"Rae na Serine?" Fidelma echoed.
"It is so recorded," replied Brother Conghus with a smirk. "She went to collect a book from Sister Eisten and take some medicines to her."
Fidelma fought back a feeling of utter frustration.
"She could have gone in the opposite direction to Cuan Dóir," she suggested. "Or she and Sister Eisten could have travelled to Cuan Dóir afterwards."
"She would have told us if she was going to visit Cuan Dóir," replied Conghus stoically. "And there is no reference to any such journey."
"If it were noted."
"Of course it would be noted. To visit Salbach on behalf of the abbey would require the permission and blessing of the abbot."
"Who said that it would necessarily be a journey on behalf of the abbey?" queried Fidelma.
"Why else would the librarian visit the local chieftain?"
"Why else, indeed?" Fidelma's patience was at an end. "Thank you for your help, Conghus."
Outside, Cass examined Fidelma's worried expression.
"Do you think that he is hiding something? He seems less than helpful."
"Perhaps he is, perhaps not. I suspect that Brother Conghus simply lives by the rules and cannot conceive of anyone breaking them."
Even as they stood hesitating outside, Conghus came hurrying out and, with a curt nod to the both of them, he scurried across the stone flags of the quadrangle to the tall bell tower.
"It must be nearly time for the completa," muttered Cass.
A few moments later, as if in response to his spoken thought, the bell sounded its chimes to summon the brethren to the service.
The last time Fidelma had attended such a lavish mass had been in Rome in the luxuriant round basilica of St. John of Lateran where the body of Wighard, the murdered archbishop-designate of Canterbury, lay. A dozen bishops and their attendants, and the Holy Father himself, had conducted the service.
The dark, high-walled abbey church was nothing compared to the splendor of the Roman basilica but, nevertheless, it was impressive. Tapestries covered the high granite walls, candles gave out heat, light and an assortment of perfumes. Fidelma sat in a pew reserved for distinguished guests with Cass seated alongside her. All around members of the abbey religious and their students crowded together to pay their respects to the passing of the soul of Cathal of Cashel. Though she examined their faces carefully, Fidelma could see no sign of Sister Grella.
The choristers were raising their voices in the Sanctus.
"Is Naofa, Naofa, Naofa Til, a Thiarna. Dia na Slua …"
"You are Holy, Holy, Holy, oh Lord God of Hosts…"
Something made Fidelma glance across the aisle of the church; some sixth sense which pricked at her mind.
She saw the eyes of young Sister Necht staring intensely at her. The novice had been watching her keenly and now, startled, she dropped her head to peer at her feet. Fidelma was turning away when she realized someone else was staring, but this time the object of scrutiny was Sister Necht herself and the examiner was the pudgy-featured Brother Rumann. Next to Rumann, Brother Midach was also watching the young novice.
What surprised Fidelma was that all trace of jollity had gone from the physician's face and if looks could kill, thought Fidelma, Midach would surely have been guilty of slaying the young woman. Then Midach caught her eye, forced a smile and dropped his gaze to concentrate on the holy office. When she turned her attention back to Brother Rumann, the moon-faced house steward was also concentrating on the words of the service.
Fidelma wondered what this curious digression meant. By the time she could concentrate again on the service the choristers had progressed into the Agnus Dei.
It was when the voices were pausing to begin A Ri an Domhnaigh—Great God—that there came a faint noise. The voices of the choristers hesitated and faded away. The noise therefore grew. There was a murmur of apprehension for the noise was that of a wailing child's voice. It was sobbing in heart-rending fashion.
Everyone peered about looking for the waif but no one could identify the source of the sound. It seemed to echo through the great abbey church, spreading as if through its very granite walls, echoing and re-echoing.
Several of the brethren, more superstitious than logical, genuflected.
Even Abbot Brocc exchanged worried glances with his senior clerics.
Fidelma felt Cass's hand on her arm. The warrior gestured with his head towards the nave and, following his indication, Fidelma saw Brother Midach moving rapidly out of the building.
Before he had reached the door, however, the noise of the crying suddenly ceased. All was deathly still. The sound of the door slamming behind Midach caused the entire congregation to start nervously.
The choir master rapped on his wooden lectern and A Ri an Domhnaigh was started again, hesitantly at first but the voices eventually regained their confidence and strength.
The service continued without further incident. Abbot Brocc spoke eloquently of the sadness of the loss of the old king from the Yellow Plague but with joy of the inauguration of the new king, invoking the blessing of Christ, His Apostles and all the saints of the five kingdoms, for the future prosperity of the kingdom and for the wisdom in government of the new monarch, Colgu.
As the congregation began to break up, after the final blessing, Fidelma told Cass that she would speak with him later and began to push her way through the throng across the nave of the abbey church towards the seat where she had seen the young Sister Necht. By the time she reached the spot, there was no sign of her. She peered around into the dispersing assembly but the novice had vanished.
Suppressing a sigh of annoyance, Fidelma turned for the nearest door, which brought her out of the church opposite the spacious storerooms of the abbey. Although it was night, there were numerous lanterns sending out a shadowy light, obviously lit to help the assembly find their way back to their various dormitories.
Sunk in thought, Fidelma decided not to go straight back to the hostel but followed the path, which Brother Ségán had shown her, leading towards the herb garden. Fidelma wanted to be alone to meditate and the fragrant little garden seemed an ideal place.
It was the faint cry from the shrubbery garden ahead which alerted her to tread softly.
There were two shadows in the arboretum by the head of the well. A slight figure was being held by a stocky, more masculine-looking shadow. It seemed to Fidelma that there was something familiar about that slight figure.
"You arrogant young…"
The voice she recognized as belonging to Brother Midach. It was now sharp and angry.
Even as Fidelma watched, the chief physician raised an open hand and brought it down against the back of the head of the slighter figure.
There was a grunt of pain.
"How dare you lay hands on me!" came a husky voice which Fidelma thought she should know.
Fidelma was about to stride forward and demand to know what was happening when she heard Brother Midach's voice reprimanding the figure.
"You'll do as I tell you. Such an outburst will be the destruction of us all! The sepulcher carries echoes. If we are discovered then there is an end of our hopes for Osraige."
The shadows moved in the darkness and she lost sight of them. There was no movement in the arboretum.
Fidelma listened and could hear nothing.
She moved forward cautiously. It was as if the ground had suddenly opened and swallowed them. She was perplexed for there was no gate out of the walled garden other than the one by which she had entered.
She examined the area as carefully as she could but could see no trace of Midach or his companion, no passage or doorway through which they might have vanished. She even peered down into the darkness of the well, the holy well of the Blessed Fachtna, but she had seen it in daylight and knew that it descended into almost bottomless darkness.