The Monk Who Vanished

Chapter Nineteen

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 Obviously, Brother Bardán had still not returned this way; the bolts were withdrawn as earlier.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 Cashelis 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?’

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.

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 bythe 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 horsesback 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.

‘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?

‘Well, the sooner we find this monk — what’s his name? — Mochta? — the sooner we shall resolve this business,’ snapped Solam. ‘The key is the Holy Relics, of that I have no doubt at all.’

Fidelma’s eyes rounded.

Her cousin was responding. ‘We will try the southern caves first. Then there is a cave on the Hill of the Cairn to the north.’

He raised his hand and motioned the body of horsemen forward.

For a few moments Fidelma remained where she was, trying to make sense of what she had heard.

Then she rose and hurried back to the horses. Whatever it meant, it seemed that her own cousin, the Prince of Cnoc Aine, was searching for Brother Mochta. She wondered if Eadulf had begun to move Mochta down the hill to the safety of the forest cover along the banks of the River Ara. She must not let Finguine and Solam reach the cave on the Hill of the Cairn first. She was thankful that Finguine had suggested going to the southern caves first, wherever they were. It gave her time to reach Mochta and Eadulf before they did.

Pressing her heels into the flanks of her horse, Fidelma set off at a canter across the meadowland, swinging around the edge of the forest towards the hill. She was thinking about Finguine, aboutBrother Mochta and his bitter betrayal by his brother. What was it he had said? Unity is not cemented by blood. She skirted the broad base of the hill and came round to the eastern side, where a new tract of forest began to stretch along the valley which eventually led towards the Well of Ara.

As she rode across the shoulder of the hill, she saw the small figures of Eadulf and Mochta on the hill above her. Eadulf was carrying the reliquary under one arm while the other supported Brother Mochta, who had his arm around the Saxon’s shoulders and was struggling to keep his footing.

Fidelma gave a cry to attract their attention. The pair halted, then recognised her. They began to struggle downwards again.

Fidelma urged the horses upwards, as far as the steep slope would allow, then waited for them to come to her, dismounting and holding the horses steady. It took a while for Eadulf and Mochta to struggle down the hill to her.

‘Phew!’ Eadulf gasped as they came up. ‘I could do with a rest.’

He was about to ease Brother Mochta into a sitting position when Fidelma shook her head swiftly.

‘Not here. We must get to the shelter of the woods down there as soon as possible.’

‘Why?’ demanded Eadulf, puzzled by her sharpness.

‘Because horsemen are coming and they are searching for Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics.’

Brother Mochta blinked. ‘Uí Fidgente?’ he gasped.

‘One of them is,’ acknowledged Fidelma. ‘Solam.’

Eadulf pursed his lips as he caught her inflection. ‘Who are the others?’

‘My cousin rides with Solam.’

Eadulf was about to make a further comment when Fidelma swung up on her horse.

‘Give me the reliquary,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll carry that. Brother Mochta will have to mount in front of you, Eadulf. That way you can give him support. We can continue this conversation when we are safely away from this exposed place.’

Eadulf did not say anything further. Instead he handed up the reliquary box to Fidelma and then helped Brother Mochta into the saddle of his horse before he scrambled up behind him. Eadulf was no skilful horseman and he did not use the most elegant method of mounting his patient colt. And it was a very ungainly rider who directed the young horse down from the hillside in the wake of Fidelma and trotted towards the cover of the forest through which the river ran. However it sufficed.

Fidelma did not stop immediately once they were under the canopy of the trees but continued on for a while. After a mile or so, they came to a clearing by the banks of the river and it was here that Fidelma slid from the saddle and led her mare to the water. Then she turned to help Eadulf assist Brother Mochta down for a rest.

The monk sank thankfully to the grass.

‘Are you claiming that the Prince is part of this conspiracy?’ he gasped immediately, while massaging his leg.

‘I am not saying anything of the sort,’ Fidelma replied quietly. ‘I am merely saying that he and Solam, with some of his men, appeared to be searching for you and the Holy Relics. They were searching the caves.’

Eadulf gestured in annoyance. ‘But that means he is in league with the Uí Fidgente, with Armagh, with the Uí Néill! Your own cousin has betrayed his King’

‘It means that he and Solam were searching for Brother Mochta,’ replied Fidelma waspishly. ‘Make no judgements until you have all the facts. Remember my principles?’

Eadulf raised his head defiantly. ‘You may not wish to see your cousin guilty of such treason. However, what other interpretation can be put on what you say?’

‘There are several’interpretations but it is pointless speculating about them. It is the worst thing that can be done, to speculate before you are in full possession of the facts. I have said so many times. To do so means that you will distort those facts in order to fit your theory.’

Eadulf relapsed into an ungracious silence.

Brother Mochta eased his aching limbs, glancing up uneasily at Fidelma. ‘So, Sister, what is your plan now?’

Fidelma examined Brother Mochta for a moment before making up her mind.

‘I do not think, in your condition, that you will be able to travel much further today. We will see if we can make it to the Well of Ara and rest there. I can trust the innkeeper there. Then, by easy stages, we will go to Cashel.‘’

They reached Aona’s inn at nightfall. At Fidelma’s insistence they did not approach it directly but moved around the rear of the inn. It was not yet time for the dogs to be loosed although they could hear a couple of hounds barking at their tethers. As they approached the rear door of the inn, it opened and a voice cried out, demanding to know who it was approaching in such a stealthy fashion.

Fidelma relaxed a little as she recognised Aona’s voice.

‘It is Fidelma, Aona.’

‘My lady?’ Aona’s voice was puzzled because Fidelma responded so quietly.

The innkeeper came forward to hold the bridle of her horse while she dismounted. Then he turned aside and yelled at the dogs to quiet them. They relapsed into protesting whines.

‘Aona, is there anyone else in the inn tonight?’ Fidelma asked immediately.

‘Yes; a merchant and his drivers. They are at their evening meal.’ He screwed up his eyes in the darkness to where Eadulf and Mochta still sat on their horse. ‘Is that the Saxon Brother?’

‘Listen, Aona, we need rooms for the night. And no one must know that we are here. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, lady. It shall be as you ask.’

‘Did your guests hear us arrive?’

‘I don’t think so. They are making so much noise over their meal. The ale has circled well in them.’

‘Good. Is there a way we can go to a room without the merchants or anyone else seeing us?’ pressed Fidelma.

Aona did not reply for a moment and then he nodded. ‘Come directly to the stables with me. There is a spare room above them, which is only used in an emergency if the inn is crowded … which it never is. It is crudely equipped … but if you want seclusion, then no one would ever come across you there.’

‘Excellent,’ said Fidelma approvingly.

Aona realised that Brother Mochta was injured as Eadulf tried to help him from the horse. He went forward to assist him. As he did so, Fidelma laid a cautionary hand on his arm.

‘No questions, Aona. It is for the safety of the King of Muman. That is all you need to know. Do not let anyone know we are here. Especially do not let any visitors to the inn know.’

‘You may rely on me, lady. Lead your horses into the stable. This way.’

He helped Eadulf take Brother Mochta to the stables, while Fidelma led the horses. There were two heavy drays or wagons parked in the yard before the stables. As they were in semi-gloom they had to wait until Aona lit a lamp. He motioned them inside. Fidelma put the horses into separate stalls.

‘I will tend to their wants in a minute,’ Aona said. ‘Let me take you to the room first.’

He helped Brother Mochta ascend a narrow flight of stairs which led to a loft room. It was a plain room with four cots and straw mattresses on them. There were some chairs, a table and little else. The whole place was covered with dust.

‘As I said,’ he observed apologetically, drawing some sacking over the window, ‘it is not really used.’

‘It will do for now,’ Fidelma assured him.

‘Is your companion badly hurt?’ Aona inquired, indicating Brother Mochta. ‘Should I find a discreet physician?’

‘No need,’ replied Fidelma. ‘My companion has trained in the schools of medicine.’

Aona suddenly held up the lamp, close to Brother Mochta’s face. His eyes widened.

‘I know you,’ he said. ‘Yes, you are the very man Sister Fidelma was asking about. But …’ He suddenly appeared bewildered. ‘You were not wearing that tonsure when you stayed here last week. I swear it.’

Brother Mochta suppressed a groan. ‘That is because I did not stay here last week, innkeeper.’

‘But, I swear …’

Fidelma interrupted him with a smile of reassurance. ‘It is a long story, Aona.’

The innkeeper was still apologetic. ‘No questions, lady. I remember.’

He opened a cupboard and drew out some blankets.

‘As I say, this room is used only when the inn is full, which is hardly ever. It is very basic.’

‘It is better than sleeping under the heather,’ replied Eadulf.

Fidelma took the innkeeper aside to give him instructions.

‘Once you have taken care of our horses, we would like something to eat and drink. Can you arrange that without anyone knowing? ’

‘I will see to it. I must let my grandson, Adag, know. He is a good boy and will not betray you. He is my right hand in helping me with the inn. I have no wife. She was carried off by the Yellow Plague during the same year as my daughter-in-law. My son perished in the wars against the Uí Fidgente. So there are just the two of us left to run this place now.’

‘I remember young Adag,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘By all means tell him. Who else did you say was in the inn at the moment? Some merchants?’

‘A merchant and two drivers. Those are their wagons outside the inn. In fact …’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘In fact, you may know the merchant as he is from Cashel.’

Eadulf, overhearing, suddenly leant forward. ‘Do you mean Samradán?’

Aona glanced at him in surprise. ‘That is the very man.’

‘Then do not mention our presence to him.’ Fidelma was adamant.

‘Is there something I should know about him?’ demanded Aona curiously.

‘It is just that it is better if he did not know of our presence,’ replied Fidelma.

‘Has it something to do with the attack on the abbey the other night? I heard all about that.’

‘I said, no questions, Aona, and you agreed,’ Fidelma rebuked him patiently.

The former warrior looked contrite. ‘I beg your forgiveness, lady. It is just that Samradán was talking about the attack.’

‘Oh? What was he saying about it?’ She pretended to be more concerned in adjusting the sackcloth curtain.

‘He described the attack and said that it was the Uí Fidgente. How can they be so treacherous? And all the while their Prince is your brother’s guest at Cashel?’

‘We do not know for a fact that it was the Uí Fidgente,’ she corrected. ‘When did Samradán arrive?’

‘An hour or two before you did, lady.’

Fidelma was thoughtful and she gazed at Eadulf. ‘That means he could not have gone north. That is even more interesting.’

Eadulf could not see why it was interesting at all.

Aona opened his mouth to ask a question and then thought better of it.

‘Off with you, Aona,’ she instructed. ‘We need that refreshment as soon as you can.’

The innkeeper turned down the stairs.

‘And, remember,’ Fidelma called after him, ‘not a word to anyone apart from your grandson.’

‘I swear it on the Holy Cross, lady.’

When he had gone, Eadulf settled to examine Mochta’s shoulder and leg. Since his days studying medicine, although he was no qualified physician, Eadulf took to the habit of carrying some medicines in his saddle bag.

‘Well, the wounds are still healing,’ he announced. ‘The journey has not worsened it. Brother Bardán did a good job. It is just that the wounds will ache for a bit but they are healing nicely. No need for me to change the dressings at all.’

Brother Mochta forced a smile. ‘The journey has worsened my disposition, however, my Saxon friend. I feel as if I have been dragged over a stony stretch of land.’

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 wereaccompanied 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.’