‘No; I need to see the ground nearby,’ insisted Fidelma. ‘But tell us, what causes it?’
‘What causes corpse fire? You know of the gases given off by animal corpses … in fact, the smell both plant and animal corpses give off when they disintegrate? The smell is the gas. Sometimes there is a spontaneous ignition and that’s when you see the light. It is the gas burning. It’s eerie and you can understand why people are sometimes afraid of it.’ He waved his hand across the flat marshes. ‘Plenty of animals have been sucked down into this mire so there are plenty of rotting corpses underneath it to create the corpse fire. Do you still want to go on?’
Fidelma looked up and measured the distance to the track which she could see they were now nearing.
‘Is it possible to work our way a little to the right?’ she asked, not answering the question directly.
Mul glanced in the direction she indicated and shrugged.
‘Yes, but stay close,’ he advised.
They moved on for a while and when Mul halted they found themselves on a large island of firm ground, a slight rise which was surrounded by the level flat area of the mire. The layer of snow barely covered the surrounding area and they could see the dark threatening mud beneath.
‘Stop!’ cried Fidelma, suddenly sliding from her pony. ‘Don’t move further.’
Mul looked at her as if she were mad.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘this place is as firm as anywhere …’
But that was not what Fidelma had meant.
She walked quickly forward and went down on one knee. The area of snow, lying more thickly here on firm ground than on the warmer mud flats, was churned up. There were prints in the hardened snow which were only just beginning to melt in the warmer air of morning.
Eadulf had dismounted and come up behind her.
‘What is it?’ he demanded.
She pointed downwards.
‘Someone stood here both on foot and then on horseback. One horse … see the prints. One person. Small footprints. What does that tell you?’
‘A small man or …’
‘A woman. They stood near the edge of the mire here. They must have known what they were doing. A false step and there would have been another corpse rotting in the mire.’
Mul was standing patiently holding the reins of their mounts.
‘I don’t understand. What are you looking for?’ he demanded.
‘I have found it,’ replied Fidelma with satisfaction, turning slightly towards him. Then to Eadulf she said: ‘This is the mystery of the so-called ghost that appeared last night. Someone obviously navigated their way here by horseback. That was the figure we all saw.’
Eadulf glanced across the mire to the knoll on which they had stayed hidden on the previous night watching Abbot Cild.
‘But how did she appear in that shimmering light? What about the firedrake? It is hard to manipulate that.’
Fidelma sniffed the air. ‘Smell that?’
Eadulf cautiously sniffed and caught a malodorous reek. He had been among the dead often enough to know the signs.
‘That is a gaseous smell of rotting corpses,’ he admitted.
Fidelma glanced at Mul. ‘What do you say, Mul? Is he right?’
The farmer looked confused by their comments.
‘There’s plenty of fuel here for the firedrake,’ he said. ‘And your sharp eyes should have picked out the flame already. See?’
He pointed in front of them.
Some way away they saw a curious shimmering against the white snowy background, something like a heat haze. That, in fact, was exactly what it was.
‘If you were able to put your hand in that,’ observed Mul, ‘you would be burnt. That’s a flame, but it’s so faint that you can’t really see it until night falls and then you get the eerie blue light which people call corpse fire.’
Fidelma breathed out gently.
‘So these lights burn both by day and by night and we don’t really see them until there is darkness enough to give the contrast?’
‘Exactly so.’
Eadulf stood up and glanced around with hands on hips.
‘I see your reasoning, Fidelma. But there is still an explanation needed.’
‘Which is?’ asked Fidelma.
‘You told me last night that you felt that the figure we saw was no ghostly apparition, but a real woman. You have now demonstrated that the firedrake was simply a natural phenomenon. Fine. But how can you explain that as well as the firedrake we saw the outline of the woman glowing? That she — not merely the firedrake flame — had a ghostly appearance? That is what scared Abbot Cild and his men — not anything else.’
Fidelma had also risen and walked back to her pony. She stroked its muzzle for a few moments before speaking.
‘A few years ago, Eadulf, it was a midwinter much like this, and I was on my way home to Cashel. I was coming through the snowbound mountains and was forced to stop the night at an inn. The innkeeper and his wife thought they were being haunted. They had seen this vision. It turned out to be someone trying to scare them. That person was also able to give himself a curious glowing aura.’
‘How?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘How did they do it?’
‘In my country there is a yellow clay-like substance that gives off a curious luminosity. It is scooped from the walls of caves. We call it mearnáil. It glows in the gloom. I don’t know what it might be called here. But I believe the woman who came here had it smeared on her clothing and with the flickering flame of the firedrake before her, it reflected on the clay shehad smeared on herself and that is why we saw the ghostly image.’
Eadulf pursed his lips in a soundless whistle.
‘You mean this “haunting” of Cild is some strange conspiracy?’
‘I think so.’
‘And Botulf knew about it? He had discovered who was behind it? That is what led to his death?’
‘It will take a little time to work out,’ cautioned Fidelma.
Mul had been standing watching them with a look of incomprehension on his features. Fidelma turned to him with a smile.
‘You have been a great help, Mul. It may well be that we shall be able to procure a larger sum in recompense than the few coins we have been able to give you. If my idea works out correctly, I think you will also be avenged for the murder of your wife and children.’
Mul returned her smile grimly.
‘For the avenging of my family, I am prepared to give what little I own in the world,’ he said quietly.
‘Then I would ask you to indulge us further, Mul. We are going to the abbey to find this man …’ She glanced at Eadulf in interrogation.
‘The lord Sigeric,’ he supplied.
‘Sigeric. He went to the abbey yesterday and, if Brother Eadulf is correct, then he is the one person who will help us. If he is willing, we might need your help further. Is there anywhere in the vicinity of the abbey where you can wait until we contact you?’
‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘There is a smithy just south of the bridge. I’ll wait there for word from you. If it means the destruction of Cild I am prepared to wait until the crack of doom. You may find me there.’
Fidelma glanced up at the sky. There was still no sun to regulate the day but she guessed that it lacked only a couple of hours until noon.
‘If you do not hear from us by mid-afternoon, then I think you can conclude that we have not been able to persuade Sigeric to help us.’ She paused and grimaced. ‘Now, Mul, you can lead us out of this mire and set us on the right path to the abbey.’
Having left Mul to continue on to the bridge, Fidelma and Eadulf turned off through the woods behind the abbey buildings. They found the path they had taken on their escape from the abbey and now discovered a little copse where they decided to leave the ponies, tethered in case they needed to reclaim them in a hurry.
Eadulf led the way back to the tunnel entrance. He remembered the route better than Fidelma, for she had not been entirely well when they had left by that means. The entrance, despite being overgrown with evergreens, was not too difficult for Eadulf to find.