‘Sire?’ Fidelma queried the style of address.
‘I am Clotaire, ruler of this realm,’ explained the young man.
Fidelma and Eadulf had no time to react to this news as Brother Budnouen had whipped up the mules and they had to hang on to the swaying wagon for balance as it surged forward. Fidelma could not believe the usually plodding animals could move so fast.
‘There is a fork coming up on the track ahead,’ yelled the young man. ‘Take the right-hand path. God willing, we should soon meet some of my guards.’
Brother Budnouen, bending over the reins, merely grunted.
The wagon careered round onto the right-hand fork almost on two wheels. For a moment Eadulf thought it must overturn. They all clung on fiercely but, with a thump, it pitched back on its four wheels again and they were speeding down a dark avenue of trees. Eadulf later admitted that he had never seen a mule team moving so fast. But mules are not as fast as horses. The warning came from Clotaire.
‘They’re gaining!’ he roared, glancing over his shoulder.
Some way behind them, half a dozen horsemen had emerged from the cover of the trees and were racing after them, heads down close to the arching necks of their steeds. To Fidelma’s expert eye, she could see that the pursuers were trained horsemen.
‘Let’s hope your guards are not too far ahead,’ cried Eadulf apprehensively.
‘Your prayers in that direction would be appreciated, Brother,’ Clotaire responded grimly.
Then he unslung a hunting horn from his side and blew several long blasts on it. A moment later, he turned to Fidelma. ‘Sister, I would advise you to get down in the wagon and find better cover. They have bowmen with them and at the moment you present a good target.’
Fidelma did not need any further explanation. She lowered herself just below the driver’s box where Clotaire also sheltered. She was about to suggest that Eadulf follow her example when it happened.
There was a whistling sound and Brother Budnouen gave a startled cry. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Brother Budnouen was still sitting on the driver’s box in absolute stillness, like a statue. Then blood began trickling from his mouth and down his chin and, as Fidelma’s gaze followed the stream of blood, she saw that an arrow head and part of a shaft were sticking out from where Budnouen’s Adam’s apple would have been, while the remainder of the arrow protruded from the back of his neck.
Then, with the reins dropping from his nerveless hands, Brother Budnouen slipped slowly sideways and pitched from the bouncing wagon.
The way Eadulf seized the reins and recovered the momentum, moving into the seat that the unfortunate Brother Budnouen had occupied only a split second before, startled even Fidelma. He had moved so quickly that he had grasped the reins even before the Gaul had fallen from the wagon.
‘Keep down!’ cried Clotaire. ‘Damn them to hell! Someone will pay for this outrage!’
Fidelma pushed down into the wagon to try to make herself as small a target for the bowman as possible.
‘Let us hope we survive to see it,’ she muttered.
Clotaire gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Well said, Sister.’
He glanced up at Eadulf, who had slid down in the driver’s seat so that he had the backboard as a protection, nodded his approval and said grimly, ‘Damned thieves. They will pay.’
Two more arrows whistled in the air and thudded in the board of the driver’s seat just above them.
Once more, Clotaire blew several urgent blasts on his hunting horn.
Fidelma could not help but say: ‘Thieves they might be, but that bowman is exceptional. To deliver those shots from a galloping horse is not a skill you will find in most robber bands.’
Clotaire stared at her, a thoughtful look coming over his features.
‘You know something of these things, Sister?’
‘I know a little,’ confessed Fidelma.
The horsemen were getting close now, and within a few more seconds would overtake the straining mule team.
Then Eadulf gave a sudden shout. ‘Riders in front of us!’ he cried.
Fidelma saw the leading pursuers suddenly hauling their horses to a standstill and trying to turn back. There were a few moments of confusion before they were galloping away.
Clotaire stood up in the wagon as nearly fifty riders streamed around.
‘Brother,’ he shouted to Eadulf. ‘You can halt now.’ Then he turned to the leader of the newcomers, shouting instructions in his own language.
The leader raised a hand and waved to his followers, after which they set off in pursuit of the robbers, leaving a group of twenty warriors behind as guards.
The young man next addressed three warriors that he had picked out. As they moved off in turn, Clotaire turned to Fidelma and Eadulf, a sombre look on his face.
‘I have sent them along the path to find your companion. I’ve told them to see what can be done for him. If nothing, to bring his body back here and with all reverence. He gave his life in saving mine. Now, I thank you for your timely assistance. I am sorry that it has caused the loss of your companion, Sister…? You are a Sister of the Faith, are you not?’ He continued to speak in a fluent Latin.
Fidelma bowed her head with gravity.
‘I am Sister Fidelma of Hibernia. This is Brother Eadulf. The man who was slain, for I have little hope that he lives from such a wound, was a Gaul named Brother Budnouen.’
The names had a surprising effect on the young king. A look of incredulity formed on his face.
‘Fidelma of Hibernia? Fidelma of Cashel? Eadulf her companion? Are you Fidelma the famous lawyer and sister to the King of Mew-in?’ It was a good attempt to try to pronounce the name of Muman.
Fidelma exchanged a surprised glance with Eadulf.
‘I am of Cashel, which is the capital of my brother, Colgú, the king. And I am a dálaigh, that is an advocate of the law of my country,’ she replied.
The young man seemed pleased. ‘Then your reputation precedes you at my court, where many of your countrymen have come as teachers and advisers to my people. They speak highly of your deeds.’
Fidelma was almost lost for words. ‘They flatter me. But it is providential that we happened to be passing through this forest.’
‘Were you on your way to Autun?’
‘We were returning there from Guntram’s fortress.’
The young King sighed. ‘We have been hunting in the south and were on our way to pay an unexpected call on Lord Guntram. Then I must make an appearance at this council in Autun. Are you also attending the council? I didn’t think that old Bishop Leodegar approved of women expressing their views.’ He grinned broadly at her.
‘You have not been told that the council has not yet begun its deliberations?’ Fidelma asked. ‘Or of the murders there?’
Clotaire frowned. ‘I have learned that a foreign abbot was killed-but that was a week ago. Is there still danger there?’
‘I would certainly advise caution,’ confirmed Fidelma.
The three warriors now returned with the body of Brother Budnouen. As Fidelma had surmised, with such a wound he had probably been dead before his body hit the ground.
Clotaire stared down compassionately at the man.
‘If there is anything I can do,’ he said, ‘anyone to notify…?’
‘We barely knew him,’ Fidelma confessed. ‘He transported us from Nebirnum on our journey to Autun. And then from Autun to see Lord Guntram. I think we will have to leave this matter in the hands of Bishop Leodegar who will probably have information on Budnouen and his family.’
The young King gave a half-nod and ordered the body to be placed in the back of the wagon. Then he said: ‘My men and I were planning to take advantage of Guntram’s hospitality for this night at least before coming to the city. Do you think that is a wise course?’
She was about to reply when they were interrupted by the sound of more horses. It was the main body of warriors returning. Their leader, an elderly man, rod
e at their head. He called out something.
Clotaire translated. ‘They have all been killed.’
‘All dead?’ she demanded. ‘No one spared? A pity.’
The elderly leader stared at her for a moment, startled.
‘A pity that robbers are dead?’ he retorted in Latin. ‘You cry pity for those who would kill our King? Do you know in whose company you are, woman?’
‘I say it is a pity, because dead men cannot give us information,’ replied Fidelma coldly.
Clotaire grinned at the irritated man on horseback.
‘She has a good point, Ebroin. By the way, this is Fidelma, sister of King Colgú of Cashel,’ he explained. ‘She is the famous lawyer of Hibernia. Fidelma. this is Ebroin, my adviser and chancellor. Oh, and this is Brother Eadulf, of whom you may also have heard in connection with the deeds of Fidelma of Cashel.’
Ebroin looked slightly less irritated.
‘Your pardon, Lady Fidelma. However, I am at a loss to understand your meaning. Why would highway robbers have anything useful to tell us?’
‘She does not think that they were robbers at all but professional warriors,’ Clotaire said slyly. ‘Am I right?’
Ebroin regarded Fidelma with a frown.
‘I confess that they were well armed and defended themselves with the bearing of trained men, but there is nothing of significance to say they are not robbers. Many former warriors turn to robbery on the highways. My men are searching the bodies now to see if there is anything that might identify them.’
‘Is this something to do with the affair at the abbey?’ Clotaire asked.
‘Perhaps we could rest somewhere more comfortable and then discuss what we must do next, Imperator,’ Fidelma suggested, using the respectful form of address for the King.
‘There is a woodsman’s cabin a short way back along the track,’ pointed out Clotaire. ‘Let us go there.’
‘It will be as you say, Majesty,’ Ebroin replied. Turning in his saddle, he instructed some of the warriors to ride forward to secure the woodsman’s cabin and signalled the others to form a circle around them.
‘Come, ride with me, Fidelma,’ cried the young King. He signalled two of his men to dismount, hand their horses to Fidelma and himself, and take charge of the wagon, into which the body of Brother Budnouen was carefully laid. ‘Tell me, Fidelma of Cashel, are the stories that your countrymen tell about you true?’
The barrage of questions from the young man embarrassed Fidelma.
Riding behind them in the wagon, Eadulf felt a growing irritation. Almost from the first he had been ignored, but he remained silent. He accepted that his rank was of little consequence compared to Fidelma, as sister of a king, in the eyes of Clotaire. He noticed that Ebroin, the elderly adviser to the young King of Austrasia, rode behind them in silence but also with a suspicious countenance.
They soon reached the cabin, to be welcomed by a warm fire and subservient hospitality by the woodsman and his wife.
Before the fire, and with mulled ale to help the story along, Fidelma repeated the main details of what had happened in Autun. She left out her suspicions and merely put forward the basic facts.
‘Do you think there is a danger to our King?’ Ebroin leaned forward in his chair, fixing Fidelma with a sharp interrogative gaze. ‘I have never liked Bishop Leodegar. He was very close to Clotaire’s mother when he was at court, which is not to my liking.’
‘I cannot say for certain who is behind these matters,’ confessed Fidelma. ‘However, Leodegar seems to govern the abbey quite firmly and has fixed ideas. I must investigate further before I can point the finger of accusation or fully explain the deaths at Autun.’
Ebroin made a curious spitting gesture.
‘Pah! A few minutes with one of my men and a sharp knife and we would get the truth from any man. I have always been suspicious of Leodegar.’
Fidelma looked shocked at his suggestion.
‘I am uncertain of the ways of your country, Ebroin, but in my country we calmly investigate and when we find evidence, then we accuse the person concerned. They are then given a chance to defend themselves. Confession born of pain and fear is no confession at all but merely a cry for the pain to end.’
Clotaire was looking worried. ‘There is a truth in what you say, Fidelma, but if there is danger in Autun…’
Ebroin too looked concerned. ‘Do you know if the Nuntius from Rome is still there?’ When Fidelma nodded, he shook his head. ‘Rome expects you to attend, Majesty. You are to endorse the decisions made at Autun and, in return, the Holy Father will recognise your title as Emperor of all the Franks.’
‘How will we know if there might be danger from Leodegar?’ asked the young King.
‘Might be?’ muttered Ebroin. ‘I remember when your father, Clovis, died and your mother, Balthild, found the regency thrust on her. Didn’t your mother seek advice from Leodegar because he had been raised at the royal court due to the high rank of his parents? He had a taste for power then. Perhaps he enjoyed it too much to part with it.’
‘But he was instrumental in educating me and my brothers,’ Clotaire pointed out.
‘He persuaded us to enter into a thankless war with the Lombards-and we saw the defeat of our armies by Grimuald of Benevento,’ argued Ebroin. ‘Shame on our arms! We are now hard pressed to defend our very borders from the vengeful Lombards.’
‘That was why my mother sent him away from the court.’
‘Aye, to be bishop at Autun,’ Ebroin grumbled. ‘And now what grief is he stirring up in Autun?’
Fidelma cleared her throat noisily to interrupt them, but before she could speak, one of the warriors came in, holding something in his hand.
‘This was the only thing of interest we found on one of the bodies of the robbers, Imperator.’ He held it out. It was an emblem of sorts-a bronze circle in whose centre was a jagged saltire cross.
‘I have seen that design before,’ ventured Fidelma, trying to remember where. ‘What is it?’
Ebroin glanced at it and shrugged.
‘Nothing of significance in this part of the world. It is the cross of Benignus, much favoured by the Burgunds. You would see it in many places.’
‘It is a Burgund symbol?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Of course. It was used on the shields of their kings before they accepted the rule of the Franks.’
Fidelma gave a soft sigh and Clotaire met her gaze expectantly.
‘Does this mean something to you, Fidelma?’
‘It might mean a conspiracy against you, Imperator,’ she said. ‘But I cannot be definite.’
‘So what are you suggesting we do?’
‘I suggest that Eadulf and I return to the abbey. It will allow me to bring to a conclusion some lines of investigation that I need to follow.’
‘I am against it!’ snapped Ebroin. ‘It may give warning to whoever is behind-’
‘Behind what, exactly?’ Clotaire interrupted. ‘We do not know. And what is your suggestion, Ebroin?’
‘Ride down on Autun, seek out the conspirators harboured by Leodegar and burn them as rebels to teach the city a lesson.’
Fidelma forced herself to laugh. It was an unnatural laugh and sounded hollow, but it was the only way she could express her disapproval of Ebroin’s attitudes with sufficient force. She had the young King’s attention again.
‘What use would that be?’ she demanded. ‘To seize hapless people who may or may not be guilty of a crime. Do you want to leave a legacy among your people as a tyrant? That would be one of the easiest ways. But if you want to be hailed as a king who is concerned with justice, then allow us to find the guilty first before you punish a city indiscriminately.’
Ebroin snorted in disgust but Clotaire held up his hand to silence any further comment.
‘As I have said, I have spoken with teachers from your land and they have told me of your system of law and justice. It would be my wish to emulate it one day.’ He turned to Ebroin. ‘You ha
ve been a good mentor, my friend. I fear you do not yet deem me adult enough for the decisions that I must make as King. However, old friend, in this matter, I know what I should do. That is to listen to the wise advice of this princess from Hibernia.’
Ebroin started to say something and then shrugged as if resigned to his master’s wishes. The young man turned to Fidelma.
‘What is it that you propose we should do?’
‘Is there any reason why you should not delay here for a few days? You say you had a plan to stay with Lord Guntram. Do so. When I am ready, I can send you word to come to the abbey. Indeed, perhaps I might need the support of your warriors.’
‘I have only fifty fighting men with me but they are my best guards.’
‘But if there is rebellion brewing, we will need more men,’ Ebroin said.
‘Someone can ride back to my palace and bring more men-at-arms if needed.’ Clotaire dismissed the objection.
‘What about Guntram?’ demanded Ebroin of Fidelma. ‘Is he part of whatever this conspiracy is?’
‘I do not think the problem will come from Guntram,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘And he has only a dozen men at his hunting lodge. In fact, my suggestion is that you and your men continue on to Guntram’s lodge, as you had planned. Stay there until I send for you. The presence of your warriors will also keep Guntram in order, if I am mistaken about him. But I believe that he does not care for much else besides his comforts. No, the danger will be in Autun itself.’
‘But how long do you expect us to remain at Guntram’s fortress?’ queried Clotaire.
‘No more than a few days. I think I am very close to uncovering the main culprits, for there have been attempts on our lives already. That is a sure sign that we are near to the answers to this riddle.’
‘Then surely it is dangerous for you and Eadulf to return to Autun?’
‘It would be more dangerous for you if we did not. One or other of us will bring you word when you should enter the city.’
Chapter Nineteen
It was Eadulf who drove the wagon back to Autun. It was a slow and sombre journey, undertaken in silence for the greater part. The body of Brother Budnouen was wrapped in a blanket in the back of the wagon. Fidelma sat thoughtfully at Eadulf’s side, seemingly lost in her own world until they came to the great paved square in front of the abbey. Leaving the wagon tethered outside, they went in search of Brother Chilperic. The young steward was shocked when Fidelma told him of Brother Budnouen’s death.
The Council of the Cursed sf-19 Page 27
