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mountains, with the summit of the mountain to the west of them and another peak to the east, called Cnoc na gCnámh, which Eadulf interpreted as the Mountain of Bones. On the southern slopes, the track dropped, winding through a wooded valley that was called the Caoimh, which meant ‘gentle’ and ‘calm’, after the name of the clan who dwelt there. They descended sharply, keeping a gushing stream to their right and crossing it before it was joined by a larger river descending from the left. Fidelma explained to an inquisitive Eadulf that it was called the river of the rough glens. From here they could now see southwards to the broad stretch of An Abhainn Mór, The Great River, and beyond it to where a complex of buildings, surrounded by wooden walls, rose on its southern bank.
    ‘Lios Mór,’ Fidelma remarked in satisfaction. ‘We shall be within the abbey long before nightfall.’
    Gormán was frowning. ‘It is some time since I was last at Lios Mór, lady,’ he said slowly, ‘but there appear to be a lot of changes.’
    Fidelma looked again towards the complex. Then she nodded. ‘There seems to be a great deal of new buildings.’
    ‘There are men still at work there,’ pointed out Eadulf as he
gazed at the distant abbey. ‘New buildings suggest that the abbey is prospering.’
    ‘Not just new buildings either,’ Gormán observed. ‘They seem to be replacing the wooden buildings with ones of stone. Someone must have endowed the abbey with wealth.’

CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
    F idelma and Eadulf were relaxing in chairs before the glowing fire in the chamber of Abbot Iarnla. One of the brethren who attended the abbot had presented them with the traditional cup of mead to refresh themselves after their journey, before withdrawing. Now they were alone with the Abbot and his dour-faced steward. The abbot reclined in his comfortable chair to one side of the hearth while his rechtaire , Brother Lugna, sat upright in his chair on the other. He was clearly not at ease. But it had been the steward who had greeted them, albeit somewhat stiffly, at the gates of the abbey before he brought them to the abbot’s chamber. They had left Gormán in the hands of the echaire , who looked after the stables, so that he could help attend to the horses and ensure their comfort.
    ‘It is some time since I have visited Lios Mór,’ Fidelma was saying. ‘It seems that the abbey is prospering.’
    ‘How so?’ inquired the abbot.
    ‘I see that much building work is going on here.’
    ‘We have to move with the times,’ Brother Lugna intervened defensively. ‘The old wooden buildings were fine for our founders over three decades ago but our community has grown quickly and now we must put up buildings that will last and proclaim the importance and purity of the community.’

    ‘As you say, it is some time since you were here,’ the abbot added, ‘and it is sad that your coming now is caused by the death of a distinguished member of our brotherhood.’
    ‘Other than yourself and your steward, who knew that we were coming to Lios Mór?’ Eadulf asked.
    The elderly abbot frowned for a moment, considering the question. ‘I did not think it a secret,’ he replied. ‘I suppose the word has spread through the community, and I certainly informed the Lady Eithne, the mother of poor Brother Donnchad.’
    ‘Is there something the matter?’ asked Brother Lugna. ‘Should your coming have been kept quiet?’
    ‘We were attacked on the road here,’ explained Eadulf. ‘It was almost as if the attackers were lying in wait for us.’
    Abbot Iarnla registered his surprise. ‘Are you saying that this attack had some connection with your coming to investigate Brother Donnchad’s death?’
    ‘Perhaps there was no connection at all,’ Fidelma replied quickly. ‘They could simply have been robbers waiting to attack any passer-by. But it does seem curious that they attacked with the obvious intention of killing us rather than merely