The features of Conna became immobile.
“I am not responsible for that.”
“If you recommended a thief to persuade another to receive stolen property, then there is your responsibility-chieftain or not.”
“This boatman was trading here at the time. I did not vouch for his character. I simply told Ségán of the fact. Ségán was saying that he wanted to expand the number of barges he had. I introduced them, that is all.”
“Tell me about this boatman.”
“What can I tell you?”
“His name, where he came from, where he is now.”
“His name was Dathal. He came from a downriver port.”
“You say that you had never seen him before?”
“I didn’t say exactly that. I know that he traded along the rivers.”
“You have bought cargoes from him?”
“He was only a boatman. The man he worked for owned the cargoes. The man who imports the cargoes from the land of the Britons or the Franks.”
“With whom did you transact your business, then?”
Conna was hesitant but no match for Fidelma in her most assertive manner.
“I always gave the money to Dathal,” he admitted. “I presumed that he was selling the barge on behalf of his master.”
“Do you know where this Dathal went?”
“Back to Eochaill, I presume.”
Fidelma let out a sighing breath.
“This is not the first time that boatmen have brought you a cargo and then sold their barge before leaving, is it?”
The expression on Conna’s face confirmed the suspicion that was in her mind.
“Dathal sold the barge two weeks ago, is that right?” pressed Fidelma. “Who sold a barge six weeks ago?”
“I bought a cargo then. The boatman’s name was Erc and he was from Eochaill. Erc and his men sold their barge to a trader from The Ford of the Cairn not far upriver. That was over four weeks ago.”
Fidelma suddenly smiled brightly. The smile seemed to disconcert Conna.
“Then I have no need to bother you further. You may be required to attend the Brehon Court at Dair Inis. It depends. You will be informed in due course. In the meantime, I shall trouble you no more.”
She turned swiftly and with Ross trotting in bemusement at her heels she returned down from the fort to where they had moored the curragh.
“Where now, lady?” demanded Ross, scrambling in after her. “Upriver to the Ford of the Cairn?”
Fidelma shook her head with a smile of satisfaction.
“No, back to Eochaill. I think the mystery is cleared up.”
Two days later the merchants Abaoth and Olcán stood before her.
“Ah yes. Abaoth, you claim compensation for the loss of your cargoes due to the disappearance and theft of Olcán’s barges. Two losses in the same month, one six weeks ago and one two weeks ago. Is that right?”
“It is, learned dálaigh,” agreed Abaoth nervously.
Fidelma turned to the glowering Olcán.
“And you counter this claim, Olcán?”
“Of course,” snapped the man. “The loss of my barges and crews and the loss of the money for the transportation of cargoes for which I have not been paid is the compensation that I seek.”
Fidelma nodded absently and sat back.
“I have made some investigation into this matter,” she said slowly. She turned to Olcán. “You may rest easy in that your barges and crews have not disappeared.”
The merchant returned her gaze in astonishment.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“Both ships were, indeed, the subjects of theft. Their cargoes were sold, sold to Conna of the Maige Féine. The barges were then disposed of by selling them to local merchants-after they had been repainted, of course.”
Abaoth was shaking his head.
“Who was responsible?” he asked wonderingly. “What has Conna to say of this?”
Fidelma was suddenly grim.
“The crew of each barge willingly diverted from their course and took the barges upriver along the Bríd to Conna’s Fort. There they sold the cargoes and then the barges, and disappeared.”
“The crews were the thieves?” Abaoth sounded aghast.
“They were acting under orders,” replied Fidelma. “They acted under orders of the man who they were working for.”
Abaoth turned to Olcán, whose face was reddening in rage.
“How dare you. .?” he began.
Fidelma shook her head.
“The plot was yours, Abaoth.”
The fleshy merchant was stunned.
“Are you accusing me of robbing my own cargoes?” he demanded, suddenly pale.
“It was a good way at getting double the money for the same cargo. Money you wanted in order to compensate for the loss of one of your ships. You sold your cargo to Lios Mór. Then you did a deal selling your cargo to Conna who, of course, supplies the Prince of Maige Féine. Now, if you could persuade the crews of Olcán to work with you and disappear with their barges after they had delivered the cargoes to Conna then you would have the added bonus. You could also come here and seek compensation from Olcán for the loss of your cargoes. If successful that would cover compensation to Lios Mór and obtain more money for you. It was a complicated and ingenious plot, Abaoth.”
“You cannot prove it.”
“I can so. Olcán’s men were willing to do your bidding because Olcán was not a generous master anyway. There is a lesson for you to learn there, Olcán.”
Olcán scowled angrily but said nothing. Fidelma continued to address Abaoth.
“You paid the crews some initial money but, as their major share of the deal, you allowed them to sell the barges and pocket that money. Now it would look peculiar if the boatmen and all their families disappeared at the same time from Eochaill. When I checked these families I did find that most of them had already left the port. Those that remained behind told me that you, Abaoth, were looking after them. I wondered why. It was not your responsibility. I found it difficult to believe that a man with financial problems would be such a great philanthropist. There was another thing-when I visited Serc I surprised her with her husband Dathal who, I believe, was your main contact with the crews and who acted as your intermediary with Conna.”
Abaoth was standing white-faced and silent.
“Do I have to waste my time in presenting the proof of these matters, Abaoth? I shall not be so generous in allotting fines and compensation if I have to spend unnecessary time in doing so.”
Abaoth’s shoulders had slumped in resignation.
Fidelma turned to Olcán who was a picture of anger as he regarded the merchant.
“Olcán,” she said sharply, “you would do well to ponder on what motivated your men to be persuaded to betray you. There is a saying that a closed hand only gets a shut fist. It is bad fortune that always attends a mean person.”
LIKE A DOG RETURNING.
It’s very beautiful,” Sister Fidelma said softly.
“Beautiful?” Abbot Ogán’s voice was an expression of disbelief. “Beautiful? It is beyond compare. Worth a High King’s honor price and even more.”
Fidelma frowned slightly and turned toward the enthusiastic speaker, a question forming on her lips. Then she realized that the middle-aged abbot was not looking at the small marble statuette of the young girl in the robes of a religieuse, which had caught her eye as she entered the chapel of the abbey. Instead, he was looking beyond the statuette, which stood at the entrance to a small alcove. In the recess, on a small altar, stood an ornate reliquary box worked in precious metals and gemstones.
Fidelma regarded the reliquary critically for a moment.
“It is, indeed, a valuable object,” she admitted. But the reliquary box was not unusual in her experience. She had seen many such boxes in her travels, all equally as valuable.
“Valuable? It is breathtaking, and inside it is the original Confessio penned in the hand of Patrick himself.” Abbot Ogán was clearly annoyed at her lack of homage before the reliquary.