The Dove of Death sf-20

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Surely a locked door should have been enough to tell you that your attentions were not wanted there? The place is Heraclius’ workshop where some of his mixtures might be dangerous if touched without supervision.’

  ‘What of Iarnbud?’ demanded Eadulf.

  ‘Iarnbud,’ repeated Trifina. There was a silence for a while before she spoke again, turning to Fidelma. ‘You seem to take this commission seriously, Fidelma — the one from Riwanon to find Abbot Maelcar’s assassin.’

  ‘I take all commissions seriously. I am a dálaigh…’ Fidelma searched for the right Latin word. ‘I am a jurisconsultus, a lawyer. This is my job.’

  ‘As I remarked before, I find it hard to accept that Riwanon would give such a task to a foreigner who does not speak our language or know our laws. But,’ Trifina held up her hand as Fidelma was about to speak, ‘I accept your word that this is what has been done. You seem also to believe that Abbot Maelcar’s assassin is connected with the attack on your ship.’

  ‘I do. And who or what is the Koulm an Maro — and why would Heraclius conclude we are spies of whoever it is?’

  There was another pause.

  ‘I am going to be honest with you, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ Trifina said slowly, after she had taken a sip or two of wine. Then she glanced at Eadulf. ‘Honest with you both, that is.’

  They waited patiently.

  ‘I admit that Iarnbud was here, but deny that Iuna came with him. I was aware that about two weeks ago, a ship flying the emblem of our family, the flag of the mac’htiern of Brilhag, started to conduct raids around this coast. Each raid became more audacious than the last. Those who saw this ship not only reported that it flew the flag bearing the white dove emblem, but that on its prow it had carved in wood the figure of a dove.’

  ‘That was the ship that attacked the Barnacle Goose,’ Eadulf confirmed.

  ‘Let me state clearly to you both, this ship is not under the authority of my father nor of any member of my family. If you believe that we are involved with this sea raider, then you are mistaken.’

  Fidelma looked deeply into the eyes of Trifina and was impressed with the frankness she saw there.

  ‘Then why is there all this mystery?’ she asked. ‘Why do you behave as if you have something to hide?’

  Trifina made a small cutting motion with her hand.

  ‘Whoever is behind these attacks is using our emblem purposely to bring discredit upon my family. There can be no other explanation. Some of the merchants and farmers who have suffered losses from these pirates are already stirring the countryside against us, poisoning the people’s minds against us.’

  ‘And what have you done to counter these stories?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘It was not until yesterday that I heard about the details of the attack on your ship — that a prince of your country was murdered and that you had escaped. I then heard of the slaughter of Biscam and his men and I realised that things were becoming serious. There had been no significant casualties until this time. But, for the last few days, we have been trying to track down this ship that we have named Koulm ar Maro, the Dove of Death. Our flag with the dove symbolises peace, but this dove brings only death and destruction. The more attacks it makes bearing our family’s emblem, the more people suspect we are responsible.’

  ‘And for what reason do you think the raiders are trying to impugn your family in this manner?’ asked Fidelma. She suddenly realised that the name was close to her own language: colm marbh — the dove of death.

  ‘So that we may be dispossessed of our lands and titles. There can be no other reason.’

  ‘So the flag is deliberately flown or planted to mislead people. You used the term “we” when you mentioned that you have been trying to track down the raider. Who is “we”?’

  ‘Bleidbara and I. Last night we decided to fit out the Morvran…It is really my father’s ship, the name means the Cormorant, which was the warship that you saw. We have fitted her out to search the Morbihan, to find the sea raider.’

  The cormorant, with its dark body and its yellow to orange bill, was exactly how the ship that Fidelma had seen a short while before had been painted.

  ‘And the lights we saw on the shore below Brilhag the other night?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘We told you the truth about it. Bleidbara and I came to the conclusion that this Koulm ar Maro must be hiding in these waters.’

  ‘I see. Does your father approve of this?’

  ‘My father has been away from Brilhag for several weeks in Naoned. He has probably not heard the news of the activities of the Koulm ar Maro yet. When he returns, he will be made aware by the growing hostility of the people here, and we must have a solution because he will be in the company of King Alain — and the people will exhort Alain to punish us for these attacks for which we are not responsible.’

  ‘So it is only you, your brother and Bleidbara who know of this?’ Fidelma asked.

  To her surprise, Trifina shook her head. ‘My brother Macliau does not know what Bleidbara and I are doing.’

  ‘Why is that?’ Fidelma asked sharply.

  ‘Because Macliau cares for little outside of his hunting, drinking and his pursuit of women.’ Trifina’s voice had a disapproving tone.

  ‘Argantken?’

  ‘She is his current dalliance,’ Trifina sniffed, making her disdain abundantly clear. ‘Argantken is the daughter of a local farmer called Barbatil. Macliau would not have dared to bring her to my father’s fortress had he been there.’

  ‘So your brother…?’

  ‘Is a silly wastrel, indulged by my father after the death of my mother.’ There was no vehemence in her tone. She stated her view as a simple fact. ‘If there is justice, he will not succeed my father as the mac’htiern.’

  ‘But you would be willing to put yourself forward to the office?’ Fidelma suggested.

  ‘In the old days, the women of our people could succeed if there were no suitable male of the family to do so. I am told in your country of Hibernia that this is still so. However, our people have become too Romanised. Five centuries of rule from Rome has all but destroyed our ancestral ways of life.’

  Fidelma agreed that there was nothing to prevent women rising to such power among her people.

  ‘So who else of your household is in this secret? Iuna?’

  Trifina shook her head quickly, saying, ‘Only Bleidbara and Iarnbud.’

  ‘Iarnbud? You trust him in this matter?’ Fidelma was surprised.

  ‘He has supported our house since before I was born. He has the freedom to sail the waters of the Morbihan and to scour the forests around here, and thus is able to report on any gathering of warriors who might be connected with these raids.’

  ‘So that was what he was doing on this island…coming to report to you. Then why did he bring Iuna with him?’

  ‘He did not mention her when I saw him. Nor was there any sight of Iuna in his boat when he arrived.’

  ‘You mentioned Iuna to him? I presume he is no longer here?’

  ‘He sailed off not long ago, and I did not mention your claim to him because I felt you were mistaken. There is no way he would have allowed Iuna to know our plans.’

  ‘Had he brought you any news?’

  ‘Only about the arrival of Riwanon and the death of Abbot Maelcar.’

  ‘And that is why you were not surprised when I gave you the news?’

  Trifina nodded grudgingly. ‘You have sharp eyes, Fidelma. That was indeed why,’ she confirmed.

  ‘But so far as you know, Iuna was not with him?’

  ‘As I have said.’

  ‘Iuna may be on this island.’ Eadulf pointed out the obvious conclusion.

  ‘Impossible! I trust Iarnbud entirely. But as you are not convinced, I will ask my guards to make a search.’ Trifina called to the guard outside the door and when he entered, she issued the instructions.

  ‘It is still difficult to see a reason why this Koulm ar Maro — we may as well use the
name for the person behind the raiders as well as the ship — should be so set on bringing your family into disrepute — and by such extreme means.’ Fidelma took up the theme that was worrying her once again.

  ‘If we knew that, we might know who is behind this,’ Trifina said simply.

  ‘Then let us consider why your family might have incurred the wrath of someone to this extent. The mac’htiern of Brilhag is an ancient noble family of this area, so I am told. In fact, your father’s ancestors were kings of this land not so long ago?’

  ‘The emphasis is on “were”,’ replied Trifina. ‘We are no threat to anyone now.’

  ‘Brother Metellus spoke about your family, but I have forgotten the details. Tell me the situation so that I can understand it better.’

  ‘This was once the kingdom of Bro-Erech, which used to be the largest of the kingdoms of this land of Armorica. That was the old Gaulish name, which meant “the land before the sea”. That has now been displaced. Now it is called “Little Britain” because of the many settlements from Britain in these last two centuries.’

  ‘That I have understood,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘There was Bro-Erech and then to the north of us was Domnonia and to the west was Bro-Gernev. There were smaller kingdoms such as Bro-Leon and also Pou Kaer, but these are no more; both were absorbed many years ago. So now there are three large kingdoms.’

  Fidelma acknowledged that she was still following.

  ‘Domnonia, while not as large as Bro-Erech, became very influential and was bearing the brunt of attacks by the Franks and Saxons along the northern coast and eastern borders. Just before I was born, Domnonia was ruled by Judicael who defeated the Franks twice in great battles and even travelled to the court of the Frankish King Dagobert in Paris to conclude a treaty of peace. Judicael claimed to be King of all the Bretons. The scribes wrote that the terror of his name alone was sufficient to keep evil men from violence. Although he was said to be mighty and brave in battle, he eventually decided to follow the religious life and abdicated, retiring to an abbey in Brekilien.’

  ‘Very well. But how does this tie in with your family and Bro-Erech?’ Fidelma asked, slightly impatient.

  ‘At the time when Judicael ruled in Domnonia, my family ruled here in Bro-Erech. Just before I was born, my great-grandfather Canao, the third of his name to rule here, died. It was then that Judicael claimed the kingship. He maintained that Waroch, the greatest of our Kings, was also his own ancestor and that Waroch’s daughter, Trifina, after whom I take my name, was his own grandmother. There was a dispute and my grandfather, called Macliau, was defeated. Thus he and my father after him became only the lords of Brilhag.’

  ‘Your brother mentioned this and explained the symbol of your flag. He also said that one day, he hoped to restore the family to their rightful place. Their place as kings — is that what he meant?’

  Trifina laughed sardonically.

  ‘That is vain talk. My brother is a fool and a dreamer. We must accept reality now. Canao, the last of our family to rule here, was not a nice man. In fact, by all accounts, he was mad. He killed three brothers to secure the throne. Our family are better off out of such politics.’

  ‘Yet someone is bringing you back into that world,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully.

  ‘You mean that this is a way to discredit our family in case we ever made the claim against the King?’

  ‘That might be a reasonable theory. What is your family’s relationship with King Alain?’

  ‘Alain is the son of Judicael but he succeeded to the kingship after his brother Urbien, who died of the Yellow Plague, so he was not involved in the struggle between my grandfather and his. My father is now a close friend of his. Alain is fair-minded and his rule brings prosperity to us all.’

  ‘So you do not think there is a chance that he would be regarding your father or your family with suspicion?’

  ‘I doubt it. As I said, he is a good friend to my father. Even if my brother’s silly ideas were known to him, he would treat them with the contempt they deserve.’

  ‘Nevertheless, in looking for motivation to back your theory that this Koulm ar Maro is trying to discredit your family, this seems to be the only area where we can find any plausible grounds.’

  There was a sudden knock on the door and, at Trifina’s summons, one of the guards opened it and spoke rapidly.

  ‘A search of the villa and island has not revealed Iuna,’ Trifina interpreted. ‘I did not expect it to.’

  ‘Then where did she disembark from Iarnbud’s boat?’ Fidelma began. ‘We must find-’

  Another warrior suddenly pushed his way unannounced into the room. He looked embarrassed as he saw Fidelma and Eadulf. Trifina seemed to recognise him for her features changed and she said something quickly. The man spoke at a breathless rate. Fidelma’s ears were growing used to the sounds of the language. Now she was able to pick up the words Koulm ar Maro and then the name of Macliau.

  Trifina went deathly white and half-rose before slumping back in her chair.

  ‘What is it?’ Fidelma demanded. ‘What news has he brought?’

  The girl turned anguished eyes on them.

  ‘This man brings a message from Bleidbara — from Brilhag. He says that the local people claim to have caught the Dove of Death, the murderer, and are about to execute him.’

  ‘Who is it?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘Macliau, my brother!’

  Chapter Fourteen

  It did not take them long to return to Brilhag in the same fast skiff that had brought the messenger to Trifina. She, with Fidelma, Eadulf and three warriors, had immediately set out for the fortress on the peninsula of Rhuis. A worried-looking Bleidbara greeted them as they landed on the quay just below the fortress. He looked surprised for a moment at seeing Fidelma and Eadulf in the party.

  Helping her from the boat, Bleidbara began to speak rapidly, but Trifina said something and he reverted to Latin.

  ‘The message came from Brother Metellus just after I returned,’ he said. ‘Brother Metellus says that Macliau had reached the abbey with a mob on his heels crying for his blood. They would have killed him there and then, but Macliau pleaded for sanctuary. Brother Metellus, acting for the community, granted it.’

  ‘A mob? Who constitutes this mob?’ demanded Trifina.

  ‘Local people, farmers, fishermen. They are led by Barbatil.’

  Trifina recognised the name. ‘The father of Argantken?’

  ‘The same. The situation is that despite sanctuary having been given, they have surrounded the abbey and are preparing to attack to take Macliau away by force and kill him. The monks are threatening them with damnation if they enter the chapel where he has taken refuge. Such threats will not keep their anger at bay for long, however.’

  ‘And this mob are claiming Macliau is the Dove of Death — the leader of the raiders? They are mad!’ Trifina was angry. ‘Very well. Raise your warriors and we will teach them a lesson they won’t forget!’

  ‘I have already despatched a dozen warriors to the abbey with Boric in command,’ Bleidbara offered. ‘I had told them to defend Macliau and the monks, but only if their lives are in jeopardy.’

  Fidelma reached forward and caught the girl’s arm.

  ‘Calm yourself,’ she admonished. ‘Let us establish the facts. I agree we must stop this mob from visiting harm on Macliau, but we know how people are able to blame Brilhag for these attacks. In no way should you bring force to bear against these people until we have a chance to reason with them.’

  Bleidbara added: ‘We need to keep warriors here in case this is a trick to make us leave Brilhag unguarded and Riwanon unprotected.’

  ‘I am not concerned with Riwanon’s safety but that of my brother,’ snapped Trifina. She thought for a moment. ‘We will take these men,’ she pointed to the warriors who had accompanied her from Govihan, ‘and ride for the abbey.’

  ‘Can you give Eadulf and me horses?’ asked Fidelma. ‘We need to come with
you.’

  Eadulf gave an inward groan. The idea of confronting an angry mob with a few warriors and two women was not his idea of being prudent.

  As they made their way into the fortress, Bleidbara was already shouting orders for horses to be saddled. Budic agreed to command the warriors remaining in Brilhag.

  It was as they were riding out of the gates of the fortress that something made Fidelma glance back over her shoulder. Standing on the steps before the great hall, watching their departure, was Iuna. For a moment, Fidelma contemplated reining in her horse and turning back to question the girl, but she was swept along in the group of riders, whose priority was to get to the abbey. The mystery of Iuna would have to wait.

  The ride to the abbey of the Blessed Gildas was accomplished at breakneck speed. Bleidbara and a warrior led the way, Trifina and Fidelma came next, then Eadulf, with two warriors behind him. The pace of Eadulf’s mount was thus forced by those in front and behind, so that Eadulf, as bad a horseman as he was a sailor, simply clung to his mount and hoped for the best. His headache had returned and the events of the day seemed to be overtaking him. Already the summer day was drawing to a close, the sky darkening. Could it have really been only this morning that he had set out in a sailboat with Fidelma?

  The small band of riders raced through the thick forests along the track which led across the peninsula from Brilhag directly to the abbey buildings. As they neared the abbey, the sound of raucous shouting could be clearly heard.

  Bleidbara slowed the pace and the party trotted through outlying buildings into the quadrangle that lay before the chapel of the community.

  The mob was not as big as Eadulf had expected, though it was big enough. There were some forty or fifty people gathered in front of the chapel steps, all of them men, waving an assortment of weapons, mainly agricultural implements, and burning torches. They were sturdy men who, from their appearance, laboured on the land. Around the front of the chapel, weapons at the ready, a few warriors stood facing them, obviously the men that Bleidbara had sent on before.

  In front of them, hands held up in supplication, as if trying to quieten the mob, stood Brother Metellus. Some of the other religious of the community stood nervously by him.