‘Has any attack taken place on Cashel?’ Eadulf intervened, knowing how anxious Fidelma was about her brother.
‘We do not know,’ Ross replied. ‘Beccan has been instructed to confine Adnár and any others who might support Gulban. He will protect the abbey until he hears further from Bran Finn. As soon as we hear news from Cashel then Beccan can sit in judgment on the matter of the abbey deaths.’
Fidelma considered for a moment or two.
‘That is acceptable to me, Ross,’ she agreed. ‘In fact, the delay is a help for there are a few more points I wish to clear up before I present my case. But are we safe enough here from Gulban’s men?’
Ross silently indicated the warship of Cashel in the inlet.
‘A fair enough guarantee,’ grunted Eadulf. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘And here comes the local chieftain, Adnár, to make himself known to the Brehon.’
A boat was pulling away from the quay of Dún Boí and crossing the water. The black-haired figure of Adnár could be seen sitting in the stern.
‘I think, Ross, that I would like to come out to your barc and have a word with Sister Comnat,’ Fidelma said, not particularly wishing to confront Adnár again at that moment.
Ross immediately helped Fidelma into his boat, with Eadulf following, and they were able to leave before Adnár’s boat arrived at the quay.
They found Sister Comnat in the cabin of Ross’s barc. While her face was a little strained, she appeared in far better health than when Fidelma had last seen the elderly religieuse.
‘Is everything all right?’ Sister Comnat asked almost immediately as Fidelma and Eadulf entered the cabin.
‘Apparently we will not know that for a day or two, sister,’ replied Fidelma. ‘However, Torcán of the Ui Fidgenti can be added to the list of deaths in the abbey.’
‘The son of Eoganán of the Ui Fidgenti? Has he been at the abbey?’ There was alarm on the face of the elderly librarian.
Fidelma seated herself on the side of the bunk and gestured to Sister Comnat to resume her seat.
‘You mentioned that you saw him training Gulban’s men when you were captured with Sister Almu?’
‘Yes.’
‘Brother Eadulf has identified him as the young chieftain in charge at the mines.’
‘Yes. He was at the copper mines.’
‘Tell me, Sister Comnat, as you are a good scholar, do you know the meaning of the name Torcán?’
Sister Comnat was perplexed.
‘What has that to do with anything?’
‘Indulge me.’
‘Well, let me see … It would derive from torcc, a wild boar.’
‘You told me that Sister Almu said something to you before she escaped which you did not understand, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. She said …’ Her voice trailed off as she realised the connection. ‘Perhaps I heard the remark wrongly. Almu said something about a wild boar, or so I thought … Are you saying that it was Torcán who helped Almu escape and then slew her? But why? That doesn’t make sense.’
‘You mentioned that Almu was a friend of Síomha, didn’t you?’
Sister Comnat nodded.
‘They were very good friends.’
‘If Almu had reached the abbey safely, it would have been natural for her to seek out Síomha, perhaps, before speaking with, say, even the Abbess Draigen, wouldn’t it?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Let me take you back to the day that the old beggar came to sell you the copy of the work by the High King Cormac the work called Teagasg Ri. Do you remember that?’
Sister Comnat was baffled. She would have demanded to know why Fidelma was leaping from one subject to another but she caught the glint in the young advocate’s eye.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘It was the week before Sister Almu and I set out for Ard Fhearta.’
‘Did the beggar come directly to the library?’
‘No. He went to the abbess and gave her the book. The abbess then sent for me and asked me whether it was worth buying. Abbess Draigen has many talents but librarianship and the knowledge of books is not one of them. I saw that it was a good copy.’
‘There were no pages cut or damaged in the copy?’
‘No. It was in excellent condition for a book so old. It hadan additional value. At the end of the book was added a short biography of the High King. So I agreed that the abbey could well buy it or barter food for it with the old man.’
‘I see. Did the abbess keep the book?’
‘No, I took charge of it and brought it straight to the library. I asked Sister Almu to examine it and catalogue it.’
‘Sister Almu was a competent scholar in spite of her tender years?’
‘Very competent. She wrote a good hand and knew Greek and Latin as well as Hebrew.’
‘Did she know Ogham and the language of the Féine?’
‘Of course. I had tutored her myself. She had a quick mind. With respect to her shade, she was not entirely devoted to the propagation of the Faith but she was particularly enthusiastic in her attitude to books and fond of ancient chronicles.’
‘So Sister Almu examined the book?’
‘She did.’
‘If she had found anything of significance in that book, to whom would she have talked about it?’
Sister Comnat frowned slightly.
‘I am the librarian.’
‘But,’ Fidelma chose her words carefully, ‘if she did not want to bother you, might she, as a friend, confide in Sister Síomha?’
‘It is possible. I do not understand why she should do so.’
Fidelma stood up abruptly and smiled.
‘Do not worry, Sister Comnat. I think I am beginning to understand more completely now.’
Outside, on the deck, Fidelma asked Ross if one of his sailors could row them directly to Adnár’s fortress. On the way across, Eadulf confessed his total perplexity even though Fidelma had discussed all the events that had occurred since she had arrived at the abbey of The Salmon of the Three Wells. Eadulf had seen Fidelma’s bland expression before. He knew the meaning of the trite, composed features. Thecloser Fidelma was to her quarry, the more she was loath to reveal what was in her mind.
But she laid a hand on his arm and was reassuring.
‘We will not be able to have the hearing until Beccan is prepared,’ she said. ‘Plenty of time for you to obtain an understanding.’
‘Are you saying that Almu and Síomha shared some secret that Torcán was after? A secret that he killed them for and would have killed us?’
‘You have a quick mind, Eadulf.’ Fidelma smiled briefly. Then the boat had come up alongside the quay of Adnár’s fortress.
A warrior barred their entrance to the fort.
‘Adnár attends at the abbey, sister. He is not here.’
‘It is not Adnár that I wish to see. It is Olcán.’
‘Olcán is a prisoner. I do not have the authority to let you see him.’
Fidelma scowled.
‘I am a dálaigh of the courts. You will accept my authority.’
The warrior hesitated and then, observing the gathering storm on her brow, decided on a hurried retreat.
‘This way, sister,’ he muttered.
Olcán was locked in a cell in the vault below the fortress. He looked dishevelled and angry.
‘Sister! What is happening?’ he demanded, springing up from where he had been laying on a straw palliasse. ‘Why am I being held captive like this?’
Fidelma waited until the warrior had removed himself outside the cell, closing the door behind him, before replying to the young man.
‘Hasn’t Adnár told you?’