‘An irritating man, that one,’ sighed the abbess. ‘Still, you have made the right decision, sister. Let me row you across to the abbey and I will explain everything.’
Her handsome face showed surprise when Fidelma shook her head.
‘I will come to the abbey this evening for the evening meal, mother abbess. There are other matters that I must attend to before that.’
‘Other matters?’
There was a dangerously querulous note to Abbess Draigen’s voice.
‘I will come ashore this evening,’ Fidelma repeated but did not enlighten her further.
‘Very well,’ Abbess Draigen sniffed sourly. ‘You will hear our bell ring for the evening Angelus. We sit down to eat following the prayers. A gong sounds twice for the meat to commence.’
She left, without another word, climbed over the side of the barc and clambered down into her boat.
Ross grimaced, leaning on the rail and watching the sisters rowing their abbess back across the inlet.
‘Well, sister, I do not think that you have evoked much affection either in the heart of the abbess or that of the bó-aire.’
‘It is not my task to evoke affection, Ross,’ replied Fidelma softly. ‘Now let us return to the Gaulish merchant ship.’
Fidelma, together with Ross, spent two hours searching the Gaulish ship once again from top to bottom without discovering any further indication of what had happened to her crew and her cargo. Apart from the dried blood stains, there was nothing to suggest why the crew and cargo of the vessel had simply vanished. Only Odar, the steersman, had come up with a further piece of information. He had approached Fidelma and Ross almost as soon as they had come aboard the Gaulish vessel.
‘Begging your pardon, captain, but there is something you might like to see …’ he began, hesitantly.
‘Well?’ Ross’s voice was not exactly an encouragement to continue but Odar did so.
‘I heard you and the sister here,’ he gestured to Fidelma, ‘remarking about how neat and tidy everything is aboard this ship. Well, there are two things out of place.’
Fidelma was interested at once.
‘Explain, Odar,’ she invited.
‘The mooring ropes, sister. Both fore and aft. The mooring ropes have been cut.’
Ross immediately led the way to the nearest oak bollard at the bow of the ship.
‘I left the ropes hanging in place so that you might see them for yourself,’ Odar explained. ‘I only noticed them myself when we were making fast a short while ago.’
Ross bent to where the strong flax cordage was fastened to the bollard and began to haul up the loose end which dangled down the side of the ship. It finished after about twenty feet or so, its end frayed into numerous strands. Fidelma took it from Ross’s hands and examined it carefully. The end had certainly been cut; hacked at by an axe judging from the way the pieces of flaxen rope had frayed. The thickness of the ship’s rope would confirm that only an axe could have cut it.
‘And what of the other mooring line?’ she asked Odar. ‘Is it the same as this?’
‘Yes, but you may see for yourself, sister,’ the sailor replied.
Fidelma thanked him for bringing the matter to her attention and went to perch herself on the taffrail. She stared moodily into the middle distance. Ross, by her side, examined her with a bewildered expression. He knew when it was best to remain silent.
Finally, Fidelma let out a sigh.
‘Let us sum up what we know,’ she began.
‘Which is not much,’ interposed Ross.
‘Nevertheless … first, we know that this is a merchant ship from Gaul.’
Ross nodded emphatically.
‘True. It is about the only thing that we can be certain of. I can swear that her construction is in keeping with the methods of the ship-builders of Morbihan.’
‘Which then presumes that she might have sailed from a port in that area?’
‘True again,’ Ross agreed. ‘Merchant ships, like her, often trade along our coast.’
‘They bring mostly wine and barter for goods from our merchants?’
‘That is so.’
‘The fact that there was no cargo on board might suggest that this ship had already delivered her cargo to an Irish port?’
Ross rubbed his chin.
‘Perhaps.’
‘I’ll grant you your “perhaps”. However, if she had a cargo when it was removed, and we presume that it was removed at sea, then to remove kegs of wine would be a difficult task. Would it not be a simpler supposition that she had already unloaded the casks of wine in an Irish port and was then returning to Gaul either without a cargo or with a cargo more easily removed at sea?’
‘There is a logic in that suggestion,’ Ross admitted.
‘Then I think we are progressing,’ Fidelma said triumphantly. ‘Now, let us reflect on what else we know. There is blood in this ship. Some of the blood was below deck. There was also some blood of more recent shedding on a strip of linen found caught in the rigging and smeared on the handrail below the rigging. That blood, though dried, is not old and was probably spilt within the last twelve to twenty-four hours. The blood could belong to a crew member or …’ she paused and tried not to think of Eadulf, ‘or to a passenger.’
‘Why not to one of the raiders?’ demanded Ross. ‘One of those who removed the cargo or the crew?’
Fidelma reflected on the point and then conceded the possibility.
‘Why not? And, of course, who is to say that there was a raider or raiders? Perhaps the crew themselves took the cargo and left their vessel.’ She held up her hand as Ross started to point out the objections to such an idea. ‘Very well. The main point is that the blood seems to have been spilt during the time of the crew’s disappearance; at the moment when whatever happened on board the ship took place.’
Ross waited while she reviewed the matter silently.
‘The ship’s fore and aft mooring ropes were severed, as if by an axe. From that we learn that she must have been moored against something, not merely anchored in a harbour for the anchor is still in place but the mooring ropes are cut. Why? Why not simply untie the mooring ropes? Was someone on board in a hurry to depart from somewhere? Or was the ship tied to another vessel and then cut adrift?’
Ross glanced admiringly at Fidelma as she conjured possibilities.
‘How long was she under view until we boarded her?’ she asked him abruptly.
‘I had noticed her about half an hour before Odar drew attention to her dangerous course. We took a further half an hour to close up and board her.’
‘This means that the ship might have been close to this shore when whatever took place. Do you agree?’
‘Why so?’
‘The ship could only have been attacked within the last twelve to twenty-four hours before we sighted her.’ She suddenly straightened. ‘You know this coast well, don’t you, Ross?’
‘I know it,’ he admitted, without boasting. ‘I have sailed these waters for forty years.’
‘Can you judge by the winds and tides what place this shipmight have sailed from to the spot when you first sighted her?’
Ross looked at Fidelma’s excited features. He did not want to disappoint her.
‘It is difficult, even knowing the tides. The blustery winds are changeable and inconsistent.’
Fidelma’s mouth drooped in disappointment.
Seeing her dissatisfaction, he added hastily: ‘But I can, perhaps, calculate a good guess. I think it is safe to say that there are two probable places. The mouth of this bay or further around at the southern end of this peninsula. The tides from those points would certainly carry the ship in the direction of the spot we first saw her at.’
‘That gives us a wide area of territory to search.’ Fidelma was still not satisfied.