Brother Bardan must have realised that the service was about to begin because he said something to Finguine, turned, and walked rapidly away along the side aisle of the chapel, his hands folded before him, his head lowered on his chest, in an attitude of meditation.
Finguine hesitated, glanced round as if he wanted to ensure that he was unobserved, and then exited from the abbey chapel through a side door.
Abbot Ségdae began the service.
Eadulf almost cursed. He quickly genuflected in penance. If only he had spotted Brother Bardan and Finguine before he had taken his seat. Now he could not leave the chapel until the service was over. He would have given anything to know what was being discussed.
The rituals of the ceremony passed with interminable slowness. Finally, when he was able to leave the chapel, he went immediately to where Fidelma was sitting in the dark shadows of the alcove in the cloister courtyard. Glancing swiftly round and seeing that there was no one else about, he ducked into the alcove. Hurriedly, he told her what he had seen.
She took it calmly.
‘This is the second time that Brother Bardan and Finguine have been in conversation together. Once at Nion’s house and now here. Nothing wrong in that but they seem rather conspiratorial. That and Brother Bardán’s lie about Mochta makes it a matter of curiosity.’
‘What shall we do, then?’ asked Eadulf.
Fidelma looked up and smiled in the darkness.
‘We shall proceed with our plan. We will remain here and see if my suspicion is justified. I think that Brother Bardán might visit his herb garden before the night has passed.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ moaned Eadulf, not for the first time. ‘He will not come now. It is too late.’
They were still seated in the alcove in the courtyard. It was chilly and Eadulf had long since given up trying to count the hours which must have passed since the midnight bell had tolled and a silence had settled throughout the abbey. Hours must have passed. It must be time for the same bell to announce the hour for lauds? A new day was soon to dawn.
‘Quiet. You must have patience,’ replied Fidelma.
‘But I am tired. I am cold. I want my bed. I want my sleep and …’
He was cut short as Fidelma dug him sharply in the ribs.
Someone was coming. They could see the dark shadow passing through the cloisters before it crossed the moon-dappled courtyard. The figure carried a lamp but it was not lit. Fidelma noted with satisfaction the large
Unerringly, the figure headed through the gloom towards the arch which separated the cloistered area from the herb garden and passed through. Fidelma rose immediately, almost dragging Eadulf with her. Together they went cat-like through the cloisters towards the entrance to the herb garden. They arrived just in time to see the figure pausing by the gate which opened on the outside of the abbey. They could hear the gentle scraping of bolts being drawn back. There was a slight whine of the metal hinges as the door opened and then shut.
Fidelma whispered immediately: ‘Quickly! We must not lose sight of him.’
Eadulf followed her, protesting in a hoarse whisper. He was not prepared to venture out of the protection of the abbey and was not equipped with his pilgrim’s staff. He had grown fond of it since his encounter with the wolf. But he had not thought to bring it on this nocturnal vigil.
‘Are you sure that it is Brother Bardán? Do we have to follow outside the abbey? What of the wolves?’
Fidelma did not deign to reply but was already crossing the herb garden with a rapidity that astonished Eadulf for he had to trot to keep up with her. The gate was unbolted and so they passed quickly through into the darkness of the countryside beyond.
The moon was still up, round and almost full, so the light outside the shadows of the abbey was almost twilight rather than the dark of night. There was not a cloud in the sky and the dark blue of the canopy of the sky was dotted with a myriad of twinkling lights. Yet low down on the tips of the eastern hills there was a lightness which presaged the approach of dawn. Fidelma drew Eadulf back into the shadows of the abbey’s wall and pointed.
Brother Bardán’s figure could clearly be seen now, striding rapidly across the field some distance away. He kept his head forward and was moving at a rapid pace. Fidelma looked vainly for some cover and realised that there was none. Brother Bardán was moving away from any trees or buildings and across a heather-strewn field.
With a sigh, Fidelma motioned Eadulf to follow her and beganto hurry after the quickly disappearing figure. Had Brother Bardan glanced round, Fidelma did not doubt that they would have been spotted and she had no good reason to offer why they should be following the apothecary.
After a while it became apparent that Brother Bardán’s path was leading him to a dark silhouette of a building in the corner of a large field which stood beyond the fringe of yew-trees. It was a small stone chapel. It stood in darkness and all they could make out was that it was no more than about fifteen feet in height and twenty feet in length, a tiny oratory rather than a chapel. It appeared to be made of stone and the walls seemed to merge into the roof.
Brother Bardan had disappeared into the building.
Fidelma halted and glanced about her in the moonlight.
‘If he comes out, he will surely spot us,’ Eadulf offered, stating the obvious.
Fidelma pointed to a cluster of trees which stood a short distance away.
‘That is our only cover. We will wait behind the trees until he comes out.’
‘Do you think Brother Bardan is meeting someone there?’ asked Eadulf as they settled in their new shelter.
‘Speculation without knowledge is dangerous,’ Fidelma replied with one of her favourite axioms. She was fond of repeating it.
‘You suspect that he is up to no good.’
‘I do not judge him.’
‘But you must have some idea what he is about?’ protested Eadulf.
‘Publilius Syrus wrote that a hasty judgement is a first step to being forced to retract it. We will wait to see what happens.’
Eadulf sighed and settled himself against the trunk of a tree. The ground was growing wet with the approach of the early morning and he tried to find some dried wood to sit on. Fidelma found part of a tree stump on which she took a seat and from were she could view the entrance of the building.
Eadulf leant back and sighed deeply. He closed his eyes.
A moment later, or so it seemed, he opened them and saw to his surprise that he was surrounded by the grey light of dawn. He had that sticky taste in his mouth which indicated that he must have fallen asleep. He yawned, blinking his eyes rapidly. He felt stiff and uncomfortable. He glanced at Fidelma.
She was still sitting on her tree stump, leaning forward slightly, her arms folded on her knee. She glanced at him as he awoke.
‘How long …?’ His voice was thick in his dry mouth.
‘How long have you been asleep? Long enough for the dawn to approach.’
There was no reproach in her voice.
‘What has happened?’
Fidelma unfolded her arms and stretched in her sitting position.
‘Nothing. Brother Bardan has not reappeared from the building.’ Eadulf looked at the building which was now plainly discernible in the grey light.
It was of a grey stone corbel pattern, large and rectangular. The dry stone work of the masonry was arranged to slope slightly downwards and outwards to throw off the rain. The idea of its dimensions, which they had guessed by the moonlight, had been an accurate one.
‘It is a little chapel,’ ventured Eadulf.
