‘We do not have enough information,’ Fidelma disagreed. ‘I think it was just a warning, intended to dissuade us from reaching the abbey.’
‘A warning?’ Aidan was surprised. ‘It seemed pretty murderous to me, lady.’
‘We must carry on.’ Her tone became determined. ‘We shall make our way to the cabin of Éimhin and Torcán and stay there until nightfall. Then we can ride on to Ráth Cuáin in darkness so that they are not expecting us.’
‘In the darkness?’ Eadulf was astounded.
‘In the darkness.’
‘How will we gain admission to the abbey? I doubt if Brother Tadhg will admit us.’
Fidelma smiled reprovingly. ‘As Seneca said – aut inveniam viam aut faciam.’
Eadulf groaned while Aidan looked puzzled. Eadulf took pity on him as Fidelma turned her horse to find a path through the trees.
‘She is fond of quoting from Latin sages,’ he apologised. ‘It means she’ll either find a way or make one.’
Aidan shrugged. ‘I suppose if anyone can, she can,’ he replied stoically, following her lead.
‘That is true,’ Eadulf sighed to himself, as he nudged his cob to follow the others.
After a while, as the track through the forest broadened and Aidan had eased himself in front, Eadulf brought his horse alongside Fidelma.
‘I think you should share your plan with me before we reach Torcán’s cabin. You mean to stay there until nightfall? What if the woodsman and his wife are not as against Abbot Síoda as they have claimed?’
Fidelma cast him a thoughtful glance. ‘You always come out with a quiet wisdom, Eadulf, whereas I am too impatient to get on with matters. You are right.’ Pulling rein, she called: ‘Aidan! Just here is a good stream. We’ll refresh the horses and rest a while.’
Soon they had made themselves comfortable on some fallen logs by the stream while their horses drank from its sparkling waters.
‘As you both know, my first plan was to go directly to Ráth Cuáin and just confront Abbot Síoda about certain matters. The ambush has given me pause to rethink that idea.’
‘Agreed,’ Eadulf replied. ‘But if you aim to go to the abbey after nightfall, how can we gain entrance? Is it worth taking such a risk?’
‘I think so. I have found only a few pieces of thread to start unravelling this mystery. I confess none of them led the way to any conclusion until we found Brother Sionnach’s ceraculum.’
‘His what?’ Aidan queried.
‘A tablet of wax on which he had written a note,’ Eadulf explained.
‘He had written some interesting things,’ Fidelma said. ‘One was that Lucidus was, perhaps, not to be trusted. Why was he not to be trusted – and by whom?’
‘Who is Lucidus then?’ Aidan demanded.
‘That is just the point. We don’t know. If he was not Brother Sionnach, who was he?’ Eadulf said. ‘The questions multiply.’
‘Look for the Tau-Rho, the note said. So which abbey bears the symbol Tau-Rho on its walls – the very symbol carved on the corpse of Spelán?’
‘I still don’t understand,’ Aidan sighed.
‘That is why we need more information before alerting Cashel,’ replied Fidelma. ‘We have a connection between Brother Sionnach to Lucidus and the Tau-Rho, linking it to Ráth Cuáin. But that is not the most important part.’
‘Then what is?’ Eadulf frowned. ‘Febal? I fail to see how he fits in, apart from killing Brother Sionnach and, perhaps, the ambush sprung on us just now.’
‘The book,’ Fidelma answered promptly. ‘That is central and the reason why I plan to enter the Abbey of Ráth Cuáin tonight. The Venerable Gelasius asked for my help. Brother Sionnach wrote about the secret book that must be returned. He says it is dangerous in the wrong hands. I believe that this matter revolves around that fact.’
‘What secret book – and returned to whom?’ Aidan asked. ‘And why would a book be dangerous in the wrong hands?’
‘That is where my visit to Abbot Síoda comes in. He received me in the library and on his desk was a book in Latin. An ancient book, leatherbound, but it was impressed with the seal of Vitalian, the Bishop of Rome and there were Latin words scored into the dark leather.’
She paused tantalisingly, a habit that irritated Eadulf for he had seen her do it so often for dramatic effect in the presentation of her cases in court. Aidan was not so used to it. He simply breathed: ‘Go on, go on. What were the words?’
She smiled in satisfaction at his response. ‘Non videbunt: habere occultum.’
Aidan was no Latin scholar, so Eadulf explained: ‘It means “None shall see this. Keep it secret”.’
‘I did not consider it before I saw those words written by Brother Sionnach,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘Then I remembered how Abbot Síoda tried to cover the book on his desk. Then there was the message from the Venerable Gelasius and then the note made by Sionnach.’
‘So you think this is the secret book that Venerable Gelasius and Brother Sionnach believe is dangerous in the wrong hands and should be returned – returned to the Bishop of Rome by this Brother Lucidus?’
‘I am sure it is. Whoever Brother Lucidus is, Gelasius had charged him with recovering a book that was stolen from the Lateran Palace, the palace of the Bishop of Rome.’
Aidan whistled softly.
‘And because Brother Sionnach was involved in a critique against the theology of Ráth Cuáin, it would seem that this book might provide evidence in support of their philosophy – and hence therein lies the danger,’ summed up Eadulf. ‘It was evidence in support of … of psil … psil …’
‘Psilanthropism, it is called,’ finished Fidelma. ‘But Gelasius asked me to help Lucidus while Brother Sionnach says that he is not to be trusted. So we are back to the same question: who is Lucidus and why isn’t he to be trusted? However, the first thing we must do is to ascertain whether this book is still at Ráth Cuáin. We can deal with the other questions later.’
‘Questions that are difficult to answer,’ Eadulf said gloomily.
‘Questions that might still be answered by diligence,’ Fidelma responded.
‘So your plan is to simply to enter the abbey after nightfall, find the book and discover who Lucidus is or was – all at the same time?’ Aidan was astonished.
‘I don’t mean to do anything simply. Nothing is simple. But I am sure the book is in their scriptorium and possibly on or in the desk of the abbot. The possession of the book will give us a catalyst which should make the worms hereabouts come out of the woodwork.’
‘I am not sure of the analogy,’ Eadulf said ruefully. ‘The worms hereabouts seem to have sharp stings.’
‘True enough,’ Aidan agreed. ‘Earlier the plan was to ride up to the abbey in broad daylight and demand to see Abbot Síoda. Now you appear to think we can gain entrance to the abbey after nightfall – but how? Asking that miserable wretch of a gatekeeper politely is not going to work, is it?’
‘Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Aidan.’ Fidelma felt irritated because she recognised the fault of having an acerbic tongue herself.
Undeterred, Aidan went on: ‘I mean, if the abbey is protected by warriors from Connacht, that gives us a problem. And if the gatekeeper won’t let us in during daylight hours then we must assume that he definitely won’t allow us to enter during the night.’
‘My plan is to enter the abbey by myself,’ Fidelma told them quietly.
After a moment of stunned silence, Eadulf and Aidan both began to object.
‘You two will wait outside while I get inside,’ she told them, ignoring their protests. ‘One person may accomplish things where two or three may not.’
They continued to argue, but Fidelma was adamant. ‘I have the right to enter under law as a dálaigh. That should be my protection if anything goes wrong. But I do not intend things to go wrong. I have a plan.’
‘Tell us the plan and I’ll carry it out!’ exclaimed Eadulf immediately. ‘If you can enter the abbey, then I ca
n.’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘You will not know what you are looking for, nor where. You two were confined to the stables while I was taken to the library, so I know the layout of the buildings and where the library is. I can also identify the book.’
‘That still does not tell us how you will gain entrance,’ Aidan pointed out. ‘That surly gatekeeper will not let you in, and the walls are high enough to defend the place from a military attack.’
‘Ah, but I intend to enter by other means.’
‘Such as?’ Eadulf questioned, refusing to let her get away with being mysterious – another one of her faults.
‘Remember the conversation we had with Brother Gébennach, the librarian? We were talking about Sister Fioniúr.’
‘The herbalist? That was because of the lavender, the smell of which was so prominent when we examined Spelán,’ Eadulf recalled.
‘Indeed. In passing, he told us that there was a herb garden at the back of Ráth Cuáin with a gate where traders came and did business with the herbalist. Remember that we rode around the walls of the Ráth and saw it? The herb garden led to the kitchens of the community. I could, from memory, easily gain access to the herb garden.’
‘There will be a door into the abbey that is obviously barred and bolted at night,’ Eadulf objected. ‘So what then?’
‘And the walls of the building are just as high there as anywhere else around the Ráth,’ Aidan put in.
‘Indeed they are, but there are some windows.’
‘Windows that are so high that six tall men standing on each other’s shoulders would not be able to reach them. Probably higher.’
‘The ivy,’ she said quietly. ‘Have you never climbed ivy when you were a child, Eadulf?’
Looking bemused, he shook his head.
‘Brother Tadhg mentioned that he had often told Sister Fioniúr that she should have the ivy removed. Thankfully, she has not. If the door be locked, then my route will be to climb up the ivy to one of the windows above.’
‘That is a dangerous climb,’ Aidan said.
‘Even so, that is my route. You will wait outside until I return, hopefully with the book. Then we will ride back to Cashel, having left a message for Abbot Síoda to the effect that he can come and discuss matters with Brother Mac Raith and his colleagues.’
‘Will Abbot Síoda respond?’
‘Perhaps not. My intention, however, is to stir up matters so that out of the murkiness the culprits may start to emerge into the open – and the mystery will be cleared away.’
‘It seems an extreme course,’ Eadulf commented doubtfully.
‘It is the only course that we are faced with, so far as I can see.’ Fidelma’s tone was resolute. Then she glanced around. ‘We have waited here long enough. Remember, while we are in the company of Torcán and Éimhin, as pleasant as they seem, we must mislead them for the time being. We shall say that we are passing to the Ford of the Ass to meet someone. We do not mention the abbey. Hopefully, they will offer us the hospitality of a meal while we are waiting for nightfall.’
Éimhín was sitting before a blazing fire outside the log cabin when they rode into the clearing. Startled, she looked up from her task of preparing vegetables. Delicious aromas filled the air as Torcán stood turning a spit on which a joint of mutton was roasting. His features broadened into a grin of welcome as the newcomers dismounted.
‘I suppose it was the smell of my roast that drew you here?’ he joked in greeting.
Éimhín had risen and was clearly pleased to see them.
‘Take no notice of him, lady,’ she said to Fidelma. ‘You and your companions are always welcome to share what we have.’ She went to a pitcher and began to pour cider into wooden mugs without asking.
‘We would welcome your hospitality and company for a time for we need to rest a while,’ Fidelma replied, taking a seat as did the others. ‘We are making our way to the Ford of the Ass.’
‘It will be dark soon,’ Torcán observed. ‘A strange time to be heading for the great river crossing.’
‘Unfortunately, it is not a time of our choosing. But I can say no more. It is a duty that I must carry out as a dálaigh.’
‘Then some advice, lady,’ Torcán said. ‘Whatever your task is, if it means that you are loitering on the banks of the great river in darkness, have a care.’
‘Why so, Torcán?’ She asked. ‘What is it?’
‘The river brings little good these days except violence.’
‘Violence?’
‘There have been attacks on cargo boats coming along the river. Several attacks have taken place near the very spot you are heading for – around the Ford of the Ass. That is because the boats have to slow down when crossing over the ford and they become vulnerable.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Last night, at dusk, one of my sons was riding back from Aona’s place at Ara’s Well. He was heading along the riverbank when he saw something that made him nervous. There was a boat coming down the great river.’
‘What was so strange about this boat?’ Fidelma asked.
‘There were many men in it. As I said, it was dusk but our lad could see well enough. The men all wore the robes of religious.’
‘The religious do often travel in groups, especially down the river there,’ Fidelma returned.
‘True enough. But although they wore the robes of religious, our son felt they looked and acted more like warriors. He even saw some weapons.’
‘I don’t suppose your son noticed anything else? Where is he tonight?’
‘After spending the Samhain observances with us, this morning he went to stay with his Uncle Curnan. As I told you, he is helping him clear some of the overgrowth on the main road from Cashel to Ara’s Well. To be honest, I was hoping he would be here tonight as I have to take a cartload of logs up to the abbey tomorrow and could do with the help.’ He gave a disgruntled sound.
‘So what do you make of these river attacks, Torcán?’ Eadulf asked.
‘It is not my place to make anything of it,’ the woodsman said cautiously. ‘I just thought you should be warned.’
Fidelma smiled tightly. ‘Then we shall be warned. You don’t think the boat had anything to do with Ráth Cuáin?’
Torcán immediately shook his head. ‘Ráth Cuáin is atop a rocky hill. The river swings widely around it. Abbot Síoda’s warriors do not hide themselves when they ride out to collect tributes.’
‘His warriors?’ Eadulf frowned.
‘I have told you that it is the right of Abbot Síoda to use his authority as chieftain of the Sítae to maintain a company of warriors,’ Torcán reminded them.
‘So you did,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Brother Gébennach, the librarian, was on his way to Ara’s Well yesterday. Do you know if he has returned?’
‘My son saw him there earlier today and understood that he was waiting to meet the librarian from the Abbey of Mungairit, or so he told my son. Something about exchanging books. Brother Gébennach had a book to give the Brother from Mungairit and likewise the Brother from Mungairit had a book to exchange with him. So he has not returned to the abbey yet.’
Fidelma ignored Eadulf’s sharp intake of breath, saying quickly: ‘Well, I doubt whether Ráth Cuáin would have anything to do with mysterious religious on the river. Now, let us have some more of your delicious cider, if you will, and then we shall be delighted to join you in helping in the disappearance of that succulent roast you have prepared.’
The moon had risen in a cloudless sky. The mildness of the night was unusual for the time of year and there was no frost on the ground. In fact, if anything, Fidelma felt that the moon was a little too bright for comfort. However, ideal conditions were never readily available just because one wished for them.
Éimhin and Torcán were already drowsing when the three visitors quietly arose and led their horses from the clearing. In this matter, Fidelma had been grateful to Aidan for ensuring that their hosts had imbibed more tha
n their fair share of the cider, which was homemade and strong, while they themselves had sipped but sparingly. They had walked their horses along the forest track to the bottom of the hill which led up towards Ráth Cuáin. Then they had mounted and trotted up its southern slope until they came to the tall, dark shadows of the abbey buildings.
The moonlight helped them to ascend safely, making use of the cover of boulders and clumps of trees until they reached the point where a tall wooden fence marked the area which they had previously identified as the herb garden. About fifty metres away from it was a cluster of boulders and great thrusts of granite, and a few trees that clung tenaciously to the rocky soil. These made an ideal shelter for their horses. It was here that they left them while making their way to the wooden wall. There was certainly a gate in it but it was strongly secured from within.
Fidelma spent some time examining the walls in the moonlight before she turned to the others and whispered, ‘This is where I shall leave you. This is a good enough place to climb over into the herb garden. If I have not rejoined you by first light, then you and Aidan must accept that I have been detained. Ride back to Cashel and inform my brother and Gormán.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better if one or both of us accompanied you now?’
‘And get caught alongside me?’ She was stern without raising her voice. ‘Think, Eadulf. If I am caught with you and Aidan, who will be there to effect a rescue? Now leave this part to me. I have seen the layout of the buildings and think I can get to where the book will be. So no more arguments. I shall go alone.’
Eadulf was still reluctant. ‘I do not like it.’
‘Nor I, lady,’ whispered Aidan.
‘Sometimes we have to do what we do not like,’ she countered.
‘Very well.’ Eadulf admitted defeat as he had always known he would have to. ‘Aidan and I will wait in the cover of the rocks. If you are not out by first light then we shall come and find you.’
‘No! Don’t try anything on your own,’ she insisted. ‘Ride for Cashel and get help.’
‘We hear you,’ Eadulf acknowledged.
‘First light – not before,’ she emphasised.
Night of the Lightbringer Page 27
