‘You did. I had quite forgotten that his boat had been moored at the quay on the night the girl was killed. Then the next night, one of his crew is killed. You were right to point it out. Agnus Dei!’ she ended with an exclamation.
Enda was startled. ‘What is it, lady?’
‘Gabrán’s boat was also there when Daig was found drowned. Didn’t Deog tell us that a boatman from a boat called the Cág found his body? The Cág is Gabrán’s boat.’
Enda let out a low whistle. ‘Are you sure that you recognised him, lady? It was dark.’
‘The moonlight was full on his face long enough for me to recognisethe man, Enda. His is a face that one does not forget.’
‘Then we’d better push on to Fearna in case they have mounts and ride behind us,’ he said uneasily. ‘What do you think his game is, lady?’
They began to walk their mounts quickly along the track, side by side.
‘I’ve no idea. You have done well in making this connection, Enda. It was staring me in the face and I did not see it. There is a big mystery here. It grows each moment and always, as you say, we find Gabrán close by.’
Enda was silent for a moment. Then he said: ‘I must confess that I am at a loss, lady, as to why Gabrán attacked us. Surely he must think we know more than we do?’
Fidelma had been thinking the same thing, turning over the facts as she knew them.
Usually, facts were like a string of beads. There was always a connecting thread between them even if many of the beads were missing and had to be sorted out; there was always some inevitable connection. But this time there was no thread that Fidelma could see; no connection to the facts that she had garnered so far — none except this curious fact that the thin little river boat man was always near-at-hand in every event. Moreover, he traded with the abbey and seemed to have unrestricted access to Abbess Fainder’s rooms, as she had witnessed. He also stayed at the Inn of the Yellow Mountain. Was he the thread that linked everything together? But how?
As they joined the track along the river and came up by the grim, dark walls of the abbey, Fidelma raised her head from her contemplation.
‘We will have to find out more about Gabrán,’ she finally spoke aloud, realising immediately that she was stating the obvious.
‘Do you think he realised that you recognised him?’ asked Enda.
‘I am not sure. See if his boat is still alongside the abbey quay. I suspect it is not. It would probably be moored close to the spot where we were attacked. But it is worth a look.’
They were passing the quays now and Enda swung down and handed his reins to Fidelma while he went to check on the river boats.
‘His boat was called the Cág, wasn’t it?’ Enda asked.
‘The Jackdaw, that’s right.’
Enda went to where there was a dark shadow of a boat tied up on theabbey quay. She saw a shadow emerge on the deck and heard voices. Then Enda came back, shaking his head.
‘Was that Gabrán’s boat?’ Fidelma asked.
‘No, lady,’ Enda said, remounting. ‘The man said that the Cág pulled out earlier in the evening, heading upriver.’
‘Did the man know where Gabrán comes from?’
‘I asked him that. He did not. But surely Lassar, at the inn, will know where his home port on the river is. She seemed to know him well enough.’
‘I suppose that you are right.’
They skirted the abbey walls and rode into the township straight to the Inn of the Yellow Mountain.
A stable lad came to take their horses and, as they entered the warm main room of the inn, Dego came across to them. He seemed relieved to see them.
‘I was going to ride out in search of you both,’ he said. ‘It has been dark for ages and this is not the countryside to ride freely about in the dark.’
Fidelma was reassuring.
‘I think that we would agree with you, Dego. Let us find a table near the fire and see what food Lassar can offer us this evening. Not that I feel particularly hungry tonight.’
Lassar had come bustling out of an inner room with a tray of drinks. She saw them, served her customers, and then came across with a smile of welcome.
‘I was wondering whether you would be back for an evening meal, Sister. You are late this evening. Have you been searching for the Saxon? I am told there is no news of him at all.’
Fidelma pulled off her travelling cloak and indicated a table near the large fire that was now crackling away in the hearth.
‘We have been out riding,’ she confirmed shortly. ‘We’ll sit there and you may tell us what you can offer us this chilly night.’
Lassar followed them to the table and waited as they seated themselves.
‘For the main dishes, there is a choice tonight of lonlongin, the gullet of an ox filled with minced meat and cooked like a sausage. It is a delicacy of the area. Or there is fish — salmon — or I still have some sea-calf which I serve with duilesc and butter.’
‘This meat pudding sounds fine for me,’ Enda said enthusiastically.
Fidelma wrinkled her nose a little in distaste. ‘I’ll have salmon and the duilesc.’ She had a liking for the red, edible seaweed.
‘There is the hair-onion, leek, if you like it, with goose eggs and cheese,’ added Lassar.
‘I’ll remain with the salmon but the hair-onion sounds good.’
Dego decided to accompany Enda with the lonlongin served with root vegetables. For the next half an hour or so, a silence fell on their company. For Fidelma, each mouthful was an ordeal as her thoughts returned to Eadulf and how he might be faring that cold night. Concentration was better when she had some task to fulfil; some objective. Left to her own thoughts, she fell into a morbid frame of mind. She broke the silence by turning to Dego.
‘Did you find out any more about Coba?’
Dego paused while taking a sip of wine. ‘Not really. He has a fortress not far from here, a place called Cam Eolaing. He is a minor chieftain and magistrate, well-respected and not a supporter of Fianamail’s introduction of the Penitentials.’
Fidelma was irritable. She could have told Dego as much.
‘But would he go against Fianamail to the extent that he might help Eadulf escape?’ she asked.
Dego shrugged but was silent.
‘We will go to see this chieftain tomorrow,’ Fidelma decided.
When Lassar reappeared to collect their dirty plates, Fidelma took the opportunity to ask her about Gabrán.
‘Gabrán? Why do you ask about him?’ The woman looked suspiciously at her.
‘I am interested in this river-boat trade, that is all.’
‘He has gone away for a few days now.’
‘Gone?’ asked Fidelma innocently. ‘Back to his home port? Where is it that he comes from — somewhere upriver?’
‘Not far from here — Cam Eolaing. Beyond that place the river is not really navigable for any length.’
Chapter Thirteen
Eadulf had not slept well. The pre-dawn chattering of the birds finally caused him to give up the idea of sleep and splash his face in the bowl of cold water which stood by his bed. As he towelled himself he felt a new strength of purpose. He had been left alone for an entire day since the old man, Coba, had brought him to the fortress. He was free to wander around but always within the confines of the walls and there were always guards nearby who answered him in monosyllabic tones and politely refused to elaborate on any of his questions. When he had asked to see Coba he was told that the chieftain was unable to see him. True, he had been fed well, but he was irritated that no one would explain what was happening. He wanted information.
Why had Coba given him sanctuary? Did Fidelma know where he had been taken and what his position was in law? While Eadulf had heard of this maighin digona he was not sure that he entirely understood it although he did realise that sanctuary was an ancient custom. Coba had said that he had disagreed only with the punishment handed out to him because it was not in accordance with the law of the Fénechus. But would a man really stand against his King and the highest authorities in the kingdom to such a point that he would rescue a foreigner from his death cell in total defiance of them? Eadulf was uncomfortable and suspicious of the motivations of the chieftain.