The Monk Who Vanished

‘The Prince is right,’ he muttered. ‘Here …’

Attached to the saddle was a small, long sack. It was the shape of a quiver but not a quiver. It was where a warrior might carry a spare supply of arrows. Eadulf had undone the strings and drawn an arrow out.

‘Isn’t this …?’ he began.

Fidelma took it and examined it. ‘Yes. The arrows have Cnoc Aine markings. The same arrows which our assassin friend, the archer, used. They are the same as those made by Nion the smith.’

‘And look at this …’ Donndubháin pointed to a silver emblem among the ornaments on the saddle.

‘Why,’ Eadulf said excitedly. ‘Isn’t that a boar which is the emblem of the Prince of the Uí Fidgente?’

‘Then we were right!’ cried Donndubháin. ‘Do you remember that we wondered if the assassins must have come on horseback and tethered them behind the trees at the back of Samradán’s warehouse? Didn’t we say that a third person must have led the horses away when the assassins were killed. And here they are, showing that Samradán was involved.’

‘Yet Samradán had been in Imleach for at least a week at that time,’ pointed out Fidelma.

‘Well, he could have instructed one of his men to place the horses here. An accomplice.’ Her cousin was momentarily crestfallen.

‘There is much that needs to be considered,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘The appearance of these harnesses certainly tends to clarify the puzzle. Is there anything in that saddle bag?’

She pointed to the small leather bag that was attached. Donndubhain, undid the straps and opened it. He began to take out some items of clothing.

‘There’s nothing here but clothes,’ Eadulf said, in disappointment.

‘There’s nothing that tells us anything apart from the Uí Fidgente emblem which says a lot,’ observed Donndubháin. ‘But that is enough.’

Fidelma reached for the bag and peered into it, feeling with her hand inside before returning it to him.

‘So it seems.’

They left the stable and walked slowly back to the gate of the yard. They paused by Donndubháin’s horse.

‘Well, I will alert the watch about this murder,’ Donndubhain said, untying his horse. ‘Will you wait here until I raise the guard so that I may accompany you back to the palace?’

‘No,’ Fidelma replied. ‘We will make our own way back. It is not far. Don’t worry, we shall be safe, Donndubháin.’

They watched him swing up and ride off into the night and then began to walk slowly back to the house. They passed through it and out into the main street. Isolated figures were still moving here and there, some late- night revellers scurrying back to their own houses from the inns and taverns. No one challenged nor bothered them as they continued towards the tall walls of the palace.

‘Well,’ ventured Eadulf, ‘the horses now prove completely that Samradán was involved. They must have been there since the attempted assassination.’

‘No. They have been there less than half an hour,’ Fidelma contradicted him with confidence. ‘Their coats were still sweaty from the exertion of being led from wherever they were hidden to being placed there.’

Eadulf’s eyes widened. Then he was more amazed to hear Fidelma break into a soft chuckle. She paused by the light of a tavern and held out something for him to see.

He peered closely at it. It was a tiny silver coin.

‘I found it tucked away in a corner of the bag. It had been overlooked.’

‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘A coin of Ailech, the capital of the northern Uí Néill kings. It is called a píss.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘My dear, Eadulf-’ he had not heard such contentment in her voice for some days now — ‘tonight has shown me the truth in this matter. My mentor, the Brehon Morann, once said that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, it must be theanswer. I know who is behind the assassination and conspiracy. In spite of attempts to mislead me and, indeed, to lay false trails which, I confess, did confuse me until this evening, I have sighted the fox!’

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Great Hall of Cashel was crowded as Fidelma entered with Eadulf. Everyone was dressed formally for the occasion. Even Eadulf was wearing his best apparel and carrying his pilgrim’s staff which he now used to enhance his status. It was an egocentricity on his part.

Eadulf smiled at Fidelma as he turned to take his place with those members of the court who were there merely as observers. Great importance was attached to procedure in the Irish courts and Eadulf had come to understand many of what he had regarded previously as mysteries.

Fidelma had crossed to the centre of the hall to take a seat alongside Solam, the dálaigh of the Uí Fidgente. He sat next to Donennach, his Prince. Litigants always sat with their advocates in what was the airecht airnaide, the court of waiting.

Directly opposite and facing them were three chairs behind a long, low table on which were piled several law texts. These chairs were reserved for the Brehons or judges. They constituted the airecht, the court itself. Behind the seats for the judges, on a dais at the head of the hall, was Colgú, seated on his ornately carved chair of office, and next to him, on his right-hand side, was Ségdae, who sat not as abbot but as bishop and Comarb of Ailbe, the First Apostle of the Faith in Muman. On the left-hand side, sat Colgú’s ollamh, Cerball, his chief bard and adviser. These three, the foremost men of the kingdom, were known as the cúl-airecht, the back court, overseeing that justice was done.

To the right of the King’s seat were benches on which sat the táeb-airecht, the side court, which constituted scribes and historians who were to record the events, together with the petty kings and nobles, led by Donndubháin., the tanist, Finguine of Cnoc Aine and others who were to witness the proceedings to ensure that the kingdom acquitted itself properly and according to law.

On the left-hand side was the airecht fo leithe, the court apart, in which were gathered all the potential witnesses. Here was seated, among others, Brother Mochta. It had surprised Eadulf to find that Brother Mochta had been named by Solam as his principal witness against Muman. Even more surprising was the fact that the reliquaryof Ailbe had been placed under safekeeping. Brother Madagan was also seated, ready to be called as a witness, as were Brother Bardan, Nion the bó-aire of Imleach, Gionga and Capa.

Eadulf saw that the appearance of Mochta and the reliquary did not surprise Fidelma. She had assumed her seat quietly and sat, hands folded in her lap, gazing before her without focusing on any one object. Eadulf felt annoyed with her. Since she had revealed that she believed she knew the answer to the mystery, she had steadfastly refused to explain anything further to him. He felt unhappy. These last weeks he had the sense that Fidelma was becoming more irritable than usual, less open to confiding in him. He had come to regard himself as her ‘soul friend’, an anam-chara which every religious of Eireann had to discuss their temporal and spiritual problems with. It made him unhappy when she did not confide in him.

Colgú’s steward came forward with his staff of office and banged it three times on the floor to bring the court to order. It drew Eadulf from his sad speculations.

The Brehon of Cashel, Dathal, was the first of the judges to enter the court, according to protocol, because the court was sitting in Cashel. Dathal was not known as the ‘nimble one’ for nothing. His nickname applied to the quickness of his mind in legal matters. He was not a young man, but his hair had not yet turned grey. His dark