‘I went straightaway to rouse the abbot,’ Brother Madagan replied.
‘You went straightaway to rouse Abbot Ségdae? Why?’
Brother Madagan looked at her with incomprehension at the question. ‘Why?’ he repeated.
‘Yes. Why didn’t you go to rouse Brother Mochta? He was Keeper of the Relics, after all?’
‘Ah! I see. Such considerations appear logical in retrospect. The abbot asked me the same question. I confess that in the shock of my discovery, logic had no relevance. I thought that the abbot should be the first to be informed.’
‘Very well. Then what happened?’
‘The abbot suggested that we inform Brother Mochta. We went to his chamber together to find that he had disappeared, leaving turmoil behind him. There were bloodstains in the room.’
Fidelma rose with an abruptness, surprising both Brother Madagan and Brother Eadulf.
‘Thank you, Brother. We will go to Brother Mochta’s chamber and examine it,’ she announced.
Brother Madagan rose as well. ‘The abbot has asked me to conduct you there,’ he said. He had brought the key to Brother Mochta’s chamber and he led the way keeping up a constant chatter by pointing out sites of interest in the abbey. Both Fidelma and Eadulf later agreed they had felt that the chatter appeared feigned for their benefit.
Fidelma stood on the threshold of Brother Mochta’s chamber, once again regarding the disorder with her keen eyes picking out the details.The room was in total disarray. She noticed that items of clothing were discarded on the floor. The straw mattress had been dragged half off the tiny wooden cot that provided the bed. There was, she saw, a stub of unlit candle toppled in a small pool of its own grease on the floor with its wooden holder nearby. There were even a few personal toilet items scattered here and there. There was a table by the bedside which, oddly, had not been knocked askew and on which was a solitary object. The end half of an arrow. Her eyes dwelt on the flight and its markings with immediate recognition. There were also some writing materials scattered in a corner and some pieces of vellum.
Brother Madagan was peering over her shoulder. ‘There, Sister, on the mattress. You may see the bloodstain which the Father Abbot and I noticed.’
‘I see it,’ replied Fidelma shortly. She made no move towards it. Then she turned to Brother Madagan.
‘Tell me, the chambers either side of this one … are they occupied?’
Brother Madagan nodded. ‘They are, but the brothers who sleep there have gone to the fields to gather herbs. One of them is our apothecary and mortician and the other is his assistant.’
‘So, are you saying that at the time that Brother Mochta apparently disappeared from this room, the chambers on either side were occupied?’
‘That is so.’
‘And no disturbance was reported to you or to the abbot?’ Her eyes flickered around the turmoil of the room.
‘Just so.’
Fidelma was silent for a moment and then said: ‘We need not keep you longer from your duties, Brother Madagan. Where can we find you when we are finished here?’
Brother Madagan tried to hide his disappointment at being so summarily dismissed. ‘In the refectory. We shall be bidding farewell to the pilgrims this morning.’
‘Very well. We will join you there shortly.’
Eadulf watched Brother Madagan disappear along the corridor before turning with a look of inquiry to Fidelma. She ignored him and turned back into the chamber. She stood in silence awhile and Eadulf knew better than to interrupt her thoughts. After awhile she moved inside the door, standing to one side.
‘Eadulf, come and take my place. Do not enter the room but stand there on the threshold and tell me your impressions.’
Puzzled, Eadulf went to stand on the threshold of the door withFidelma at his side. He let his gaze wander over the disordered room. That the room was in a chaotic state was obvious.
‘From the look of it, Mochta was forced from his chamber, having put up a fierce struggle.’
Fidelma inclined her head in approval. ‘From the look of the room,’ she repeated in a soft tone. ‘Yet no disturbance was reported by the occupants in the adjoining chambers.’
Eadulf glanced at her quickly, picking up the emphasis. ‘You mean that this scene has been …’ he struggled for the word. ‘That it has been purposefully arranged?’
‘I think so. Look at the way everything is cast around the room. Look at the mattress and clothes taken from the bed. It all indicates a fierce struggle which must logically have taken place sometime after Vespers and an hour or so before dawn. If such a struggle, as represented here, really took place, the noise would have disturbed even the deepest sleeper on either side. Yet no one reported being disturbed.’
‘We should make sure by asking the occupants of the adjoining chambers,’ Eadulf said.
Fidelma smiled. ‘My mentor, the Brehon Morann, said, “He who knows nothing doubts nothing”. Well done, Eadulf. We must indeed check to see what they say. But I am working on the probability that they were not disturbed by any noise in this room. And a reasonable probability is the only certainty we have at this time.’
Eadulf gestured helplessly. ‘So are we saying that Brother Mochta arranged this scene? But why?’
‘Perhaps someone else arranged it. We cannot form a conclusion as yet.’
‘If it were true that the slain monk at Cashel was Brother Mochta, then it might make some sense. But Brother Madagan insists that Mochta wore your Irish tonsure and not the tonsure of Rome. Hair cannot grow or be changed in a day. Besides, the innkeeper at the Well of Ara said hair was growing to disguise the tonsure when he stayed there a week ago.’
‘True enough. But do you have an explanation for the accuracy of the description of the body at Cashel and that of Brother Mochta? A description which fits even down to the tattoo on his arm.’ Fidelma’s s eyes twinkled a moment. ‘That is also a certainty. We can be absolutely certain only about things we do not understand.’
Eadulf raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘A saying of the Brehon Morann no doubt?’ he asked sarcastically.
Fidelma ignored him as she looked round the room.
‘I believe that whoever did this, whether it was Brother Mochta orsome other person, arranged these things carefully. Look at the way the mattress is positioned so that anyone who was not blind would see the bloodstain. Now a mattress, in a struggle, might well fall that way but it does seem contrived. And in a struggle, why would the clothes from that cupboard be taken out and strewn around the room?’
Eadulf began to realise the detail which her examination of the room had picked up.
‘Did you notice the arrow on the bedside table?’ Fidelma asked him.
Eadulf gave an inward groan.
He had noticed it but only as part of the debris of the room. Now that he focused on it, he realised the significance of the markings on the flight. It was the same type of arrow which had been carried by the archer during the assassination attempt; the same style of arrow which Fidelma was carrying and which had been identified as being made by the fletchers of Cnoc Áine.
‘I see it,’ he answered shortly.
‘And what do you make of it?’
‘Make of it? It is the shaft of an arrow which has been snapped in two. The end half of the shaft with the flight has fallen on the table.’
‘Fallen?’ Fidelma’s voice raised a little in disbelief. ‘It is laying there so clearly exposed that it seems to have been placed there for anyone to see. If it had been broken in some struggle, where is the other half?’
Eadulf s eyes fell to the floor, searching. He examined the room carefully and saw nothing of it. ‘What does it mean?’
‘You know as much as I do,’ Fidelma replied indifferently. ‘If the room has been carefully arranged for us … well, arranged for whoever was meant to gaze on it … what message is it supposed to give?’