‘That was not the case. When the body of the boatman was discovered by Daig, Daig knew it was a crewman from Gabrán’s boat. He called Gabrán to identify the man and it was Gabrán who noticed that the goldchain, which the man usually wore, was missing, as well as some coins recently paid him in wages. Lassar, the innkeeper, gave testimony that the boatman had just left her inn with plenty of money on him. Gabrán had apparently just paid his wages in the inn. Hence the reason for the man’s drinking. It was clearly a robbery.’
‘Very well, So how did the path from the attack on the boatman, without any witnesses, lead to Brother Ibar?’
‘It was a day later that Ibar was caught. He was found trying to sell the boatman’s gold chain in the market square. The irony was that he tried to sell the chain to Gabrán himself who then called Daig, after which Ibar was arrested, charged, found guilty and hanged.’
Fidelma grew unhappy at this recital.
‘It was a stupid thing to do if Brother Ibar was guilty,’ she reflected. ‘I mean, to attempt to sell a gold chain that belonged to the victim to the very man who was his captain? Surely, if Gabrán was well-known for his trading at the abbey, Ibar would have been aware that Gabrán might recognise the chain? He would have sought out a less dangerous method of disposing of it.’
‘It is not up to me to guess what went on in Ibar’s mind.’
‘Gabrán, as you have pointed out, had been trading with this abbey for some time. How long had Brother Ibar been here?’
The abbess shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
‘I think he had been here some time. Before I came here, anyway.’
‘Then my point is valid. What did Brother Ibar say in answer to the charge?’
‘He denied everything. Both the killing and the theft.’
‘I see. How did he explain the possession of the chain?’
‘I really can’t remember.’
‘Why would Brother Ibar want money so desperately — if we accept that he did kill and rob the boatman?’
The abbess shrugged and did not reply.
‘And what happened to Daig? How did he get killed?’
‘I told you that it was an accident. He was drowned in the river.’
‘A captain of the river watch, drowned?’
‘What do you insinuate?’ demanded Abbess Fainder.
‘I am merely making an observation. How could someone qualified enough to be captain of the watch among the quays have such an accident?’
‘It was dark. I believe he slipped and fell from the quay. As he didso, he knocked his head against a wooden pile and was therefore unconscious, drowning before anyone could help him.’
‘Was there any witness to that accident?’
‘None that I am aware of.’
‘Then who told you those details?’
Abbess Fainder frowned in annoyance. ‘Bishop Forbassach.’
‘So he investigated that death as well? How long after Brother Ibar’s trial did this accident happen?’
‘How long? As I recall, Daig met his death before the trial.’
Fidelma closed her eyes for a moment. She should cease being surprised at the curiosities connected with the events at the abbey.
‘Before? Then Daig’s evidence was not presented at the trial?’
‘There was little evidence needed. Gabrán was the main witness. He was able to identify the murdered man. He told of the circumstances of the missing money and also identified the gold chain which Ibar had tried to sell him.’
‘It all seems very convenient. This Gabrán was the only one who put forward the motive of robbery for the boatman’s murder; he was the only one who claimed the items had been stolen and was the only one who then linked Brother Ibar with the crime. And, on that one man’s testimony, Brother Ibar was hanged. Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘Why should it worry me? Bishop Forbassach had no difficulties in accepting that evidence. Besides, it was not simply on Gabrán’s testimony. When Daig was told that Ibar had tried to sell the gold chain, he caused a search to be made of Ibar’s cell here in the abbey and it was there that the chain and money were found. Anyway, the matter of Ibar has nothing to do with the Saxon, Sister. What are you trying to prove? I would have thought that your duty as a dálaigh now lay in helping us try to recapture the Saxon.’
Fidelma stood up abruptly. ‘My duty as a dálaigh is to seek the truth in this matter.’
‘You have heard the facts and the facts are many.’
‘Falsehood often goes further than the truth,’ Fidelma said, remembering a comment from her mentor, the Brehon Morann.
There came the distant chiming of a bell, tolling the midday Angelus.
Abbess Fainder also rose to her feet. ‘I have duties to perform.’
‘One more question first; where might I find the chambers of Abbot Noé?’
‘Noé?’ Abbess Fainder seemed surprised at the question. ‘This is nolonger the abbot’s main residence, although he keeps an apartment here. He now has chambers in the palace of the King, but you will not find him there. He left Fearna yesterday morning for the north. He is not expected to return for a while.’
‘For the north?’ Fidelma was disappointed. ‘Do you know where he has gone?’
‘The bishop’s movements are not my concern.’
Fidelma inclined her head and left the abbess in her chamber. When she reached the small quadrangle, some instinct made her pause in the shadow of a stone recess. After a moment, the abbess emerged from her chamber and went hurrying across the quadrangle. She did not go in the direction of the chapel where the members of the community were gathering for midday prayers, but left through a side gate.
Fidelma followed at a distance. On opening the wooden gate she found it was a connecting door into another quadrangle, the very one whose gates led out onto the quay. She quickly drew back behind the gate, leaving it slightly ajar, because the abbess was in the middle of the courtyard mounting a horse. No one else was about. Then the abbess walked her horse through the gates. Fidelma was amazed that the abbess would leave her abbey when the Angelus bell was ringing, calling the community to its devotions. She wondered what was so important to draw her away.
Fidelma walked swiftly across the courtyard to the still-open gate which led onto the quays. She looked up and down but there was no sign of the abbess and her horse. Once beyond the gate, the abbess must have sent the horse into a canter, so quickly had it disappeared. However, to her surprise, Fidelma then saw Enda, on horseback, emerge from the shadow of the abbey walls and send his mount trotting along the riverbank in a leisurely fashion. He was clearly following the abbess.
A broad smile came to her face. She had almost forgotten that she had asked Dego and Enda to attempt to find out where the abbess went riding, and she had not rescinded that order. At least Enda would be able to follow and resolve the mystery.
Chapter Eleven
Fidelma was still thinking about Abbot Noé after she had returned to the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. She was surprised that he had not made a point of being in Fearna during this time. As both abbot and spiritual adviser to Fianamail, Fidelma had expected him to figure more prominently in the proceedings. Eadulf had told her he had sat at the original trial. Apart from his alleged role in supporting the cause of the Penitentials, he had not, however, been prominent in any of the subsequent events.
Why Fidelma found Abbot Noé a subject for her thoughts she could not really say. From the little she knew of the irascible abbot, she was surprised that he had appointed someone to take charge of his former abbey who sought to change the laws of the land. As she remembered Abbot Noé, he had been supportive of the Fénechus law system. Yet she knew from her past experience with him that he was a devious man and given to intrigue. She could not help wondering if he had played a major role in this mystery.