The Monk Who Vanished

‘That it is,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘An oratory to pass the time in prayer.’

‘And Brother Bardan has not come out? What can he have been doing in there all this time?’

‘As you suggested, perhaps he is meeting someone. Have patience.’

Eadulf suppressed a sigh. He felt an uncommon thirst and his stomach was protesting.

‘I wish I had brought something to drink or something to eat.’

‘Patience,’ repeated Fidelma, unperturbed.

Eadulf felt frustrated. ‘Patience!’ he complained. ‘It can be an excuse for timidity of purpose disguised as a virtue.’

Fidelma did not rise to his irritation. She kept silent.

Time passed and soon the sun appeared on the eastern horizon; its first rays were weak and pale, stretching over the plains beyond the mountains. Still there was no sign of Brother Bardán reappearing. The abbey bell began to toll for the first service of the day.

Fidelma stood up purposefully.

‘What now?’ asked Eadulf, wondering what she had in mind.

‘Brother Bardán has not emerged. Now we will go in and see what he is about. I suspect he must have spotted us following him after all. That is why he is still in that chapel there.’

Fidelma moved hurriedly across the heather-strewn field towards the building, Eadulf at her side.

The doorway to the chapel was big enough to admit one person at a time and then only if they crouched as they entered. There were no windows in the building and so it was in complete darkness. Fidelma, entering first, was forced to wait a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the difference in light. The grey dawn light filtered in through the doorway. Eadulf came in behind her.

They stood just inside the door and stared about in amazement.

The oratory was empty.

Chapter Seventeen

There was nowhere in the interior where anyone could hide. The floor was flagged and there was only a small altar table with a carved wooden cross on it at one end. On either side of where the cross stood were two unlit tallow candles in metal holders; before the cross stood a bowl of flowers, dry and wilting.

The oratory was clearly deserted. Eadulf tried not to look smug as he said: ‘He must have sneaked by your gaze.’

Fidelma took the statement seriously.

‘The entrance was in full view all the time. He did not come out once he had gone in,’ she said firmly as she examined the interior in disbelief.

‘The evidence contradicts that.’

Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘Unlike you, I did not close my eyes.’

Eadulf allowed himself a smile of superiority but said nothing further.

Fidelma was clearly bewildered. The only explanation she could find was that Brother Bardán had left the oratory by a means other than the door. But there was no other means of exit.

With a sigh she decided to give up the attempt to fathom out the unfathomable.

‘Let’s go back to the abbey. It does not help to consider this problem on an empty stomach,’ Eadulf suggested.

The sun was growing warm now and the dew was rising. A faint mist hung in patches here and there. It did not take them long to return back across the heather fields towards the abbey. The small wooden gate into the herb garden was still open.

Fidelma paused thoughtfully as she glanced down at the bolts.

‘Well, that proves one thing.’

Eadulf looked at her questioningly, examining the bolt on the gate and the door itself. ‘Have I missed something?’

‘The fact that the bolts have not been shot home shows that Brother Bardan has not returned this way.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because Brother Bardan left by this gate, unlocking it to leavethe abbey. Naturally, he could not thrust home the bolts behind him. Had he returned through this gate, however, he would have secured the bolts. Brother Bardan is still out there.’ She inclined her head in the direction of the oratory. ‘Yet I am at a loss to understand how he gave us the slip.’

Eadulf could think of no rejoinder.

They passed through the herb garden and crossed back through the courtyard and along the cloisters. The abbey was now coming to life.

The grim, hawk-like features of the Abbot Ségdae, appeared before them.

‘You did not attend lauds,’ he greeted. There was a slight note of rebuke in his voice.

‘No,’ Fidelma agreed hurriedly. ‘We had much to do. Can you tell us where Brother Bardan is? I wanted to have a word with him but he seems to have left the abbey.’

Abbot Segdae did not appear surprised, explaining, ‘His routine is to go early abroad in search of healing herbs. He has probably left already on one of his trips.’

‘Then it is quite usual for Brother Bardan to leave the abbey so early?’

‘It is.’

Fidelma appeared to change the subject.

‘The other day I noticed a little chapel standing a short distance away from the abbey which I had not seen before,’ she went on, falling in step with Ségdae as they walked along the corridors of abbey.

Eadulf reluctantly followed behind them. His thoughts were concerned with reaching the refectory and satiating his hunger and thirst.

‘Ah, you mean the little sanctuary of the Blessed Ailbe?’

‘An old, dry stone corbel oratory?’

‘That is the one. It stands in a heather field,’ confirmed Ségdae. ‘That’s curious.’

‘What is curious?’ asked Eadulf.

‘The dálaigh of the Uí Fidgente … what’s his name? Solam? Solam was just asking about the same chapel.’

‘Solam?’

Ségdae had apparently not noticed the tension in Fidelma’s reaction. ‘The place is called Gort na Cille,’ he said.

‘The “field of the church” seems an appropriate enough name,’ Fidelma observed, recovering her composure. ‘Why did Solam want to know about it?’

‘I do not know. Some people think that cures might be had there if one washes in the water drawn there before dawn,’ offered the abbot.

Eadulf, who was thinking of quenching his thirst, groaned. If he had known there was a stream at that spot then he would not be suffering now. He tried to recall where such a stream could have been.

‘Drawn from where, Father Abbot?’ he asked innocently. ‘I do not remember a stream in that field.’

Abbot Ségdae shook his head. ‘There is no stream there but simply a well. It is called Tobar na Cille … the Church Well. That is because the chapel was built over it. The well is in the oratory itself.’

Fidelma suddenly halted in mid-stride.

‘Do you mean that there is a well under the flagstones of the chapel?’ she asked slowly.

Ségdae regarded her in amusement.

‘Oh yes. One of the flagstones is hinged so that it can be opened. It lies behind the altar table.’

They had reached the door of his chambers and several members of the community were waiting to speak with him.

‘Do you know where the Uí Fidgente lawyer is now?’ asked Fidelma.