The Monk Who Vanished by Peter Tremayne

spite of his wound, that my brother is behind this attack.’

    Eadulf entered in dry clothes, and bearing his sodden garment over his arm.
    The innkeeper automatically took it from him and hung it on a pole in front of the fire. ‘It will be dry shortly,’ he told Eadulf before handing him the second mug of ale that he had poured. Then he turned back to Fidelma. ‘The Uí Fidgente must be mad to make such an accusation … unless it be part of their plan.’
    Eadulf drained his ale in one swallow and then started to cough as the effects of the fiery liquid were felt.
    Aona gave him a sad smile. ‘My corma is not to be taken like water, Saxon,’ he rebuked. ‘Perhaps you would like water to ease the effects?’
    Eadulf nodded, gasping slightly.
    Aona filled the mug with water from a jug and Eadulf drained it immediately, gasping for breath.
    Fidelma ignored her companion and sat staring into the fire, as if deep in thought. Then she looked up at the old man.
    ‘Are you sure, Aona, that you observed nothing out of the ordinary, nothing strange?’
    ‘Nothing at all, lady. You have my word on it,’ the old warrior assured her. ‘Donennach and his entourage arrived here last evening. The Prince of the Uí Fidgente and his personal aides slept in the inn. His warriors encamped in the fields by the river bank. They were well behaved. Then this morning, your brother arrived and they all set off together towards Cashel. That is all I know.’
    ‘They were not followed by anyone? A tall man, an archer, nor a short, rotund man?’
    Aona shook his head emphatically. ‘I saw no such people, lady.’
    ‘Very well, Aona. But keep a careful watch these next few days. I do not trust the Uí Fidgente.’
    ‘And if I see anything?’
    ‘Do you know Capa?’
    Aona chuckled humorously. ‘I taught that youngster all he knew. He was but a slip of a youth when he came to join the bodyguard of the King of Cashel. He had no more idea of warfare than …’
    Fidelma gently interrupted his memories. ‘Your pupil is captain of the King’s bodyguard as you once were, Aona. If you have news of any movement on the part of the Uí Fidgente, then send a message to Capa at Cashel. Do you understand?’
    Aona nodded emphatically. ‘That I do, lady. What else can I do for you?’
    Eadulf coughed politely. ‘Perhaps more of that brew you call corma. This time I shall treat it with respect.’

    Aona turned away to pour more of the beverage from a wooden cask into Eadulf mug. When he turned back he was frowning as if something had occurred to him.
    ‘Is something wrong, Aona?’ Fidelma was quick to notice his expression.
    The elderly innkeeper scratched the side of his nose. ‘I was trying to recall something. You asked about a tall man; an archer, and a shorter man, his companion?’
    Fidelma leant forward eagerly. ‘You did see them? You could not very well miss them if they were together. Side by side, they looked so incongruous.’
    ‘I saw them,’ confirmed the innkeeper.
    Fidelma’s expression was one of triumph. ‘You did? Yet when I asked you first, you said that you were sure they were not here.’
    Aona shook his head. ‘That was because you asked me whether they were here with the UíFidgente within the last twenty-four hours. I saw such a pair a week ago.’
    ‘A week ago?’ intervened Eadulf in disappointment. ‘Then they may not be our pair of villains.’
    ‘Can you describe the men?’ pressed Fidelma.
    Aona rubbed his jaw with his left hand as if the process would aid his thoughts. ‘I can tell you that the round, shorter man was like him.’ He jerked his thumb to Eadulf.
    Eadulf s mouth opened and an expression of indignation crossed his features. ‘What are you implying?’ he demanded. ‘That I am short and fat? Why …’
    Fidelma impatiently raised a hand to silence him.
    ‘You should explain, Aona,’ she said quietly. ‘As my companion is neither short nor fat, you have posed a question. How, then, is