The Seventh Trumpet by Peter Tremayne

drawing on. The chapel stood in gloom and the body of the envoy that they had brought to it earlier was still stretched out before the small wooden altar. Agreeing that nothing would be revealed by any closer search of the buildings, they returned to their horses and set off back to the tavern of Fedach Glas.
    As they turned into the tavern yard, Enda came running out to meet them. It was clear that something was very wrong, from his anguished expression.
    ‘What is it?’ Fidelma demanded without dismounting. She had a premonition of what he was going to say.
    ‘Lady, I have failed you. It is my fault. Biasta has fled – he used my horse to get away. Fedach Glas has no other horse here so I could not ride after him. The scoundrel tricked me and escaped.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

    ‘W hat exactly happened?’ Gormán demanded, the suppressed anger clear in his tone.
    ‘He said that he needed to go to the privy,’ replied Enda unhappily. ‘I suspected nothing. He went outside, and the next thing I heard was the sound of my own horse galloping off. By the time I ran out, he was vanishing along the road.’
    ‘How long ago did he leave?’
    ‘Long enough not to be overtaken if you set off after him now. The tavern-keeper had no horse to chase him, unfortunately.’
    ‘He went north, otherwise we would have seen him,’ Eadulf commented.
    ‘One thing I noticed,’ the unhappy warrior said. ‘As he galloped off, I saw that his cowl had been flung back. He wore no tonsure. I don’t think he was a religieux.’
    ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Fidelma replied.
    ‘It is my fault,’ Enda said dispiritedly.
    ‘Truly, it is your fault,’ snapped Gormán. He turned to Fidelma. ‘What now, lady? Do we chase after him?’
    ‘We must certainly find him,’ she said. ‘He has many questions to answer.’
    She swung down from her horse and hitched it to the rail. Her companions followed suit and she led the way into the tavern. Saer was still seated with a mug of ale before him. Fedach Glas and his wife Grella faced her nervously. Fidelma spoke directly to the tavern-keeper.
    ‘I am told you have no horse. Do you have any animal at all, even a mule or plough horse, that you can let us have?’
    Saer looked up from his ale and gave a chuckle. ‘If you could run quickly, you could have secured yourself a good horse on the Black Heath.’
    Fedach Glas stared at the carpenter. ‘What nonsense is this?’
    ‘I tell no lie,’ the carpenter responded. ‘At dawn this morning I saw a good stallion running wild on the heath. I had half a mind to try my luck to catch it. But I don’t have the skill.’
    Fidelma was impatient. ‘We do not have time to indulge ourselves in fantasy. Is there nothing that you have, Fedach Glas?’
    ‘I do not, but my cousin has,’ answered the tavern-keeper. ‘He runs the farm on the hills behind us and has two good horses – but they are there to work the farm, not horses such as you ride.’
    ‘Then we must borrow one. Will you go and bring it back here and, if possible, obtain a saddle of some sort.’
    ‘A plough horse would not be able to overtake a warrior’s horse,’ protested the tavern-keeper.
    ‘I do not mean it to do so. I merely want it to transport this warrior, Enda, back to Cashel, that is all.’
    Enda was chagrined. ‘Are you sending me back to Cashel, and on a plough horse?’
    Fidelma waited until Fedach Glas had set off on his errand and then turned to the disconsolate warrior.
    ‘I am not doing it as a punishment, Enda. There are important messages to be taken back to Cashel. Tell Caol and my brother what has happened here. That we believe the body is, indeed, an envoy from King Fianamail of Laigin. We suspect that Brother Ailgesach had something to do with this matter, but he has been killed by someone calling himself Brother Biasta. Also, I want you to go on to Imleach, taking some documents and a Missale that I shall give you. They are valuable, so put them into the