‘Had he ever been a warrior?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Never,’ replied the abbot in some surprise. ‘What gave you that idea?’
‘Just a thought. Do you know if he was a particular friend of Brother Mochta?’
‘We are all Brothers and Sisters in this community, Fidelma. Brother Bardán’s chamber was next to Brother Mochta’s. I do not doubt they would be friends. So was young Daig. Poor child. Brother Bardán had recently asked permission to take Daig into the apothecary and train him to be his assistant.’
‘So, as far as you knew, Brother Bardan was not close to the monk who vanished?’ insisted Fidelma.
Abbot Ségdae shook his head. ‘I would not know. In this community, we are all one under God.’
Fidelma nodded almost absently. ‘Very well.’ She opened the door. ‘Thank you, Ségdae.’
The abbot looked anxious. ‘Is there any news of a resolution to this mystery?’ he called fretfully.
‘I will let you know when I have some news,’ replied Fidelma tersely.
Outside, she said to Brother Eadulf: ‘Let’s go and examine Brother Mochta’s room again.’
‘Do you have an idea?’ Eadulf asked as he followed her along the corridor. She caught the expectation in his voice and had to answer him with a sardonic grunt.
‘This is one case, Eadulf, where I am totally at a loss. Whenever I think I see links, they vanish as abruptly as they come. There is nothing here but suspicion. On this evidence I would not even obtain the sympathy of the court. We now have less than a week to gather evidence.’
‘But if we cannot get evidence which points to those responsible, neither can the other side get evidence to prove their case,’ Eadulf pointed out.
‘It does not work like that,’ Fidelma told him. ‘Prince Donennach was a guest under the protection of my brother when the assassins launched their attack. My brother was responsible for the safety of his guests. He now has to demonstrate that he is not to be held responsible. Prince Donennach does not have to prove that my brother was to blame.’
‘I am not sure that I follow that.’
‘Only if my brother can show that this was a plot by the Ui Fidgente or some other faction is he absolved from his responsibility.’
‘It is a fine point,’ observed Eadulf.
‘But the fulcrum of the law nevertheless.’
‘Well, what can we hope to see in Brother Mochta’s room now? We have examined it before.’
They had reached the door of the chamber.
‘I do not know what I hope to see,’ confessed Fidelma. ‘Something. Some path out of this morass.’
The sound of something being dropped caused them both to start and glance at each other. The sound had come from Brother Mochta’s chamber.
Fidelma placed a finger against her lips and slowly reached for the handle, her hand closing tightly on it. Then, with a quick jerk, she opened it and flung open the door. As she had guessed, it was not locked.
Finguine, Prince of Cnoc Aine, stared up at them with surprise from a kneeling position on the floor.
After a moment or two of silence, he climbed to his feet and brushed the dust from his knees.
‘Fidelma, you gave me a start,’ he rebuked.
‘No more of a start than you gave us,’ Eadulf replied.
‘What are you doing here, cousin?’ asked Fidelma, looking quickly about the room.
Finguine grimaced awkwardly. ‘I heard from the steward of the abbey …’
‘Brother Madagan?’ interposed Eadulf.
‘The same. He told me about the disappearance and I asked to see the room. It looks as if there has been a struggle here and the poor Brother was taken off by force. Perhaps he was made to get the Relics from the chapel and then was carried off into the hills. He was probably killed there.’
Fidelma regarded her cousin seriously for a moment. ‘Is that your interpretation of events, Finguine?’
‘I don’t think that you need to have a keen imagination to interpret this,’ Finguine said, waving his hand around the room.
‘But …’ began Eadulf and suddenly saw the icy fire in Fidelma’s eyes. He snapped his mouth shut almost painfully.
Finguine turned to him questioningly.
‘What was that?’
Eadulf grimaced awkwardly. ‘I just meant that appearances can sometimes be misleading. I … er … well, what you say does seem to be a logical interpretation.’
Finguine turned back to Fidelma. ‘There, you see? I am afraid that we might be looking for a body rather than Brother Mochta alive. Once the thieves had the Holy Relics in their grasp what need would they have of Brother Mochta?’
‘Then why take him in the first place?’ Fidelma could not help the response.
‘Perhaps to prevent him raising the alarm?’
‘They could have left him trussed up in his chamber,’ suggested Eadulf.
‘True. But he might have been found earlier than they would wish and so they decided to take him with them. Then the community would spend time searching and allow the thieves time to ride away.’
‘I think, my cousin, the Prince of Cnoc Aine, has a good point, Eadulf.’
Eadulf stared at Fidelma in bewilderment. She was trying to convey something to him by the slight inflection in her tone. She was obviously warning him not to be free with his opposition to the points being made by Finguine.
‘Anyway, cousin,’ she went on easily, ‘your theory can only be proved one way or the other, if we find Brother Mochta’s remains in the hills.’
Finguine drew himself up and his smile was one of painful satisfaction.
‘I am afraid that I can now prove that.’
Eadulf jaw dropped. ‘Do you mean that you have found the remains of Brother Mochta?’
‘I do.’
They greeted the news with some moments of silence.
‘Where were the remains found?’ Fidelma asked.
‘Come, I will show you,’ Finguine replied briskly. ‘One of my men found the grisly thing in the fields not far from here. It was being ravaged by wolves. He brought it here in a sack so that it could be identified. We took it to the apothecary.’
‘To Brother Bardan?’
‘If he is the apothecary, yes, to him.’
‘Has he identified the remains?’
‘Not yet. While I was waiting, I came to Mochta’s chamber to see if the scene fitted with my conception of the event.’
They followed the Prince of Cnoc Aine to the apothecary. Inside one of Finguine’s warriors perched moodily on the edge of a table. Brother Bardan himself was bending over something that had been previously wrapped in sacking. It was laid on the table.
Brother Bardan glanced at them as they entered with a bleak expression.
‘I am afraid there is no doubt,’ he said as if in answer to their unasked question.
‘Is it the missing monk?’ Finguine wanted the matter clarified.
Brother Bardan nodded morosely. ‘This is the forearm of Brother Mochta. It had been severed by wolves. Look at the mark of canine teeth on it.’
Fidelma set her jaw firmly and moved to his side. She looked down. It was a forearm, torn and blooded. It had been severed at the elbow. The hand was still attached to it. It was a left forearm.
‘Well, that solves the mystery of where the poor Brother has vanished too,’ Finguine announced. ‘I think it also proves my point about the theft.’
Fidelma said nothing. She was still staring at the severed forearm. The she turned, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
‘Are you sure that you can positively identify this as the remains of Brother Mochta?’ she asked.
‘There is no doubt of it, as I have said.’ The apothecary nodded affirmatively.
‘Thank you, Brother.’
