‘You saw him alive?’ The boy looked incredulous.
‘A lady called Aourken has been looking after him in the village near the Abbey of Gildas. The Barnacle Goose must have put in there.’
‘I do not know the abbey,’ the boy said. ‘One of the men who held us captive threw him overboard. He must have swum to shore.’
‘How was this? I thought cats didn’t swim.’
‘Luchtigern can. He’s a ship’s cat. But I didn’t think he made it to the shore.’
‘What happened exactly? Tell me from the moment the ship was captured.’
‘After you and the lady Fidelma jumped in the sea?’
‘Exactly so.’
‘They sent a skiff out after you but we saw you picked up by a sailing boat, which took you quickly out of reach. The wind turned and that man in the white clothing recalled the skiff. He told us to work the ship, with his men watching us to make sure we obeyed. We were ordered to dump the bodies overboard…Murchad, Gurvan, Menma, Lord Bressal. The one in white remained on board with his men, while his own ship followed us closely.’
‘Go on,’ encouraged Eadulf, when the boy hesitated.
‘The helmsman who took over headed for the coast. At least I thought so, but there was a wide gap between two headlands and suddenly we were in a strong current that propelled us at a fast speed between these two points of land. We were all surprised to find ourselves in a large inland sea dotted with islands. The Barnacle Goose was sailed round the eastern headland while the other ship held off. We were steered fairly close to shore and then the man in white and another man left our ship and rowed to the shore. That’s when Luchtigern was thrown overboard. He scratched this man and the man simply picked up Luchtigern and threw him over the side. I was held back so I could not see what happened.’
‘Well,’ Eadulf reassured him, ‘at least he managed to get ashore. That must have been on this peninsula they call Rhuis. What happened then?’
The boy shrugged. ‘The man in white disappeared, while the other, who had rowed him ashore, returned to the ship and we sailed on again until we came to this creek — and then we were all forced into the hold. We must have been held there for many days before you came. How did you find us? How were you saved? What…?’
Eadulf held up his hand to stem the flow of questions.
‘All in good time. Did you see or hear anyone since you have been here? Did the man in white return?’
Wenbrit shook his head. ‘No. They fed us once a day. Some of us could understand their speech for we have traded along these shores before, though no one knew of this inner sea — they call it the Little Sea, I am told. But even the knowledge of their speech did not help us because they refused to talk to us except to give us the food.’
‘And you heard nothing of any other prisoner being brought to the ship?’
‘As I say, Brother Eadulf, nothing did we hear until you came and opened the door to our prison. We did not even know there was a lady on board.’
Eadulf pursed his lips reflectively and glanced to where Trifina was standing by the railing, aloof and isolated. He then turned back reassuringly to the boy.
‘Well, all will be sorted out soon. And your cat was fine and healthy, last time I saw it.’
‘I suppose Hoel will be captain now that Murchad and Gurvan are dead?’
‘I suppose so. That is the crew’s decision. I think he was Gurvan’s assistant.’
‘Second mate,’ corrected the boy gently.
‘When we are ready, Hoel will have to sail us back to Aird Mhór.’
‘He’s a good seaman,’ said the boy solemnly.
The crew of the Barnacle Goose had cleared the deck of the bodies of the dead and transferred the prisoner to join the others on the Morvran. Buckets of water had been hauled up to wash away the blood and remove all signs of the recent conflict. Under Hoel’s instructions, the crew had also examined all the spars, sails and ropes to ensure that nothing had been tampered with and all was in working order.
Finally, Hoel came to inform them that the ship was ready.
Bleidbara smiled. ‘Excellent. I am leaving a couple of my best seamen to guide you out of here, and we’ll rendezvous off Brilhag.’ He turned to Eadulf. ‘I shall leave Trifina with you. Keep a careful watch on her…you know what I mean.’
He then addressed Hoel. ‘Our rowing boats can tow your ship stern first out of the creek. Once you have room to manoeuvre, then we’ll let you loose and it should be easy sailing.’ He gestured at one of his men. ‘This one is a good helmsman. You may put your trust in him to guide you through these waters to Brilhag.’
Bleidbara raised his hand, a quick gesture of farewell, and then followed Heraclius back over the side into the small boats.
The tow ropes were fixed and soon the ship, after the mooring ropes were cast off, was being pulled stern first into deep waters. Once clear of the shore they moved into a breeze that whispered against their sails. Ropes from the rowing boats were cast off and they could hear Hoel give the orders to hoist sail. With a crack of canvas they fell into place and the Barnacle Goose moved freely once again across the waters. Behind them, like a watchful guardian, came the sleek lines of the Morvran.
There had been consternation at Brilhag when the guards reported two ships moving into the bay below the fortress. But Fidelma recognised the first ship as the Barnacle Goose and her heart began to beat rapidly. Then she realised the escort was the Morvran and was filled with excitement and hope that Eadulf was alive and well. With a word of reassurance to King Alain, she raced headlong down to the small quay. Boric was about to launch a dinghy and readily agreed to take her out to the ships. She did not want anyone else from Brilhag to speak with Eadulf and Bleidbara before she had had a chance to hear their story.
Now, seated on the deck of the Morvran, where Eadulf had come to join her, she listened quietly to their story. At the end of it she peered across at the Barnacle Goose. She could see a boat being lowered.
‘Trifina has persuaded them to take her ashore already,’ she remarked. As Bleidbara stirred uncomfortably, she added: ‘Don’t worry. She will not be going anywhere other than Brilhag.’
‘But I believe she is involved in this,’ pointed out Bleidbara sadly. ‘Nothing else makes sense. Yet I do not want to believe it, lady. However, she did not appear to be a prisoner on the ship. And she has always felt that she should be the successor to her father. It all seems to fit together and yet…and yet…’
‘Yet you are in love with her,’ Fidelma finished for him. ‘Did she mention Iuna?’
‘Only to claim that it was Iuna herself who had abducted her. Trifina says that once she was placed in the boat, Iuna returned to the fortress. She also claims that she knew nothing about Ceingar being killed.’
‘How is Iuna — do we know?’ Fidelma asked.
‘When we passed Govihan, Heraclius went ashore to find out how she is, and promised to bring the news to Brilhag later.’
Fidelma stretched almost languidly, murmuring, ‘Well, I think all falls into place.’
Bleidbara frowned, puzzled, but his anxiety overcame the questions that rose to his lips.
‘We should be away soon, lady. We have to catch the tide to take us out into the Great Sea. We must get to the rendezvous at dusk to pick up the leader of the Koulm ar Maro — they will find the Morvran waiting for them instead.’
To their surprise, Fidelma gave a negative sign with her hand.
‘They will not be at that rendezvous. So there is no need for you to go.’
‘I don’t understand, lady,’ Bleidbara said. ‘How do you know this? Do you mean that because we have captured Trifina…?’
Fidelma rose and walked to the rail of the Morvran; she leaned forward, watching the dinghy bobbing on the waters away from the Barnacle Goose, making for the quayside below the fortress. They followed her gaze and could see the figure of Trifina in the stern.
‘The leaders of this intricate plot are
now at Brilhag,’ Fidelma told them. ‘The culmination of the plan was due to happen here, before dusk, before they left to escape on their ship.’
‘Then you do know who they are?’ demanded Eadulf in astonishment.
There was a smile at the corner of Fidelma’s mouth.
‘Patientia vincit,’ she reproved with good humour. ‘We will have patience and allow our conspirators a little more slack rope. Don’t you agree, Bleidbara?’
The young warrior looked perplexed. ‘Whatever you say, lady. I will follow your orders.’
‘We will hold our investigation in the great hall at dusk. I have already asked permission of King Alain, who has now arrived. Also, the bretat that Brother Metellus sent for is here. Word has been delivered to those who need to attend, such as Barbatil. But now that the Dove of Death already realises that the plan is thwarted, that the ship is sunk and there is no escape, the next step is an uncertain one. Will they, at this late stage, attempt to carry out the final act to which these last two weeks have been leading?’
Bleidbara looked startled and Eadulf was just as bewildered.
‘The final act? What is that?’ he asked.
Her good humour banished, Fidelma looked grimly at each of them in turn.
‘Why, the assassination of the King, Alain Hir, by the family of the mac’htiern of Bilhag. An attempt to put a new ruler on the throne of the Bretons.’
Chapter Twenty
The great hall of Brilhag was crowded. Dusk was gathering outside and numerous oil lamps, unglazed earthenware receptacles with a snout to support the wicks, had already been lit in the main body of the hall. Their flickering flames caused a smoky atmosphere to permeate the interior of the building, sending out a pungent aroma. With the people crowding into the hall, the place was warm, uncomfortably so. The ornate tables had been carried to one side, and chairs and benches placed for people to sit. Facing the main body of the hall, a small platform had been raised by the servants in front of the large fireplace. It was a wooden construction on which four wooden chairs had been placed. Behind each was a tall, wrought-metal candleholder in which beeswax candles were lit.
King Alain and Riwanon had seated themselves on the centre chairs. The red-haired ruler of the Bretons had a sombre expression. The attractive Riwanon was colourfully dressed, so that many an eye focused in her direction. On the King’s right sat Lord Canao, the mac’htiern of Brilhag, Alain’s close friend. He looked anxious, his forehead creased in a permanent frown. When he appeared, there had been many angry mutterings from the local people now pressed onto the benches to hear the judgement of Macliau by the King and his bretat. To Riwanon’s left sat Budic, the handsome son of the King and commander of the bodyguard.
An elderly man with slightly stooped shoulders sat just in front and below King Alain. He was the bretat Kaourentin of Bro-Gernev who had arrived to be the impartial judge of the proceedings. He did not inspire confidence in Fidelma. He was a thin-faced man, with a pale complexion, a beak of a nose and a look of permanent disapproval on his features. His long, once-fair hair was a dirty white, tied at the back of his neck with a ribbon. Fidelma sat directly opposite him, with Brother Metellus at her side as translator. On Metellus’ other side was Eadulf, then Bleidbara and Heraclius, their bench being slightly to the right of the elderly judge and thus opposite Riwanon and Budic. Facing Alain and Lord Canao, on the first bench sat Macliau, stubborn-looking, his chin held aggressively high, like a child about to be censured by its father. By his side was his sister Trifina, slouched on her seat with melancholy eyes downcast.
Behind them, all the other benches were filled. Among the people crowded there Fidelma had spotted Barbatil, the farmer and father of Argantken, Coric his friend, and the elderly Aourken. At the back was Hoel, now elevated to captain of the Barnacle Goose, with Wenbrit the cabin boy and other members of the crew. Fidelma presumed that the rest of the crowd consisted of local people and members of the community of the abbey. At strategic points around the hall were warriors of the King’s bodyguard, together with some of the warriors of Brilhag led by Boric.
There was a suppressed excitement in the great hall. The murmurs rose and then gradually died as Alain Hir cleared his throat. He opened with a few words in his native language, phrasing them in a rich baritone that commanded people’s immediate attention. Then he switched easily into Latin.
‘My friends, since the language common to most of us is Latin then I enjoin you to use it. For those who do not possess knowledge of it, your friends will know who you are. Please will those friends go and sit beside you now — in order to translate, so that you may understand what is being said. I make this special concession in this hearing due to the fact that we have a foreigner among us who will make a plea before us, and, not being proficient in our language, will do so in Latin.’
Fidelma was about to rise when the old judge, Kaourentin, did so quickly and half-turned to acknowledge the King.
‘I have to speak for the law we share among our kingdoms and over which you, Alain Hir, preside.’ His voice was dry and rasping. ‘It is a custom and has been observed from time immemorial that no foreign person, especially one unable to speak our language, may plead before our judges, let alone in the capacity of a prosecutor. I raised this matter with you last night when, after my arrival, the nature of this case was explained,’ he added reproachfully.
Alain the Tall gazed down at him.
‘You made your point eloquently last night and I have weighed your words most carefully. However, I have decided, in the exceptional circumstances which face us, to allow Fidelma of Hibernia to state why she should be allowed to speak here.’ He raised a hand to silence the judge, who was clearly about to make further objections.
Fidelma now rose and smiled quickly at the King. Then she took out the hazel wand of office, the wand of a techtaire or ambassador, that she had been carrying ever since she had picked it up from the deck of the Barnacle Goose, where it had fallen from Bressal’s nerveless fingers.
‘This is the symbol of office of an ambassador, which the people of Hibernia hold sacred, and which sacred office was violated. It fell from the hand of Bressal, who came to you in peace. He came to conclude a treaty with your kingdom and mine. As sister to my brother, Colgú, King of Muman in the land of Hibernia, I now pick it up and claim that role.’
‘Your rank and position are recognised here,’ conceded King Alain.
‘Your courtesy is only exceeded by your wisdom, Alain, King of the Bretons,’ she replied. ‘I thank you. Let me make it plain that I am not here to prosecute in your court. I am an advocate of the laws of my country but that does not give me the knowledge to plead in your laws, which I freely admit remain unknown to me. What I would wish is to be allowed to present to those gathered here some facts. Should they be accepted and it is felt that there is a charge to be answered under your laws, I merely hand these facts to you. To you, Kaourentin, so that you may pursue them to a logical conclusion within the constraints of your law.’
The elderly man gazed at her with his dark suspicious eyes.
‘These facts that you have gathered by means of investigation — did this involve the questioning of people?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘What authority had you to do so?’ Kaourentin smiled thinly. ‘Again, it is our law that no foreigner can come into our kingdoms and use subterfuge and guile to extract information to present for legal use.’
‘Subterfuge and guile? That is a strange way of putting it,’ Fidelma observed.
‘A law nevertheless. So you admit that you have no authority to have made such an investigation?’
‘I did not concede that I had no authority to do so.’ Fidelma glanced meaningfully at Riwanon, who flushed slightly.
‘She acted under my authority, I think,’ the wife of Alain Hir announced.
Kaourentin, his brows drawn, turned to her. ‘You say that you think she acted on your authority? How is this?’
‘I
told her to find out who killed Abbot Maelcar.’
‘Hah!’ Kaourentin exclaimed. ‘May I remind you that the charge against Macliau, son of Lord Canao, is that he murdered the girl called Argantken?’
‘The charge is further that he is the person behind the Koulm ar Maro, the sea raiders, and thereby responsible for all the deaths that occurred here,’ Fidelma reminded him.
‘The Queen has said that she told you only to find out who killed Abbot Maelcar,’ quibbled the bretat.
‘If it makes it clearer, Riwanon reiterated her authority on the very morning Ceingar was killed and when Trifina and Iuna were abducted, which authority included the other deaths,’ Fidelma told the old judge calmly, but wondered whether he was being pedantic or obstructive. ‘The words used in front of Budic and of Eadulf were that I had “complete authority” to do so.’
King Alain made an irritated sound and bent forward.
‘My wife has explained this, Kaourentin. If that is not enough, then her authority is now confirmed by my own authority for, my wife in our law, always acts under my name.’ He spoke sharply, clearly annoyed by this legal attempt to stop Fidelma speaking after he had given his permission for her to do so.
‘Forgive me, sire.’ Kaourentin was bowing to him. His voice was suave. ‘It is my duty to instruct in the law and ensure that all is done according to its principles.’
‘Having done so,’ King Alain replied in a heavy tone, ‘may we finally proceed?’
Kaourentin inclined his head and, sitting down, added: ‘Speak, Fidelma of Hibernia. But remember that the primary reason we are gathered here is to hear the case against Macliau, son of Lord Canao, and consider his defence.’
Fidelma allowed the ripple of voices to spread through the great hall and eventually die away. She liked to concentrate her mind for a few moments when she was about to present a case before the Brehons of her own country. She realised that she would be limited in what she had to claim, since she had none of the legal supports of her own laws to back her. She was not even sure that she would be able to cross-examine any of the people she wanted to. But for the sake of justice she had to pursue this course with all the eloquence that she could command. It was her duty.
The Dove of Death sf-20 Page 32
