Peter Tremayne - The Monk Who Vanished

Fidelma whispered immediately: ‘Quickly! We must not lose sight of him.’

Eadulf followed her, protesting in a hoarse whisper. He was not prepared to venture out of the protection of the abbey and was not equipped with his pilgrim’s staff. He had grown fond of it since his encounter with the wolf. But he had not thought to bring it on this nocturnal vigil.

‘Are you sure that it is Brother Bardán? Do we have to follow outside the abbey? What of the wolves?’

Fidelma did not deign to reply but was already crossing the herb garden with a rapidity that astonished Eadulf for he had to trot to keep up with her. The gate was unbolted and so they passed quickly through into the darkness of the countryside beyond.

The moon was still up, round and almost full, so the light outside the shadows of the abbey was almost twilight rather than the dark of night. There was not a cloud in the sky and the dark blue of the canopy of the sky was dotted with a myriad of twinkling lights. Yet low down on the tips of the eastern hills there was a lightness which presaged the approach of dawn. Fidelma drew Eadulf back into the shadows of the abbey’s wall and pointed.

Brother Bardán’s figure could clearly be seen now, striding rapidly across the field some distance away. He kept his head forward and was moving at a rapid pace. Fidelma looked vainly for some cover and realised that there was none. Brother Bardán was moving away from any trees or buildings and across a heather-strewn field.

With a sigh, Fidelma motioned Eadulf to follow her and beganto hurry after the quickly disappearing figure. Had Brother Bardan glanced round, Fidelma did not doubt that they would have been spotted and she had no good reason to offer why they should be following the apothecary.

After a while it became apparent that Brother Bardán’s path was leading him to a dark silhouette of a building in the corner of a large field which stood beyond the fringe of yew-trees. It was a small stone chapel. It stood in darkness and all they could make out was that it was no more than about fifteen feet in height and twenty feet in length, a tiny oratory rather than a chapel. It appeared to be made of stone and the walls seemed to merge into the roof.

Brother Bardan had disappeared into the building.

Fidelma halted and glanced about her in the moonlight.

‘If he comes out, he will surely spot us,’ Eadulf offered, stating the obvious.

Fidelma pointed to a cluster of trees which stood a short distance away.

‘That is our only cover. We will wait behind the trees until he comes out.’

‘Do you think Brother Bardan is meeting someone there?’ asked Eadulf as they settled in their new shelter.

‘Speculation without knowledge is dangerous,’ Fidelma replied with one of her favourite axioms. She was fond of repeating it.

‘You suspect that he is up to no good.’

‘I do not judge him.’

‘But you must have some idea what he is about?’ protested Eadulf.

‘Publilius Syrus wrote that a hasty judgement is a first step to being forced to retract it. We will wait to see what happens.’

Eadulf sighed and settled himself against the trunk of a tree. The ground was growing wet with the approach of the early morning and he tried to find some dried wood to sit on. Fidelma found part of a tree stump on which she took a seat and from were she could view the entrance of the building.

Eadulf leant back and sighed deeply. He closed his eyes.

A moment later, or so it seemed, he opened them and saw to his surprise that he was surrounded by the grey light of dawn. He had that sticky taste in his mouth which indicated that he must have fallen asleep. He yawned, blinking his eyes rapidly. He felt stiff and uncomfortable. He glanced at Fidelma.

She was still sitting on her tree stump, leaning forward slightly, her arms folded on her knee. She glanced at him as he awoke.

‘How long …?’ His voice was thick in his dry mouth.

‘How long have you been asleep? Long enough for the dawn to approach.’

There was no reproach in her voice.

‘What has happened?’

Fidelma unfolded her arms and stretched in her sitting position.

‘Nothing. Brother Bardan has not reappeared from the building.’ Eadulf looked at the building which was now plainly discernible in the grey light.

It was of a grey stone corbel pattern, large and rectangular. The dry stone work of the masonry was arranged to slope slightly downwards and outwards to throw off the rain. The idea of its dimensions, which they had guessed by the moonlight, had been an accurate one.

‘It is a little chapel,’ ventured Eadulf.

‘That it is,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘An oratory to pass the time in prayer.’

‘And Brother Bardan has not come out? What can he have been doing in there all this time?’

‘As you suggested, perhaps he is meeting someone. Have patience.’

Eadulf suppressed a sigh. He felt an uncommon thirst and his stomach was protesting.

‘I wish I had brought something to drink or something to eat.’

‘Patience,’ repeated Fidelma, unperturbed.

Eadulf felt frustrated. ‘Patience!’ he complained. ‘It can be an excuse for timidity of purpose disguised as a virtue.’

Fidelma did not rise to his irritation. She kept silent.

Time passed and soon the sun appeared on the eastern horizon; its first rays were weak and pale, stretching over the plains beyond the mountains. Still there was no sign of Brother Bardán reappearing. The abbey bell began to toll for the first service of the day.

Fidelma stood up purposefully.

‘What now?’ asked Eadulf, wondering what she had in mind.

‘Brother Bardán has not emerged. Now we will go in and see what he is about. I suspect he must have spotted us following him after all. That is why he is still in that chapel there.’

Fidelma moved hurriedly across the heather-strewn field towards the building, Eadulf at her side.

The doorway to the chapel was big enough to admit one person at a time and then only if they crouched as they entered. There were no windows in the building and so it was in complete darkness. Fidelma, entering first, was forced to wait a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the difference in light. The grey dawn light filtered in through the doorway. Eadulf came in behind her.

They stood just inside the door and stared about in amazement.

The oratory was empty.

There was nowhere in the interior where anyone could hide. The floor was flagged and there was only a small altar table with a carved wooden cross on it at one end. On either side of where the cross stood were two unlit tallow candles in metal holders; before the cross stood a bowl of flowers, dry and wilting.

The oratory was clearly deserted. Eadulf tried not to look smug as he said: ‘He must have sneaked by your gaze.’

Fidelma took the statement seriously.

‘The entrance was in full view all the time. He did not come out once he had gone in,’ she said firmly as she examined the interior in disbelief.

‘The evidence contradicts that.’

Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘Unlike you, I did not close my eyes.’

Eadulf allowed himself a smile of superiority but said nothing further.

Fidelma was clearly bewildered. The only explanation she could find was that Brother Bardán had left the oratory by a means other than the door. But there was no other means of exit.

With a sigh she decided to give up the attempt to fathom out the unfathomable.

‘Let’s go back to the abbey. It does not help to consider this problem on an empty stomach,’ Eadulf suggested.

The sun was growing warm now and the dew was rising. A faint mist hung in patches here and there. It did not take them long to return back across the heather fields towards the abbey. The small wooden gate into the herb garden was still open.