The Monk Who Vanished (35 page)

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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Nion the
bó-aire
of Imleach was trying to leave the hall surreptitiously.

‘Capa!’ called Fidelma, pointing to the smith.

The burly captain of the bodyguard of Colgú held the smith with a surprising force, forcing him by the shoulder to halt.

‘Bring him here into the court,’ instructed Brehon Rumann.

Nion was pale. ‘I had nothing to do with the conspiracy to overthrow Cashel,’ he gasped.

‘Do you admit you were involved with this … this merchant, Samradan?’ inquired the Brehon Rumann.

‘I do not deny that. I dealt only with him because he brought me the ore from the mine. I extracted the silver and sometimes worked it.’

Fidelma was nodding. ‘Yes. I believe that you sometimes made excellent little solar-symbol brooches with it. Unfortunately the raiders destroyed your forge so that, on the day following the raid, Samradán had to leave the mine taking only one sack of silver which you had extracted but also a sack of unprocessed ore.’

‘My forge could not deal with it,’ agreed Nion.

‘Did you ever see Samradán’s patron?’

‘Never. I was not involved in any plan to overthrow Cashel …’

Fidelma turned to the judges. ‘There was my confusion,’ she admitted. ‘For a while I thought that Samradan and his illegal mining were the key to the problem. Especially when I found that the mine was in the same complex of tunnels in which Brother Mochta and
the Holy Relics were hidden. It was merely coincidence that Brother Bardan, while going to find Mochta, stumbled onto Samradán’s mining operation and was taken prisoner by him and brought to Cashel. Samradán could not take responsibility for the death of a Brother, so he hid Bardán. beneath his warehouse, waiting for his patron to make a decision. That Prince decided that both Samradan and Brother Bardan would have to be killed. He suspected that they would lead me to him. Samradán was dead when I reached him. Luckily, I’d already released Bardan from the warehouse. He is in the court as a witness.’

‘You said, however, it was Samradan who set you on the right track. Yet you say he was dead when you reached him. How could a dead man speak?’ asked the Brehon Rumann.

‘No, I mentioned Samradán’s driver,’ corrected Fidelma. ‘This driver was coming to see me to give me some information about the archer and Baoill. You see, the driver, whose name we never knew, had no knowledge about his master’s involvement in the affair nor, even, that his master had a patron. Samradán thought he was coming to betray the illegal mining operation for I had stupidly alerted Samradan that I knew he was involved in such an activity. I had asked him whether he dealt in silver and he denied that he did. Samradán mortally wounded the driver. Before he died, the man was able to tell me, in front of the witness of Brother Eadulf-’ she nodded towards where Eadulf was sitting - ‘certain things, which led me to Brother Mochta. More importantly, he told me of the time when the archer, who was staying at the same inn, had met with a man he could not identify. A young man, in a cloak. It was night time.’

‘If he could not identify the man, how could that lead in any meaningful direction?’ inquired the Brehon Fachtna.

‘The archer addressed the man as
rigdomna
- Prince - giving an indication of the rank of the man. This was the chief conspirator. Brother Bardán heard the raiders speaking to Samradan and he also heard that this
rígdomna
was conspiring with a Comarb.’

Fidelma looked to where Nion was still standing with Capa keeping a close watch on him. Then she swung round to where Finguine, the Prince of Cnoc Aine was sitting.

‘Let Finguine come to stand before the judges,’ she called softly.

A new wave of whispering echoed round the great hall.

Finguine stood up, his features suddenly creased in anxiety. He hesitated.

‘Come forward,’ rumbled the Brehon Rumann. ‘Come forward, Finguine.’

The young Prince of Cnoc Aine came slowly forward.

‘You arrived at Imleach just after the attack on it?’ asked Fidelma.

‘I did.’

‘At that time, you were certain it was an attack by the Uí Fidgente?’

‘Yes. Nion believed so. There was also the carving on the tree and the fact that the raiders went north after the attack. Everything pointed to the Uf Fidgente.’

‘As it was meant to,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘With, of course, one exception. The raider we had captured.’

‘Yes. But he had been killed before we could identify who he was …’ began Finguine.

‘The night before you left Imleach, Brother Bardan approached you in the chapel and confessed that he knew where Brother Mochta was hiding with the Holy Relics.’

Finguine indicated the witnesses. ‘Brother Bardan is seated there. He will tell you as much.’

‘He arranged to bring Mochta and the Holy Relics to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do I presume then that it was coincidence that Solam joined you that morning?’

‘It was as I have already told you. I was compelled to give him an escort to Cashel. But we had been delayed because I had given Bardan my word and he had not turned up. I told Solam as much as I felt it necessary for him to know. Later I discovered that you had been seen on the road to Ara’s Well with the Saxon and with Brother Mochta. You were described as carrying something which could only be the reliquary. As for Bardan, well, he had disappeared.’

‘How did you discover where I had hidden Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics?’

‘Nion saw you leave the house of Della. It took no imagination to make inquiries and find out how friendly you were with her.’

‘That is why you went to Della’s house and took Mochta and the reliquary away with you? One thing is puzzling. You have proclaimed your suspicions of the Uí Fidgente on more than one occasion. Why, then, did you take Gionga of the Uí Fidgente to ransack Della’s house?’

Finguine glanced nervously at the judges. ‘Action needed to be taken immediately when Nion reported the matter to me. I was in Solam’s company at the time Nion chose to speak to me. Solam insisted that Gionga accompany me. He was suspicious and wanted an Uí Fidgente witness. I did not have time to send for my warriors and so I had to trust Gionga.’

Solam turned and nodded agreement. ‘That was so, Fidelma.’

‘Having discovered that I had brought Brother Mochta and the
reliquary to Cashel, Finguine, why did you think it necessary that they be removed from my safekeeping?’

Finguine looked uncomfortable and then he held her eye for a moment. ‘Because we believed it was you who was behind the conspiracy against Cashel.’

Fidelma was not often given to an astonishment in which she became speechless. This time she was.

Her silence encouraged Finguine to continue.

‘You have only just come back to this kingdom after years away. When you were young you went and studied with the Brehon Morann at Tara. Then you went to Cill Dara and were many years in that abbey. You have been abroad, to Oswy’s kingdom in the land of the Angles and to Rome. How could we trust you?’

‘I still do not see why you felt that I was part of such a conspiracy?’ Fidelma finally voiced her astonishment.

Nion came to Finguine’s defence. ‘I told Finguine what I had heard from Samradán. He once boasted that his patron was powerful. Someone who was very close to the King of Cashel. He never mentioned whether the patron was male or female. It is only now that we have heard that the patron was addressed as a
rígdomna.’

‘And
rígdomna
being male and not female?’ Fidelma reacted with a soft chuckle.

‘It is no laughing matter,’ cut in the Brehon Rumann irritably. ‘You had almost argued yourself into the position of your prime suspect.’

Fidelma suddenly grew serious. ‘Then I had best come to the point, learned judge, before you find me guilty of the conspiracy. Oh, one more question, Finguine. What were you doing at Samradán’s house the other night?’

Finguine frowned. ‘The other night? I was looking for Samradán as I wished to ask him some questions. I rode up to his house but there was no response to my knocking.’

‘You didn’t go in?’

‘I didn’t even get off my horse. I merely rode up to the door and knocked. When there was no response, I turned away. Then the next day I heard the news that Samradán was dead - murdered.’

‘In death, the answer still lies with Samradán,’ observed Fidelma. Once more an icy silence descended and everyone leant forward to catch her words. ‘I mentioned that I had unwittingly asked him if he traded in silver, having been told he did. He had denied it. This was because his trade was illegal. Outside of his co-workers and Nion who extracted the metal from the ore, only his co-conspirator knew of his mining in silver. That same co-conspirator was the
rígdomna
who sought to overthrow Muman.

‘That man, that young
rígdomna,
when he rode into Cashel that morning, was the one who raised his hand to give the signal for the assassins to shoot at Colgú. Only Colgú leaning forward suddenly to greet me made the assassin miss his target. The second arrow struck where it was supposed to. A bad but not serious wound for Donennach. Then Gionga, having spotted the assassins, galloped forward.

‘The last thing this man wanted was his conspirators to be captured alive. If they were dead the plot could still work. He had given one of them the emblem of the Golden Chain and told them to drop it at the spot. He had not realised that the other man, Baoill, still carried the crucifix of Ailbe which would mark the start of the trail that led to the conspirators.’

‘Are you saying that Gionga acted wrongly in killing the assassins?’ Solam interjected.

‘He did what he thought was right. He killed the assassins believing that he might be in danger. Probably, if he had hesitated, the chief conspirator, who had ridden after him, would have ensured that both men were killed on some pretext before they could talk. As it was, both men were killed. But, no, Gionga is not to blame.’

Gionga was standing with his brow wrinkled as if deep in thought. He was remembering the incident more clearly in the light of what she was saying.

Fidelma glanced encouragingly across the hall to him.

‘I’ll take a bet with you, Gionga. The same person who came hot on your heels and ensured you killed the two men at Samradán’s warehouse was the same man who suggested that I was determined to conjure evidence to incriminate Prince Donennach. Is that not so? Didn’t he suggest that you would be wise to send warriors to block my way to Imleach? To put a guard on the bridge?’

Gionga’s face lightened. He nodded rapidly. ‘That is so. But he …’

‘You did not realise that you fell into his trap because, by sending your warriors to prevent my leaving Cashel, you immediately brought down more suspicion on your Prince. Your behaviour seemed to compound the guilt of the Uí Fidgente.’

Gionga raised a hand to his forehead and groaned. ‘I did not think of that.’

‘Who is this man?’ cried the Brehon Rumann in frustration. ‘Enough innuendoes. Name him.’

‘What man raised his hand when the bodyguard of King Colgú entered the market square that morning?’ asked Fidelma. ‘We all thought it a signal to his horsemen but it was a signal to the assassins. What man immediately galloped after Gionga? What man told Gionga
to set a guard on the bridge across the Suir? What man told me, in an unguarded moment, that he had traded a certain silver brooch from Samradán when Samradán kept his silver dealing such a dark secret that the only person outside of Nion who would know of it was the man who was his partner and protector?’

Slowly, Donndubháin had risen in his place and walked forward to face Fidelma before the Brehons. Throughout the proceedings he had remained silent. He had sat in his seat without responding to events, with no emotion on his stony face. He had simply stared ahead of him, looking neither right nor left. Now the moment had come when everyone finally knew whom Fidelma was accusing. He left his seat and stood a few feet from Fidelma. Even then, he managed a good-natured expression on his features.

‘What are you trying to do to me, cousin?’ His voice was pleasant. Yet the eyes were hard and unblinking.

‘Do - to you? You are the architect of an evil conspiracy, cousin. You were angry and jealous when Colgú was elected as
tanist
and became King of Muman when you considered that the kingship should have been yours by right. Even when you were elected
tanist,
heir-apparent, to Colgú, it was not enough. Colgú was young and bar an unforeseen accident, you could never hope to be King. So you decided to make that “accident” occur.

‘Colgú would be assassinated. The Uí Fidgente would be blamed. Disorder and turmoil would rip Muman apart and you, dear cousin, would come forward and claim the crown, promising to unite the kingdom once again. You would have the support of the whole kingdom behind you when you marched to destroy the Uí Fidgente and from the ashes of that land you would give the Uí Néill tribute, allowing Mael Duin of Ailech to once more reach out his blood-red hand to take control of our kingdom.’

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