The Monk Who Vanished

The abbot looked surprised. ‘Why must I come?’

‘Have you forgotten the protocol, Ségdae? You are the Comarb of Ailbe, the principal abbot-bishop of Muman. When the court of Cashelis in session over such a serious matter, you, as the King’s principal bishop, must sit at his side.’

Ségdae sighed softly. ‘I had forgotten about the hearing. The loss of the Relics and the attack on Imleach drove it from my mind. Then there is the matter of Brother Bardan.’

‘What about Brother Bardan?’ she asked innocently.

‘He has not been seen all morning. Do you remember that you asked me where he was? He seems to have vanished … just like Brother Mochta’

Fidelma compressed her lips. ‘I do not think the circumstances will be found to be similar. I have a feeling that all will be answered in Cashel.’

‘Should I alert your cousin, Finguine? His men are still in the township helping to repair the damage of the raid.’

‘You may tell Finguine. If I do not see him as I leave, I shall see him at Cashel at the hearing. It is sad that there has been so much destruction.’

‘Well, there are small mercies. It seems Brother Madagan has been able to make a donation of silver coins which will go some way to mending the destruction.’ He gestured at a small bag on the table.

‘May I?’ Fidelma took the bag and dropped a few of the coins onto her palm. She stared at them. ‘How did Madagan come into this largesse?’ she asked.

‘I believe he said something about a relative from the north.’ Ségdae barely paused. ‘Are you really confident about your ability to find a resolution to these mysteries?’ he pressed.

Fidelma replaced the coins and put the purse back on the table.

‘You know me better than that, Ségdae. I am never confident until after the event. Remember Corinthians, one, chapter ten, verse twelve?’

Fidelma knew that Ségdae had an almost encyclopedic mind when it came to scripture. The abbot answered her smile.

‘If you feel sure that you are standing firm, beware!’ he quoted. ‘You may fall.’

‘So, I will not commit myself but I shall say that the probability is that all will be resolved.’

‘You have not garnered your reputation for no reason at all,’ Ségdae remarked. ‘When will you and our Saxon brother leave?’

‘I am going to start out at once. Do not worry, Ségdae. All will be well … eventually.’

‘I shall be in Cashel on the day of the hearing, then.’

‘Bring Brother Madagan with you. I might need his testimony.’

‘Will you need Brother Bardan, if he can be found?’

‘If he can be found,’ affirmed Fidelma.

Ségdae rose and offered her his hand. ‘Where is our Saxon brother?’

‘I shall meet him along the way,’ Fidelma replied hastily. ‘Farewell, Ségdae. Until we see each other in Cashel.’

She went on to the guests’ hostel and bundled her few belongings into her saddle bags. Eadulf had moved into a nearby chamber after the first night, following the departure of the pilgrims. It took her a moment to pack his saddle bag. She remembered to take the pilgrim’s staff of which he had become so fond. She was glad that Sister Scothnat was not about for she did not want to go to the trouble of having to explain her intentions again.

She took the bags and made her way to the stables.

Brother Tomar was at work, as usual, feeding the horses there.

‘Are you leaving us?’ he asked immediately as his eyes fell on the saddle bags.

Fidelma groaned inwardly. ‘For a while,’ she responded brightly. ‘Perhaps you could help me saddle our horses? Mine and the Saxon brother’s horse.’

Brother Tomar turned from the grain bag and regarded her, head to one side.

‘The horse of the Saxon as well?’ he questioned.

‘Yes. If you will saddle Brother Eadulf’s horse there, I will get mine ready.’

‘You are both leaving then?’

‘Yes,’ she replied patiently.

‘Is the mystery of Brother Mochta’s disappearance solved?’

‘We will know more when the Brehons meet in Cashel in a few days’ time,’ she replied, taking the bridle and drawing it over her mare’s head. She busied herself adjusting the straps and then swinging the saddle onto the patient beast.

Reluctantly, Tomar began to put the bridle on Eadulf sorrel.

‘I heard that the Uí Fidgente lawyer has already gone on to Cashel.’

Fidelma did not want to show too much interest but she was surprised. So that was why she had not seen Solam about that morning.

‘Really? I thought that he might be asking some more questions here in Imleach before he went on to Cashel?’

Brother Tomar chuckled sardonically.

‘He would have a hard task with all the feeling against the Uí Fidgente. No, he had to seek protection from the Prince of Cnoc Aine even to ride through the territory just now. I saw him riding in the company of Finguine only an hour ago when he left here.’

‘Do you mean that Solam is being escorted by Finguine, personally, on the road to Cashel?’

Brother Tomar was chuckling. ‘If he went alone, I doubt whether he would have reached Ara’s Well. In fact, I think that Finguine might suspect that there will be an attempt to waylay Solam on the Cashel road.’

Fidelma turned to the stableman who had her complete attention. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because when Finguine and Solam left here, saying they were departing for Cashel, they took the road northwards. The road to Cashel is directly east. I believe that Finguine took Solam on a circular route to avoid the main road to Ara’s Well and Cashel.’

Fidelma bent her head in thought for a moment and then continued saddling her mare.

‘Are you sure that they said that they were going to Cashel?’ she asked.

Brother Tomar smirked indulgently. ‘Solam told me himself that Cashel was his destination.’

Fidelma did not make any further comment. What Solam told Brother Tomar did not have to be true. What she couldn’t understand was why Finguine would have accompanied Solam in person and not left the task to some of his warriors if it was merely a matter of providing safe passage for the Uí Fidgente out of Cnoc Aine territory.

Fidelma finished saddling the horse in silence. She made sure that the saddle bags were firmly tied and that Eadulf’s staff was strapped to the saddle. Brother Tomar led Eadulf’s horse out of the stall.

‘Where is the Saxon?’ he asked, looking round.

‘I am meeting him in the township,’ Fidelma lied swiftly, justifying herself by remembering the proverb minima de malis — of evils, the least — choosing between the less desirable alternatives. The most desirable of the alternatives here was not to let Brother Tomar know what she was about.

She led her mare from the stable before mounting and taking the reins of Eadulf’s colt in her hand. She bade farewell to Brother Tomar who stood, an interested spectator, at the doors of the stables. She walked the horses across the courtyard and through the gate, glad that only the inquisitive Brother Tomar was there to see her departure. Outside the gate she sent the horses into a canter across the green towards the township. A mixture of the townsfolk and some of Finguine’s warriors were still engaged in clearing up the debris of the raid.

At the edge of the town she slowed down, walking the horses bythe smith’s forge and turning through a side alley, away from prying eyes. She saw Nion, the bó-aire, with his assistant Suibne, working at the wreckage of their forge. Nion raised his head to watch her but she pretended not to notice him. She did not like the way he was staring at her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him say something to his assistant and hurry away. She turned quickly along the main street in the direction of the ruined shell of Cred’s inn