‘A good place for an ambush, as the road passes through a heavily wooded area. I know it well. We shall proceed carefully. I shall take six men, for it will be best to leave the others here, to prepare for all contingencies. I’ll take Boric the Stout for he is not only a good warrior but the best tracker we have. I hope your optimism that the attackers have fled is not proved wrong, lady.’
‘I would not like to be responsible for sending these men into danger unnecessarily,’ Riwanon said, looking distraught.
‘Be reassured, lady.’ Fidelma’s voice was earnest. ‘There is necessity to this. And I do not believe there is any danger for them.’
Only Eadulf seemed to pick up a hidden meaning in her words.
Every so often, Boric halted the group of riders and slid from his horse, peering at the tracks that they were following. They were some way from Brilhag by now, and he had examined the tracks several times already.
‘I can see signs of two horses heading for Brilhag, but no sign that they were being followed at this point, certainly not along this track,’ he told Bleidbara.
Bleidbara glanced at Eadulf.
‘So Riwanon was mistaken when she thought they were chased to the gates of Brilhag,’ Eadulf said.
‘There is one other thing,’ Boric added. ‘At this point, the tracks indicate that the two horses were proceeding at no more than a walking pace. So they must have realised, at this point, that they were not being followed.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bleidbara frowned. ‘Maybe these are the wrong tracks. When they arrived at Brilhag, they came at a gallop.’
The stocky tracker shook his head. ‘The horses were certainly not galloping here. I’d stake my sword on it.’
‘We will continue — but with caution,’ decided Bleidbara. ‘Keep an eye on the tracks, Boric.’
‘How far to this oratory?’ asked Eadulf as they set off again.
‘We are fairly close now. It is towards the north-east, along the shore of the Morbihan. There are some farmsteads in this area. They are well away from the main course of this track, more towards the south.’
‘Then we should be coming to the bodies of Riwanon’s companions soon,’ Eadulf deduced.
From time to time, Boric had halted and dismounted to check the tracks but he had found no sign of anything untoward until they came to a track that intersected the one they were following. Here he reported that several horses had halted for a little while, for the ground was churned by their hooves.
‘I can see that two horses have left the main group here. They are going back to Brilhag.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bleidbara asked.
‘I can only report what I see on the ground,’ replied Boric stoically. ‘Shall we continue on?’
Bleidbara gestured assent.
Eadulf was thoughtful, still wondering why Fidelma had made him come along. Was there something she already knew or suspected?
After another period had passed, Bleidbara pointed through the trees on their left, north of their position.
‘Those are the waters of Morbihan and the oratory is nearby.’
Eadulf followed his quick gesture and saw waters glistening beyond the trees.
‘Well, one thing is for sure,’ Bleidbara said. ‘The raiders are long gone from this area and certainly did not maintain their pursuit of Riwanon and Budic after they had ambushed them.’
‘That might be so,’ Eadulf agreed as he looked around. ‘However, we haven’t yet come to the spot where the ambush took place.’
‘True enough,’ the other man agreed. ‘We ought by now to have come across the bodies of those warriors who fell and, of course, the girl, Ceingar. The attack was probably closer to the oratory than Riwanon allowed. We’ll continue on…’
He paused, for the stout tracker was standing still. He was sniffing the air suspiciously.
‘I smell a fire,’ he announced.
They could all smell it now. Boric silently pointed to the south, away from Morbihan. There was a gap in the canopy of leafy branches that showed clear sky and something else. A column of black smoke was rising and drifting against the blue.
‘A forest fire?’ demanded Eadulf, looking at it and then glancing at the tall trees on either side of the track that suddenly seemed to grow menacingly around them.
‘I don’t think so,’ Bleidbara replied quietly. ‘That is a man-made fire.’
Boric remounted. ‘I’ll ride on ahead,’ he called over his shoulder as he urged his horse forward at a canter.
Bleidbara signalled his band to follow carefully. The smell of burning wood became stronger.
‘There is a farmstead beyond that hill,’ he said to Eadulf. ‘Perhaps the farmer is burning his fields. It’s that time of year.’
Eadulf vaguely knew that some farmers burned corn stubble in their fields on alternate years to ensure more fertile ground. It was a practice that, not being a farmer, he did not really understand.
‘Why are you sure it is not a forest fire?’ he enquired.
Bleidbara grinned. ‘When you have lived in a forest you begin to develop a feeling, an instinct, and you also develop your eyes for such things.’
They found a small fork in the track that meandered off to the right and ascended a sloping area of ground. Boric was still ahead of them. The trees began to thin a little and suddenly they saw him halt his horse at the top of the rise. He did not turn round but held up his hand as if to stay their advance.
They came up carefully behind him and halted.
Some cultivated fields stretched before them, leading down to a stream, which ran snake-like through their middle. But it was not these that were on fire. On the far side of the fields were what seemed to have been a log-built farmhouse and some outbuildings. It was these that were on fire.
A group of people were milling about, some trying to form a human chain to the stream, along which they passed pails of water in a fruitless attempt to douse the flames. Some bodies were laid out nearby.
Eadulf tried to focus on the scene to discern its cause.
There was a sudden shout of warning from the people below. One of them was pointing up the hill towards them. Some grabbed for weapons. It was clear that their group had been spotted and identified as a potential threat.
Bleidbara began to ride slowly forward while Eadulf and the others followed a short distance behind.
As they grew close, Eadulf saw that those trying to put out the flames were reforming in defensive positions. They were those same sturdy farmers who had gathered to attack the abbey on the previous day. He could tell by their clothing and curious agricultural weaponry. He recognised the small man, what was his name? Coric! Coric — the friend of Barbatil, the father of the murdered Argantken.
They were halfway across the field when Bleidbara halted and called to Coric. It was in retrospect that Bleidbara interpreted the shouted conversation to Eadulf.
‘Coric! It is I, Bleidbara. We are friends!’ he cried.
‘You come under the banner of Brilhag,’ replied the little man. ‘That is no sign of friendship — after this.’ He gestured around him.
‘What do you mean?’
‘A group of your warriors attacked this farmstead, slaughtered old Goustan the farmer and his family and set fire to it. How should we welcome you as friends?’
‘No warriors of mine did this, Coric. We have come from Brilhag in search of the brigands who ambushed Queen Riwanon this morning. Two of her warriors were slain, and her maid.’
Coric stood uncertainly. ‘How can we know that you tell the truth?’
‘I am Bleidbara. I grew up among you. My word is my honour.’
‘I cannot accept the word of anyone who serves Brilhag after this day. Warriors have attacked us poor farmers too many times. But today, today marks an end of it. We will fight back. So I warn you, Bleidbara, stay back!’
‘They may be using the banner of Brilhag, but that does not mean they are of Brilhag,’ responded the warrior.
‘So you say. We will choose our own counsel.’
Bleidbara was losing patience. ‘Just tell us what happened and which way these raiders have gone?’
There was a pause, then Coric’s surly voice answered, ‘We saw smoke rising and, as several of our farmsteads had been attacked before, we came in a body to see what was happening. From the rise there, we saw half-a-dozen men loading booty on their horses. The cabin was already blazing. Old Goustan was still alive, we saw him arguing with the looters. Then one of them, perhaps the leader, simply drew his sword and cut him down. There was a scream and we saw Goustan’s wife and child run from behind one of the huts. They did not reach him. Their bodies lie there.’
Again Coric gestured.
‘We gave a shout of anger and all of us, as one man, raised what weapons we could and began to run down the hill. The attackers saw us. They had bows and might have cut down some of us. But their leader was wise, for he simply signalled his men to mount and they went riding away.’
‘How long ago was this?’ demanded Bleidbara sharply.
‘An hour — perhaps more. The blaze was so strong here that we have not been able to quench it.’
‘And which way did the attackers go?’
Coric pointed north but slightly to the east of the direction from which they had come.
‘Once more, I assure you that this is no deed of Brilhag,’ cried Bleidbara. ‘I am going in pursuit of these raiders and will prove to you and your people that I am right.’
Coric and his fellows said nothing. Neither did they drop their weapons nor did they raise them. They stood unsmiling as Bleidbara turned his horse and signalled to his men to follow. As they rode quickly back across the hill in the direction Coric had indicated, Bleidbara quickly recounted the conversation to Eadulf.
‘Then these must be the same men who attacked Riwanon,’ Eadulf said unnecessarily. ‘Where would they be heading to in this direction?’
‘This way is the oratory.’
‘Could they have landed from this ship you call Koulm ar Maro?’
‘That is exactly what I fear,’ agreed Bleidbara. ‘They have such a head start on us that they may vanish out onto the waters of Morbihan again.’
‘But they are on horseback,’ objected Eadulf.
‘Ah,’ Bleidbara smiled brightly, ‘that is true. I was almost forgetting. They must keep their horses somewhere if they are conducting raids like this.’
It seemed little time passed before they came within sight of the small stone oratory.
Immediately Bleidbara halted the band and, without any words being exchanged, Boric slid from his horse and moved quickly forward. It was obvious to Eadulf that these men had worked together before and did not have to waste time exchanging orders.
The first task was to ensure that no one was in hiding in or around the oratory, and when all was clear, Boric bent to the ground checking the area around the grey stone building. Then he moved towards the nearby shoreline and down to the embankment. While Eadulf was impatient, Bleidbara sat leaning forward, resting on the pommel of his saddle. It was almost as if he was nodding in a doze but the half-shut eyes were still bright, watchful and wary of their surroundings.
Boric reappeared and waved them forward.
As they dismounted, he spoke rapidly to Bleidbara.
‘Several horses and riders have been here. It’s difficult to tell how many. The most recent group halted and some men dismounted. Four riders took the riderless horses and moved on northwards.’
‘How can you possibly know that?’ wondered Eadulf.
Boric smiled patiently, then enlightened him. ‘The earth always tells the story. Some horses came here; the depth of their imprint measures their weight. When they left, in that direction,’ he pointed, ‘only four of the horses impressed the ground with the same weight. The others were light. Then we found marks of boots, heavy shod of the type warriors wear. The wearers of these went down to the embankment and seem to have boarded a boat drawn up on the shore.’
‘Probably they went to join their friends on the ship,’ Bleidbara explained grimly.
Eadulf had to admit that the tracker knew his business well.
‘And those that continued on?’ he asked. ‘Where would they go to?’
Boric shrugged. ‘The only way to know that would be to follow them.’
Bleidbara was now all in favour of pushing on. He pointed out that Fidelma had wanted the attackers followed to their lair.
‘What is the point of coming this far, only to turn back?’ he pressed.
‘But the sea raider, this Koulm ar Maro, is hiding somewhere out there.’ Eadulf pointed to the Morbihan.
‘It might be that in following those that continued on land, we will find out where their secret harbour is,’ Bleidbara said.
‘How so?’
‘Why wouldn’t they all try to escape to the sea, if escaping they were? I think they also have a camp on land and that is where they stable their horses for these attacks. In that place, we may also find the harbour that shelters their ship.’
Eadulf thought carefully. ‘There is something in that logic,’ he agreed.
‘You sound doubtful?’
‘It’s just that I am wondering why we have not found the bodies of the slain bodyguards of Riwanon and her maidservant Ceingar?’
‘Perhaps we missed them,’ Bleidbara replied.
‘Or they could have been made prisoners,’ suggested Boric.
‘The answer is to follow and find out for ourselves.’ Bleidbara’s tone was determined.
With a reluctant sigh, Eadulf conceded to the warrior. He still felt uneasy, however, and worse still, remained unsure what it was that Fidelma had expected him to see.
Chapter Sixteen
There was an air of nervous expectation in the fortress of Brilhag. A warrior had retrieved the carcass of Macliau’s little dog Albiorix from the pigpen at Barbatil’s farmstead. Macliau, clearly stricken with a grief that Fidelma found surprising, had insisted on personally digging a little grave in the gardens of the fortress, observed only by Trifina and Fidelma. He had said nothing to them or they to him. After Macliau had interred his dog, he had retired to his chamber with a flagon of wine, moody and uncommunicative.
‘Does Iuna know Budic?’ Fidelma asked, as Trifina accompanied her slowly back to the great hall.
The other woman glanced at her in surprise. ‘I don’t think so. What makes you ask?’
‘I just had a feeling,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Had Budic visited Brilhag before? I thought Riwanon said she had been to the Abbey of Gildas in the past. I thought they might have met then.’
Trifina shook her head. ‘That was a long time ago, before Riwanon married Alain. Budic has never been here. However…’
Fidelma raised an eyebrow. ‘However?’
‘Iuna has accompanied my father a few times to the court of Alain Hir in Brekilien.’
‘I thought Brekilien was a forest?’
‘So it is, but within it is the location of the royal court, near the Abbey Pempont, which King Judicael founded some years before his death. It is our great religious and royal centre.’
At this point, Trifina bade Fidelma farewell and retired to her own chamber. Fidelma herself went on to the great hall, but found only two occupants. At the far end of the hall, Riwanon and Budic were standing together before the fire locked in earnest conversation. What caused Fidelma to stop in surprise was the proximity of their bodies to one another; too close for the normal relationship between a Queen and the commander of her bodyguard. Budic was very close, staring down into the upturned face of Riwanon. Their voices were low and urgent.
Fidelma closed the door behind her, perhaps with a little more force than necessary, and the two sprang apart.
‘Fidelma.’ Riwanon forced a smile. ‘Any news?’
‘Bleidbara has not returned yet,’ Fidelma said, moving forward to the fire. Although it was summer, the great hall seemed cold.
‘And Macliau has just buried his dog.’
Budic sniffed disparagingly.
‘Do you still think him innocent?’ There was the familiar sneer in his voice.
‘It matters not what I think,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It is what the bretat will judge when he hears the evidence.’
‘It is no justice when one has to wait so long for it,’ replied Budic. ‘He should have been tried at once.’
‘I did not think it was your law to try someone without a qualified judge present? No one, surely, should be tried by an emotional mob.’
Budic was about to respond but then he merely shrugged and moved away to sink in a chair before the fire. Riwanon looked at her guard commander with irritation at his rudeness.
‘We are a little tense waiting for news…waiting for what might be an attack on this fortress by these brigands,’ she said, almost in apology.
‘Indeed,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But we must all try to relax as best we can. From what I have seen of this fortress, we are well protected.’
‘I hope your Saxon friend and Bleidbara can say the same,’ muttered Budic from his chair.
Eadulf was seated on his horse, his heart pounding as Boric, the tracker and scout, came galloping back along the path to the clearing where he, Bleidbara and the others had halted.
‘A horseman is coming!’ He cried a warning in a low voice. ‘A single rider, coming at the gallop!’
With one motion of his arm, Bleidbara signalled his men to take cover on either side of the forest path, ensuring that Eadulf followed him into the cover of the thick undergrowth. Indeed, no time seemed to pass before they could hear the thudding of hooves along the muddy track. The rider was bent low over the straining neck of the beast. He was clearly in a hurry. Before he drew near, Eadulf saw that he was no ordinary warrior. He was well dressed with a multi-coloured cloak snapping in the air behind his shoulders. He had an ornate polished helmet, and a saffron-coloured tunic with designs that Eadulf could not clearly make out. The man wore a sword but carried neither shield nor spear.
As he drew near, Bleidbara urged his horse forward to block the rider’s path while his comrades came up behind him. For a second or two, the rider’s horse shied and kicked the air with its forehooves.
The Dove of Death sf-20 Page 26