Behold a Pale Horse

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Behold a Pale Horse Page 23

by Peter Tremayne


  She awoke to a glorious dawn. The sky held a brilliant light which spread across the mountain-tops all around them. The air was still and fresh. The men removed themselves a little distance so that she could carry out her toilette, and food was ready when she returned.

  ‘Well, it will not be long before we reach the Trebbia, just below us,’ Suidur greeted her. ‘It’s a steep descent on this side of the mountains but better than a steep ascent.’

  ‘And no sign of Grasulf pursuing us?’

  ‘No sign at all. Didn’t I say that he would give up?’

  ‘Let us hope you are right.’

  ‘Are you still worried then?’

  ‘The Lord of Vars told me that an excess of caution does no harm. In fact, would it not be foolish to refuse caution? I am thinking that Grasulf would reason that we would eventually be heading to Bobium. Surely he could cross the mountains to the north of here and lie in wait for us in the valley somewhere between Radoald’s fortress and Bobium?’

  ‘I see you have a mind attuned to strategy, lady.’

  ‘The daughter of a king in Hibernia is taught many things and can even lead her people in war.’

  Suidur nodded as if this did not surprise him. ‘Well, if he did backtrack from where we spotted him and his men, he would have to go a considerable distance through the mountains to reach a suitable place to intersect our journey. I swear, lady, you need not worry. We will protect you.’

  It was not long before they started down the mountain track on a zigzag path that seemed steeper than those they had ascended by. She could see the blue ribbon of the river she presumed was the Trebbia, snaking its way through the rocky valley below. Here and there were farmsteads and cultivated areas of trees, which she was told were olive trees, while others she knew to be vines. She wished that she could assimilate these new sights, sounds and smells, but her mind was filled with the curious mysteries that beset this valley, its abbey and its people.

  The journey today was done more leisurely and as they came to the lower reaches, into the treeline and then through the great forests that edged the river – which they could now hear as a soft roar against the other noises such as the rustling of the leaves, the occasional bark of a fox and the cry of birds – Fidelma began to feel more relaxed than she had been for the last few days.

  They emerged into a broad clearing by the river. There was a large farmstead and outbuildings, and beyond, a small group of olive trees and vines. A dog started barking, and a man appeared from the building. Fidelma recognised him at once. It was Radoald’s warrior, Wulfoald, who greeted Suidur with a friendly wave. A rapid-fire conversation was exchanged, in which the name of Grasulf was frequently mentioned. Finally, Wulfoald turned to Fidelma as she slid off the horse and stretched her limbs.

  ‘Well, lady, it seems that we have much to apologise for.’

  ‘Apologise?’

  ‘As I recall, some days back you had no sooner entered this valley than you and your companions were attacked. And now I hear that you were abducted by Grasulf, an evil man if ever there was one.’ He turned and greeted Brother Eolann before saying to Fidelma: ‘We must make up for our inhospitable neighbours.’

  Wulfoald’s manner was warm and friendly. Fidelma, however, was thinking about his finding of young Wamba and Hawisa’s accusation against him and her own suspicions. She wished the questions did not continually buzz around in her head like swarming bees. She must stop thinking awhile.

  ‘I was just about to depart with my men for Bobium. We have spare horses so we could escort you to the gates of the abbey and make sure you reach there in safety. That is, unless you want to remain here and refresh yourselves? There is no need to break the journey at Radoald’s fortress. We could have you at Bobium by mid-afternoon.’

  Fidelma considered. In fact, it suited her to return to Bobium as soon as possible, and when the matter was put to Brother Eolann, he agreed at once. Wulfoald gave instructions to his men who brought forward two spare horses.

  Fidelma felt awkward when it came to taking a farewell of Suidur and his silent companions. It was true that he had rescued her and Brother Eolann but, once more, her mind was awash with unanswered questions. Perhaps it was because she disliked mysteries that she had become a dálaigh. When she could not resolve a problem it gnawed at her like a toothache. Yet she realised that there was nothing else she could do but pretend that she felt all was well, hiding her suspicions and doubts. She therefore thanked Suidur as warmly as she could for his intervention, and told him to translate her thanks to his companions. Brother Eolann responded more emotionally and profusely with his thanks. Finally they mounted up and joined Wulfoald and two warriors as they moved off alongside the track by the river which would lead them back to Bobium.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Abbey of Bobium was a-throng with excitement even before Fidelma and Brother Eolann reached the main gates. Brother Bladulf, the gatekeeper, stood by them almost hopping from one foot to another in his apparent exhilaration. Wulfoald and his companions had left them within sight of the gates. He and his men were apparently staying the night in the township. They agreed to collect the horses when they returned to Lord Radoald’s fortress. Fidelma had considered it inappropriate to raise the matter of Wamba with Wulfoald. It was a subject that would have to be treated carefully.

  Brother Wulfila, the steward, came hurrying through the crowd of curious brethren who had assembled to greet them. Willing hands were already helping them down from their horses. The pair ignored the numerous questions shouted at them and asked the steward to take them directly to Abbot Servillius.

  The abbot met them in his chamber. Venerable Ionas was at his side but there was no sign of Magister Ado. Brother Wulfila remained in the chamber, shutting the door behind him.

  ‘My first question must be to ask whether you are in good health. Do you need any attention from Brother Hnikar?’ the abbot greeted them.

  ‘We are both well, Deo gratias,’ Brother Eolann answered for the two of them.

  ‘Deo optimo maximo,’ intoned Venerable Ionas gravely.

  ‘And now,’ invited the abbot, ‘keep us in suspense no longer. Tell us of your adventure which has so worried our brethren.’

  Fidelma and Brother Eolann had already held a quick exchange in their own language as they had ridden back down the valley as to the extent of what they should reveal. It had been agreed that while they must report the death of Lady Gunora and the disappearance of Prince Romuald, they should say nothing about the boy Wamba, the gold coins nor his mother Hawisa. Omission was not the same as telling a lie, Fidelma reasoned, remembering a teaching of the Brehon Morann. When one is faced with such a dilemma one should always choose the path of the greater good even though you must do the lesser evil. Fidelma felt guilty nonetheless. Apart from that, they decided to stick to the truth.

  It was Brother Eolann who announced the brief facts of their abduction and short imprisonment, and the details of their rescue. It was Fidelma who then described the finding of the body of Lady Gunora.

  The abbot’s face was white with shock. ‘It cannot be true,’ he whispered.

  Venerable Ionas laid a hand on the abbot’s arm. ‘If this is true, my friend, we had best resolve this mystery and quickly.’

  Abbot Servillius became agitated as he shot a series of questions at Fidelma until Venerable Ionas intervened to advise him to allow Fidelma to complete her story before leaping to conclusions. It was clear that the abbot blamed the Lord of Vars for the death and believed the young prince, Romuald, was a prisoner at Vars.

  ‘Grasulf,’ Venerable Ionas explained quietly, when Fidelma had ended her story, ‘has long been an enemy of this abbey and, as you have discovered, he is an enemy of the Faith. He adheres to the ways of the old gods of the Longobards.’

  ‘We saw no sign of the boy in his fortress,’ Fidelma pointed out.

  Abbot Servillius began to reassert his belief but was politely interrupted by Venerable Ionas. ‘A
lthough Grasulf is certainly the sort of man who would have abducted Lady Gunora and the prince, as he abducted Sister Fidelma and Brother Eolann, he would not have them murdered. They were too valuable alive. He would have sold them to the highest bidder. He is a man without morals. If Perctarit paid the price, he would have handed the prince and Lady Gunora to him. Or if Grimoald wanted his son back and paid the price, then he would have sold them to him. A dead body is worth no ransom at all.’

  ‘It could be that the boy is still his captive at Vars and that Lady Gunora was killed in her attempt to stop the abduction,’ insisted the abbot.

  ‘But what was Lady Gunora doing on the mountain with the boy in the first place?’ Fidelma demanded. ‘You said that she had left the abbey to find a place of greater security for herself and the boy at the fortress of Lord Radoald. Why would she go in the opposite direction up that mountain?’

  The abbot and Venerable Ionas exchanged a nervous glance. Then Abbot Servillius spoke. ‘It was as I said. Lady Gunora was worried when Bishop Britmund arrived here and witnessed her presence with the young prince. She said she did not feel safe and preferred to move on. She wanted no one told so left the abbey with the prince before first light.’

  Brother Wulfila coughed to attract attention. ‘Even I, as steward of the abbey, was not informed, lady. I would most certainly have advised against it. It was a foolhardy thing, to leave here in darkness.’

  ‘I remember that you were looking for her,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘And she told no one else that she was leaving?’

  ‘She told me,’ answered the abbot. ‘I shared that information with the Venerable Ionas here and with Brother Bladulf, the gatekeeper, since he had to get her horse and open the gate. I swore him to secrecy and placed him under total absolution for any untruth he had to commit to maintain that secret. So there were only the three of us who knew that Lady Gunora and the boy were leaving.’

  ‘You said that Brother Bladulf had to get her horse. Are you saying that Lady Gunora and the boy left on one horse?’

  ‘One horse,’ confirmed the abbot. ‘The boy rode behind her.’

  Fidelma considered the matter. ‘The fact remains that her body was found in entirely the opposite direction. If she and the boy were heading across Mount Pénas, in contradiction to her intended refuge with Lord Radoald, is there anywhere in particular that she might be making for?’

  Abbot Servillius shrugged eloquently. ‘I cannot conceive of anywhere.’

  ‘There are practicalities to be considered,’ Venerable Ionas interrupted. ‘You have told us that you placed her body in one of the caves behind the sanctuary of Colmbanus. Then we must organise a party to retrieve the body. It is not fit that Lady Gunora lies unburied on the mountain. We should also inform Lord Radoald.’

  ‘Wulfoald and his men escorted us here,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘He is staying overnight in the settlement. He could provide some protection if the brethren set out to retrieve the body of Lady Gunora.’

  ‘Protection?’ The abbot seemed shocked. ‘You think that Grasulf will attack the brethren sent to retrieve her body?’

  ‘It is possible,’ replied Fidelma.

  ‘There is little to be done today,’ Venerable Ionas decided. ‘If I may make some suggestions, Father Abbot? Let us allow Sister Fidelma and our good scriptor the opportunity to refresh themselves and have their evening bathe as is the custom of the Hibernians. Then let them rest and partake of the evening meal.’ He paused and glanced quickly at Fidelma. ‘We will ask Wulfoald to join us and present our request that he accompany Brother Bladulf and some members of the brethren to retrieve the body.’

  Fidelma was hesitant. ‘Wulfoald has not been informed of our finding the body.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ demanded Venerable Ionas in surprise.

  Fidelma thought rapidly as she did not want her suspicions of Wulfoald made obvious yet.

  ‘With our adventures, escaping from the fortress of Grasulf, it did not arise,’ she answered blandly. ‘My thoughts were concerned with returning safely to the abbey.’

  ‘Of course,’ the abbot seemed to agree. ‘But Wulfoald and Lord Radoald must be informed now. Brother Wulfila will go to the settlement and invite Wulfoald to attend our evening meal. Then we can inform him in detail of this tragic event.’

  As Fidelma prepared to leave, she hesitated. ‘Where is Magister Ado? I do not see him. I trust he is also well?’

  ‘Magister Ado?’ replied the abbot. ‘He has gone to Travo. He left the morning after you began your journey to the sanctuary on Mount Pénas.’

  ‘Where is Travo?’ she asked. She seemed to recall the name.

  ‘It is further down the valley, towards Placentia. It is the site of the martyrdom of the Blessed Antonino, who suffered death under Diocletian. Magister Ado wished to make an offering at the church there which is one of the earliest dedicated to the Faith in this land. He should be back within a day or so and will be delighted to hear of your safe return.’

  It was some time later after Fidelma had bathed and changed, and feeling unusually alert after her adventures, that she entered the refectorium. She found herself dismissing the expressions of concern from the brethren with a smile. There was also the small gathering of religieuses who shared the hall at mealtimes but she saw no sign of Sister Gisa. Nor could she see Brother Faro. She made her way to where Wulfoald stood with the abbot and Venerable Ionas.

  It was clear that Wulfoald was not pleased. ‘I should have been informed immediately about your discovery of Lady Gunora’s body! Lord Radoald has been searching the valley for her,’ he greeted Fidelma curtly.

  Fidelma was about to respond when Abbot Servillius interrupted to point out that it was better to continue the conversation after the meal. Once they were in their seats, he then decided it was appropriate to intone a lengthy homily in praise of God for guiding the footsteps of Fidelma and Brother Eolann out of danger and back to safety. He then added a brief attack on the pagan idolatry of Grasulf of Vars.

  After the meal Abbot Servillius invited Wulfoald, Fidelma, Venerable Ionas and Brother Eolann back to his chamber. Fidelma explained to Wulfoald where the body of Lady Gunora had been found and where they had placed it.

  ‘Had we known this sooner, Radoald could have stopped wasting the time of his sentinels,’ grunted the warrior. ‘But I think we may assume that all immediate danger will come from Vars.’ He turned to Fidelma. ‘You saw no sign of any other prisoners during your incarceration in Vars?’

  ‘No. We saw no other prisoners.’

  ‘It does not mean to say that Prince Romuald was not there,’ pointed out Abbot Servillius.

  ‘That is true,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘So you believe that Grasulf would be the most likely person responsible for the death of the Lady Gunora and the disappearance of Prince Romuald?’

  ‘The only person, without doubt. He is a danger to the security of these valleys.’ Wulfoald was emphatic.

  ‘What intrigues me is this: how is it that, if Lady Gunora set off to seek refuge at Lord Radoald’s fortress, her body was found on the upper reaches of Mount Pénas, which is in the opposite direction?’ Fidelma had posed the question before without receiving an answer.

  Wulfoald raised a shoulder a fraction and let it fall. ‘There might be several reasons for that. Perhaps she was captured and transported there before she was killed.’

  Fidelma accepted that it was a logical explanation but she was not impressed by it.

  ‘I will send one of my men this very night to inform Lord Radoald about these matters,’ Wulfoald went on. ‘The rumours are increasing and ominous. If Perctarit has reached north of Mailand with a Frankish army, then we must be extremely vigilant. He is very near.’

  Abbot Servillius was still showing apprehension in his drawn features. ‘And what of the body of the Lady Gunora?’

  ‘As you have already suggested, let Brother Bladulf take some of the brethren up to the sanctuary early in the morning to retrieve it. I will send
two of my warriors to provide them with an escort. I shall also send a messenger back to Lord Radoald to inform him of the situation.’

  ‘The track we followed up towards the sanctuary led past a goatherd’s cabin where an old woman named Hawisa dwells,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘I know Hawisa’s cabin,’ Wulfoald assured her easily. He did not notice Fidelma’s quick look of surprise.

  Abbot Servillius glanced around at them. ‘I think we are all aware of the dangers. So we should let our guest, Fidelma, rest after such a terrifying adventure. You as well, Brother Eolann. Wulfoald will organise that which he needs to organise.’

  Fidelma was the last to leave the abbot’s chamber but, at the door, she paused and turned back.

  ‘I nearly forgot,’ she told him. ‘I was speaking to Brother Waldipert before we left the other day.’

  Abbot Servillius looked up absently. ‘Brother Waldipert the cook?’

  ‘This is something not pertinent to the grave matters in hand. I have just remembered it – forgive me if I raise it now. I once mentioned in passing that I had an interest in ancient coins. Brother Waldipert said that he had recently come by one such coin and that he had given it to you. He found the coin strange and could not assess its value.’

  ‘He did? I can’t think … oh yes, that was some weeks ago.’

  ‘He seemed to think it was found locally and was of a great age. I was wondering if I could see it? As I say, I am fascinated by such matters.’

  The abbot stared at her blankly for a moment and then gave an off-handed gesture. ‘That is not possible, Sister Fidelma.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It disappeared from my study within a day or so of it being given to my safekeeping. We hunted high and low for it, but it was never found. It is terrible to think ill of one’s brethren but, alas, I can think of no other reason other than it was taken deliberately. However, it was only a small coin of no great value, even though it was of gold. The loss was negligible.’

 

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