The Monk Who Vanished by Peter Tremayne Page A

he like the man you claim to be built in such a fashion?’
    Aona grimaced. ‘I did not mean that he looked like the Saxon, either in stature or features. No, I meant that the man was a religieux and that he wore his hair cut in that similar fashion which is unlike the tonsure of our Irish monks. I noticed it most particularly.’
    Fidelma’s eyes narrowed.
    ‘You mean that he wore a tonsure on the crown of his head cut in the same fashion as my companion?’
    ‘Have I not said as much?’ protested the innkeeper. ‘Why I noticed it so particularly, and found it curious, was because it was no longer clean-shaven but as if he had started to grow his hair to cover the tonsure.’
    ‘What else can you describe about this short man?’
    That he was short and of ample girth; that his hair was grey and
curly otherwise. He was of middle age and although he did not wear the clothes of the religious, he certainly had the manner of one.’
    Eadulf glanced to Fidelma. ‘That sounds like our assassin.’ He turned back to the innkeeper. ‘And what of his companion?’
    Aona thought a moment. ‘I think the other man was fair-haired. The hair was long at the back. I cannot be sure. He wore a cap and was dressed in a leather jerkin. He carried a quiver and bow and by that token I thought he was a professional bowman.’
    Fidelma sighed in satisfaction. ‘Near enough, I think. And you say that these two were in this very inn a week ago?’
    ‘So far as I can remember. The only other thing that makes me clearly remember the pair was the discrepancies in their build. Just as you have pointed out.’
    ‘You do not recall from whence they came nor where they went.’
    ‘Not I,’ replied the innkeeper.
    Eadulf’s face fell. ‘That means we know no more than we did before.’
    Fidelma pursed her lips in disappointment.
    The door suddenly opened and the boy whom Fidelma had spoken to about his fishing entered.
    Aona gestured to the child. ‘My grandson, Adag, might be able to help you further. He served them while I tended their horses.’
    Before she could raise a question, Aona had turned to his grandson. ‘Adag, do you remember the sport you made of the two fellows who were in the inn two weeks ago?’
    The boy placed his fishing line and basket on the table and glanced nervously at Fidelma and Eadulf. He said nothing.
    ‘Come on, Adag, you are not in trouble. You must remember that you had such fun because one was tall and lean and the other short and fat and together they made a funny pair?’
    The boy inclined his head almost reluctantly.
    ‘Can you tell us anything about them, Adag?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘Apart from their appearance that is.’
    ‘Only that one was fat and the other a bowman.’
    ‘Well, that we know. But what else?’
    Adag shrugged indifferently. ‘Nothing else. I served them while my grandfather attended to their horses.’
    ‘So they came on horseback?’ Eadulf pointed triumphantly. He turned to Fidelma. ‘Unusual, for the monk to travel on a horse.’
    The child stared at him curiously. ‘Why so, when you and the Sister here travel on horseback?’
    ‘That is because …’ Eadulf was about to respond when Adag’s grandfather interrupted.

    ‘You have to learn, boy, that some religious do not have to abide by the general rule against riding on horses if they are of a certain rank. I will tell you more, later. Now reply to the lady’s questions.’
    Adag shrugged. ‘I remember that the fat one handed the bowman a leather purse while they drank together. That is all.’
    ‘Nothing else?’
    ‘Nothing, save the fat one was a stranger.’
    ‘A foreigner?’
    ‘No. A man of Eireann but not from the south, I think. I could tell by his accent. The bowman was from the south lands. I know that. But not the monk.’
    ‘You did not hear what they spoke about?’
    The boy shook his head.
    ‘Did anyone see from which direction they came?’
    ‘No. But the fat one did arrive first,’ offered