Peter Tremayne - The Monk Who Vanished

He held out the candle to Fidelma but she shook her head.

‘I am lighter than you. We do not know how firm the ladder is.’

Before he could protest, she had swung over the edge and was already starting downwards into the blackness.

‘It seems firm enough,’ she called up after a few moments.

Eadulf lost sight of her as she disappeared down into the darkness of the pit.

‘You will need a candle to see,’ he called down.

There was no answer.

‘Fidelma!’ called Eadulf anxiously.

Her voice came back immediately.

‘It’s all right. I have found a tunnel. There is some sort of faint light along it.’

‘I’m coming down then,’ Eadulf replied firmly, swinging the sacullus around on his back and, holding the candle firmly in one hand, he began to descend into the well shaft using one hand to grip the outside edge of the ladder.

He had descended some ten feet into the blackness when he saw the opening which Fidelma had discovered. She had already moved from the ladder into the tunnel. She held out her hand for the candle so that Eadulf could more easily negotiate the tunnel entrance. He passed it across.

‘There is plenty of space in the tunnel,’ she assured him.

Eadulf saw that she was right. It was about three feet in width and five feet in height, so that he had only to bend forward and be cautious of hitting his head on the low, rocky ceiling. The tunnel, judging by its shape, which was almost oval, appeared to meander and its course marked it as a natural cavity formed by the corrosion of water in the limestone. It was very damp and the atmosphere was fetid. Like Fidelma, he realised that further along the tunnel there was a faint light but it did not seem natural.

‘What is it?’ he whispered.

‘I have seen it before. It is a substance which is luminous in the dark, an odd waxy matter which I have seen craftsmen use to make fire from. It is inflammable. I think the Greeks name it after the Morning Star.’

They exchanged no further word as they followed the passage. It was some time before Eadulf heard Fidelma utter a suppressedexclamation as she suddenly found she was able to stand upright. He saw that the passageway had emptied into a moderately sized cave. It was about ten feet in height, rounded and maybe twenty to thirty feet in diameter.

‘There’s no one here,’ Eadulf muttered, stating the obvious, as he examined the emptiness of the cave.

Like the passageway along which they had come, the cave was very wet and there was a small pool in the centre. There was a constant drip, drip of water from the roof striking the pool’s surface. The noise echoed and re-echoed and to Eadulf the sound seemed unbearable for any length of time.

‘It is not the sort of place anyone would remain,’ Fidelma said, appearing to read his thoughts. Then she pointed across the cave. On the far side there were two black holes marking entrances to other tunnels.

‘Two entrances. Which one shall we choose?’ she asked.

‘The right-hand path,’ said Eadulf unthinkingly.

Fidelma glanced at him but the light distorted her features so that he could not discern her expression.

‘Why choose right?’ Her voice was amused.

Eadulf shrugged. ‘Why not?’

They crossed the cave floor, which was slippery with lichen and some moss-like growth, and went into the tunnel. It was not long before the narrow passage bulged into a wider chamber. This chamber was dry and dusty. Eadulf felt the dust as he breathed in, feeling its tiny particles coating his mouth and windpipe. He coughed for a few moments.

There was dust and rocks on the floor. Fidelma stood still and held her candle up high to spread the maximum possible light.

‘The rock face here has been worked,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘What have we come into? Some sort of mine?’

Fidelma was about to make a rejoinder that this fact was obvious but she held back. She was aware of the fault of her waspish tongue. Eadulf did not deserve to be made the object of it so often. It occurred to her that she had been thinking a lot about her relationship with Eadulf of late. She had, particularly this last month, been growing increasingly irritated by his faults. These last nine months they had always been together. They had shared many dangers. Yet she was dissatisfied with the friendship and she could not understand why. She seemed to be constantly watching for his faults and reacting to them. What was the old saying? Reckoning up is an end to friendship?

She tried to bring her mind back to the present.

‘The rock here seems to be more granite than limestone. Unusual. Ah, see this, traversing the granite … argentite.’

Eadulf frowned and peered over her shoulder.

‘Silver? Is this a working silver mine?’

‘Someone has certainly been working here — and recently.’ She pointed to a broken tool on the floor. The wooden haft of a pick had recently been smashed. Judging from the newness of the splintered wood it was obvious that the handle had not lain on the floor for more than a few days.

Eadulf, in the meantime, had picked up a lump of ore and rubbed it. In the lamplight he could see the veins of white, ductile metal.

‘Let us move on,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘Perhaps we will learn something up ahead.’

Almost at once the chamber narrowed back into a passageway which only one person could proceed along at a time. It grew smaller until they were soon having to crouch as they moved along it. After a while they could hear water gushing.

‘There is a light up ahead,’ Fidelma called over her shoulder. ‘This time it is daylight. We are nearly at the entrance.’

They had to go on hands and knees before, finally, they emerged into a sheltered area filled with the sound of rushing water. One side of the enclosure was fully open to the elements. It was not so much a cave but an open area covered by a large rock overhang. This consisted of a great protruding limestone rock. As they rose to their feet they saw a pool being fed by waters which emanated from the rocks, gushing quite strongly.

‘An underground well stream,’ Fidelma explained, having to raise her voice above the sound.

They climbed out of the half cave and looked around the countryside. They seemed to have gone in a semi-circle, for the oratory and its well had been to the north of the abbey and now they had emerged on the south side of the ecclesiastical complex. In fact, they were not far from the abbey’s southern extremity. Fidelma estimated that they were no more than four hundred yards away. The abbey walls were secluded from view by a copse consisting of lines of tall spruce. Only the towers could be seen rising behind them.

‘Would Brother Bardan have come all this way when he could easily have left the abbey and walked across a field or two to come to this spot?’ asked Eadulf. ‘And for what? Do you think he has some connection with that silver working?’

Fidelma did not answer. It was pointless speculating.

It was Eadulf who caught sight of some object on the ground just beyond the mouth of the opening. He reached for it and held it up.

It was a torn piece of brown woollen cloth. There were fresh bloodstains on it.

‘Do you think this belongs to Samradán’s driver? Could the wolves have brought it here?’

He suppressed a shudder of revulsion as he conjured the vision of what must have been the fate of the driver’s body. Memory of the encounter with the wolves caused him to feel a chill in his spine. He glanced round quickly to see if he could spot the signs of a wolves’ lair in the cave entrance.

Fidelma took the piece of woollen cloth from him and examined it. She gave a negative shake of her head. Her expression was grim.

‘Samradán’s driver was not wearing clothing like that. That is the cloth usually worn by religious.’