The Dove of Death sf-20

by Peter Tremayne

  The face of Abbess Fainder suddenly floated before him.

  ‘Abhor your sins, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot…that is the law.’

  He wanted to cry out — ‘But you are dead! You do not exist!’

  The noose was about his neck.

  ‘Let God’s will be done!’ shrieked the Abbess in his ear.

  He started to scream. He was lying on damp earth. It was cold and wet against his cheek. It took him several moments to realise he was lying on the grass outside the villa on the island of Govihan. Without moving, or raising his head, he looked around. There was nothing in his area of vision and so he gently moved himself up into a sitting position and peered round again. He was alone, lying outside the still-open door that led from the villa’s herb garden.

  He raised a hand to the back of his head. It came away sticky and he saw that it was covered in blood. The area was tender and throbbing.

  Remembrance came back to him in a moment.

  He peered cautiously down to the sea. There was no sign of the small sailing boat nor of Iarnbud.

  His next thought was to warn Fidelma, and he was about to get to his feet when he heard a movement through the door of the herb garden.

  Fidelma returned slowly to the villa with Trifina, the watchful warrior following them at a distance. Trifina left her at the gates of the villa with a curt farewell; her bodyguard remained at the gates.

  Frustrated, Fidelma had no alternative but to enter the main courtyard. As she did so, she caught sight of a man moving quickly through the far door. In that split second, she recognised the figure of Iarnbud. Then the door slammed. She paused only a second before she almost ran to the door and tried the handle — but it had been bolted from the other side.

  Iarnbud! He was here in Trifina’s villa, yet the daughter of the mac’htiern had denied any knowledge of Iuna or the pagan bretat.

  She turned from the door and her frustration increased. But she had realised two things. One, that Trifina was a liar. And two, that there was a sinister mystery here in these beautiful islands of Morbihan.

  Eadulf found himself once again looking into the eyes of Heraclius, who was staring at him in amazement.

  He came forward immediately and held out a hand to raise Eadulf to his feet.

  ‘Why, what has happened? Did you fall and hit your head?’ he asked with concern.

  Eadulf forced a grim smile, saying, ‘It seems that my destiny is either to drown or be bludgeoned to death.’

  ‘Bludgeoned?’ queried the young man in astonishment.

  ‘Someone hit me from behind.’

  Heraclius looked around. ‘There is no one around here. You have not long left me. Are you sure you did not fall and hit your head?’

  Eadulf groaned, reaching out and touching the back of his head again.

  ‘It does not take long to strike a blow,’ he said.

  Heraclius was examining the wound.

  ‘However you came by this, I must dress it. There is a small gash where the skin has opened and is bleeding, but it will heal swiftly. However, you will have bruising, and coming on top of the immersion in the sea, you should rest to prevent yourself from further harm. It is not wise to take a blow to the head so soon after the previous one.’

  ‘I did not intentionally seek a further blow to the head,’ Eadulf said bitterly. ‘I don’t suppose you saw anyone follow me out through the herb garden?’

  The young man shook his head with a smile. ‘I have only just come from there.’

  ‘Why?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘Why?’ Heraclius repeated, not understanding.

  ‘What brought you here?’

  ‘I was looking for a herb, and when I entered the garden I saw this door open. I came out here and found you sitting on the ground. Why do you ask?’

  Eadulf instinctively felt that the young apothecary was lying.

  ‘And you saw no one else? You did not see any sign of a small sailboat down there?’ He indicated the seashore below them.

  ‘A sailboat? I have seen nothing, I assure you.’

  ‘Very well, give me a hand back to your rooms and let us get this wound dressed. Then I must find Fidelma.’

  ‘Where have you been?’ was Fidelma’s first question when Eadulf returned to the guest chamber. Her second question, on seeing his bandaged forehead, was: ‘What has happened to you now?’

  She had returned to the room and, having found it empty, was about to set out in search of him. Eadulf told her briefly of his adventure.

  ‘So you saw Iarnbud too,’ she breathed softly when he had finished.

  He was surprised. ‘You saw him as well?’

  ‘Only for a second. He was in the villa and I just caught sight of him vanishing through a door. But when I tried to follow, the bolt had been secured on the other side.’

  ‘If Iarnbud is here, that means Iuna is here.’

  ‘That is logical. But Trifina does not want us to know that. Why?’

  Eadulf grimaced. ‘I would wager it has something to do with that stone building outside the wall of the villa. There was a strange smell hanging over that place, a smell that I can’t quite identify.’

  ‘You suspect that this apothecary, Heraclius, was the one who knocked you out?’

  ‘I can’t see who else it could have been.’

  ‘Why would he do so?’

  ‘To prevent me examining the interior of the hut or challenging Iarnbud.’

  ‘You say that the door was closed. He could have simply asked you to leave, without knocking you out.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  Fidelma hesitated a moment or two and then said: ‘Well, let us both go and examine this place to satisfy our curiosity.’

  ‘Heraclius might now be on his guard against me returning to the hut,’ Eadulf said doubtfully.

  ‘Or perhaps, having dealt with you — if it was he who knocked you out — he might be complacent that you would never return so quickly. Anyway, you say that the building is outside the villa on the eastern side of the wall?’

  Eadulf nodded.

  ‘Then if we leave the villa in some other spot and follow the walls round, we might approach it unseen rather than attempt to go through the kitchen area and the herb garden.’

  They left the room and went down to the lower floor. It seemed deserted, but it was no use going through the main door, for there were bound to be guards outside. Fidelma strode determinedly along the lower corridor until she found a door that opened onto a veranda overlooking a garden with a surrounding high wall. The couple stood for a moment examining what must be the outer wall of the villa complex.

  Eadulf touched her arm and silently pointed.

  There was a small door in the wall.

  She nodded and they forced themselves to stroll casually across the garden towards it, pretending to be deep in conversation. If they were seen, then they would not arouse immediate suspicion. The door proved to be so small, they had to bend to it. It was barred on the inner side and Eadulf found it easy to slide the wooden bar back and push the door outward. They slipped through it without trouble and Eadulf pushed the door back into place again.

  For a moment or two they stood breathing quickly, waiting for some shout which would have announced they had been observed.

  Keeping close to the wall, they moved within its shadow to the corner that marked the north-eastern end. There was still no one in sight and no one to challenge them. The sea before them was empty, apart from a few distant sails, faint outlines on the sparkling waters.

  Once more they hurried along, towards the stone cabin that Eadulf had identified.

  ‘This is it.’ Eadulf felt relief as they came to the mysterious building. At least no one had spotted them so far.

  The stone building seemed isolated.

  The odour reached their nostrils at the same time.

  ‘It seems like sulphur, but there is something different a
bout it,’ Fidelma mused thoughtfully.

  Eadulf went forward and tried the handle.

  ‘It’s locked,’ he announced, glancing downwards and finding an iron lock on the wooden door.

  ‘Why are you surprised?’ Fidelma muttered in vexation. ‘If there is something in here which no one is permitted to see, then it would scarcely be left open.’

  There was no sign of a key anywhere. Then Eadulf suddenly remembered the key hanging inside the door where Heraclius had his dispensary. An idea occurred to him.

  ‘There was a key hanging in the apothecary’s room. That might be the one to this door.’

  Fidelma gestured impatiently. ‘Then go and get it. You’ll have to chance being seen in the kitchen area, after all.’

  Eadulf hurried to the door of the walled herb garden. He was surprised to find that it had been left unsecured. He crossed the garden swiftly and slowly tried the handle of the inner door. Glancing into the courtyard beyond, he found it just as deserted as it was before. He shrugged at his luck. So he and Fidelma had made their circumnavigation of the villa for nothing. They could have come this quicker way.

  It seemed that luck was with him all the way, for the kitchen area was devoid of movement and the apothecary’s room was still open.

  He almost grabbed the key that hung from the hook inside and, clutching it tightly, he broke into a trot as he hurried back and breathlessly rejoined Fidelma. She had taken the opportunity to rest and was sitting with her back against the stone hut, looking moodily out over the waters.

  ‘Well?’ she enquired.

  ‘I have it,’ muttered Eadulf, and quickly inserted the key into the lock. It fitted. In his nervousness it took him a few attempts to turn it but finally it clicked and he pushed the door open.

  Fidelma had risen and was at his shoulder as he moved into the noxious-smelling single room of the building. Two windows let in a bright light from the sea and there was no need for an artificial light. Perhaps it was just as well, for the smell of sulphur was overpowering and Eadulf knew that it could be flammable. The place was similar to an apothecary’s shop, for there were various jars of strange-looking concoctions on shelves around the room and a workbench. And in one corner was a potter’s wheel,

  ‘Pottery? And why the sulphur, I wonder?’ Eadulf mused.

  Fidelma had picked up some branches of an evergreen from a workbench and peered at it curiously.

  ‘It looks as if someone has been extracting the resin from this. What do you make of it, Eadulf?’

  He shook his head. ‘This is beyond me,’ he admitted. ‘And — look!’

  Near the potter’s wheel, standing along the wall, was a line of newly made pots. Except on closer inspection they were not pots at all. They were round balls the size of a man’s head. There was neither hole nor means of ingress into them. Eadulf bent down to pick one up and found that it was not very heavy. The balls were obviously hollow, but there was a strange imbalance to the one he was holding. He raised it and jerked it from side to side.

  ‘It is hollow but I think there is liquid inside,’ he announced.

  ‘Break one open and let us see,’ advised Fidelma. ‘Whoever is mixing strange potions here, I wonder why he keeps it so secret.’

  Eadulf raised the ball in both hands, ready to smash it on the ground.

  ‘Stop!’ cried a sharp voice. ‘Stay absolutely still, if you value your lives!’

  Chapter Thirteen

  The young apothecary, Heraclius, stood in the doorway. There was an expression akin to horror on his face.

  Eadulf froze, the clay ball in his hands, staring at him in wonder. There was no doubting the intensity of fear in the young man’s tone.

  ‘What…?’ began Eadulf.

  ‘Put it down on the floor and do it gently!’ ordered Heraclius.

  Eadulf slowly replaced the ball on the ground.

  ‘Now step away from it,’ instructed the young man, still tense.

  As Eadulf did so, the young man exhaled in relief and seemed to relax his body. It lasted no more than a moment before a look of anger crossed his features.

  ‘How dare you break into this hut!’

  ‘We did not break in,’ Fidelma corrected him pedantically. ‘You will see that we opened the door and entered.’

  ‘Having stolen the key from my dispensary,’ Heraclius replied, not misled by semantics. ‘This is my personal domain and no one comes here but me.’

  ‘You seem to have something to hide,’ she replied, looking towards the clay balls.

  ‘Only from prying eyes and idiots,’ came the uncompromising response. ‘You are not idiots so you must be spies. Spies of the Koulm ar Maro! Now you will come out — but make no attempt to escape. There are guards within call. We will go to see the lady Trifina.’

  Fidelma exchanged a glance with Eadulf and then shrugged. They had no other choice.

  They left the hut. Heraclius drew the door shut and turned the key in the lock. Making sure it was secure, he held the key firmly in his hand and motioned them back through the walled herb garden, then through the cooking area of the villa and into the main corridor, halting finally outside the room where Trifina had first received Fidelma. Heraclius addressed the warrior who stood on guard outside and the man knocked on the door. Heraclius disappeared inside.

  The guard fixed them with a watchful glare, with his hand resting ready on his sword hilt.

  ‘What now?’ muttered Eadulf.

  ‘Now we will have to see what Trifina has to say,’ shrugged Fidelma. ‘There is no other course.’

  In fact, it was only moments before the door opened and the young apothecary motioned them inside.

  Trifina stood in front of the fire with a frown of annoyance on her face. She said something to Heraclius who gave a short bow towards her and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Trifina went to a table and poured red wine into a glass. She gazed at it thoughtfully for a moment and then held it out towards Fidelma with a look of interrogation. Fidelma shook her head. Eadulf, when it was offered to him, moved forward and took the glass. His thought was that someone who offers you wine is not going to kill you — at least, not immediately. Trifina poured another glass for herself and sat down, indicating with her free hand the chairs before her. Fidelma sank into the seat while Eadulf, feeling like a naughty child summoned before its parent, nervously seated himself.

  ‘So,’ Trifina said at last, shaking her head sadly, ‘what am I to do with you?’

  ‘It is not for me to advise you, lady,’ replied Fidelma softly.

  Trifina actually chuckled. ‘Indeed not. Yet you are wandering round my villa, prying into things. I thought I made it clear that you are in territory that does not concern you.’

  Fidelma decided to be blunt.

  ‘That depends what those things are. I told you that Riwanon asked me to investigate the mystery…’

  ‘The mystery of Abbot Maelcar’s death — which happened in Brilhag. Why are you really here?’

  ‘The location where a murder is committed does not imply that the murderer is to be found on the same spot,’ responded Fidelma.

  ‘That may be true,’ agreed Trifina, her voice tight. ‘I presume that you suspect me of somehow engineering the Abbot’s fate, even though I was not at Brilhag when he was killed?’

  ‘I do not accuse you. I simply do not like mysteries.’

  ‘Did you expect to find a solution in the workshop of Heraclius, perhaps? Heraclius is our apothecary and he has full permission to pursue his experiments in pursuit of his understanding of herbs and medicines.’

  ‘Earlier this afternoon I was seeking Fidelma,’ Eadulf interrupted, feeling he should justify himself. ‘By chance I happened to stroll through the walled garden and out to where this stone building is. I went quite innocently to examine it when I was knocked unconscious. Heraclius was nearby when I came to. I determined that Fidelma and I should investigate further.’

  Trifina smile
d cynically at him.

  ‘You are a truly loyal soul, Eadulf. This lady was nearly responsible for causing your death a few hours ago. Yet you rise from your sickbed to go sleuthing for her. And now you are claiming that Heraclius knocked you on the head, to…what? To stop you seeing into his workshop? Couldn’t he have asked you simply to leave?’

  Eadulf thrust out his chin aggressively.

  ‘I hadn’t even seen inside it then. I was near it when I heard a shout and, looking below, I saw Iarnbud in a boat. That was when I was knocked on the head. Yet I am told you claim Iarnbud was not on this island.’

  At the name of Iarnbud, Trifina set down her wine glass.

  ‘You saw Iarnbud?’ she demanded. A flush had come to her face.

  ‘He was alone in the sailboat that Fidelma and I followed from Brilhag. However, there was no sign of Iuna in it.’

  Fidelma’s mouth tightened, and the line of Caesar as he crossed the Rubicon came into her mind. Alea iacta est. Truly, the die is cast. So she added: ‘I too saw Iarnbud — in this villa. Do you still deny he and Iuna are here?’

  Trifina sat back and regarded them both with a long scrutiny.

  ‘I see.’ The words were spoken almost as a whisper. ‘So, Eadulf, you saw Iarnbud and, a moment later, you say that you were knocked out?’

  ‘As I said, Heraclius was standing near me when I came to. I presumed that he had knocked me out rather than let me see what was in the hut. That’s why I went back there with Fidelma.’

  ‘Did Heraclius admit that he did so?’ Trifina asked mildly.

  ‘Would he admit it if he had done so?’ Eadulf countered.

  ‘As I have pointed out, if he wanted to prevent you, all he had to do was tell you not to go there. After all, the door was locked, wasn’t it?’

  Eadulf flushed, for it was almost word for word what Fidelma had remarked. He did not reply.