The Monk Who Vanished sf-7

by Peter Tremayne

  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 Eadu
lf 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.’

  Chapter Twenty

  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.