Fidelma examined the face of the portly Abbot in surprise.

  ‘You say that the young man tried to murder you? Tried to strangle you? But for what reason?’

  Abbot Saran sighed deeply. ‘We shall try to answer your questions, lady.’

  There came a knock on the door and Feradach went to answer it. There was a hurried conversation with the guard outside before he came back into the room.

  ‘Your companions, Aidan and Enda, have been released and are now outside.’

  It was Abbot Saran who answered for Fidelma. ‘Then bring them in, now that we are certain of their identities.’ He turned to his steward Brother Failge. ‘Organise some refreshments, for we seem to have treated our guests badly but,’ he added hastily to Fidelma, ‘through justifiable suspicion and not through deliberate malice.’

  ‘Your apology will be accepted – once you can explain how this suspicion came about and why you were attacked by the couple about whom we are enquiring.’

  While Brother Failge hurried off through the side door behind the tapestry, Feradach opened the main door and ushered in Aidan and Enda. Aidan immediately crossed to Fidelma’s side and examined her with an anxious look.

  ‘Are you all right, lady? You are not harmed?’

  ‘I am fine, as you see, Aidan,’ she smiled. ‘Aidan, Enda, this is Abbot Saran, the Abbot of this abbey. We are invited to take refreshment with him while he tells us the story of why he has been so wary of strangers asking questions in this township.’

  ‘You are welcome, warriors of Cashel,’ intoned the Abbot, in his wheezy voice. ‘Be seated at the table. You also, Feradach.’

  ‘It seems that Abbot Saran was attacked by the young man who died in the foreign wagon. He tried to strangle him,’ Fidelma informed them. ‘That was why they were so suspicious of us.’

  Aidan and Enda exchanged a glance of surprise. It was Aidan who asked the Abbot bluntly: ‘Was it you who killed him then? The man was given poison and was found dead in the wagon. We are told it took him three days to die. The girl died a short while later.’

  Fidelma was about to admonish the warrior for his rudeness but the Abbot did not appear insulted. His expression was, in fact, one of sadness.

  ‘I am a man of peace, my friend. I can assure you that they left here in good health, in spite of their actions. May their souls, if they still exist, rest in peace.’

  ‘So who were they?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘They came as visitors from the north to this abbey.’ The Abbot settled himself back in his chair. ‘They gave their names as Ultan and Ultana. These were probably not their real names, although, as you may know, these names signify the male and female forms of people who originate from the northern Kingdom of Ulaidh. They came to the abbey just over a week ago, driving the foreign wagon that you have described so accurately.’

  ‘In what manner did they arrive?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘By the main highway and across the river by ferry.’ It was Feradach who supplied the answer. ‘The man, Ultan, introduced the girl as his sister. They claimed to be members of the religious.’

  ‘Did they say where they were from exactly?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘Brother Ultan, as he called himself, said that they had travelled from the Abbey of Clochar,’ Abbot Saran replied. ‘That is in one of the northern petty kingdoms.’

  Fidelma contained her interest by asking in a casual tone: ‘Clochar is in the territory of Caipre Gabra, part of the Kingdom of Tethbae, isn’t it?’

  Abbot Saran showed no surprise at her knowledge. ‘I believe it is.’

  ‘By ox wagon, that would be a journey of several weeks,’ Aidan pointed out.

  ‘You are right, warrior. It would be a long and exhausting journey, indeed,’ agreed the Abbot. ‘The journey appeared to affect the girl more than the man. She had recourse to our apothecary.’

  ‘What was wrong?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘Exhaustion – although our apothecary told me that he suspected the girl was with child. After some rest, she recovered and seemed well enough.’

  ‘Your apothecary was right,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘She was bearing a child.’

  Abbot Saran stared at her for a moment, apparently shocked. Then he lifted his hands in a helpless gesture but made no other comment.

  ‘What was the purpose of such a journey?’ Fidelma went on after a moment or two. ‘Did they tell you?’

  At that moment Brother Failge returned with two members of the abbey, bearing various dishes and jugs of wine and mead. The table was laid and the food placed accordingly. It was clear that the abbey was wealthy and took full advantage of the fact that it was perched at a busy river port with goods arriving from all corners of the world, especially the red wine which, after a hurried blessing from the Abbot, Fidelma and her companions sipped at appreciatively.

  ‘The wine is from Gaul,’ Brother Failge offered. He had not spoken in a while. ‘This comes from an amphora shipped here only a few days ago.’ He joined them at the table and was about to point to the various dishes but became aware that he must have interrupted a conversation.

  ‘We were talking about Ultan and Ultana,’ explained the Abbot, answering his unasked question.

  It seemed a cue for Fidelma to return to her previous question. ‘You were about to say whether they explained the purpose of their journey all the way from the north to here?’ she reminded Abbot Saran.

  It was Brother Failge who, after a quick glance at the Abbot, answered for him.

  ‘The man who called himself Ultan claimed to be a scribe. The girl was his assistant. He said that he had been asked by his Abbot to collect details of the lives of some of the most influential churchmen of the land. He had come here to learn about the life of the founder of our abbey.’

  ‘I would have thought that Cainnech’s major foundation was north of here at the Field of the Ox?’ interposed Enda, who knew a little about the area. ‘Surely that abbey would be where records of his life and work are kept?’

  Brother Failge cast a quizzical look over the warrior before relaxing with a smile. ‘I do not think we need take the story that this man gave us literally,’ he assured them. ‘When I pointed out that our library held a copy of the Blessed Cainnech’s great work, Glas-Choinnigh, “The Chain of Cainnech”, Brother Ultan did not seem particularly impressed and scarcely bothered to look at it.’

  ‘“The Chain of Cainnech”?’ queried Fidelma. ‘I am not too knowledgeable about Cainnech’s work.’

  ‘It is our blessed founder’s commentaries on the Gospels,’ explained the Abbot. ‘It is of great importance for us.’

  ‘Was it his lack of interest that caused you to suspect that Brother Ultan and Sister Ultana had some other motive for being here?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘Let me tell you from the beginning,’ Abbot Saran offered. ‘Ultan and the girl, whether his sister or not, I do not know, arrived here with this story. We accepted them both and gave them hospitality. We are not a conhospitae, a mixed abbey, but we do have a small section for the female religieuses which connects with these buildings. We provided shelter for their oxen and their wagon, and food and drink for them both.’

  ‘The girl had to rest from the journey on the first day and see our apothecary,’ the steward reminded him.

  ‘I have explained that matter,’ the Abbot said.

  Brother Failge went on: ‘On the second day they became interested in exploring the abbey and particularly our central chapel.’

  ‘Then on the third day this Brother Ultan began to ask questions about the Blessed Cainnech, especially whether he had left any writings concerned with how he had come to this place and founded his church here,’ continued the Abbot. ‘He seemed particularly interested in learning about the building of the chapel and the abbey here.’

  ‘And that would be as you would expect, if he was writing about Cainnech’s life and achievements,’ Feradach said reasonably.

  ‘Exactly so,’ agreed the Abbot, ‘We had no suspicions of anything at that time.’

  ‘So, how did these suspicions subsequently develop?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘Later, some members of the brethren reported some curious incidents to my steward.’

  ‘Such as?’ Fidelma prompted, when the Abbot paused.

  ‘They reported seeing both the man and the woman wandering at night in the chapel, tapping the flagstones and appearing to listen to the echoes.’

  ‘This was at night?’ queried Aidan.

  ‘In the dead of night,’ confirmed Brother Failge. ‘These complaints … well, not complaints exactly, more reports, I suppose, came to me. I then informed the Abbot.’

  ‘So what did you do?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘What else should I have done but seek an explanation from Brother Ultan and his sister.’

  ‘Did they explain their strange behaviour?’

  ‘I have to say they did, but not to my satisfaction. They claimed that they had heard a story that the Blessed Cainnech had left a written account of the foundation of the abbey and hidden the manuscript in a safe place in the chapel.’

  ‘Were you told where – and who had given them this story?’

  ‘They said that they had promised not to reveal their source, but they thought it was true.’

  ‘You found this story unsatisfactory?’

  ‘I certainly did,’ the Abbot agreed.

  ‘So you did not accept their explanation of what they were doing in the chapel at night. What did you think that they were up to?’

  ‘I believe they had been trying to discover where the treasures of the abbey are kept.’

  Fidelma raised her eyebrows. ‘And does the abbey have treasures?’ she asked him.

  Abbot Saran spread his hands, a curious gesture from the wrists only.

  ‘You have seen that there has been much building here in recent years. Not so long ago, this was a poorly built township whose strategic position was ignored. The abbey was no larger than a church on top of the hill, with a few huts for the brethren to eat and sleep in. I take pride in the fact that during the ten years since I was appointed Abbot, I have instigated the developments that have brought wealth to the people of the township as well as to the abbey itself. One day I hope to persuade our prince, Tuam Snámha, to locate his principal city here away from the northern mountains.’

  ‘That does not explain how you brought about this miracle,’ Fidelma observed.

  Abbot Saran shrugged. ‘If it matters, I am son of Faelchair, cousin to Tuam Snámha. With my family’s support I managed to build up the quays along the river and encourage this township as a centre of trade. Soon we were able to build and expand the ecclesiastical buildings, and we are still expanding.’

  ‘So does the abbey have any physical treasure?’ She re-phrased her question.

  ‘You have only to look around. This is our treasure. Stonework from various quarries surrounding the town has gone into the buildings, black marble, dolomite, as well as red sandstone and other materials. In disturbing the earth, we have found large quantities of red gold. Our craftsmen have excelled in creating great works of art – chalices, crucifixes, book shrines – and gold, silver and semi-precious stones have also been found in the vicinity. We trade in such artefacts to other abbeys and churches.’

  ‘So you think that this was what Ultan and his companion were really after – your red gold and the items you make from it?’

  ‘What else could it be?’ Brother Failge intervened.

  ‘Is that the only treasure within the abbey?’ Fidelma asked him, ignoring the question. She held up her hand as she saw the wary expression on Brother Failge’s face. ‘I do not want to be shown it. Perhaps I should just ask if you truly believed that this Ultan and Ultana were simply thieves?’

  ‘We do have a treasure chamber,’ the Abbot replied solemnly. ‘We have become a wealthy abbey.’

  ‘So when you challenged them about what they were really doing in the chapel at night, and then told them that you did not accept their explanation, what was their response?’

  ‘Response? I told them that I could no longer give them hospitality. If I did them an injustice, then at least they had seen the abbey and knew there was nothing here that could help them with what they claimed they sought. I suggested that they travel north to the Abbey of the Field of the Ox where they might receive a better reception. I did not tell them I suspected they were common thieves just looking for the abbey gold.’

  Fidelma sighed. ‘Was this the point where this man Ultan tried to murder you – when you told him to leave?’

  ‘No, no.’ The Abbot was momentarily disconcerted. ‘They made the plea that it was too late in the day to start out so could they spend one more night in the abbey and set forth at daylight?’

  ‘And you agreed?’

  ‘I am a fair man, so yes, I agreed – what else could I do? I granted them one extra night’s hospitality on condition that they left the next morning.’

  ‘So the attack on you happened that night?’

  ‘I was restless,’ the Abbot admitted. ‘I had summoned Feradach from the town and asked him to double the guard on our treasure chamber.’

  Fidelma sniffed critically. ‘I saw your treasure chamber and guards as I entered here. If the pair were after your treasure, they must have been blind to miss it.’

  The steward looked shocked. ‘We do not try to hide our wealth but merely keep it safe.’

  ‘So you were restless,’ Fidelma went on, ignoring the steward and prompting the Abbot to continue.

  ‘I was unable to sleep and decided to get up and have a look round. I saw the guards were at their posts in the courtyard outside.’

  Feradach added: ‘The Abbot approached our guard-post well before first light. He asked me if all was secure. I answered that we had not heard a sound and that all was quiet.’

  ‘Yet I was not reassured,’ confessed the Abbot. ‘I felt something was happening but could not understand what. Something drew me to the chapel. As I paused outside the door, I saw a light flickering in the interior.’

  ‘Did you call the guard?’ asked Aidan.

  The Abbot gave a quick shake of his head. ‘Foolishly, I did not. I opened the door, stepped in and saw Ultan standing against the holy altar with a metal bar in his hand. It was one of those bars with a sharpened end that builders sometimes use or farmers use for digging out reluctant tree roots. What I could not believe was that the man was trying to shift the plinth of the altar. I was outraged.’

  Fidelma was puzzled. ‘You mean he was trying to destroy the altar or that he was trying to move it?’

  ‘I presumed that he was trying to destroy it.’

  ‘Why? He had claimed to be looking for some documents written by Cainnech. Did he have cause to believe that they were under the altar? You believed he was trying to find the abbey’s treasure. So what use would the destruction of the altar be?’

  ‘He must have been looking for the treasure,’ declared the Abbot. ‘There was nothing else. He was probably misled.’

  ‘So what did you do, having thus confronted him in this act?’

  ‘I demanded to know what sacrilege he was about, disturbing God’s holy altar. Then the next thing I knew, there was a blow across my shoulders that sent me flying. I landed on the stone floor. I did not pass out entirely because I heard the man whisper, “Leave him to me. Get the wagon ready.” I remember the words very distinctly but I did not see to whom they were addressed. I presume they were to the girl. She must have been hiding behind the door with a cudgel or some heavy stick.’

  ‘Go on,’ pressed Fidelma, when he paused.

  ‘There is little else to tell. I was barely conscious and trying to get to my hands and knees when I felt a cord around my neck. I struggled, but had no breath to cry out. I knew I was being strangled. Then all went black. The next thing I remember, I was waking in my chamber with one of the brethren bathing my face. There was a blinding light. In fact, it was daylight. I was still alive and had been unconscious for some time. I could not speak from the constriction in my throat. I was told that Brother Failge had gone with Feradach and his warriors to track down the culprits. When they returned that evening, they said they had lost their trail. As I could hardly speak, Brother Failge brought me a wax tablet and stylus; he asked me questions and I wrote down the answers.’

  Brother Failge took up the story. ‘I think it is clear what happened. The man had made one last attempt with his companion to find the treasure and was searching the chapel, believing it to be there, but was discovered by the Abbot. The girl knocked him down while her companion tried to strangle him. They then both fled empty-handed.’

  ‘Why didn’t the guards stop them leaving?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘It was only after this event that we decided to have more than a few guards,’ Brother Failge explained.

  ‘It seems the thieves had prepared their wagon the previous night, ostensibly to leave in accordance with my wishes,’ the Abbot said. ‘So it was standing ready for the oxen to be yoked. After the attack, the man and girl slipped out of the side door in the chapel and along to the rear of the stables, and left in the darkness.’

  ‘It was when I went to the chapel at first light that I found the Abbot, unconscious and barely alive.’ Brother Failge took up the story. ‘I had him taken to his chamber and attended by our apothecary before I went to fetch Feradach. We searched the abbey, but the man and girl had gone, together with the wagon and team of oxen. It was clear who was responsible.’

  ‘I alerted my men and we chased after them,’ Feradach said sombrely. ‘I was sure that we would overtake them quite easily. You cannot travel fast in an ox-wagon. But they seemed to disappear into the air itself.’

  ‘Which way did you go?’

  ‘I split my men up, as there were several ways they could have gone. We did find some tracks heading for the western mountains, but after a while we lost them.’

  ‘So you returned empty-handed that evening,’ concluded Fidelma. ‘The couple and their wagon had disappeared entirely?’

  ‘As if they had been swallowed up in the marsh,’ confirmed Feradach.