fidelma had reached Imleach.
It was Eadulf who articulated the problem that had been uppermost in Fidelma’s thoughts since they had left Aona’s inn.
‘Is it wise to bring Brother Mochta into Cashel itself?’ he asked. ‘There might be dangers there for him and it is still a few days before the hearing in front of the Brehons.’
Brother Mochta was feeling somewhat better after his night’s rest, with his wounds not paining him so much.
‘Surely no harm will come to me among the religious at Cashel?’ he asked.
‘I would be happier if the presence of yourself and the reliquary in Cashel was not known until the last moment,’ Fidelma announced. ‘There is an unused back road which will bring us to the edge of the town close to where a friend of mine lives. Mochta can stay with her until the day of the hearing.’
‘In the town itself?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Is that wise?’
He was referring to the fact that in towns the people hardly barred their doors and were always in and out of their neighbours’ houses. Towns were usually made up of dwellings of many extended families. There was no fear of strangers.
‘Don’t worry,’ replied Fidelma, ‘my friend is one who does not welcome guests.’
‘I think that you are going to a lot of trouble for nothing,’ Brother Mochta averred. ‘Who could harm me at the royal palace of Cashel?’
The corner of Fidelma’s mouth turned downward momentarily. ‘That is precisely what we have to discover,’ she said quietly. ‘My brother asked the same question.’
They came to Cashel some time later by the back road which Fidelma had led them along. When they came to the edge of the town, Fidelma left Eadulf and Brother Mochta in the shelter of a small copse, after she’d explained that she would go ahead to prepare the way. It was a matter of minutes before she came back. Brother Mochta looked concerned for she was not carrying the reliquary which she had kept carefully since they had left Imleach. She saw his anxious gaze and assured him that she had left it safely with her friend. She led them to a house on the edge of the town, standing a little apart from the others. It was a medium-sized structure with its own outhouse and barn. Fidelma led them immediately into the barn which served as a stable. Eadulf helped Brother Mochta down from the colt while Fidelma secured the horses.
With Eadulf supporting Brother Mochta, Fidelma preceded them to the house. The door opened and together they helped Brother Mochta inside. Fidelma gave a quick glance round, as if to see whether they had been observed, before closing the door behind them.
Inside stood a woman of short stature. She was in her forties yet maturity had not dimmed the youthfulness of her features and the golden abundance of her hair. She wore a smock-like dress which emphasised a good figure whose hips had not broadened and whose limbs were still shapely.
‘This is my friend, Della,’ announced Fidelma. ‘This is Brother Mochta who will stay with you and this is Brother Eadulf.’
Eadulf smiled appreciatively at the attractive woman.
‘Why is it that I have not seen Fidelma’s friend at the court of Colgú?’ he asked in greeting.
He was immediately aware that he had said something wrong.
‘I do not venture out of this house, Brother,’ replied the woman called Della. Her voice was solemn but there was an attractive quality to it. ‘I am reclusive. People in Cashel respect that.’
Fidelma added, almost sharply, as if to cover some error of courtesy: ‘This is why Brother Mochta will be safe here until the day of the hearing.’
‘A reclusive?’ Eadulf was confused. ‘Surely it is hard to be a reclusive in this town?’
‘One can be isolated in the midst of many,’ replied Della calmly.
‘You will look after Brother Mochta, Della?’ Fidelma’s glance told Eadulf that he had said enough.
Della smiled at her friend. ‘You have my word, Fidelma.’ She had already helped the injured monk to a seat. Nearby stood the reliquary of St Ailbe, the sight of which caused Brother Mochta to visibly relax.
Fidelma took Eadulf arm, for he would have stopped and talked more on the principles of solitude, and hurried him to the door.
‘We will be back in time for the hearing, Brother Mochta. Take care of those injuries.’
She raised a hand in farewell to the monk and smiled appreciatively at her friend.
Outside, as they mounted their horses once again, Eadulf remarked: ‘You have a curious friend there, Fidelma.’
‘Della? No, not curious. She is merely a sad woman.’
‘I see no need for sadness. She is still attractive and she does not seem to be in want.’
‘I tell you this so that you may not refer to it ever again. Della was a woman of secrets.’ She used the term
bé-táide.
‘Woman of secrets?’ Eadulf frowned, struggling with the euphemism. Then his face lightened. ‘Do you mean that she was a prostitute?’ He dredged from his memory the word
echlach.
Fidelma nodded curtly. ‘That was why I did not want you to say more in there. It is a sensitive matter.’
They had turned from the side street into the main street through Cashel and passed a tavern on a corner. A shadowy figure was standing outside with a drinking horn in his hand. The man stared at them and then hurried inside. Eadulf pretended not to notice him but once they had ridden past, he turned to Fidelma.
‘I have just seen Nion in the doorway of that tavern back there. It is obvious that he has seen us but does not want to be seen himself.’
Fidelma was not perturbed. ‘After he paused at Aona’s inn this morning, I would have expected him to be in Cashel.’
Eadulf was disappointed by her reaction but interested in returning to the subject of Della.
‘How did you become friendly with Della?’ he asked.
‘I represented her when she was raped,’ replied Fidelma calmly.
Eadulf pulled a cynical face. ‘A prostitute
raped
?’
Fidelma’s face became a mask of irritation. ‘Cannot a woman be raped simply because she is a prostitute? At least we have the provision which allows a woman compensation in such circumstances even if she is a
bé-táide.
Half of her honour price is paid.’
Eadulf stirred uncomfortably at the vehemence in her voice. He spoke penitently. ‘It is just that I thought that a prostitute was not entitled to such compensation nor did I think that she could acquire a property.’
Fidelma became a little mollified. ‘She can inherit property from her parents but, generally, she cannot acquire property through marriage
or cohabitation and, if a profit has come through her work in such a union, she has no claim to a share of it.’
Eadulf smiled in satisfaction. ‘So I was right?’
‘Except that you neglected the fact that a prostitute can renounce her previous way of life and, if so, can be reinstated in society.’
‘Is that what happened with Della?’
Fidelma gave an affirmative gesture. ‘To a certain extent. She renounced her previous life after the rape. After the case in which I represented her, she withdrew to the house that had been owned by her father. This was a few years ago. Many people, sadly, still treat her with contempt and her means of protection has been to become a recluse.’
‘That is no answer,’ Eadulf replied. ‘You only find in solitude what you take into it.’
Fidelma glanced at him. Now and then Eadulf came out with such pertinent remarks that she knew clearly why she had come to like and almost rely on the Saxon monk. At other times he was clumsy and did not seem sensitive to people and events. He was a man of paradoxes; brilliant and intuitive on the one hand, slow and unheeding on the other. There seemed no continuity in his character. It was so against her own clear, analytical nature and her trenchant temperament.
They relapsed into silence as they rode through Cashel. Many people recognised her and some greeted her with a smile while others stood in groups along the way, watching her in undisguised curiosity and whispering among themselves. They continued up to the gates of the towering royal palace of the Kings.
Capa, the captain of the guard, was at the gate.
‘Welcome back, lady,’ he greeted, as they rode in. ‘The Prince of Cnoc Aine arrived this morning, so we knew you would be arriving sometime late today.’
Fidelma exchanged a look with Eadulf.
Before she could speak, her cousin Donndubhain, the heir-apparent to Colgú, came hurrying out of some nearby buildings, smiling in welcome.
‘Fidelma! Thank God that you are safe. We have heard all about the attack on Imleach. Of course, Prince Donennach is denying any Uí Fidgente involvement in it … but he would, wouldn’t he?’
Fidelma dismounted and was embraced by her cousin. She turned to unstrap her saddle bag while Eadulf followed her example.
‘You must have a lot to tell us about the attack on the abbey!’ Donndubháin sounded excited. ‘When we heard — why, I was hard pressed to prevent your brother leading a guard to Imleach. But—’ he glanced around in conspiratorial fashion — ‘that would have left
Cashel unguarded and there is Gionga and his Uí Fidgente troop to consider.’
Fidelma turned to Capa and instructed him to ensure that the horses were taken to the stables and cared for. Then she turned back to her cousin.
‘Has anything else transpired here that I should know of?’
Donndubháin shook his head. ‘We were hoping that you had brought some news that will resolve the mystery.’
Fidelma smiled wanly. ‘Things are never simple,’ she commented in a tired tone.
‘Your brother, the King, wants to see you right away,’ her cousin went on. ‘Do you mind? Or do you want to refresh yourself from your journey first?’
‘I’ll see Colgú first.’
‘There is no need for Brother Eadulf to accompany you,’ Donndubháin said hurriedly, as he led the way.
‘I will see you later then,’ Fidelma smiled, a trifle apologetically at her companion.
Colgú was waiting for Fidelma in his private chambers. Brother and sister exchanged affectionate greetings and Fidelma immediately asked after her brother’s wound.
‘Thanks to our Saxon friend, the wound is healing well. See?’ He raised his arm above his head and moved it about to show its mobility. ‘There is slight discomfiture but no infection and it will be all right soon, just as he promised it would.’ He paused then asked: ‘Is Brother Eadulf not with you?’
Fidelma glanced to Donndubhain who was standing by the door with a frown.
‘I understood that you wanted to see me alone?’
Colgú looked puzzled for the minute.
‘Ah, so I did. Very well, Donndubháin. We will join you shortly.’ After he had left, Colgú motioned her to a chair. ‘Donndubháin has become an ardent believer in the conspiracy theory, that enemies lurk everywhere. I hope Eadulf was not insulted. He is a person whom I can trust.’
Fidelma smiled quickly as she seated herself. ‘I think your trust will not be misplaced.’
‘What information have you been able to gather at Imleach? We have had the news of the attack. Our cousin, Finguine, the Prince of Cnoc Aine, arrived earlier today. He gave us details.’
‘So I understand,’ Fidelma replied. ‘There is little to add, apparently. Abbot Ségdae and the witnesses from Imleach should be here in the next day or so.’
‘Witnesses?’ queried Colgú, hopefully.
‘I believed that the events at Imleach, the disappearance of the Holy Relics and the attack on the township, are all connected with the attempted assassination. How is the Prince of the Uí Fidgente, by the way? I neglected to ask about his wounds.’
Colgú was sardonic. ‘He bears a slight limp. The wound is better but his temper is worse. Otherwise he is in good health and still claiming a plot against us. His bodyguard Gionga hardly ever leaves his side.’
‘Did you know that Gionga placed warriors at the bridge over the Suir to prevent me leaving here?’
Her brother looked troubled. ‘I found that out afterwards. Gionga, or his Prince, was cunning. Once it was known that you had reached Imleach safely, Prince Donennach came to me and explained that Gionga, through zeal, had placed a guard there to prevent any accomplices of the assassins escaping. Misinterpreting their orders, they tried to prevent you from going to Imleach. Donennach apologised profusely and said he had ordered the warriors to disperse.’
Fidelma chuckled derisively. ‘If one believes that … ! They had specific orders to prevent
my
going to Imleach. They made that clear enough.’

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