The coverings on the wagons had been stripped back and she could see that only the tools were still piled in them.
‘Samradán appears to have taken the bag of silver and the one of ore,’ Fidelma muttered, looking around.
‘That’s to be expected. He has probably taken it to whoever reduces the ore into the silver.’
Fidelma groaned aloud.
‘Are you ill?’ asked Eadulf in alarm.
‘Ill with stupidity,’ sighed Fidelma. ‘I had forgotten the process. The ore has to be burnt down in a smith’s forge and the silver extracted.’
‘Of course.’
‘Last night, when I was looking through the wagon and found the sack of ore, some of it was already reduced to silver! It had already been extracted from the ore. Samradán had the services of a good smith before he set out from Imleach to Cashel.’
‘When he left Imleach, he must have driven with the mined ore to a smith’s,’ Eadulf agreed. ‘When he told us that he was proceeding north it was to mislead us.’
‘So it seems. But why didn’t the smith reduce all the ore to silver?’
The moon suddenly went behind a cloud, plunging the warehouse into darkness again.
Fidelma remained still. Eadulf had prompted a point. She smiled in the darkness. She realised that she already knew the answer. The moonlight bathed the interior once again, seeping through the high windows.
‘Have you seen enough?’ Eadulf asked.
‘Wait a moment longer,’ instructed Fidelma.
Fidelma moved around the warehouse, examining the odd box here and there before turning eventually to the stable area. By some bales she paused and abruptly dropped to one knee, reaching forward and tugging at something with her hand.
‘Eadulf, come here and help me. I think this is a trapdoor to a cellar. Help me draw the bolt.’
Eadulf went to join her. Sure enough he could see the wood trap secured by two iron bolts. He moved them carefully back and swung the door open. Below was nothing but blackness. Not even the pale moonlight could penetrate into the gloom below.
He was about to say something but Fidelma held out a hand to stay him.
Something was moving in the darkness below.
‘Is anyone there?’ Fidelma called softly.
In the silence they could hear a rustling sound but no one replied.
‘We may chance a candle but keep it covered until we see what is below in this cellar,’ Fidelma instructed.
Eadulf rummaged in his leather purse and found the stub of candle and worked as rapidly as he could with his flint and tinder. It took several moments before he was able to make a spark ignite the tinder before lighting the candle.
He moved forward, holding the candle carefully, and leant over the edge of the trapdoor.
There were steps leading down to a small stone-walled room which was no higher than a tall man. It was about eight feet by eight feet in its dimensions. There was a straw palliasse in one corner. There was little else except … staring up at them with wide eyes above a gag, bound hand and foot, were the unmistakable features of Brother Bardán.
With an exclamation of surprise, Eadulf slipped down the steps followed by Fidelma.
While he held the candle, Fidelma reached for a knife in her
‘Well now, Brother Bardan, what are you doing here?’ she greeted almost jovially.
Brother Bardán was still trying to adjust to being unrestricted in his breathing. He coughed and gasped. Finally he found his voice.
‘Samradán! That evil …’
He paused and frowned at Fidelma and Eadulf.
‘How much do you know?’
‘We have seen Brother Mochta and he has told us about your involvement in his … er, disappearance. I presume that you were on your way through the secret tunnels to see Brother Mochta when you met up with Samradán?’
Brother Bardan nodded swiftly. ‘I was going to fetch Brother Mochta to bring him to the Prince of Cnoc Aine. He had promised to give us protection.’
‘So, you had informed my cousin, Finguine, where Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics were?’
‘Not exactly. I saw Finguine at the midnight Angelus and told him that I knew where Brother Mochta was hiding with the Holy Relics and the reason why — because he feared for their safety and his own life.’
‘Did you mention that he was hiding in a cave?’
‘Not the specific cave. I promised Finguine that I would fetch Brother Mochta and bring him to Finguine at a certain place on the following morning.’
‘I saw you speaking with Finguine in the abbey chapel that night,’ Eadulf recalled.
‘What exactly was arranged between you?.’ asked Fidelma.
‘I agreed that Finguine would protect the Relics and escort Mochta to Cashel.’
That explained why she had seen Finguine and his men in the woods but why had he been in the company of Solam?
‘Did Finguine say anything to you about letting Solam in on this secret?’ she asked.
‘Solam? The
‘You told him about the crucifix.’
‘It was nothing he did not know or could not learn.’
‘And you falsely identified the severed forearm as being that of Brother Mochta to mislead us?’
‘I knew you and Solam were searching for Mochta. We needed time to work out what we should do, Mochta and I. Who could we trust? When I explained matters to Finguine, he understood.’
‘And you trusted Finguine rather than I?’
Brother Bardan was self-conscious.
‘Do not tax yourself, Bardan. Mochta has told me why you were not forthcoming with me. Silly but I suppose it is understandable. It appears that you trust me now?’
‘Samradán and his men said enough to make me believe that we had made a mistake in not trusting you.’
‘Samradán! Yes; tell us how you came to be imprisoned here?’ Eadulf demanded.
‘To fulfil my promise to Finguine, I rose early and was hastening through the tunnel to Brother Mochta, in order to bring him to the rendezvous with Finguine, when I reached a chamber where there are two passages …’
‘We know it,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘Go on.’
For a moment, Brother Bardan looked startled. ‘You know it …?’ He caught himself. His questions could be answered later. ‘Well, when I reached there, I heard a noise in the other tunnel. I remember starting to go towards it. I feared for Mochta’s safety and thought he had been discovered … then nothing. I think I was hit on the head and knocked unconscious because my head is still very sore.’
‘You mentioned Samradan?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Yes. I came to, bound and gagged, even as you found me, but I was lying under a tarpaulin in the back of a wagon. It was moving, bumping and rocking along a roadway. I remember hearing Samradán’s voice. I know it well enough from the times he had stayed at the abbey.’
‘Go on,’ urged Eadulf.
‘I slipped back into unconsciousness for a while. Then I came to again and, after some time, the wagoners stopped and I would say it was after noonday. They had stopped for food. That was when I heard them heartily cursing you and the Saxon brother for interfering and altering their plans. Then I heard a strange thing.’
