Atonement of Blood

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Fidelma came to her senses to find a dark figure bending over her. The calming voice of Eadulf bade her remain still.

‘It’s all right. Your attacker has fled. It was a lucky thing I thought better of you coming here alone.’ Eadulf raised a lantern so that she could see.

‘Who was it?’ she asked, clearing her dry throat.

‘Adamrae, who else?’ Eadulf replied, helping her up with his free hand.

‘The young religieux?’ She was astonished.

‘I saw him lurking outside under the light above the chapel door. I wondered why he was being so furtive so I doused my lantern and crept up the path as he entered the chapel. Alas, I was not quick enough. I entered just as he struck the blow that knocked you out. I launched myself at him but I swear, he moved with the strength and agility of a warrior. He pushed me aside as if I were a small child. Then he was out of the chapel with the speed of a hare.’

Fidelma was rubbing her bruised head ruefully. It was sticky and she knew her assailant had drawn blood.

‘How do you know he has fled?’

‘There was a horse waiting by the fence. I followed him outside just in time to see it speeding away into the night.’ Eadulf peered at Fidelma’s injury in the lamplight and said, ‘We’d best get that bathed and tended.’

She was about to agree when she suddenly remembered what had brought her to the chapel.

‘All in good time. Let us find Brother Cronan, if he is still here.’

She made her way, a little unsteadily, towards the door which separated the living quarters of Brother Cronan from the chapel. Eadulf followed, holding the lantern high. She twisted the iron handle and pushed. The door would not budge. She tried again.

‘It’s locked,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘You will need to fetch Gormán to help you. This is a heavy door.’

‘And leave you here alone?’ Eadulf said, aghast. ‘After what has happened?’

‘Either that or I must fetch him myself.’

Eadulf dithered for a moment or two before handing the lantern to her and turning and trotting off.

When he returned, he brought not only Gormán but Conrí and Socht with him. Conrí’s face was a mask of dismay.

‘Did I not tell you that young, arrogant men do not take kindly to having their abilities questioned? However, I had no idea that the young man would go so far as to attack you.’

‘He did not attack me for any insult that he felt I had given him,’ Fidelma corrected. ‘There is something much deeper to this matter.’ She indicated the door. ‘It is locked and needs to be opened. If you would oblige me by forcing it …?’

Gormán immediately put his shoulder to the door. Socht, after receiving a nod of approval from Conrí, joined him. A moment later the lock was wrenched from its holding as the door caved in. Fidelma followed the men into the room, holding the lantern high.

A figure lay on a bed covered in a blanket. It was very still.

Eadulf ran forward and pulled back the cover. An elderly man lay beneath it, tied hand and foot. A piece of cloth was fastened across his mouth.

‘Brother Cronan!’ exclaimed Conrí.

The man was alive but tied in such a way, with hands behind him, the rope connecting his hands and feet, that he was bent almost backwards. Eadulf untied the gag then drew his knife and quickly severed the bonds. The man was very pale. He looked weak and anaemic. There was a jug of water nearby and Eadulf poured some of the contents into a beaker. Conrí was trying to question the bewildered figure on the bed.

‘Let him recover first,’ Fidelma instructed, holding the man’s head to allow him to sip the water. ‘Everything in good time.’

The man, identified as Brother Cronan, began to sit up, coughing a little and rubbing at his wrists where angry weal-marks showed how tightly he had been bound. He looked from one to another of his rescuers in bewilderment.

Fidelma sat down on the edge of the bed.

‘I am a dálaigh, Brother Cronan. My name is Fidelma of Cashel. We need to ask you questions. Are you up to answering?’

‘How long have I been here?’ he countered.

‘We have not seen you for five days,’ Conrí said. ‘Brother Adamrae said you were taken sick and confined to your room.’

Brother Cronan’s lips compressed for a moment. ‘Brother Adamrae!’ he echoed bitterly. Then: ‘Five days? Yes, he came and fed me five times and I was allowed to perform … certain natural functions. Other than that he kept me tied up as you have seen. I am weak from hunger and need a bath. Forgive me, for I must insult your sense of smell, lady.’

Fidelma smiled encouragingly. ‘Do not worry. These matters will be attended to shortly. But first you must tell us how you came to be in this predicament.’

‘The young man, Adamrae … where is he?’ He looked about nervously.

‘He is fled,’ Eadulf said.

‘I will send some warriors in pursuit of him,’ Conrí said quickly.

The religieux sighed and relaxed a little. ‘It was roughly five days ago that he came here and told me that he had been sent by the Abbot of Mungairit to help me administer to the people of the Ford of Oaks.’

‘Abbot Nannid?’ pressed Fidelma.

Brother Cronan nodded. ‘Yes. He said that he had come from the abbey. So I invited him in and he started asking questions about the lord Conrí and how many warriors he commanded here. I thought that strange. But then he said something that made me suspicious of him.’

‘Which was?’

‘He claimed to have studied at the Abbey of Machaoi. Yet he had no accent of the northern kingdoms in his voice.’

‘I noticed that also,’ Fidelma said. ‘When I remarked on it, he told me that he was fostered among the people close to these borders.’

‘Well, I once made a journey to I-Shona, where Colmcille built his abbey,’ Brother Cronan said. ‘On that journey I stayed in the Abbey of Machaoi before journeying across the narrow sea to I-Shona, so I knew something about it. It was clear that he did not even know that the abbey was on an island.’

‘He certainly knew it was on an island when we spoke with him,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘Because I was foolish enough to show my astonishment at his ignorance and told him. Stupidly, I revealed that I had become suspicious. I turned my back on him and the next thing I knew, I was trussed up as you discovered me, lying on the bed.’

‘He came to see me soon after,’ admitted Conrí, ‘and said he had come to help you but found you ill and so you had to be confined to your chamber.’

‘Did he give you any idea of who he was and why he was here?’ Fidelma asked Brother Cronan.

‘He left me more or less alone, except that at some time he would loosen the bonds to feed me. Usually, it was just a bowl of oats and water and he would allow me to use the bucket for decency’s sake. But then he would stand in the room with a drawn sword so that I would not get any ideas. Most of the time I was bound and gagged to prevent my calling for help.’

‘And no one thought to come and check on you?’ Fidelma was frowning. ‘Was there no physician or apothecary here? Surely someone would have come to discover what this illness was that confined you here?’

It was Conrí who replied, with a shamed face. ‘I think Adamrae, whoever he was, has murdered our apothecary.’

‘You have made no mention of this before!’ Fidelma turned sharply.

‘It is only now, listening to Brother Cronan, that this conclusion has come into my mind.’

‘You had better explain,’ Fidelma sighed.

Conrí looked even more contrite. ‘When Adamrae introduced himself to me and pretended that he had found Brother Cronan ill, he told me that he had sent for our apothecary, Lachtine.’

‘So what did this apothecary say?’ asked Fidelma.

‘I have not seen him since. That is why I think he is dead.’

‘Did Adamrae comment on the disappearance of the apothecary?’

‘On the next day, when I saw Adamrae, I asked him how Brother Cronan fared and what Lachtine had diagnosed. He said that Lachtine had prescribed some herbs and a potion, and had recommended that Brother Cronan should be kept isolated for seven days. In the meantime, he would go into the forests in search of some herbal remedies that would further alleviate the symptoms. That was why we have not been worried by Lachtine’s absence. He often spends whole days at a time in the forests searching for plants and herbs with which to prepare his concoctions. But now, hearing what has happened, I do fear … truly I do now fear for the man’s life.’

‘Well, Lachtine never visited me, that is for sure,’ muttered Brother Cronan.

‘Why would Adamrae kill this apothecary?’ asked Eadulf. ‘And why keep Brother Cronan a prisoner?’

‘If we had an answer to that, then we would know what his purpose was in coming here,’ grunted Socht irritably.

‘Well, we know it wasn’t to preach the Faith,’ Eadulf replied dryly.

‘I am worried that he asked Brother Cronan here about the strength of my warriors,’ Conrí said. ‘Perhaps he is one of the brigands that have become active in recent times. The Ford of the Oaks is a strategic place right enough, but only for merchants. It is a good meeting place for them, being situated on the road from east to west, and a good navigable spot for small boats heading north along the River Mháigh to the great estuary of the Sionnan.’

‘But if Adamrae is a brigand, why put himself forward as a judge to condemn that other thief to death?’ Gormán said.

‘I suppose he could have been part of another band of thieves and took the opportunity to get rid of a rival?’ suggested Eadulf.

‘Adamrae was interested in the local inn that serves merchants,’ Socht said. ‘He would go there several times a day.’

Conrí was not convinced. ‘An attack on merchants here or an attack on my fortress would be futile unless he had a substantial gang. I have fifty men at my command here.’

‘Whatever Adamrae wanted, or was going to do, he has either achieved it or would have achieved it soon,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully.

‘How do you come to that conclusion?’ asked Eadulf.

‘He told Conrí that Lachtine said no one should go near Brother Cronan for seven days. Why mention a specific time unless it had meaning? I would think it would have occurred to someone that Lachtine should have returned from wandering the forest in search of herbs by then. So a search would have been started about now.’

Conrí was still clearly embarrassed. ‘That is true, lady. In fact, the matter did not even occur to me, but the time will soon be up. We are so used to Lachtine’s wanderings in the forest but I suppose we would have started asking questions within the next few days.’

‘I suggest that as soon as it is daylight, some search is made for this apothecary,’ Fidelma said, ‘although I suspect that you will be searching for a body rather than a living person.’ She turned back to Brother Cronan, who seemed to be regaining his strength. ‘You can recollect nothing else that Adamrae said that would give a clue as to why he came here?’

Brother Cronan shook his head. ‘I was aware that during one or two nights, some people came to see him. I heard voices beyond the closed door of this chamber.’

‘These people came to the chapel then?’ asked Eadulf.

Fidelma turned to Conrí and Socht. ‘Was anyone seen coming to the chapel at any time when Adamrae was here?’

‘There were people who came for the services, of course,’ pointed out Socht, ‘but they were turned away by Adamrae, who used the excuse of Brother Cronan’s illness. There are no reports of anyone visiting the chapel at night.’

Fidelma stood up. ‘I think we should leave Brother Cronan to recover from his experience. Is there anyone we can send to tend to you after your rough handling?’

‘You might send old Mother Muirenn to me,’ the religieux said. ‘She helps clean and wash this place from time to time.’

‘I’ll do so immediately, Brother,’ Socht offered. ‘I’ll assure her that the tales of illness and contagion are false.’

They bade farewell to the exhausted but relieved religieux and walked back across the square in the semi-gloom of the lanterns. Attendants came forward to offer refreshment and remind them that it was time for the evening baths before the praintech, the evening meal.

They did not speak much until they were seated at the refectory table. It was Eadulf who then returned to the topic that had been occupying his thoughts.

‘I find it curious that no one saw who went to the chapel to see this man Adamrae nor, indeed, does anyone in this settlement own to visiting him.’

‘Rather Adamrae came to us, than we go to him,’ Conrí pointed out. ‘I think most people were afraid of picking up Brother Cronan’s contagion, which we now know was non-existent.’

‘And forgot that if there was a contagion, Adamrae would be carrying it to them,’ muttered Fidelma.

‘Tell me,’ Eadulf asked reflectively, ‘did Adamrae always wear that cowl of his drawn over his head?’

‘Always. He said it was the custom of his Order to …’ The war chieftain closed his eyes in a grimace. ‘It could have been an aid to disguise.’

‘Why would he be interested in how many warriors you have here?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Why kill the apothecary; why keep Brother Cronan a prisoner; why ask questions about the strength of your fortress and, indeed, why did he frequently visit the local tavern?’

Conrí was perplexed. ‘I have not heard of any group of brigands strong enough to attack my fortress, and my warriors guard the merchants crossing through this territory.’

‘I presume that the only other major fortress near here is Dún Eochair Mháigh?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Is there a large force guarding it?’

‘Less than a score of men, I believe. There is little need of warriors to guard it when …’ Conrí paused.

‘… when Prince Donennach is in Tara with his personal entourage to have discussions with the High King,’ Fidelma ended softly.

Eadulf considered the matter. ‘When Prince Donennach succeeded after Eoganán was killed at Cnoc Áine, after Donennach made the initial peace treaty with Cashel, was everyone happy with that choice?’ he asked.

Conrí gave a slight shrug. ‘Of course not. Many thought the Uí Fidgente should have fought on to avenge the dishonour of their defeat.’

‘But you were not one of them?’

Conrí flushed. ‘I was not. After the defeat we had been occupied by the warriors of Cashel for months. We suffered much for the mistakes of Prince Eoganán. True, that created resentment among many. But others, like myself, believed it was wrong to try to take by force what was clearly a matter to be resolved among the Brehons of all the Five Kingdoms. The Brehons found the claim of Eoganán invalid. I stood by their decision.’

‘Then let me put out this thought to you,’ Fidelma said. ‘We know that Prince Donennach has left the territory to visit Tara and pay his respects to the High King. Would he have taken most of his loyal advisers with him?’

‘I remain to guard the peace of the territory,’ Conrí replied defensively.

‘What of his tanaiste, his heir apparent?’

‘Ercc? He is a loyal man and accompanies Donennach to Tara.’

‘Isn’t it curious that both the Prince and his heir apparent have left the territory?’ Fidelma observed pointedly.

‘It was on the advice of Donennach’s Brehon — Brehon Uallach.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘I can’t recall him.’

‘He has not been at Donennach’s court for long. Uallach succeeded as the Prince’s Brehon, when his former adviser, the one who helped Donennach negotiate the peace with Cashel, died in a hunting accident.’

‘What reason did Uallach give for both Prince and heir apparent to leave their territory to go to the High King?’

‘After the visit to the High King, the party were to call on your brother in Cashel to negotiate the new treaty. To do so, both Donennach and Ercc had to be present and in accord.’

‘And Brehon Uallach also accompanies them?’

‘Of course.’

‘Yet it is a weak legal reason, for a Prince can agree a treaty without the presence of his heir apparent. Is Uallach trustworthy?’

‘His advice was accepted as sound and lawful. Are you making some accusation against Uallach?’

‘When did Donennach leave for Tara?’

‘The party left about a week ago.’

Fidelma inclined her head pensively. ‘So you are the only person who would protect the territory, should there be any manifestation of dissension?’

Conrí’s eyes narrowed angrily. ‘I hope you are not impugning my loyalty …?’

‘What I am saying is that this is an ideal time for anyone who wishes to overthrow Donennach, while he and his advisers are out of the kingdom! Perhaps this might be a reason for Adamrae’s strange behaviour here.’

‘A plot to overthrow Donennach? But why here? The conspirators would surely try to seize control of his fortress at Dún Eochair Mháigh,’ Socht argued.

Conrí was thinking rapidly. ‘If there is danger in this land, we had best be near the centre of it. We should ride to Dún Eochair Mháigh.’

Grey fingers of light were appearing over the eastern treetops when Eadulf and Fidelma made their way down to the main hall after a fitful night’s sleep. Conrí and Socht were already at the table which had been laid for the first meal of the day. However, they saw that Conrí had been talking to two warriors who were just leaving the hall when they came in.

‘It seems that an early morning search has found Lachtine, our apothecary,’ Conrí greeted them sombrely. ‘You were right, lady.’

‘Dead, I presume?’ she said quietly.

‘Dead,’ confirmed Conrí, gesturing for them to be seated.

‘Where was he found?’

‘Not far away. He was almost buried in a manure stack at the back of the chapel. It just so happened that one of the searchers we sent out this morning was passing into the forest that way and saw a hand sticking out of the stack. The apothecary had been stabbed twice in the chest.’

Fidelma grimaced sadly. ‘I did not expect miracles,’ she sighed. ‘This Adamrae seems a ruthless man in pursuit of his purpose.’

‘And you think his purpose is to overthrow Donennach?’

‘It would be the logical conclusion — except for one point.’

They all turned and looked at her in surprise.

‘But you said last night …’ began Conrí.

‘Oh, I made a speculation last night. I still think that speculation has to be followed. But if Adamrae’s purpose was to claim to be Prince of the Uí Fidgente, then he would surely be known to people here. To you, for example. He would have to be kin to Prince Donennach and his family, even as Donennach was cousin to Eoganán. He would be recognised even with the disguise he assumed.’

Conrí saw the point immediately. Succession of a noble to office had to be approved by a gathering of the derbhfine of a family, usually no more than three generations of the family of the last approved chieftain, petty king, or even High King. Therefore, one claiming the office had not only to be of the bloodline but approved by the electoral college called the derbhfine. In ideal circumstances this ensured that the most worthy member of the family held the office and that no one usurped it; thus inheritance by the eldest son or daughter was almost excluded.

‘You mean,’ Conrí said after a while, ‘we should consider which members of Donennach’s family are conspiring against him?’

‘It would be one way of approaching things,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘Well, then there are several people to consider. I know a farmer who is a cousin and even the master of the stables at Mungairit is a cousin to Prince Donennach,’ observed Socht cynically.

Conrí suddenly chuckled. ‘Not a likely choice of succession. Twenty years or more working in the stables of an abbey suddenly to be elevated to Prince of the Uí Fidgente is too far-fetched. I, too, must be a prime suspect. I am also a cousin, albeit distant. How else could I have become warlord of the Uí Fidgente?’

‘I had forgotten the obvious, Conrí,’ Fidelma sighed.

‘That is unlike you, lady,’ replied Conrí, amused. ‘But I am afraid you would have too many suspects to contend with if you are looking just for relatives of Eoganán. Even old Abbot Nannid is uncle to Donennach. The descendants of the Uí Fidgente Princes are many, lady.’

‘However, you have made me recall another obvious thing that you said yesterday.’

‘Which was?’

‘You pointed out that the Ford of Oaks is a crossing which many merchants often use.’

‘That is so. Further along the track to the west is a large inn that caters for the merchants; they can rest there and keep their wagons and animals safe. You are returning to the idea that Adamrae was a brigand, planning a raid on the merchants who pass through here?’

‘I had almost forgotten the visits he made to the inn.’ Fidelma turned to Socht. ‘You did say that Adamrae visited it several times?’

‘I did. The inn is run by Sitae.’

‘Then let us go and speak with the inn-keeper.’

‘I’ll take you there,’ Conrí offered. ‘It is just a short walk.’

The square was now bustling with people, some of whom saluted Conrí in elaborate fashion while others passed with a nod or courteous greeting.

Conrí was correct in that the inn of Sitae was just a short walk along the roadway to the edge of the settlement. It was a fairly large construction with a paddock in which several horses were enclosed — strong muscular beasts better suited to pulling wagons rather than carrying warriors or nobles. There was also an area in which a number of wagons were parked, many of them with a canvas cloth, called a bréit, covering them to protect whatever goods they held. Outside the building was a pole on which an unlit lantern hung. It was the duty of the inn-keeper to light this when darkness fell so that travellers could recognise the place as an inn.

Conrí led the way to the main doors, but before they reached them, the doors were flung open and a short, portly man with unkempt white hair and flushed features seemed to bounce out to greet them. He was light on his feet and his movements were almost comically dramatic. To imagine him in any other role than mine host would be hard.

‘This is Sitae the inn-keeper,’ Conrí announced as the man approached them.

‘My lord, welcome; my lady, welcome, welcome.’ He almost made obeisance to Fidelma, bobbing up and down as he spoke. Obviously the news of her arrival in the settlement had spread. ‘But why are you on foot? The road is muddy after the rains yesterday and you will ruin your pretty shoes. Come in, come into the dry, I entreat you.’

Like a mother hen, the inn-keeper seemed to cluck as he marshalled them to enter his establishment and bade them be seated before a fire. Fidelma felt an overpowering impulse to tell him to stay still, for the man, in addition to moving his head up and down, had a disconcerting habit of stepping from side to side with tiny little movements as if performing some curious dance.

‘I have heard about the finding of Lachtine our apothecary, and the flight of Brother Adamrae,’ the inn-keeper began, glancing nervously towards Fidelma and her companions as they settled themselves.

‘I am told that during the past few days, Brother Adamrae frequented this inn,’ Fidelma said, once they had settled themselves. ‘Why was that?’

The inn-keeper spread his hands apologetically. ‘To explain, I must first tell a long and curious story.’

‘Then the sooner you proceed, the sooner we will hear the story,’ replied Conrí with an air of resignation.

‘It was a peculiar story that Lachtine told me some time ago.’

‘Go on,’ Fidelma prompted impatiently.

‘Well,’ the inn-keeper grew confidential. ‘It was a month or so ago when Lachtine came in, all breathless-like, and told me that he had seen something very singular in the forest. He was there gathering herbs, which he often did, when he witnessed a meeting in a glade. He saw two men — one was in religious robes. However, they both rode good horses, which is not usual among the religious. One was a thickset man, that was the religieux, and the other was a younger man. Lachtine said he thought the thickset man had a humped back, but it turned out he was carrying a sack on his back under his cloak. It was obviously heavy, as when he handed the sack to the younger man, he dropped it. It fell to the ground and the sack split open — whereupon the elder shouted at him to be careful; that it was a sacred object. Well, it did not look like any religious object known to Lachtine, although it was made of some sort of metal. He said it was more like an image of some animal, so far as he could see.’

‘And what was Lachtine doing all the time this exchange was taking place?’ asked Conrí. ‘Why was he not spotted by these two men?’

‘He had been crouching behind a bush gathering some herbs and remained so because of the curious way the men were behaving.’

‘What was this animal that they dropped?’

‘He could not see too well from where he was concealed. It might have been a dog. The elder man dismounted and examined it. Satisfied that it had sustained no damage, he handed it to the younger man. Then he said something to the effect that he had to go, but that he would leave it to the younger one to hand it to the merchant. No names were mentioned and the reference was just to “the merchant”. The younger man said that the merchant was due to be at the very spot shortly so the elderly man mounted and rode off.

‘Lachtine decided to remain hidden and time passed while the young man sat in the glade, apparently growing impatient. But, sure enough, eventually, a heavy wagon rolled along the forest track. The young man handed the bundle to the driver of the wagon and said, in curt fashion, “Remember, the best work must be done on it” and then the wagon rolled on. The younger man then rode off. Realising that he had spent too much time in the glade, Lachtine rose to come back to the Ford of the Oaks. He was trotting along the track towards the settlement when he encountered a group of local farmers and stayed to talk. It was just then that a horseman came trotting by. It was the young man he had seen in the glade. He did not pause but Lachtine felt that he had stared especially at him as he rode by.’

‘This story is a curious one and makes no sense,’ muttered Conrí. ‘What is its relevance to Adamrae?’

‘I will explain,’ the inn-keeper said hastily. ‘Lachtine recognised the man with the wagon as a merchant who frequently passes by here.’

‘And you are going to tell us who that was?’ Fidelma asked patiently.

‘Of course. It was Ordan of Rathordan.’

There was a silence in which Fidelma could not help exchanging a quick glance with Eadulf.

‘I presume that you know Ordan?’ Sitae went on, noticing the look.

‘Rathordan is next to Cashel,’ Gormán answered for her. ‘So yes, we know him.’

‘And how does this answer my question of why did Brother Adamrae visit this inn so frequently?’ asked Fidelma.

Sitae smiled as if he was about to produce some wonderful object to tempt them.

‘Adamrae first came to my inn five days ago and asked after Ordan. He paid me to keep the matter between us but said that he had business with Ordan and must be told the moment he came here.’

‘Why have you decided to tell us now?’ asked Conrí. ‘Adamrae has been here five days.’

‘Because of the news of Lachtine’s death.’

‘Please explain.’

‘Brother Adamrae was the young man whom Lachtine saw in the forest.’

‘Did Lachtine tell you this?’

‘It is my own conclusion. It was on that first day that Brother Adamrae arrived here and came into the inn to ask about Ordan. While he was here, Lachtine came in. They did not speak, but I had the strange feeling the two men recognised one another.’

Eadulf saw a sudden look of excitement come into Fidelma’s eyes.

‘Can you be certain?’ she demanded.

‘As I say, they did not acknowledge one another. Lachtine hurried off while Brother Adamrae asked his question about Ordan. Then, as he was leaving, Adamrae asked me who Lachtine was. I told him. Then he left the inn.’

‘You had not seen Brother Adamrae before that?’

‘I had not. Anyway, I was suspicious of him as it is not often a religieux rides up on a horse more suited for a warrior. Later that day I heard he was supposed to have come from Mungairit to help Brother Cronan administer to our settlement.’

‘Yet you did not alert anyone?’

‘Who — and about what?’ replied Sitae. ‘I heard that Lachtine had gone off into the woods, which was a normal occurrence, and that the new religieux was helping Brother Cronan.’

‘Let’s return to Ordan of Rathordan,’ Fidelma said. ‘You say the merchant came here regularly?’

‘He has passed through here several times during the past year. Sometimes he has arrived from the south and heads north, and sometimes he goes in the opposite direction. But he always stays at my inn.’

‘It is interesting that he never travels from east to west or vice versa. That would be a more usual route for a merchant from Cashel.’

The inn-keeper gave a shrug.

‘Did Brother Adamrae ever say why he was enquiring about Ordan?’

The inn-keeper shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Do you know who Ordan trades with?’

‘I presume he trades with the Abbey at Mungairit, of course. Then, as he spent time in the country of the Luachra, he must have business with them. In truth, lady, Ordan is a man who speaks a lot but says little about his business.’

‘Have you ever been curious about what he trades in?’

‘I would not press someone who does not want to tell me,’ the inn-keeper replied with some dignity.

‘Not even one peek under the canvas awnings on his wagon?’ It was Eadulf who intervened, having assessed the inn-keeper’s curiosity correctly.

The man grimaced, then as Eadulf continued to stare at him, he admitted, ‘Well, there was one time when I happened to be checking that the wagons were parked safely. There was a high wind and some of the coverings were coming loose, and not wishing my guests’ goods to be ruined, I went to secure them. I could not help but see what was in the wagons.’

‘And what was in his wagon?’ asked Fidelma.

‘Ingots. Metal ingots of the types smiths use in their forges. There was also scrap metal. Broken weapons, that sort of thing.’

‘Broken weapons? An odd thing to trade in.’

‘I could not tell exactly what they were. It was only a passing glance as I tied down the covering.’

Eadulf smiled cynically. ‘A passing glance?’

‘Truly, Brother. That was all I saw,’ the inn-keeper replied defensively.

‘Broken weapons? Bars of metal?’ mused Fidelma thoughtfully. Then she rose to her feet, forcing the others to rise too. ‘Very well, Sitae. We thank you for your information.’

They left the man at the door of his inn, still bobbing and clucking after them. Fidelma had become quiet. Eadulf knew enough of her moods not to press for information until she was ready. Nor did Conrí break the silence, for his mind was still considering the possibility of some impending conspiracy against Prince Donennach.

They were nearing the gates of the fortress when a mounted warrior rode across the square towards them.

‘This is one of the men I sent after Adamrae last night,’ Socht explained, turning to greet the man.

The warrior halted before them and swung down from his horse, raising his hand in acknowledgement of the warlord.

‘What news?’ demanded Conrí. ‘Have you found him?’

‘He has vanished, Lord,’ the man said with a shake of his head. ‘No trace of him to the north …’

‘I was wondering if he might have been heading for Mungairit,’ muttered Fidelma to Eadulf.

The warrior overheard her remark and said, ‘If so, lady, then he has chosen a circuitous route to do so. One of my men found signs of him passing to the south.’

‘To the south?’ Conrí was puzzled.

‘Yes. South on the road towards Dún Eochair Mháigh.’