The Seventh Trumpet (11 page)

‘He certainly served here for several decades, as we have heard from Grella,’ Eadulf commented. ‘That does not reflect any influence or power.’

‘Not all talented people are interested in power or influence,’ reproved Fidelma. ‘However, the book and manuscripts should go to the Abbey of Imleach.’

‘Then the book itself is valuable?’

‘It is. I shall make sure that Abbot Ségdae receives it. He should decide what to do with Brother Tressach’s belongings.’

Eadulf had turned his attention to a pile of old clothes on a chair and absent-mindedly gathered them up. Something fell from them and he picked it up. It was a small sheet of paper with some spidery writing on it, in Latin. He read it aloud.

‘“Brother Ailgesach, I send this by a trusted courier who will be passing your chapel. I shall be leaving this place soon and will be with you before the time of the last quarter moon. I have proof of conspiracy. A philosopher once said that if you want something hidden, then place it where everyone can see it. I shall follow that advice. I think I am suspected. If I have not joined you and our friends by then, know that I am discovered and you must act on your own.”’

Fidelma took it from his hand and read through it silently. Then she added: ‘There is no signature, only the letter “B”.’

‘The last quarter moon was three or four nights ago,’ Eadulf pointed out.

‘But does this message refer to
that
quarter moon?’ she pondered. ‘There is no knowing when this was written.’

‘It looks new,’ Eadulf replied. ‘And it seemed as if Ailgesach was hiding it from prying eyes, since he tucked it among those old clothes. He did not agree with the writer’s advice to hide it where everyone could see it.’

Fidelma did not want to appear over-enthusiastic about the find. It raised many questions that could not be answered at that moment. ‘We will keep it with us.’

‘The word conspiracy sounds serious. A conspiracy about what?’

Fidelma placed the paper in her
marsupium
, the bag she carried slung from her shoulder, and made no further comment, ignoring Eadulf’s disappointed glance. She then renewed her search, going slowly through the contents of the cabin until she was sure there were no other hidden surprises. There was little else in the cabin that caught their attention.

‘I’ll place the
Missale
and vellum texts in my saddle-bag,’ Fidelma announced as she made for the door. ‘They can be delivered to Abbot Ségdae when we have a chance.’ She paused and glanced back at the darkened hut. ‘We have done enough here. Let us see if there is anything more of interest in the outbuildings or in the chapel.’

They tried the closest outbuilding first. It bore a resemblance to a stable, although there were no animals inside. However, there were signs of recent occupation. Gormán pointed to the straw-covered floor.

‘Those droppings were made by horses – and recently. Perhaps as recently as last night. I’d say that two horses were stabled here, according to the dung.’

‘So there is further proof that Sétna did not dream up the story he told Grella,’ Fidelma remarked.

They walked across to the chapel and buildings. Clouds were beginning to form in the west and the day was turning cold; the afternoon was drawing on. The chapel stood in gloom and the body of the envoy that they had brought to it earlier was still stretched out before the small wooden altar. Agreeing that nothing would be revealed by any closer search of the buildings, they returned to their horses and set off back to the tavern of Fedach Glas.

As they turned into the tavern yard, Enda came running out to meet them. It was clear that something was very wrong, from his anguished expression.

‘What is it?’ Fidelma demanded without dismounting. She had a premonition of what he was going to say.

‘Lady, I have failed you. It is my fault. Biasta has fled – he used my horse to get away. Fedach Glas has no other horse here so I could not ride after him. The scoundrel tricked me and escaped.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘W
hat exactly happened?’ Gormán demanded, the suppressed anger clear in his tone.

‘He said that he needed to go to the privy,’ replied Enda unhappily. ‘I suspected nothing. He went outside, and the next thing I heard was the sound of my own horse galloping off. By the time I ran out, he was vanishing along the road.’

‘How long ago did he leave?’

‘Long enough not to be overtaken if you set off after him now. The tavern-keeper had no horse to chase him, unfortunately.’

‘He went north, otherwise we would have seen him,’ Eadulf commented.

‘One thing I noticed,’ the unhappy warrior said. ‘As he galloped off, I saw that his cowl had been flung back. He wore no tonsure. I don’t think he was a religieux.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Fidelma replied.

‘It is my fault,’ Enda said dispiritedly.

‘Truly, it
is
your fault,’ snapped Gormán. He turned to Fidelma. ‘What now, lady? Do we chase after him?’

‘We must certainly find him,’ she said. ‘He has many questions to answer.’

She swung down from her horse and hitched it to the rail. Her companions followed suit and she led the way into the tavern. Saer was still seated with a mug of ale before him. Fedach Glas and his wife Grella faced her nervously. Fidelma spoke directly to the tavern-keeper.

‘I am told you have no horse. Do you have any animal at all, even a mule or plough horse, that you can let us have?’

Saer looked up from his ale and gave a chuckle. ‘If you could run quickly, you could have secured yourself a good horse on the Black Heath.’

Fedach Glas stared at the carpenter. ‘What nonsense is this?’

‘I tell no lie,’ the carpenter responded. ‘At dawn this morning I saw a good stallion running wild on the heath. I had half a mind to try my luck to catch it. But I don’t have the skill.’

Fidelma was impatient. ‘We do not have time to indulge ourselves in fantasy. Is there nothing that you have, Fedach Glas?’

‘I do not, but my cousin has,’ answered the tavern-keeper. ‘He runs the farm on the hills behind us and has two good horses – but they are there to work the farm, not horses such as you ride.’

‘Then we must borrow one. Will you go and bring it back here and, if possible, obtain a saddle of some sort.’

‘A plough horse would not be able to overtake a warrior’s horse,’ protested the tavern-keeper.

‘I do not mean it to do so. I merely want it to transport this warrior, Enda, back to Cashel, that is all.’

Enda was chagrined. ‘Are you sending me back to Cashel, and on a plough horse?’

Fidelma waited until Fedach Glas had set off on his errand and then turned to the disconsolate warrior.

‘I am not doing it as a punishment, Enda. There are important messages to be taken back to Cashel. Tell Caol and my brother what has happened here. That we believe the body is, indeed, an envoy from King Fianamail of Laigin. We suspect that Brother Ailgesach had something to do with this matter, but he has been killed by someone calling himself Brother Biasta. Also, I want you to go on to Imleach, taking some documents and a
Missale
that I shall give you. They are valuable, so put them into the hands of Abbot Ségdae. I also need to find out from the abbot whether he knows anything about these two religieux – Ailgesach and Biasta.’

Enda repeated the instructions. ‘And where will I find you, once I have gathered such information?’ he asked.

‘We shall be heading north for Durlus Éile to see if we can pick up Biasta’s trail. If we have moved on, we shall leave instructions at the fortress of the Éile so that you may follow us. Is that clear?’

‘It is indeed.’

‘Then wait here until Fedach Glas returns with the horse and do your best to return to Cashel quickly.’ She turned to Saer the carpenter. ‘I have to leave you with two unpleasant tasks but there is no alternative.’

The carpenter set aside his ale and gazed at her with a frown. ‘Tasks?’

‘We saw and heard crows around the chapel. You must try to find someone to help you bury the bodies – the one left in the chapel and that of Ailgesach. We cannot tarry any longer to help you in this.’

Grella intervened. ‘My husband will give him a hand. But what of the burial blessing? A religious should bless the grave.’ She glanced with meaning at Eadulf.

‘That I know,’ replied Fidelma. ‘However, we cannot wait. Perhaps, Enda, you could ask that a religious be sent here to fulfil this task?’

‘I don’t like it,’ sniffed Grella. ‘Things should be done according to ritual, otherwise the spirits of the dead will not lie at rest.’

‘It must be, until we can do otherwise,’ Fidelma told her. ‘Better a delay in a ritual than a murderer escapes justice.’

It was apparently the first time that either Grella or Saer understood the reason for Biasta’s flight. Their eyes widened and they exchanged a nervous glance.

‘We will carry out your wishes, lady,’ Saer said in a subdued manner.

Fidelma thanked them, turned to her companions and simply said: ‘Let us set off.’

They bade farewell to Enda, mounted their horses and within moments were cantering northwards along the highway that led to the fortress of the Éile. Fidelma did not really believe that they would overtake Biasta. Indeed, the sun was already well on the rim of the western mountains. She actually began to question her decision to start out so late, for it would soon be dark. It might have been better to spend the night at Fedach Glas’s tavern and make an early start in the morning.

She glanced to her left at the lowering sun. Eadulf, riding alongside her, caught the movement and said, ‘It will not be long before nightfall.’

‘We can cover a lot of ground before then,’ she replied, almost irritated that they had shared the same thought.

Gormán, who was riding in front of them, twisted in his saddle.

‘If we can maintain this pace, before nightfall we will arrive at a place where we can stay. The river comes close to this highway soon, and there on the left is a track that leads to a little chapel and another tavern on the banks of the Suir.’

Fidelma vaguely remembered the place from previous travels.

‘Maybe that is where Biasta is making for,’ Eadulf offered hopefully.

‘I doubt it,’ Gormán grunted. ‘I think he will want to put as much distance between Fedach Glas’s tavern and himself as possible. He will surely realise that we will give chase. I have a feeling that he would have left this main highway as soon as he was able.’

‘You may be right,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘And with the head-start that he had, he will probably have made it to Durlus Éile. Enda’s horse is fast and if Biasta is a good rider … And Durlus is a large enough township that he could be more anonymous than in an isolated country tavern.’

‘Do you agree with Enda that this Biasta is not a genuine religieux, lady?’ asked Gormán. ‘Enda says that he doesn’t wear a tonsure.’

It was Eadulf who answered for her. ‘Even if he did, anyone can cut their hair to create the right appearance.’

‘All we know for certain is that he killed Ailgesach, whom he claimed was his cousin,’ added Fidelma. ‘There are many questions that must be answered before we start speculating.’

Eadulf suddenly turned to Fidelma in a burst of excitement. ‘I have just realised! Saer said that he saw a good stallion running wild upon the heath. It could have been the missing horse of the murdered envoy.’

‘It could,’ she said. ‘However, we now have other matters to concern—Wait! Someone is approaching.’

A cart, being pulled by an ass, was creaking round a bend in the road ahead of them. Seated on a pile of sacking and cursing volubly at the animal straining in the shafts was a fat, balding man, whose dress proclaimed him as a merchant. The back of the cart was filled with farm produce and sacks of wheat and corn. He eased on the reins as he approached them.

‘Are you bound for Durlus?’ He greeted them with an apprehensive smile, having noticed Gormán’s weapons. Lone merchants travelling on isolated roads so late in the day sometimes had reason to be ill at ease. ‘You’ll not make it before sunset.’

‘We are aware of the position of the sun,’ replied Gormán dryly. ‘Have you seen any other travellers on this road?’

‘Only a few,’ said the man, realising that the warrior’s party were not dressed as he imagined bandits might be, and thereby relaxing a little. ‘A lady and her companion stopped me earlier and asked where they could find a boatman to transport them to Imleach. Of course, I said the river didn’t go there and it was best to get to An Ghabhailín, the fork of the river, and—’

The fat merchant was garrulous but Fidelma interrupted him. ‘A lady and her companion? From what direction were they travelling?’

‘Coming from the south, as you are.’

Fidelma glanced at Eadulf in surprise. ‘How long ago was this?’

‘Some time after midday,’ the man said with a shrug.

‘After midday? But that is a long time ago,’ Gormán pointed out suspiciously.

‘Indeed, that was before I pulled off the highway to Cill Locha. I had some trading to do there. I have only just rejoined the highway to the south but I am not going to make even Fedach Glas’s tavern before dark. I wanted to be in Cashel before sun-up.’