Fidelma smiled again as if it had already been made clear and the man had not understood.
‘Why, of course. But when you return to Cashel, you might be questioned about this terrible event. You may say that you have spoken with me. However, your testimony may be wanted by the Brehons in Cashel.’
Samradán looked startled. ‘Why should I be questioned?’ he demanded.
‘For the reason I told you … the assassins used your warehouse. No one accuses you of anything but it is obvious that you would be questioned because of that fact. Tell them what you told me. That you have no knowledge of the matter.’
The merchant looked uncomfortable. ‘I do not plan to return to Cashel for a few days yet, lady,’ he muttered. ‘I am going to the country of the Arada Cliach to trade first. I mean to start early tomorrow morning.’
‘Then I wish you a good journey.’ Fidelma turned and motioned Eadulf to follow her.
‘What was that about?’ he asked, when they were out of earshot.
Fidelma looked at him in mild rebuke. ‘No more than it appeared to be,’ she replied. ‘I just wanted to check who this Samradán was.’
‘And are you satisfied that he is no more than he seems to be?’
‘No.’
Eadulf was disconcerted by the enigmatic response.
Fidelma caught his questioning glance. ‘Samradán may well be what he claims to be but he admits he is of the Corco Baiscinn.’
‘I do not know these people,’ Eadulf returned. ‘Is there some significance here?’
‘They are one of the people over whom the Uí Fidgente hold lordship. They also claim to be descendants of Cas.’
‘Then he might well be part of some conspiracy?’ suggested Eadulf.
‘I do not trust him,’ Fidelma returned. ‘However, if he were part of some conspiracy I doubt whether it is connected with the Uí Fidgente. He would not have readily admitted that he was of the Corco Baiscinn. Yet it is better to be suspicious about people than not to be.’
Eadulf said nothing.
They found Brother Madagan at the gates of the abbey, speaking with the abbot.
‘Have you come to any conclusions?’ asked Abbot Segdae eagerly.
‘It is far too early for conclusions,’ Fidelma replied, handing the key of Brother Mochta’s chamber back to Brother Madagan. ‘As soon as I have something positive, I will let you know.’
Abbot Ségdae appeared anxious still. ‘I suppose I was hoping for a miracle. But at least, of the Holy Relics, Ailbe’s crucifix is safely recovered.’
Fidelma laid a reassuring hand on the old man’s arm. She wished she could do something further to enhearten this old friend and supporter of her family.
‘Do not worry unduly, Ségdae. If the matter is capable of resolution, we will resolve it.’
‘Is there anything else that I can do for you before I return to my other duties?’ Brother Madagan inquired.
‘Thank you, but not at this time. Brother Eadulf and I are going to the township and may not be back for a while.’ She hesitated. ‘Oh, you mentioned that the adjoining chambers to Mochta are occupied. Where might their occupants be found?’
Brother Madagan suddenly glanced across Fidelma’s shoulder through the open gates of the abbey. ‘You are in luck, for the two brothers are coming towards the abbey gates now.’
Fidelma and Eadulf turned and saw two religious approaching the gates, one pushing a wheelbarrow full of herbs and other plants which they had obviously been gathering that morning.
As Fidelma and Eadulf walked towards the gates of the abbey to intercept the two religious, Eadulf said quietly, ‘Wouldn’t it have been a kindness to report on our conclusions so far?’
Fidelma arched an eyebrow. ‘Our conclusions? I did not think that we had any conclusions.’
Eadulf made a gesture with his hand as if to express his confusion. ‘I thought that we agreed that Brother Mochta disarrayed his room on purpose to mislead people?’
Fidelma glared at him in reproof. ‘What we discovered remains between ourselves until we can put some logic to it. What is the point of revealing our knowledge, which might then get back to the conspirators — whoever they may be — so that they can hide their tracks? We will say no more of this until the time is right.’
She turned and hailed the two men. ‘Good morning, Brothers. I am Fidelma of Cashel.’
Their greeting showed that they had both heard of her. News of her arrival at the abbey must have spread quickly.
‘I am told that you sleep in the chambers situated on either side of Brother Mochta’s room.’
The elder of the two religious was only a little older than Fidelma while the younger was no more than a teenager, fresh-faced and fair-haired. He seemed hardly beyond the ‘age of choice’. They exchanged nervous glances.
‘Is there news of Brother Mochta?’ the younger one asked. ‘The news of his disappearance and the Holy Relics is all around the abbey.’
‘There is no news, Brother …?’
‘I am called Daig and this is Brother Bardan who is the apothecary and mortician of our abbey.’ The youth said this with an air of pride as one introducing a more worthy person than himself. He went on eagerly: ‘The entire abbey has been talking of your arrival, lady.’
‘Sister,’ corrected Fidelma gently.
‘How may we help you?’ interrupted the elder Brother in a less eager fashion than his companion.
‘You know that Brother Mochta disappeared from his chamber sometime after Vespers and sometime before dawn on the feastday of Ailbe?’
‘We know as much,’ agreed Brother Bardan. His tone was curt and he seemed to regard Fidelma with a suspicious look. He was a swarthy young man, his hair the colour of a raven’s feathers, with a blue sheen on its blackness. His dark eyes seemed to move quickly, nervously, here and there as if in search of hidden enemies. Although clean-shaven, the shadow of a beard coloured his lower features darkly, contrasting with the fairness of his cheeks.
‘Were you sleeping in your chambers that night? I mean, the night when Mochta disappeared.’
‘We were.’
‘You heard nothing during the night?’
‘I sleep soundly, Sister,’ replied Brother Bardan. ‘I doubt whether anything would awaken me. I heard nothing.’
‘Well, I was disturbed,’ Brother Daig announced.
Fidelma turned towards him. It was not a reply that she had expected. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Brother Bardán’ s expression crease in anger as he glanced at his companion. His mouth opened and she wondered, for a second, if he was going to rebuke the boy. But he did not.
‘Did you report this disturbance?’ she demanded.
‘Oh, it was not that sort of disturbance,’ the young boy replied.
‘Then what sort was it?’
‘I am a light sleeper and I do remember being awakened in the night by a door being shut. I think the wind must have caught it for no Brother shuts his door in such a fashion. It banged shut.’
‘What happened then?’ asked Fidelma.
‘Nothing,’ admitted Brother Daig. ‘I turned over and went back to sleep.’
Fidelma was disappointed. ‘You could not tell which door had banged shut?’ she pressed the young man.
‘No. But I know this … I’ve heard that there was supposed to have been a fight in Mochta’s room about this time. I say that it is impossible.’
‘Yes?’ Fidelma encouraged the young man.
‘Well, had there been such a fight, then it is obvious that I would have heard it. I would have awakened. Apart from the banging of the door, nothing else disturbed me during that night.’
Brother Bardan smiled sceptically. ‘Come, Daig … young people are known to sleep through great tempests. How can you be so positive that nothing untoward took place in Mochta’s chambers that night? From what we have been told, the evidence shows the opposite.’
‘I would have awakened had there been such a fight,’ Daig replied indignantly. ‘As it was, I was awakened by a slamming door.’