The Monk Who Vanished

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Well, after the exchange of greetings I heard someone fiddling with the tarpaulin. I lay back with my eyes closed. A hand shook me and I continued to breathe deeply and not respond. A voice said: “He’s still unconscious. We can speak freely.” Then the tarpaulin was replaced and I could still hear their voices.’

  ‘What was said?’

  ‘Samradán started to bemoan that the attack had destroyed the smith’s forge and he would have to find a new means of reducing the ore to silver. I have no idea what he meant. The man to whom he was speaking simply chuckled. He said that it could not be helped. Samradán’s illegal activities were no concern of his nor of the Comarb. Samradán protested and said that the rígdomna approved of them and that he acted under his protection. The other rejoined that so far as he knew, Samradan was just a messenger between the rígdomna and the Comarb.’

  Fidelma leant forward eagerly. ‘Both men referred to the “rígdomna”?’

  ‘Yes. The man said that whatever Samradán was doing, it was no concern of his. He had his orders. He was answerable only to the power of the Comarb … At that moment they moved on out of the range of my hearing.’

  Fidelma gave a repressed groan of annoyance. ‘And you are certain that the title of Comarb was mentioned?’ she persisted.

  Brother Bardan was not offended by her question but said quietly: ‘Do you think that I do not know the significance of that title? There are only two Comarb in all the five kingdoms — the Comarb of Ailbe and the Comarb of Patrick.’

  Eadulf whistled softly as he suddenly understood why Fidelma was so tense.

  ‘What happened then?’ Fidelma said, after a moment. ‘Did you hear more?’

  ‘After a while, I heard the riders leaving. A short time passed and the tarpaulin was flung aside. It was Samradán and I had no time to feign unconsciousness again. Samradán took off the gag and threatened to replace it if I said anything. He then gave me drink and some food and replaced the gag immediately afterwards. Doubtless, he thought I had only just recovered and had not heard the meeting with the horsemen. He replaced the tarpaulin. Time passed and off we went again.

  ‘It was a terrible journey. I sensed rather than felt it was nightfall. Everything was dark. The wagons stopped. I dozed fitfully. There was no movement at all. Now and then I awoke and thought that I heard voices. There was some movement and at one point, I thought I heard your voice, Sister Fidelma.’

  Fidelma grimaced bitterly. ‘You did. You were stopped in an inn at the Well of Ara and spent the night until dawn. Then Samradan and his wagons came on here. I must have been within a few feet of you last night.’

  Brother Bardan regarded her with curiosity.

  ‘What has happened?’ he demanded. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘Continue with your story first,’ Fidelma urged.

  ‘Well, you were right. When the wagons finally halted, they were within a large store house. I was taken out and placed here, in this cellar-like room and here I have stayed in the dark until you discovered me.’

  Fidelma sat back, her mind working rapidly. ‘Well, the first thing to do is to get you out of here Brother Bardan and to a place of safety.’

  ‘What danger am I in, Sister?’

  ‘I think you are in considerable danger. Had Samradan mentioned your presence to the raiders, when he spoke to them, you would already be dead. Fortunately, as much as the raiders thought that Samradán’s s illegal mining was none of their business, Samradan thought the same. He thought that you had merely stumbled on his illegal mining activity. As it is, you are witness to a conspiracy which places you in the gravest of danger. We shall take you to a friend and you must stay there until tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Why tomorrow evening?’

  ‘Because then we will come for you and smuggle you into the palace at Cashel. I do not want anyone to know of your existence here.’

  ‘Samradán will know when he finds me missing.’

  ‘A good point,’ Eadulf muttered.

  ‘I have not overlooked it. Once Brother Bardan is lodged safely, we will go and have a word with Samradan.’

  ‘But what of Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics?’ protested Bardan. ‘What of Finguine’s protection? Did Brother Mochta receive it?’

  Fidelma shook her head and smiled thinly. ‘At the moment, you are under the protection of Cashel and you will find Brother Mochta in the place where we are taking you — together with the Holy Relics.’

  They climbed out of the cellar and Eadulf replaced the trapdoor behind them and shot home the bolts. Then he reluctantly blew out the candle. The clouds seemed to be dispersing, however, and the moon, still bright and full, was this time constant. Fidelma led the way through the shadows to the door and they exited behind the warehouse.

  With Eadulf helping Brother Bardan, who was not able to walk well, having been tied for so long, Fidelma conducted them as quickly as Bardán’s weakness allowed, from the back of the warehouse along the outskirts of the town, trying to avoid bringing themselves to the attention of the guard-dogs whose barking could still be heard not far off.

  ‘Thank God, it is probably a wolf or some other scavenger venturing too near the town limits that has distracted their attention,’ whispered Fidelma, as they paused a moment for Brother Bardán to recover from his cramp.

  It took them fifteen minutes to reach their destination: the house of the female recluse, Della.

  Fidelma knocked quietly on her door, giving her the special signal which she had arranged.

  Hardly a moment passed before Della appeared in the doorway. Her face was pale and fearful in the light of the hanging lantern inside the door.

  ‘Fidelma! Thank God you have come!’

  ‘What is it, Della?’ asked Fidelma, surprised at the trembling anxiety of her friend.

  ‘It is the man whom you brought here … Brother Mochta …’

  Fidelma led the way into the house and stood facing Della. The woman was trembling almost in hysteria. Something was frightening her.

  ‘What about Brother Mochta? Where is he?’

  She suddenly noticed that the room was in chaos.

  ‘He has been taken!’ gasped Della.

  ‘Taken?’

  ‘He and that reliquary he was always clasping. He and the box were taken away. There was nothing that I could do.’

  Fidelma reached out her hands to grasp the woman’s shoulders.

  ‘Get a grip on yourself, Della. You are unharmed anyway. This-’ she waved one hand to encompass the chaos — ‘can easily be tidied and repaired. But what of Mochta and the reliquary?’

  Della caught her breath and steadied herself. ‘You left him in my care and he has been taken.’

  Fidelma struggled to retain her patience. ‘So you say. Taken by whom?’

  ‘By your cousin. By Finguine, Prince of Cnoc Aine.’

  Fidelma let her arms drop from Della’s shoulders. Her expression was one of dismay.

  Brother Bardán’s reaction was of relief. ‘So you brought Brother Mochta here with the Relics? Well, thank God that Finguine has finally taken him into protection. We can rest easy now.’

  Fidelma swung round as if to rebuke him. Instead she hesitated and said quietly: ‘Can we?’ She turned back to Della. ‘Who else came here with Finguine? Was it Finguine who destroyed your possessions?’

  ‘No, a warrior. Finguine did rebuke him and say it was unnecessary. The warrior was the leader of the band who accompanied the Prince of the Uí Fidgente when he rode into Cashel. I recognised him when he rode with Donennach.’

  It was Eadulf who exclaimed in disbelief: ‘Gionga? Do you mean Gionga, the captain of the bodyguard of Donennach?’

  Della shrugged miserably. ‘The Uí Fidgente. I do not know his name. All I know is that when Donennach rode into Cashel, that man was in charge of the bodyguard of the Prince.’

  Fidelma stood quietly, as if trying to recover her scattered thoughts. ‘I think we have a problem,’ she said quietly.
>
  Brother Bardan was regarding them in bewilderment. ‘I do not understand.’

  Fidelma did not respond but looked at Della and smiled tightly. ‘I must ask a further favour of you, Della. Eadulf and I must go now. I need you to look after Brother Bardan here until Eadulf or I come for him. This will be tomorrow evening.’

  ‘I can’t!’ protested Della. ‘You see what they have done …’

  ‘Lightning does not strike twice in the same place, Della. Now that they have Brother Mochta and the reliquary, no one will think of looking here for Brother Bardán.’

  Brother Bardán’s face continued to be a mask of confusion. ‘I do not understand at all. Why should I hide now? Finguine is protecting Brother Mochta and has the Holy Relics safe.’

  Fidelma did not answer him and continued to look at her friend. ‘Della, I need you to do this for me.’

  The woman gazed into Fidelma’s eyes for a moment or two and then sighed. ‘Very well. But, like the Brother here, I wish I understood.’

  ‘Understand, both of you, that the well-being of this kingdom of Muman depends on doing exactly as I have told you.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Fidelma opened the door and motioned Eadulf to follow her back into the darkness of the night. Della came to the door and forced a smile on her anxious features.

  ‘Solitude is the best society and a short abstinence from solitude urges the sweet return,’ she said.

  Fidelma returned her smile. She felt sorrow for the woman whose life she knew had been filled with so much unhappiness. She reached out her hand and touched the other’s arm.

  ‘We are all of us condemned to solitude, Della,’ she said, ‘but some of our sheltering walls are merely our own skins and thus there is no door to exit from solitude into life. We are thus condemned to solitude for all our lives.’

  They left the house of the reclusive former prostitute and walked back along the night-darkened alleys of the town.

  ‘How did Finguine know where you had hidden Brother Mochta and the reliquary?’ demanded Eadulf.

  ‘Remember you told me that you saw Nion in the tavern nearby? The fact that we had ridden out of the side street here was duly reported to Finguine. It would not take much investigation by Finguine to discover that I have one particular friend here and that is Della. He must have put two and two together. He must have realised that I had recovered the reliquary and Brother Mochta after he had failed to find them.’

  ‘Yes, but why take Gionga with him? Finguine claims that he hates the Uí Fidgente. I confess to being as confused as Brother Bardán.’

  ‘Remember that I told you of the game of tomus? Well, several more pieces have now come together. Yet I still need that single piece around which all will fit. Samradán will provide that piece. That’s where we will go now — to see that greedy merchant.’

  ‘Do you know where Samradan lives?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘Yes. Donndubháin pointed the house out to me when we were examining his warehouse the other week.’

  They walked along a back path, away from the main street of the town. After a while, Fidelma halted to indicate a house. It was a rich, two-storey construction of timber. There was no light emanating from the building. They had approached it from the rear. Fidelma was about to move through the backyard to the rear door of the house when there came a rustling sound and then a low whine. Screwing his eyes up in the gloom, Eadulf saw a dark shape on the ground and caught at Fidelma’s arm.

  ‘Samradán’s guard-dog!’ he warned.

  Fidelma could see the shape as well. The dog lay by a post and the rustling appeared to be the leather thong, by which it was tethered, moving as it turned. It appeared actually to be sleeping, whimpering as it lay there.

  ‘Some guard-dog,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘But good for us that it is still tethered and sleeping.’

  ‘It means that we will have to go round to the front of the house,’ replied Fidelma.

  Eadulf led the way along the side of the building. The dog was not disturbed. But on reaching the corner he stopped abruptly and motioned Fidelma to move back into the shadows.

  ‘There is a horseman outside the house,’ he whispered.

  Fidelma moved cautiously forward to find a vantage point.

  A tall figure sat astride a horse, resting slightly forward in the saddle, examining Samradán’s house with some intensity. He was alone.

  The moon shone brightly enough. There were almost no shadows at all.

  Even in the gloom Fidelma would have recognised her cousin, Finguine, rígdomna Cnoc Aine.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Even as Fidelma watched, Finguine straightened in his saddle, as if he had come to a decision, and pulled on the reins of his horse, turning and sending the animal trotting down the main street towards the towering fortress above the town. Fidelma and Eadulf waited until he had gone before they moved out of the shadows.

  ‘Why is Finguine hanging around Samradán’s house?’ whispered Eadulf. ‘He seems to be keeping bad company. First Solam and then Gionga and now the merchant.’

  ‘Let us hope that we can persuade Samradan to answer our questions honestly,’ Fidelma rejoined.

  Eadulf glanced up at the house.

  ‘The front is in darkness as well. Perhaps he is not here?’

  ‘With his dog still tethered at the back?’ She moved forward and some instinct made her try the door of the house first. It was not secured and swung open. She entered cautiously and motioned Eadulf to follow.

  They had entered into the single ground-floor room which served as living room, kitchen and store room. A short stairway led to the sleeping quarters. There was a fire glowing in the central hearth and its radiance gave sufficient illumination to the room for Fidelma to see that it was deserted.

  ‘What did I say?’ muttered Eadulf. ‘He is not here.’

  Fidelma cast him an irritable glance. ‘Then he can’t be far away for the fire has been banked recently. Light a candle from it.’

  Eadulf did so. Fidelma was already moving around the room, examining it.

  ‘I can’t see what you hope to find here?’ muttered Eadulf, his eye nervously on the door. ‘And Samradan could come back any moment. What then?’

  Fidelma did not reply. Having examined the room, she went to the back door. It was unbolted from the inside. She opened it and looked out. The dog was still lying by the post, stretched out and whining in sleep. It was then Fidelma realised that there was something odd about the animal’s behaviour. At night, dogs came alive in Muman for then they were untethered and sent to guard the houses against predators, both human and animal. Why was this animal stretched in sleep, and an unnatural sleep at that, for the sound it made was quite pitiful.

  Ignoring Eadulf protest, she walked quickly to where it was chained and bent down.

  Eadulf, coming up behind, determined to persuade her to leave. In his haste he came running out with the candle flickering in one hand.

  Fidelma, bending by the dog, ordered him curtly to bring the candle nearer. The beast did not stir. There were flecks of foam around its muzzle.

  Fidelma glanced up at her companion. ‘This animal has been drugged.’ She came to her feet so abruptly that Eadulf started back. ‘For what purpose was it drugged?’ she demanded. Eadulf was quiet for he deemed it a rhetorical question.

  She contemplated the darkened house.

  Then she was hurrying back to it with Eadulf following in her wake, wondering what on earth was possessing her.

  She paused in the main room which they had just quit and looked swiftly around. Then she muttered something under her breath and headed for the stairway to the floor above.

  Eadulf shrugged helplessly as if expressing his perplexity to some unseen audience and followed.

  In the sleeping quarters above the stairs Fidelma had come to a halt and was staring at an object stretched on the bed.

  Behind her, Eadulf raised his candle high.

  Samradán the m
erchant lay sprawled across the bed. There was blood all over him and the haft of a knife was still buried in his chest. His eyes were open but glazed in death.

  ‘Too late,’ muttered Fidelma. ‘Someone has decided that Samradan might lead us to the truth.’

  ‘What truth?’ demanded Eadulf in desperation.

  She infuriated him by not replying. Her thoughts were elsewhere. She bent down and examined the knife. There was nothing to identify it from a hundred similar knives. There were no distinguishing marks on it at all; nothing to point to its ownership. There was nothing she could see to identify the killer.

  ‘Finguine!’ Eadulf decided. ‘He was leaving when we arrived. He was in league with Solam and Gionga. God! Now I see why you were upset that Finguine had taken Brother Mochta and the reliquary.’

  She nodded absently. Then something caught her eye. In falling back, Samradan must have clutched at his assailant’s clothing for in his twisted fingers was a piece of cloth, part of a linen shirt. She realised, with all the blood about, the assailant must be splattered with it. She reached forward and levered the cloth from Samradan’s fingers, realising that there was something attached to it.

  It was a small, silver, solar emblem. A brooch picked out in semi-precious garnets. There were five garnets on each of the radiating arms of the emblem. She quickly placed it in her marsupium after showing it to Eadulf.

  ‘It must belong to the murderer,’ Eadulf said, stating the obvious.

  ‘You have not seen this before?’ queried Fidelma.

  ‘It seems familiar,’ agreed Eadulf.

  ‘It is the central piece in our game of tomus.’ She smiled, before returning to the body to examine it further.

  Eadulf s hand suddenly squeezing her shoulder made her start. She glanced round and was about to rebuke him for frightening her when she saw that he had placed a finger to his lips. He motioned with his head towards the stairs.

  The sound of someone moving in the room below could clearly be heard.