The Dove of Death sf-20

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘So you don’t believe in such phantoms as claimed by Iarnbud?’ queried Eadulf.

  ‘You should know me better by now,’ she rebuked him. ‘However, I have read Procopius.’

  ‘Procopius?’ Eadulf repeated.

  ‘The Byzantine historian who wrote about the Gothic Wars as part of his History of the Wars of Justinian. Just over a hundred years ago he recounted this story of the transportation of souls, the belief of the people of this very area of Gaul. I have heard the tale many times and yet we cannot go through life believing all the old folklore and legends.’

  ‘If it was a story purposely told to stop us investigating what was happening on the shore, what do you intend?’ Eadulf had gone to the window and was watching the area where they had previously seen the lights. There was no sign of any light or movement there now, although he could just make out pinpricks of light from the distant islands. The large ship was still a fairly discernible black shadow in the inlet below.

  ‘It is too late now but I think we should go to the shore tomorrow and see if we can discover anything,’ she said. ‘Particularly, I would like to examine that ship to see if it is painted black and has a dove engraved on its bow.’

  ‘I doubt we will see anything,’ Eadulf said in resignation, returning to the bed. ‘They have had plenty of warning to change things, having heard our story.’

  ‘Yet why do so at all when they could simply silence us? The captain had no compunction about slaughtering Bressal or Murchad.’ She was silent for a moment, and Eadulf knew she was mastering her emotions. Eventually she went on: ‘I was trying to work out the relationship between Macliau and the girl Argantken. She is without finesse.’

  ‘That one is easy enough,’ shrugged Eadulf indifferently. ‘She is his mistress.’

  Fidelma’s eyes widened. ‘Would a chieftain’s son bring his mistress into his father’s house? She is lacking in grace and manners…’

  ‘De gustibus et coloribus non est disputandum,’ sighed Eadulf. About tastes and colours there is no disputing, meaning it was better not to argue about matters of personal preference.

  He was about to get into bed when through the window came the sound of raised voices, as if in argument. They were speaking in the language of the Bretons but their tones sounded familiar.

  ‘There you are,’ grinned Eadulf. ‘I’ll wager that is Macliau and Argantken.’

  Fidelma swung out of the bed and went swiftly to listen at the window. The voices continued for a few moments and then suddenly ceased. She told Eadulf, ‘If I took that wager, you would lose. That was Trifina, and I swear the second voice was that of Bleidbara.’

  ‘And if that were so, what of it?’ Eadulf enquired tiredly, lying down.

  ‘Did you notice that Bleidbara seems to be enamoured with the lady Trifina, who studiously ignores him, but the girl with the dark hair who was serving us was making cow’s eyes at him while he acted oblivious to her?’

  Eadulf had not heard the expression ‘cow’s eyes’ before but he got the idea.

  ‘I wonder what they were arguing about?’ mused Fidelma as she returned to the bed.

  ‘Unrequited love?’ yawned Eadulf. ‘If the young man is enamoured of Trifina, then maybe he chose this moment to seek her out and make his protestation of love. And if she was not interested, she might well have stated it in strong terms. Is it really any of our concern?’

  Fidelma pulled a face at him.

  ‘I am not concerned at all. Mysteries interest me, that is all. Anyway, we’ve had a long day. We will talk about these things tomorrow.’

  Chapter Eight

  Eadulf came awake with a start. The room was bathed in that cold light that marks the moments after an early-summer sunrise when the sun is still shrouded by cloud. He wondered what had disturbed him and then he heard a movement by the window. Fidelma was sitting there, wrapped in a cloak and staring out to sea. Eadulf eased himself up on the bed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He found himself speaking in a whisper.

  Fidelma glanced at him without moving from her perch on the sill.

  ‘I’ve been sitting here watching since just before dawn. Sometimes, at that hour, people will move about thinking the world is asleep. I was hoping to see the ship and get some explanation for the lights last night.’

  ‘Is it the same ship?’ queried Eadulf, swinging from the bed.

  Fidelma beckoned him. ‘See for yourself.’

  Eadulf hastened across the cold boards and stared out. The ship had gone. There was no sign of it.

  ‘If you were here before dawn, then the ship sailed in the night,’ he gasped. ‘Bleidbara must have moved it immediately after the meal, warned by our conversation. Perhaps we should not have referred to it?’ he added in mild rebuke.

  ‘I feel that the answer to this mystery is out there — on one of those islands,’ Fidelma continued, ignoring his censure. ‘I can see no sign of the vessel at all.’

  ‘The banner of a dove flies above this castle,’ contradicted Eadulf. ‘The answer must be here.’

  ‘I was thinking that if the answer was that simple, then our presence should have concerned our hosts enough to attempt to be rid of us.’

  Eadulf shivered a little and tried to put it down to the early-morning chill. He went to put on his sandals before returning to stare out at the seascape before him. There was a faint morning mist rising from the dark outlines of the islands dotting the waters of Morbihan. The sea was flat and calm, glinting now and then as the sun broke through the clouds. Visibility was fair but he could see no movement on the waters.

  ‘We are not even sure that Bleidbara’s ship is the sea-raider,’ he said reasonably.

  ‘It would be a coincidence if it were not,’ Fidelma mused. ‘It would explain how the ship’s cat reached the abbey.’ Observing her husband’s hesitation, she went on: ‘Let’s consider this: our ship is attacked and you observe a carving of a dove, which is a strange emblem for a warship to have. It sails off, having taken our ship as a prize. We escape and eventually land here, where we come across the ship’s cat, wandering wild. We find a merchant and his companions attacked, killed and robbed. One of the slain has a torn banner clutched in his hand that also bears the symbol of a dove. We are told that this symbol is the emblem of the lord of Brilhag. We are more or less taken prisoner by his warriors and brought inside this fortress where the same flag of these raiders flies above us. We see a warship anchored in the inlet below which is said to be in the service of this same lord and captained by the commander of his warriors, Bleidbara. There are strange lights along the shore and we are told some ancient legend which is meant to scare us from investigation. What is the logical deduction?’

  Eadulf smiled wanly. ‘You have always taught me that there can be more than one answer,’ he pointed out.

  A frown of irritation crossed Fidelma’s brow, since she immediately admitted to herself that he was right. The logic was tenuous — and it was only the mystery of how Luchtigern, the cat, had come to the abbey that made her determined to follow that logic.

  ‘Very well. If there is more than one logical interpretation of these facts, then it is the task of the dálaigh to investigate and discover which is the correct one,’ she said at last.

  Eadulf was about to respond when there was a knock on the door. It was the mournful girl who had been in charge of the servants during the night before.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, ‘but I heard your voices and wondered whether I can be of assistance to you? I can order the preparation of your breakfast, if you wish.’

  Automatically Fidelma replied that they would wash first and come down for breakfast later.

  The girl inclined her head and was about to leave the chamber when a thought suddenly occurred to Fidelma.

  ‘Wait,’ she called. The girl turned expectantly back into the room. ‘What is your function here?’

  ‘I am the stewardess of this household, in charge of the running of its domestic a
ffairs and of all the household attendants.’

  ‘You speak excellent Latin,’ Fidelma commented. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Iuna, lady.’ A faint smile hovered on the girl’s lips but did not form completely. It was as if she had disciplined her features to remove all emotions from them. ‘You are about to observe how can a mere servant be educated? This is Armorica, lady — although we now call it Little Britain by virtue of the refugees from Britain that have flocked to our shores during recent centuries.’

  She seemed to offer it as an explanation. Eadulf remained puzzled and said so, and therefore the girl continued with further explanation.

  ‘This was part of Gaul, conquered by the Romans, and it became a province of their empire centuries ago. Many of the great families were brought up for generations as bilingual, with Latin as well as their native tongue. You will even find that many of the Britons who came here were also adept in Latin, for Britain, too, was a province of Rome. So many people speak Latin quite naturally and as well as they speak their own language.’

  ‘Ah,’ smiled Eadulf, ‘then it also explains why your Latin is so different from that which we were taught.’

  Fidelma thought she should say something here in case the girl thought he was insulting her command of the language.

  ‘My land, Hibernia, was never part of the Roman empire, and the Latin we have learned is from the texts, not the colloquial form that you speak as a living language. I have noticed that Iarnbud also speaks a Latin that does not derive from the ancient texts.’

  The girl shrugged as if she was uninterested. However, Fidelma saw a glimmer of suspicion in her eyes.

  ‘How long have you been in service here?’ she asked.

  ‘Most of my life,’ the girl replied shortly. ‘Now if there is anything you desire…?’

  ‘What are your bathing customs here?’ Fidelma attempted to mollify her. ‘We did not bathe last night and I should have asked but neglected to do so.’

  ‘You have only to express your wishes, lady,’ replied the girl. ‘They will be fulfilled.’

  As Eadulf knew, the people of Fidelma’s land bathed daily, generally in the evening when, before the main meal, they had a full body wash in hot water. It was a custom Eadulf still found slightly alien, for he had grown up when a bath, apart from a swim in a local river, was very infrequent. Baths were attended with perfumes and soap called sléic. In the morning, it was the custom to wash only the face and hands and often in cold water. So Fidelma passed on her wants to the girl and was assured that bowls of water would be brought to them immediately, together with any toilet articles that might be wanted.

  When they eventually came down into the great hall for breakfast, they found no one else there except the girl, luna, preparing the table.

  ‘I believe that Macliau still sleeps as he was late to bed,’ she explained when Fidelma asked where everyone was. ‘Iarnbud left in the night. He never accepts the hospitality of the fortress but prefers to sleep on his small boat…if he ever sleeps.’

  Fidelma’s eyes narrowed at the comment. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The bretat is a strange man. He was raised in these islands,’ the girl gestured with a hand. ‘He sails the Morbihan at night when seamen fear to sail the dangerous waters. It is said that he is of the old religious and communes with the Otherworld. He wanders the woods and forests and islands almost as a recluse, and yet he appears here whenever lord Canao has need of him.’

  ‘More superstition,’ muttered Eadulf in the language of Éireann.

  ‘And where is the lady Trifina?’ asked Fidelma, ignoring the comment.

  ‘She left the fortress before first light.’

  Fidelma was surprised. ‘Is that usual?’ she asked.

  ‘It is not my place to comment on what the Lady Trifina does,’ replied the girl softly.

  ‘Of course. And Brother Metellus?’

  ‘He was late to bed as well. I believe that Macliau and Brother Metellus were slightly the worse for drink.’ Iuna’s voice was disapproving.

  ‘And the girl, Argantken?’

  ‘I have no idea where Macliau’s guest is.’ The voice this time held an obvious meaning. ‘She is a local girl and may come or go as she pleases. Now, is there anything you desire for breakfast?’

  Fidelma had the passing impression that it was Iuna who was in charge of them rather than being the servant fulfilling their wishes.

  They chose a frugal breakfast of barley bread, some cheeses and cold spring water. And when they had finished, Fidelma asked: ‘Will there be any objection to our leaving the fortress?’

  The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  ‘You are guests,’ she replied. ‘You are free to come and go as you will. But what should I tell lord Macliau and your companion, Brother Metellus, when they discover that you have gone?’

  Fidelma was patient.

  ‘I hope we shall return before they are even awake. It was my desire merely to take a stroll along the shoreline below us.’

  ‘Then it might be advisable, lady, to take one of the guards for your protection.’

  ‘We will be within sight of the fortress, just along the inlet below.’

  The girl opened her mouth as if to protest and then seemed to realise it was not her place to do so.

  ‘As it pleases you, lady,’ she said tightly.

  They left the great hall and walked down to the main gates that were opened, although two warriors stood guard by them. One of the warriors greeted them and Fidelma responded before passing on. They were not questioned and no one objected to their passage, which Eadulf had been expecting, fully believing they were prisoners. Now he began to wonder whether his fears about Brilhag were valid. He silently followed Fidelma along a winding pathway that led across the headland to make a rapid descent to the shore.

  The sun was higher now, and slightly behind them. The mist had cleared from the stretch of water before them, which was now reflecting the blue of the sky. The nearest islands stood out clearly, although they became hazier in the distance.

  Halfway down the path, Fidelma glanced back across her shoulder towards the fortress. Then at the shoreline before them.

  ‘This is where we saw those lights last night, along this stretch,’ she said. Then she added quietly, ‘Don’t look round, but we are being followed.’

  Eadulf stiffened a little. ‘Followed? By whom? The guards did not seem to be interested in us.’

  ‘I think it is Iarnbud. I am not too sure.’

  Eadulf compressed his lips in annoyance. He had been about to dismiss his fears about their being prisoners and now they swam back into his mind again.

  ‘Is it just he who is watching us?’

  ‘Just he,’ she replied, turning and moving quickly on, following the steep path as it wound down to the sandy shore. Then she halted. She had been expecting to find a line of fishermen’s huts or other buildings from which the lights had emanated. There was nothing. Stepping onto the white sands of the beach, she looked up and down. There was nothing to be seen in either direction. Eadulf regarded her with a puzzled expression as she began to walk along the beach, eyes down, concentrating on the sand, going 100 metres or more before turning back and then walking the same distance in the opposite direction.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Does anything odd catch your attention?’

  ‘Apart from our friend sitting on that hill watching us?’ he replied.

  Iarnbud was now sitting on a rock on the hill from which they had descended and trying to look inconspicuous.

  ‘I mean about this place,’ Fidelma replied.

  Eadulf shrugged. ‘What should catch my attention? It’s just a normal sandy beach with nothing else.’

  ‘Exactly. No fishermen’s cabins, no sign of boats. And look at the sand. There are no footprints or signs of disturbance; it is as if nothing has been here.’

  ‘Perhaps this was not the exact place where we saw the lights
,’ Eadulf suggested, as baffled as she was.

  Fidelma jerked her head towards the distant fortress. ‘Look again.’

  Eadulf realised that this was the only shore that could be seen from the window of their chamber in the fortress. He looked about him more carefully, then shivered superstitiously as he remembered the story Iarnbud had told.

  Knowing him of old, Fidelma reassured him. ‘The intention of the story was to frighten us from investigating this beach. Look, Eadulf — they were so worried that they have eliminated all traces of whatever activity has gone on here! That confirms there is a mystery — and that mystery will lead us to the sea raiders.’

  ‘Eliminated all traces?’ Eadulf was sceptical. ‘You are surely guessing.’

  Fidelma controlled her irritation.

  ‘After all this time,’ she responded quietly, ‘you should know that when I am putting forward a hypothesis, I say that I am doing so. When I make a statement of fact, then it is a statement of fact. Look at this.’

  She crossed the sand to the treeline and pointed. Following, Eadulf looked at the object she had indicated. It was a short branch of horse chestnut, snapped off but leaving its thick foliage on it. It was only now that Eadulf realised what the curious patterns across the dry, grainlike sand were.

  ‘Someone used that branch to sweep away any marks in the sand,’ he noted.

  ‘Just so. And don’t pick that branch up in case our friend on the hill sees that we have spotted it. We will walk along the shore as far as that rocky outcrop there.’

  Eadulf pulled a face but followed her, thinking out loud.

  ‘There are, of course, several innocent reasons as to why people should be loading boats by torchlight here. Bleidbara said his men were taking supplies to the ship.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Fidelma in conciliatory fashion. ‘This is a natural landing-place by the fortress and, as Trifina said last night, they have a similar dwelling on one of the islands. Why shouldn’t they be transporting things to and from and at whatever time of the day or night they think fit? Bleidbara was quite open about it, once he had permission from Trifina. You did not see the looks passed at the table last night?’