The Dove of Death

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘I do, indeed.’

  ‘Then, once you have entrusted us with your evidence, they shall be tracked down and be punished as they deserve. Budic, here, shall personally lead the search for them. And if there be want of a vessel to transport you back to your own land, and none suitable entering our ports, my husband shall fit out such a vessel to take you and your companion to Hibernia with our condolences and with all proper reparation to your brother.’

  ‘You are too kind, Riwanon,’ Fidelma replied, warming towards this woman who did not seem to stand behind rank or ceremony. She sensed a person of her own temperament and thoughts. ‘Brother Metellus has served us well; not only do we owe him our lives but he has been invaluable as our guide and interpreter during this troubled time. I sense that his Abbot may chastise him for the service he has performed for us. The Abbot is a person of rigid ideas.’

  ‘His Abbot? Do you mean Maelcar?’ Riwanon seemed amused at something.

  ‘It was Abbot Maelcar of whom I spoke,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Then you know him, lady?’

  ‘I shall make my wishes known to Maelcar,’ she replied without answering. ‘Rest assured you will have no problems from him. Have you been at the abbey long, Brother Metellus?’

  Brother Metellus shook his head. ‘My duties lay on the island of Hoedig where I was able to render these folk some service. It was my duty as a Brother in Christ to do what I could for these strangers, lady, so I brought them to the mainland.’

  ‘You have done well, Brother. Not everyone recognises their duty, let alone fulfils it,’ sighed Riwanon.

  There came the sound of a brief trumpet call from the gates of the fortress and she glanced up.

  ‘Ah, this may be our host Macliau or his sister Trifina returning.’

  Brother Metellus, who knew something of the protocol, shook his head.

  ‘It does not announce the arrival of one of such rank.’ He rose and went to the door of the great hall and peered outside. They could hear his sharp intake of breath across the hall and he performed the sign of the cross. ‘Lupus in fabula,’ he muttered. The wolf in the fable. Eadulf frowned, trying to understand the colloquialism and then realised that it would be translated in his tongue as: speak of the Devil and he will appear.

  ‘What is it, Brother Metellus?’ he asked.

  ‘Abbot Maelcar. He comes in the company of another Brother.’

  A moment later, the elderly Abbot was admitted into the great hall. His dark eyes swept the company, widening in puzzlement as they fell on Brother Metellus and then on Fidelma and Eadulf. Then his gaze came to rest on Riwanon and his expression changed to one of relief. He crossed to her quickly, halting with a slight bow.

  ‘Sister, I am here.’ He spoke in his native language but now Fidelma had enough familiarity to understand some simple phrases.

  A look of irritation crossed the Queen’s features.

  ‘Abbot Maelcar,’ she replied, but in Latin, ‘I can observe the fact that you are here. We are in the company of those who better understand this language,’ she added by way of rebuke. ‘We shall continue to speak in it.’

  ‘I came as soon as I could,’ the Abbot continued.

  ‘Indeed. And why would that be?’

  There was no disguising the bewilderment that moulded the Abbot’s dark features.

  ‘I came in answer to the summons of your husband, the King.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘My husband is not here, Abbot Maelcar,’ Riwanon finally said. ‘He is still two or three days’ ride from here and still pursuing the boar hunt with his companions. Who sent you such a summons?’

  Abbot Maelcar spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

  ‘I don’t understand. A messenger came to the abbey of Gildas and told me that the King demanded my presence at once at the fortress of the mac’htiern of Brilhag. I came right away with my scribe, Brother Ebolbain, who waits outside until he is needed.’

  Riwanon regarded him in equal bewilderment.

  ‘Are you telling us that my husband is due here now? I can hardly believe he has interrupted his hunting to get here so quickly. When did this messenger arrive at your abbey?’

  ‘Early this morning, for my companion and I have walked across the peninsula to this place. I was informed that the King was already here with his entourage and needed to speak with me urgently,’ the abbot replied. He glared accusingly at Budic. ‘You did not send a message from your father?’

  ‘I am commander of my lady’s bodyguard. I am not a messenger,’ Budic answered him loftily.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Fidelma interrupted, not able to control her interest in this exchange, ‘but when and by whom were you told this, Abbot Maelcar?’

  The elderly Abbot glanced at her with an expression of disdain, and even seemed as if he were going to ignore her, when Riwanon leaned forward and spoke in a soft but deliberate tone. ‘My sister from Hibernia asks a good question, Abbot. A reply is necessary from you.’

  Abbot Maelcar flushed at the reproof.

  ‘As I said, early this morning,’ he replied with a surly tone and looking at the Queen instead of Fidelma, ‘a messenger, presenting himself as being sent from King Alain, came to the abbey and gave me the impression that the King needed my urgent attendance. I had some religious offices to perform,’ he half-shrugged, ‘but as soon as these were fulfilled, Brother Ebolbain and I set out for this place.’

  ‘And this messenger from the King, where is he?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘Did he accompany Ebolbain and yourself?’

  Abbot Maelcar looked at Riwanon as if seeking her approval before he should answer. The glint in her eye told him that he should.

  ‘The messenger came on here before us. Should he not be sent for, to explain this matter instead of people demanding answers of me?’

  Riwanon glanced at Fidelma. ‘Now here is a mystery, indeed, my sister,’ she said softly.

  Abbot Maelcar moved restlessly, unable to understand their curious behaviour.

  ‘The messenger has not returned here because he was not sent from here,’ Riwanon said patiently. ‘The King, my husband, has not been here – nor do we expect him for several days.’

  ‘Then why…?’ began the abbot hopelessly.

  Riwanon chuckled softly.

  ‘Was I not saying that I was bored? Now it seems that I have too much stimulation – not one, but several mysteries to set my wits racing. Fidelma, you say that it is your task in your own land of Hibernia to solve such conundrums? Then there are plenty here for you to take on.’

  Fidelma’s mind was turning over this latest twist.

  ‘It may well be that this is part of the same mystery, Riwanon; the mystery that has led us along the path to this place,’ she said. ‘Who, if it were not your husband, would use his name to bring the Abbot here? And for what purpose? Is there some connection with the attack on the merchants?’

  Riwanon glanced at Abbot Maelcar and extended her hand towards a chair.

  ‘In expectation of answers to be gained at some time, perhaps the good Abbot should sit with us and be comfortable for a while. It would be fruitless for you, Abbot Maelcar, to return to your abbey before those answers are presented. I presume that your scribe…Brother Ebolbain? Yes, Brother Ebolbain, can be given hospitality among the servants?’

  Iuna, who had emerged from the kitchens at the arrival of the Abbot, had been waiting discreetly in attendance. She now stepped forward.

  ‘I will ensure that instructions are so given, lady, for the Brother to be fed and provided with a bed while awaiting the Abbot’s pleasure. A bedchamber will be prepared for the Abbot as well.’

  Abbot Maelcar absently glanced up at the girl and then, for a moment, his body sensed to tense. It seemed that only Fidelma noticed a strange expression cross his features. He composed himself quickly, however, before she could identify it, and turned back to the Queen.

  ‘There is no need to go to such trouble, lady. If we leave now, we can still return to the abbey
by nightfall.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Riwanon replied. ‘This mystery is too fascinating to let you return without its resolution.’

  ‘But,’ the Abbot protested, ‘if the messenger was sent to bring me on a fool’s errand, perhaps it was done for a purpose? Perhaps someone plans some mischief at the abbey in my absence?’

  ‘That is a good point,’ conceded Brother Metellus, speaking for the first time since the arrival of the Abbot. The latter scowled at him; he had obviously not forgotten the manner of their parting.

  ‘There are several warriors here,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Perhaps some of them could be sent to the abbey to warn the community and maintain a watch in case of anything untoward occurring?’

  ‘Excellent,’ approved Riwanon. ‘Then we shall relax and enjoy the fire and the food, which I am sure this generous fortress will provide, and Ceingar can indulge us by demonstrating her talents upon the harp. Let us relax and leave it to our good sister from Hibernia to fathom the mysteries of this day.’

  She turned, waved Budic to come forward and proceeded to issue rapid instructions in her own language. After a few moments, the warrior hurried away. Riwanon looked round with satisfaction.

  ‘I have commanded two of my warriors to set out for the abbey in case of any problems. Budic will order the guards here to keep a careful watch on the roads in case my husband does decide to make a descent on this fortress – though, if I know him, he will be too intent on hunting his wild boar for a while yet.’

  The Abbot sat down, but it was obvious that he was preoccupied. Riwanon had to repeat a question before he realised he was being addressed.

  ‘It is a few years since I visited the community of Gildas,’ she said. ‘My husband informs me that you have made some changes?’

  The abbot looked at her blankly. ‘Changes?’

  ‘When I was there last, it was a conhospitae, in the old traditions of our people. Now I believe it is confined to males only and the Rule has been changed to that of the Roman religious Benedict. Is this so?’

  The abbot frowned and his voice was defensive as he stated, ‘It is done with my authority, lady. In such matters I follow the Father of our Faith and his Curia.’

  ‘I would not question your authority, Maelcar. Once elected by your brethren, then you may run your community as you will – for as long as you have their support.’ Riwanon seemed to smile mischievously.

  Abbot Maelcar flushed in annoyance. The old system, which was also part of the tradition of Fidelma’s land, was that abbots and bishops, like chieftains, were elected by their communities. They were constrained by an adherence to the laws to promote the welfare of their people. If they did not, they lost office. Obviously, Maelcar had been appointed Abbot by this method, but now it seemed he was imposing his own pro-Roman views on his community. Fidelma saw that Riwanon did not approve of it.

  ‘If only males are allowed at your community now,’ went on Riwanon, ‘I was wondering what had happened to those women and their children who were part of that community?’

  ‘They have gone safely to form their own communities,’ the Abbot replied stiffly.

  ‘I recall the kindness of Sister Aourken when I was small and was brought to the abbey by my father,’ Riwanon murmured, speaking almost to herself. ‘I wonder what became of her?’

  ‘Aourken?’ Fidelma repeated. ‘I can report that she is well. She gave us hospitality when we came to Gildas, for the abbey could not provide it.’

  ‘No women are allowed to stay within our community,’ snapped Abbot Maelcar, as if his hospitality was being questioned.

  Riwanon gazed sadly at him.

  ‘Then times have changed, indeed,’ she sighed, before turning to Fidelma. ‘I am glad to hear that Aourken thrives. I must make a point of visiting her before I leave this area. So come, sister, let us draw closer to the fire and you may tell me what you know of the kindly Aourken.’

  It was clear that Abbot Maelcar was not regarded highly by the Queen, and Fidelma could not condemn her for it. He was all the things that she held in contempt in a man of rank and one who proclaimed the Faith.

  Riwanon’s female attendant Ceingar had reappeared and removed herself to a corner of the hall with Budic, and the pair were chatting gaily away, with now and then a peal of merry laughter. As Fidelma and Riwanon drew apart to talk pleasantly of various matters, Fidelma noticed that, while Eadulf and Brother Metellus sat with Abbot Maelcar as good manners dictated, their conversation was mainly with one another. However, the Abbot seemed to exclude himself and merely sat with a frown contemplating the space before him.

  Once when Iuna entered to announce the readiness of the evening meal, Fidelma noticed the Abbot once more staring at the young woman with a curious look. When she returned to the kitchens, he rose and, muttering something about the privy, disappeared. Curiosity seized Fidelma as she noticed this and while Riwanon turned to speak to Eadulf, she rose and moved to the door and stealthily went through it. Along a darkened corridor she could hear raised voices. There was no mistaking the Abbot’s heavy growl and the higher-pitched indignation of Iuna. Fidelma strained to hear what they were arguing about, but when the voices lowered she returned quickly to rejoin the others. A moment later, Abbot Maelcar returned, clearly upset and in an ill temper.

  The evening passed without further incident, until Eadulf raised the question that had begun to worry him since darkness had descended across the fortress.

  ‘Is it not strange that Macliau and Argantken have not returned from their hunting expedition? He said they would be back by evening.’

  Brother Metellus rose from his place.

  ‘Forgive me, lady,’ he said to Riwanon. ‘I will go to the gate and see if there is news of him.’

  He was gone for a while and when he returned and resumed his seat, the others looked at him expectantly.

  ‘Boric, who now commands the guard, tells me that they are not unduly worried,’ he said. ‘Macliau and Argantken left with four men, including his chief huntsman. Boric tells me that Macliau often does not return from the hunt until he has something worthy of returning with – and frequently stays out all night.’

  Riwanon was frowning slightly. ‘Boric? I thought Bleidbara was in command of the warriors at this fortress?’

  ‘Bleidbara has gone as escort to Trifina, lady,’ offered Iuna, who was attending them at the table. ‘They have not returned yet. Perhaps they will not. Trifina often spends more time on the island of Govihan than in this fortress.’

  Budic grinned, his expression full of some cynicism, which seemed to be habitual with him.

  ‘It is a peculiar household where all the hosts vanish and no one is left to offer hospitality save the servants. Who is Argantken, by the way?’

  ‘Just a local girl,’ muttered Iuna resentfully.

  This seemed to amuse Budic even more, but a sharp glance from Riwanon caused him to compose his features.

  ‘Argantken did not strike me as the sort who took pleasure in staying out all night in pursuit of game,’ Brother Metellus offered, but no one responded to his comment.

  There was a sense of relief all round when the meal finished and it was announced that Riwanon would retire to her chamber. Now protocol allowed freedom for the rest of the company to disperse.

  As Fidelma was climbing the stairway behind Eadulf, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye: Iuna was clearing away the plates from the table in front of Budic. The warrior caught her wrist and Iuna looked down at him, shook her head and then motioned towards the kitchen and whispered something. Budic glanced around as if to be sure they had not been seen. Thankfully, he did not glance upwards and Fidelma hurried on.

  Once Fidelma and Eadulf were in their own chamber, they could talk freely. Eadulf had felt inhibited about saying much in the presence of Riwanon, but now he was eager to ask questions. Fidelma could only agree with him that the absence of Macliau and Argantken, as well as Trifina and Bleidbara, was strange – as well
as a breach of all the protocols surrounding hospitality.

  ‘And what of Abbot Maelcar?’ he demanded. ‘In truth, I have not felt so uneasy in a place since I had the misfortune to stay at the abbey of Fearna.’

  Fidelma shivered slightly at the memory of how Eadulf was nearly hanged by the evil Abbess Fainder.

  ‘Someone wanted Abbot Maelcar to come here,’ she deduced. ‘Yes, I agree that coincidences can happen, but there are enough strange events occurring here that I feel they are happening for a purpose. Omnia causa fiunt, Eadulf. Everything happens for a reason. But we can only speculate after we have the information to do so. And that is the problem. We have no information.’

  Eadulf was disappointed and said so.

  Fidelma’s thoughts were preoccupied with the curious behaviour of both Abbot Maelcar and Budic towards the girl Iuna. Both seemed to know her and both surreptitiously sought her out. One to quarrel and the other apparently to have a secret assignation. What was the meaning of it?

  Fidelma gave a tired smile as she slid into bed.

  ‘We can only see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps the mystery will soon be sorted. In the meantime, it is sleep we need more than conjecture.’

  Fidelma came awake fretfully. Her mind was filled with images of the masked figure in white and that terrible moment when she saw her Cousin Bressal collapsing in his own blood on the deck of the Barnacle Goose. Yet other things, other images, crowded into her mind. She sat up in bed. The prone figure of Eadulf beside her was emitting deep, regular breaths and, for a moment, she was irritated that he was able to sleep so soundly. Then she gave an inward smile. He deserved rest. They had been through much recently.

  She drew her tongue over her dry lips and realised just how parched she was. At the window, the racing clouds had passed across the bright orb of the moon and she saw the jug of water by the bed. She reached over – and found that it was empty. For a moment or two she entertained the thought of returning to sleep, but knew that her dry throat and the constant thoughts of the strange sea-raiders would keep her awake. There was no other course than to make her way down to the kitchens behind the great hall to see if she could find fresh water.