Read The Monk Who Vanished Online
Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland
The Monk Who Vanished (28 page)
‘Well, the sooner we find this monk - what’s his name? - Mochta? - the sooner we shall resolve this business,’ snapped Solam. ‘The key is the Holy Relics, of that I have no doubt at all.’
Fidelma’s eyes rounded.
Her cousin was responding. ‘We will try the southern caves first. Then there is a cave on the Hill of the Cairn to the north.’
He raised his hand and motioned the body of horsemen forward.
For a few moments Fidelma remained where she was, trying to make sense of what she had heard.
Then she rose and hurried back to the horses. Whatever it meant, it seemed that her own cousin, the Prince of Cnoc Aine, was searching for Brother Mochta. She wondered if Eadulf had begun to move Mochta down the hill to the safety of the forest cover along the banks of the River Ara. She must not let Finguine and Solam reach the cave on the Hill of the Cairn first. She was thankful that Finguine had suggested going to the southern caves first, wherever they were. It gave her time to reach Mochta and Eadulf before they did.
Pressing her heels into the flanks of her horse, Fidelma set off at a canter across the meadowland, swinging around the edge of the forest towards the hill. She was thinking about Finguine, about
Brother Mochta and his bitter betrayal by his brother. What was it he had said? Unity is not cemented by blood. She skirted the broad base of the hill and came round to the eastern side, where a new tract of forest began to stretch along the valley which eventually led towards the Well of Ara.
Brother Mochta and his bitter betrayal by his brother. What was it he had said? Unity is not cemented by blood. She skirted the broad base of the hill and came round to the eastern side, where a new tract of forest began to stretch along the valley which eventually led towards the Well of Ara.
As she rode across the shoulder of the hill, she saw the small figures of Eadulf and Mochta on the hill above her. Eadulf was carrying the reliquary under one arm while the other supported Brother Mochta, who had his arm around the Saxon’s shoulders and was struggling to keep his footing.
Fidelma gave a cry to attract their attention. The pair halted, then recognised her. They began to struggle downwards again.
Fidelma urged the horses upwards, as far as the steep slope would allow, then waited for them to come to her, dismounting and holding the horses steady. It took a while for Eadulf and Mochta to struggle down the hill to her.
‘Phew!’ Eadulf gasped as they came up. ‘I could do with a rest.’
He was about to ease Brother Mochta into a sitting position when Fidelma shook her head swiftly.
‘Not here. We must get to the shelter of the woods down there as soon as possible.’
‘Why?’ demanded Eadulf, puzzled by her sharpness.
‘Because horsemen are coming and they are searching for Brother Mochta and the Holy Relics.’
Brother Mochta blinked. ‘Uí Fidgente?’ he gasped.
‘One of them is,’ acknowledged Fidelma. ‘Solam.’
Eadulf pursed his lips as he caught her inflection. ‘Who are the others?’
‘My cousin rides with Solam.’
Eadulf was about to make a further comment when Fidelma swung up on her horse.
‘Give me the reliquary,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll carry that. Brother Mochta will have to mount in front of you, Eadulf. That way you can give him support. We can continue this conversation when we are safely away from this exposed place.’
Eadulf did not say anything further. Instead he handed up the reliquary box to Fidelma and then helped Brother Mochta into the saddle of his horse before he scrambled up behind him. Eadulf was no skilful horseman and he did not use the most elegant method of mounting his patient colt. And it was a very ungainly rider who directed the young horse down from the hillside in the wake of Fidelma and trotted towards the cover of the forest through which the river ran. However it sufficed.
Fidelma did not stop immediately once they were under the canopy of the trees but continued on for a while. After a mile or so, they came to a clearing by the banks of the river and it was here that Fidelma slid from the saddle and led her mare to the water. Then she turned to help Eadulf assist Brother Mochta down for a rest.
The monk sank thankfully to the grass.
‘Are you claiming that the Prince is part of this conspiracy?’ he gasped immediately, while massaging his leg.
‘I am not saying anything of the sort,’ Fidelma replied quietly. ‘I am merely saying that he and Solam, with some of his men, appeared to be searching for you and the Holy Relics. They were searching the caves.’
Eadulf gestured in annoyance. ‘But that means he is in league with the Uí Fidgente, with Armagh, with the Uí Néill! Your own cousin has betrayed his King’
‘It means that he and Solam were searching for Brother Mochta,’ replied Fidelma waspishly. ‘Make no judgements until you have all the facts. Remember my principles?’
Eadulf raised his head defiantly. ‘You may not wish to see your cousin guilty of such treason. However, what other interpretation can be put on what you say?’
‘There are several’interpretations but it is pointless speculating about them. It is the worst thing that can be done, to speculate before you are in full possession of the facts. I have said so many times. To do so means that you will distort those facts in order to fit your theory.’
Eadulf relapsed into an ungracious silence.
Brother Mochta eased his aching limbs, glancing up uneasily at Fidelma. ‘So, Sister, what is your plan now?’
Fidelma examined Brother Mochta for a moment before making up her mind.
‘I do not think, in your condition, that you will be able to travel much further today. We will see if we can make it to the Well of Ara and rest there. I can trust the innkeeper there. Then, by easy stages, we will go to Cashel.‘’
They reached Aona’s inn at nightfall. At Fidelma’s insistence they did not approach it directly but moved around the rear of the inn. It was not yet time for the dogs to be loosed although they could hear a couple of hounds barking at their tethers. As they approached the rear door of the inn, it opened and a voice cried out, demanding to know who it was approaching in such a stealthy fashion.
Fidelma relaxed a little as she recognised Aona’s voice.
‘It is Fidelma, Aona.’
‘My lady?’ Aona’s voice was puzzled because Fidelma responded so quietly.
The innkeeper came forward to hold the bridle of her horse while she dismounted. Then he turned aside and yelled at the dogs to quiet them. They relapsed into protesting whines.
‘Aona, is there anyone else in the inn tonight?’ Fidelma asked immediately.
‘Yes; a merchant and his drivers. They are at their evening meal.’ He screwed up his eyes in the darkness to where Eadulf and Mochta still sat on their horse. ‘Is that the Saxon Brother?’
‘Listen, Aona, we need rooms for the night. And no one must know that we are here. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, lady. It shall be as you ask.’
‘Did your guests hear us arrive?’
‘I don’t think so. They are making so much noise over their meal. The ale has circled well in them.’
‘Good. Is there a way we can go to a room without the merchants or anyone else seeing us?’ pressed Fidelma.
Aona did not reply for a moment and then he nodded. ‘Come directly to the stables with me. There is a spare room above them, which is only used in an emergency if the inn is crowded … which it never is. It is crudely equipped … but if you want seclusion, then no one would ever come across you there.’
‘Excellent,’ said Fidelma approvingly.
Aona realised that Brother Mochta was injured as Eadulf tried to help him from the horse. He went forward to assist him. As he did so, Fidelma laid a cautionary hand on his arm.
‘No questions, Aona. It is for the safety of the King of Muman. That is all you need to know. Do not let anyone know we are here. Especially do not let any visitors to the inn know.’
‘You may rely on me, lady. Lead your horses into the stable. This way.’
He helped Eadulf take Brother Mochta to the stables, while Fidelma led the horses. There were two heavy drays or wagons parked in the yard before the stables. As they were in semi-gloom they had to wait until Aona lit a lamp. He motioned them inside. Fidelma put the horses into separate stalls.
‘I will tend to their wants in a minute,’ Aona said. ‘Let me take you to the room first.’
He helped Brother Mochta ascend a narrow flight of stairs which led to a loft room. It was a plain room with four cots and straw mattresses on them. There were some chairs, a table and little else. The whole place was covered with dust.
‘As I said,’ he observed apologetically, drawing some sacking over the window, ‘it is not really used.’
‘It will do for now,’ Fidelma assured him.
‘Is your companion badly hurt?’ Aona inquired, indicating Brother Mochta. ‘Should I find a discreet physician?’
‘No need,’ replied Fidelma. ‘My companion has trained in the schools of medicine.’
Aona suddenly held up the lamp, close to Brother Mochta’s face. His eyes widened.
‘I know you,’ he said. ‘Yes, you are the very man Sister Fidelma was asking about. But …’ He suddenly appeared bewildered. ‘You were not wearing that tonsure when you stayed here last week. I swear it.’
Brother Mochta suppressed a groan. ‘That is because I did not stay here last week, innkeeper.’
‘But, I swear …’
Fidelma interrupted him with a smile of reassurance. ‘It is a long story, Aona.’
The innkeeper was still apologetic. ‘No questions, lady. I remember.’
He opened a cupboard and drew out some blankets.
‘As I say, this room is used only when the inn is full, which is hardly ever. It is very basic.’
‘It is better than sleeping under the heather,’ replied Eadulf.
Fidelma took the innkeeper aside to give him instructions.
‘Once you have taken care of our horses, we would like something to eat and drink. Can you arrange that without anyone knowing? ’
‘I will see to it. I must let my grandson, Adag, know. He is a good boy and will not betray you. He is my right hand in helping me with the inn. I have no wife. She was carried off by the Yellow Plague during the same year as my daughter-in-law. My son perished in the wars against the Uí Fidgente. So there are just the two of us left to run this place now.’
‘I remember young Adag,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘By all means tell him. Who else did you say was in the inn at the moment? Some merchants?’
‘A merchant and two drivers. Those are their wagons outside the inn. In fact …’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘In fact, you may know the merchant as he is from Cashel.’
Eadulf, overhearing, suddenly leant forward. ‘Do you mean Samradán?’
Aona glanced at him in surprise. ‘That is the very man.’
‘Then do not mention our presence to him.’ Fidelma was adamant.
‘Is there something I should know about him?’ demanded Aona curiously.
‘It is just that it is better if he did not know of our presence,’ replied Fidelma.
‘Has it something to do with the attack on the abbey the other night? I heard all about that.’
‘I said, no questions, Aona, and you agreed,’ Fidelma rebuked him patiently.
The former warrior looked contrite. ‘I beg your forgiveness, lady. It is just that Samradán was talking about the attack.’
‘Oh? What was he saying about it?’ She pretended to be more concerned in adjusting the sackcloth curtain.
‘He described the attack and said that it was the Uí Fidgente. How can they be so treacherous? And all the while their Prince is your brother’s guest at Cashel?’
‘We do not know for a fact that it was the Uí Fidgente,’ she corrected. ‘When did Samradán arrive?’
‘An hour or two before you did, lady.’
Fidelma was thoughtful and she gazed at Eadulf. ‘That means he could not have gone north. That is even more interesting.’
Eadulf could not see why it was interesting at all.
Aona opened his mouth to ask a question and then thought better of it.
‘Off with you, Aona,’ she instructed. ‘We need that refreshment as soon as you can.’
The innkeeper turned down the stairs.
‘And, remember,’ Fidelma called after him, ‘not a word to anyone apart from your grandson.’
‘I swear it on the Holy Cross, lady.’
When he had gone, Eadulf settled to examine Mochta’s shoulder and leg. Since his days studying medicine, although he was no qualified physician, Eadulf took to the habit of carrying some medicines in his saddle bag.
‘Well, the wounds are still healing,’ he announced. ‘The journey has not worsened it. Brother Bardán did a good job. It is just that the wounds will ache for a bit but they are healing nicely. No need for me to change the dressings at all.’
Brother Mochta forced a smile. ‘The journey has worsened my disposition, however, my Saxon friend. I feel as if I have been dragged over a stony stretch of land.’
Other books
Indian Hill by Mark Tufo
The Forever Marriage by Ann Bauer
Midnight in Brussels by Rebecca Randolph Buckley
The Keepers of the House by Shirley Ann Grau
A Date with Fate by Cathy Cole
Djinn by Laura Catherine
Confessed (Vargas Cartel #3) by Lisa Cardiff
cat stories by Herriot, James
Needing You #2 - Wanting Him by T. Renee Fike
The Woodshed Mystery by Gertrude Warner
