‘Do you agree with Enda that this Biasta is not a genuine religieux, lady?’ asked Gormán. ‘Enda says that he doesn’t wear a tonsure.’
It was Eadulf who answered for her. ‘Even if he did, anyone can cut their hair to create the right appearance.’
‘All we know for certain is that he killed Ailgesach, whom he claimed was his cousin,’ added Fidelma. ‘There are many questions that must be answered before we start speculating.’
Eadulf suddenly turned to Fidelma in a burst of excitement. ‘I have just realised! Saer said that he saw a good stallion running wild upon the heath. It could have been the missing horse of the murdered envoy.’
‘It could,’ she said. ‘However, we now have other matters to concern-Wait! Someone is approaching.’
A cart, being pulled by an ass, was creaking round a bend in the road ahead of them. Seated on a pile of sacking and cursing volubly at the animal straining in the shafts was a fat, balding man, whose dress proclaimed him as a merchant. The back of the cart was filled with farm produce and sacks of wheat and corn. He eased on the reins as he approached them.
‘Are you bound for Durlus?’ He greeted them with an apprehensive smile, having noticed Gormán’s weapons. Lone merchants travelling on isolated roads so late in the day sometimes had reason to be ill at ease. ‘You’ll not make it before sunset.’
‘We are aware of the position of the sun,’ replied Gormán dryly. ‘Have you seen any other travellers on this road?’
‘Only a few,’ said the man, realising that the warrior’s party were not dressed as he imagined bandits might be, and thereby relaxing a little. ‘A lady and her companion stopped me earlier and asked where they could find a boatman to transport them to Imleach. Of course, I said the river didn’t go there and it was best to get to An Ghabhailín, the fork of the river, and-’
The fat merchant was garrulous but Fidelma interrupted him. ‘A lady and her companion? From what direction were they travelling?’
‘Coming from the south, as you are.’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf in surprise. ‘How long ago was this?’
‘Some time after midday,’ the man said with a shrug.
‘After midday? But that is a long time ago,’ Gormán pointed out suspiciously.
‘Indeed, that was before I pulled off the highway to Cill Locha. I had some trading to do there. I have only just rejoined the highway to the south but I am not going to make even Fedach Glas’s tavern before dark. I wanted to be in Cashel before sun-up.’
‘The man and woman,’ Fidelma said musingly. ‘They were looking for a boat to take them to An Ghabhailín … Where would they get that from?’
The man shrugged. ‘Hard to say, and they would have had to abandon their horses. No boats are going to take horses downriver. As a matter of fact, I suggested that they might try Mugrón’s tavern …’
‘That is where I was suggesting we might halt, lady,’ Gormán intervened. ‘It’s a ferry crossing on the Suir. We have to leave this highway and take a small track to the west.’
The merchant nodded. ‘You have the place correct. The lady did not seem happy and I think that she would have preferred to travel on to Durlus. But I’d be surprised if those two were able to pick up a boat today. Even if they abandoned their horses, they will find little traffic on the river. There is some festival or other, I think, which most boatmen are attending. Anyway, I left them to the joys of the day.’
Fidelma was thinking. ‘How long ago was it that you say you directed this woman and man to Mugrón’s tavern?’
‘Oh, it was quite a while ago.’ He suddenly chuckled. ‘As I said, I had to go to Cill Locha. I trade with the farmer there. Funny thing …’ He paused with a smile and shook his head.
‘What is funny?’ demanded Eadulf.
‘Well, I had only just rejoined this highway, a short while ago, when a religieux on horseback came riding up behind me. He asked if I had seen a man and woman on horseback, saying that they were friends and he wanted to catch up with them. He described them and so I told him what I have told you.’
‘A religieux on horseback?’ queried Eadulf, trying to suppress his excitement. He gave the man a brief description of Brother Biasta and Enda’s stolen horse, but the merchant shook his head.
‘That wasn’t the man or the horse, which was a roan mare. This man was young, had black hair and features that were best worn with a scowl. A curious fellow. He turned and made off back northwards at a gallop. When I watched from the brow of the hill, I saw him miss the turning along the track leading to Mugrón’s tavern.’
They watched in silence as the merchant cracked his reins and his cart trundled off down the road. Then Fidelma smiled at Eadulf’s disappointment. ‘The merchant did say that when he turned back on to the highway and was heading south, this religieux came up behind him. So the man came south along this highway and was not riding north as Biasta was.’
Eadulf heaved a sigh. ‘Well, we might be in luck in catching up with the mysterious couple who stayed with Brother Ailgesach.’
The sun had sunk completely below the western mountains, and twilight was spreading long dark shadows from the east by the time they heard and saw the rippling waters of the Suir. The great river rose on the slopes of the mountain of Beanán Éile to the north-east and pushed in a great semi-circular route through the kingdom, around Cashel itself, almost in the shape of the blade of a sickle before joining two other great rivers, the Bhearú and the Fheoir, in one giant estuary which emptied into the sea beyond. Merchants used the river for trading, bringing large vessels as far up as the ‘honey fields’ south of Cashel, while smaller vessels could navigate the river as far as Durlus Éile. It was in the Suir that Fidelma had learned to swim with her elder brother and where they both had learned to fish for brown trout and salmon.
On a bend of this river, in the gloom of the early evening, they could see a group of wooden buildings, one of which had the outline of a chapel. The others seemed to be a curious mixture of half-finished living cabins. They slowed their horses to walking pace as they approached.
‘Curious,’ observed Gormán, peering around.
‘What is?’ asked Fidelma. ‘Apart from the fact that this place looks unfinished.’
‘That is just it, lady. This is Mugrón’s tavern. When I was here last time, it was a substantial building with a flourishing business.’
It was Eadulf who had been sniffing the air and who finally pointed beyond one of the newer buildings. ‘There has been a fire here. It looks as though part of this place was burned down.’
They moved forward cautiously and examined the buildings. Now they came closer, the signs of fire were obvious. None of the buildings had escaped and not one possessed a complete roof. The structures that had once housed the tavern and quarters for the guests and horses were certainly unusable. They could now see the ash covering a lot of the site. Even the chapel was derelict.
‘Is this recent?’ Eadulf asked.
Gormán regarded the remains with a keen eye before answering. ‘I’d say it was fairly recent. No longer than a couple of weeks.’
‘Someone careless with their cooking fire?’ mused Eadulf. Such accidents were not unknown among these types of wooden buildings, especially in the dry summer months. But no one bothered to answer him.
‘Talking of fire …’ Gormán was pointing towards the remains of another derelict building further down by the riverbank. A plume of smoke was rising into the darkening sky behind it.
The warrior dropped a hand to his sword-hilt and nudged his horse gently forward. The others followed him without speaking. Turning the corner of the ruined structure they came on to the bank of the river, a broad area of flat grass looking almost as if it were cultivated. The object that held their attention was a small fire — a cooking fire, for above it was placed an old iron firedog on which a large brown trout was gently roasting. There was no one by it, but signs showed that someone was nearby. A platter lay on the ground ready. There was a kettle of water in which two more brown trout were immersed. And they could see a wooden board on which someone had cleaned the fish before putting it on the spit.