crimes.’
‘Where is this abbey of which you speak?’
‘Baile Fobhair?’
She nodded.
‘You will ride along the north side of a great loch, Loch Léibhinn. That is where the abbey is situated. But let me warn you again … ’
She paused, turned and looked into his anxious face.
‘Don’t worry, Brother Céin,’ she interrupted. ‘I fully intend to return in safety to Tara and this mystery shall be cleared up. That is a promise.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was approaching noon on the next day when Fidelma decided to call a halt in order to rest and water the horses. They had ridden north-west, passing the farmstead identified as Cluain Nionn. Here they had paused briefly while Fidelma questioned the farmer and his wife about the disappearance of Bishop Luachan. But, as Brother Céin had foretold, the couple knew nothing at all. So they had journeyed on, reaching the large lake that the rotund steward of Delbna Mór had told Fidelma was called Loch Léibhinn. For the most part, the countryside seemed deserted. They rode along its northern shore without seeing any sign of the abbey of Baile Fobhair of which she had been told. After a while, north of the lake, they reached more hilly country. Fidelma began to believe that they had missed the abbey and so suggested they rest and attend to their horses’ needs. To save time she decided not to light a fire to prepare a meal, but for them to have some fruit and the bread that the religious of Delbna Mór had given them that morning. As events turned out, it was a wise decision.
They had stopped by a small pool that was fed from a stream that gushed from the hills. It was surrounded by three great stone slabs and shaded by an ash tree. A little distance from the pool were the burned-out ruins of a watermill. The fire had obviously occurred recently, for the stench of the burned timbers still hung in the air. The countryside was heavily wooded, with many brooks and streams. There were plenty of evergreens, interspersed with wych elm, whitebeam and even strawberry trees, and in spite of it being winter the forest looked impenetrable. Both the thick woods and the rising ground were also, in retrospect, a matter of good fortune for them.
They had barely settled to eat when the sound of someone coughing came from the direction of the ruined mill. It sounded as though the person was desperately trying to stifle the cough and thereby only making thesound worse. At once Caol and Gormán were on their feet with drawn swords.
‘Who’s there?’ snapped Caol, moving cautiously towards the blackened ruins.
There was no answer.
With a quick gesture to Gormán to indicate some prearranged tactic, Caol advanced, sword ready to strike, while Gormán made a flanking movement to cover him.
Then, from the blackened timbers, a sooty spectre rose. It was a man in torn and dirty religious robes, his face and hair covered in soot. He raised a hand as if to fend off Caol’s sword.
‘Do not kill me! Let me go in peace! I have done you no hurt.’
The voice was a despairing wail. Caol regarded the vision in some astonishment.
‘Come forward and identify yourself,’ he instructed.
The dishevelled man took a step or two and then he caught sight of Fidelma and Eadulf. A look of hope transformed his features.
‘Are you of the Faith?’ he demanded eagerly. ‘Do you acknowledge the Christ?’
‘Of course,’ Eadulf said irritably. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Brother Manchán. I am … I was … one of the community here.’ He gestured beyond the trees.
‘Where is here, Brother Manchán?’ asked Fidelma gently. ‘We are strangers in this land.’
‘Just beyond is the abbey of Baile Fobhair, the homestead of the spring. It was founded by the Blessed Feicin who, alas, died from the Yellow Plague a few years ago.’
‘I have heard of that holy man,’ Fidelma reflected after a pause for thought. ‘I am sorry to hear that the plague took him.’
The dishevelled religious sighed deeply. ‘Better to be taken by the Yellow Plague than witness what has happened to his little abbey. Burned and destroyed.’
‘When did it happen?’ Caol wanted to know. ‘Who did it?’
‘Delbna Mór is the next biggest abbey I know of. Why did you not go there?’
‘Does Delbna Mór still stand?’ queried the man, hopefully.
‘It did when we left it this morning.’
‘While I hid, I heard some of the raiders talking about it. I thought they were going to attack it.’
‘Which way did these raiders go?’
Brother Manchán shook his head. ‘I don’t know where they went immediately afterwards. I only know they came back this morning.’
They stared at the man.
‘They came back?’ Eadulf asked. ‘Where are they now?’
‘They are resting just over the rise,’ Brother Manchán replied. ‘That’s why I was hiding in the ruins of the mill.’
Eadulf looked at Fidelma. ‘We’d better move and find cover somewhere.’
‘In which direction did you say they were encamped?’ Fidelma remained calm.
The man indicated with his hand.
Fidelma turned to Caol. ‘Go to the top of the rise, carefully now, and see what the situation is.’
Caol nodded. When he returned, he had an agitated look on his face. He indicated over his shoulder to the woods.
‘This man is right, lady. The ground rises steeply as you see, but suddenly drops into a small defile. There is another track that leads through it. I could see the ruins of what must have been the abbey at one end.’
‘And these raiders?’
‘Twenty riders. Warriors, heavily armed. They have an assortment of clothing and weapons. They looked as though they were making ready to depart. From what I saw, they had been watering their horses.’
Fidelma turned to the woebegone religieux. ‘And these were definitely the same raiders who attacked your abbey earlier?’ she asked.
The man nodded quickly.
‘They were leading a couple of pack horses on which some bags were tied,’ added Caol. ‘Poking out of one of them was a golden crucifix, and I doubt that these are pious religious on their way to donate some goods to an abbey out of charity.’
‘Twenty, you say?’ mused Fidelma with a frown.
‘Twenty it was, lady,’ replied Caol.
Fidelma was silent for a moment more.
‘We need to know which direction they take. Caol, will you go back to observe them?’
‘Of course,’ he replied immediately, adding with a smile, ‘If I am discovered, I will contrive to blow my horn in warning to alert you. If you hear it, mount, ride hard and do not tarry.’
‘If that is all you have to suggest, you had better try not to be discovered,’ replied Fidelma grimly.
Caol grinned and slipped away.
‘What do you have in mind?’ Eadulf asked when he had gone.
