King Alain and Riwanon had seated themselves on the centre chairs. The red-haired ruler of the Bretons had a sombre expression. The attractive Riwanon was colourfully dressed, so that many an eye focused in her direction. On the King’s right sat Lord Canao, the mac’htiern of Brilhag, Alain’s close friend. He looked anxious, his forehead creased in a permanent frown. When he appeared, there had been many angry mutterings from the local people now pressed onto the benches to hear the judgement of Macliau by the King and his bretat. To Riwanon’s left sat Budic, the handsome son of the King and commander of the bodyguard.
An elderly man with slightly stooped shoulders sat just in front and below King Alain. He was the bretat Kaourentin of Bro-Gernev who had arrived to be the impartial judge of the proceedings. He did not inspire confidence in Fidelma. He was a thin-faced man, with a pale complexion, a beak of a nose and a look of permanent disapproval on his features. His long, once-fair hair was a dirty white, tied at the back of his neck with a ribbon. Fidelma sat directly opposite him, with Brother Metellus at her side as translator. On Metellus’ other side was Eadulf, then Bleidbara and Heraclius, their bench being slightly to the right of the elderly judge and thus opposite Riwanon and Budic. Facing Alain and Lord Canao, on the first bench sat Macliau, stubborn-looking, his chin held aggressively high, like a child about to be censured by its father. By his side was his sister Trifina, slouched on her seat with melancholy eyes downcast.
Behind them, all the other benches were filled. Among the people crowded there Fidelma had spotted Barbatil, the farmer and father of Argantken, Coric his friend, and the elderly Aourken. At the back was Hoel, now elevated to captain of the Barnacle Goose, with Wenbrit the cabin boy and other members of the crew. Fidelma presumed that the rest of the crowd consisted of local people and members of the community of the abbey. At strategic points around the hall were warriors of the King’s bodyguard, together with some of the warriors of Brilhag led by Boric.
There was a suppressed excitement in the great hall. The murmurs rose and then gradually died as Alain Hir cleared his throat. He opened with a few words in his native language, phrasing them in a rich baritone that commanded people’s immediate attention. Then he switched easily into Latin.
‘My friends, since the language common to most of us is Latin then I enjoin you to use it. For those who do not possess knowledge of it, your friends will know who you are. Please will those friends go and sit beside you now – in order to translate, so that you may understand what is being said. I make this special concession in this hearing due to the fact that we have a foreigner among us who will make a plea before us, and, not being proficient in our language, will do so in Latin.’
Fidelma was about to rise when the old judge, Kaourentin, did so quickly and half-turned to acknowledge the King.
‘I have to speak for the law we share among our kingdoms and over which you, Alain Hir, preside.’ His voice was dry and rasping. ‘It is a custom and has been observed from time immemorial that no foreign person, especially one unable to speak our language, may plead before our judges, let alone in the capacity of a prosecutor. I raised this matter with you last night when, after my arrival, the nature of this case was explained,’ he added reproachfully.
Alain the Tall gazed down at him.
‘You made your point eloquently last night and I have weighed your words most carefully. However, I have decided, in the exceptional circumstances which face us, to allow Fidelma of Hibernia to state why she should be allowed to speak here.’ He raised a hand to silence the judge, who was clearly about to make further objections.
Fidelma now rose and smiled quickly at the King. Then she took out the hazel wand of office, the wand of a techtaire or ambassador, that she had been carrying ever since she had picked it up from the deck of the Barnacle Goose, where it had fallen from Bressal’s nerveless fingers.
‘This is the symbol of office of an ambassador, which the people of Hibernia hold sacred, and which sacred office was violated. It fell from the hand of Bressal, who came to you in peace. He came to conclude a treaty with your kingdom and mine. As sister to my brother, Colgú, King of Muman in the land of Hibernia, I now pick it up and claim that role.’
‘Your rank and position are recognised here,’ conceded King Alain.
‘Your courtesy is only exceeded by your wisdom, Alain, King of the Bretons,’ she replied. ‘I thank you. Let me make it plain that I am not here to prosecute in your court. I am an advocate of the laws of my country but that does not give me the knowledge to plead in your laws, which I freely admit remain unknown to me. What I would wish is to be allowed to present to those gathered here some facts. Should they be accepted and it is felt that there is a charge to be answered under your laws, I merely hand these facts to you. To you, Kaourentin, so that you may pursue them to a logical conclusion within the constraints of your law.’
The elderly man gazed at her with his dark suspicious eyes.
‘These facts that you have gathered by means of investigation – did this involve the questioning of people?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘What authority had you to do so?’ Kaourentin smiled thinly. ‘Again, it is our law that no foreigner can come into our kingdoms and use subterfuge and guile to extract information to present for legal use.’
‘Subterfuge and guile? That is a strange way of putting it,’ Fidelma observed.
‘A law nevertheless. So you admit that you have no authority to have made such an investigation?’
‘I did not concede that I had no authority to do so.’ Fidelma glanced meaningfully at Riwanon, who flushed slightly.
‘She acted under my authority, I think,’ the wife of Alain Hir announced.
Kaourentin, his brows drawn, turned to her. ‘You say that you think she acted on your authority? How is this?’
‘I told her to find out who killed Abbot Maelcar.’
‘Hah!’ Kaourentin exclaimed. ‘May I remind you that the charge against Macliau, son of Lord Canao, is that he murdered the girl called Argantken?’
‘The charge is further that he is the person behind the Koulm ar Maro, the sea raiders, and thereby responsible for all the deaths that occurred here,’ Fidelma reminded him.
‘The Queen has said that she told you only to find out who killed Abbot Maelcar,’ quibbled the bretat.
‘If it makes it clearer, Riwanon reiterated her authority on the very morning Ceingar was killed and when Trifina and Iuna were abducted, which authority included the other deaths,’ Fidelma told the old judge calmly, but wondered whether he was being pedantic or obstructive. ‘The words used in front of Budic and of Eadulf were that I had “complete authority” to do so.’
King Alain made an irritated sound and bent forward.
‘My wife has explained this, Kaourentin. If that is not enough, then her authority is now confirmed by my own authority for, my wife in our law, always acts under my name.’ He spoke sharply, clearly annoyed by this legal attempt to stop Fidelma speaking after he had given his permission for her to do so.
‘Forgive me, sire.’ Kaourentin was bowing to him. His voice was suave. ‘It is my duty to instruct in the law and ensure that all is done according to its principles.’
‘Having done so,’ King Alain replied in a heavy tone, ‘may we finally proceed?’
Kaourentin inclined his head and, sitting down, added: ‘Speak, Fidelma of Hibernia. But remember that the primary reason we are gathered here is to hear the case against Macliau, son of Lord Canao, and consider his defence.’
Fidelma allowed the ripple of voices to spread through the great hall and eventually die away. She liked to concentrate her mind for a few moments when she was about to present a case before the Brehons of her own country. She realised that she would be limited in what she had to claim, since she had none of the legal supports of her own laws to back her. She was not even sure that she would be able to cross-examine any of the people she wanted to. But for the sake of justice she h
ad to pursue this course with all the eloquence that she could command. It was her duty.
‘I did not come willingly to your country,’ she began quietly but firmly.
She paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts again, but Fidelma had an advocate’s sense of the dramatic.
‘My companion, Eadulf, and I were returning to our own country of Hibernia on a ship called the Barnacle Goose. On board that ship was my cousin, a prince of my country, Bressal of Cashel, who had but lately conducted a treaty of trade with King Alain and was en route home with a cargo of salt from the salt pans at Gwenrann. An old friend of mine, Murchad of Aird Mhór, captained the ship. We were sailing near the island called Hoedig when we were attacked by another ship. That ship had a dove carved on its bow and flew a white banner from its stern, on which was the emblem of a dove. We were forced to surrender after one of the crew and the first mate were killed. After that surrender, the commander of this hostile vessel, a person dressed in white and masked, murdered my cousin in cold blood and then murdered the captain. Both of them were unarmed and were making verbal protest, my cousin showing the emblem of his office at the time.’
She paused once more.
‘I shall not go into many details. Eadulf and I were about to be slaughtered so, to save our lives, we were forced to jump overboard. Brother Metellus, like a guardian angel, came sailing by and rescued us. Eventually he brought us to the Abbey of Gildas. There I saw evidence that our captured ship must have put in close to these shores.’
Aourken was nodding in her seat.
‘I also learned that the emblem of a dove was known as the standard of the mac’htiern of Brilhag. Subsequently I discovered that there had been raids on farmsteads, an attack on merchants and several deaths attributed to these same pirates who acted under that flag. Both the ship and the leader of the raiders were referred to as the Koulm ar Maro, the Dove of Death.’
Canao now leaned forward in his seat. He spoke loudly and firmly.
‘Let it be recorded that the mac’htiern of Brilhag clearly and completely denies that any of his followers have acted in the manner described, and that these deeds were not committed by anyone who was legally entitled to serve under the emblem of his family.’
Fidelma turned and inclined her head towards him as there came an outburst of angry murmuring from the direction of Barbatil, Coric and their friends.
‘But let us agree that the pirates used the standard of Lord Canao of Brilhag during their raids,’ she stated.
Barbatil rose to his feet and spoke rapidly, his words quickly translated.
‘There are many of us,’ he waved his hand to indicate his supporters in the hall, ‘farmers, and others, who have witnessed attacks by warriors carrying that now accursed banner bearing a dove as its emblem. We should be protected by the lord of Brilhag and yet, for these last two weeks, we have been persecuted by him!’
‘You are out of order!’ shouted the rasping voice of Kaourentin.
‘Out of order?’ cried the burly farmer, his anger bubbling over. ‘My daughter is dead. I am here not for order but for vengeance! I am here to speak for the farmers who have been killed, for our wives and daughters who have been deprived of their husbands and fathers and sons. And for those who have been violated by these vermin. I speak for all the dead who have perished by the hand of this Dove of Death!’
King Alain raised his strong baritone voice to suppress the rising babble in the room.
‘Let no one be under any illusion. This hearing will be conducted in the name of justice, not of vengeance, and in accordance with our traditions and spirit of our laws. The guilty shall be punished. If they are guilty, they shall be punished, even though they sit at my side.’
Lord Canao flushed but made no response, staring doggedly ahead of him.
The King turned to Fidelma and motioned her to continue.
‘Having landed here on this peninsula, we heard of these attacks of which the farmer, Barbatil, has spoken. We found the merchants of Biscam after they were attacked and slaughtered. My companion, Eadulf here, discovered this banner clutched in the dead hands of one of them…’
Eadulf stood up, unfolded the silk banner he had brought with him and held it up before the assembly, allowing them to see it and recognise it before he sat down again. A ripple of voices spread through the great hall.
‘The evidence is obvious,’ shouted someone. Fidelma thought it was Coric, the friend of Barbatil. ‘That is the flag of Lord Canao.’
King Alain was looking thoughtful.
‘From what I have heard, these attacks began only two weeks ago. But for what purpose? They seem senseless, particularly so if they were being carried out on the orders of the lord of Brilhag – who, I have to say, for these last two weeks has been constantly in my company both at Naoned, Gwenrann and with me hunting along these shores.’
‘I have said, and I say it again,’ Lord Canao intervened. ‘These attacks have not been ordered by me or the house of Brilhag.’
‘Yet the act was done under your emblem,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘We must, therefore, ask – why?’
The mac’htiern frowned in annoyance.
‘Why would I, or any of my family, attack and despoil those very people who exist under the protection of Brilhag? I am their chieftain. They look to me and mine for their wellbeing. Our existence is symbiotic. I cannot exist without them nor they without me. Will there be honey if the queen bee should turn and kill the worker bees?’
As eloquent as this was, his words provoked some angry murmuring from Barbatil and his comrades.
‘We are here to bring Macliau to justice,’ cried Barbatil, ‘not Lord Canao. If the father won’t admit responsibility then his son must accept the evidence of his guilt.’
Fidelma ignored the cries of support for the farmer.
‘Lord Canao has asked a good question. And now, I will answer it. These attacks started when those responsible for them learned that Alain Hir, King of the Bretons, was coming as guest to Brilhag. To what end were all these senseless attacks directed? The lady Trifina has provided the answer. Trifina, what was your response?’
Trifina hesitated and then rose uncertainly.
‘I told you that someone was out to destroy the reputation of my family,’ she said. ‘I believed that the person using the banner of my family did so as a ruse, to bring disgrace on us.’
‘Just so’ agreed Fidelma mildly. ‘But for what end? Just to bring disgrace on a family is not a strong enough motive in itself to go to such murderous lengths. Murder is not an end in itself. There must surely be something more.’
‘What more could there be?’ Lord Canao bent forward and asked. ‘My daughter has given you good reason and has suffered because of it. Bleidbara has brought back half-a-dozen prisoners from his encounter with the Koulm ar Maro – they must be made to confess who their leader was. Confess if there was anyone else in conspiracy with them.’
‘The truth is that they do not know,’ Fidelma replied. ‘They are mercenaries. Their captain, a man called Taran from Pou-Kaer, was the only one to have direct dealings with the person who organised them. They were paid from the booty they took, but they never saw their real leader unmasked. Perhaps Taran could have identified the real Dove of Death, but he lies at the bottom of the Morbihan.’
‘It is true, Lord Canao,’ called Bleidbara. ‘They might be willing to talk to save their lives by confession, but they do not know what to confess.’
‘I will come to the identity of the leader in a moment,’ Fidelma said confidently. ‘But firstly I will tell you the reason why this has taken place.’ She allowed a few seconds to pass; the great hall was completely silent. ‘The lady Trifina was right. This “Dove of Death” as this person became known, was using the emblem of Brilhag for a purpose. However, it was not merely to bring disgrace to this family – but to bring blame.’
‘Blame?’ enquired King Alain, showing bewilderment. ‘Blame for what?’
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��Your death.’
Fidelma waited until the wave of incredulous voices began to recede.
‘These attacks started and built up so that people would already be in the frame of mind to hate and mistrust Brilhag. Who else would they blame if the King of the Bretons, arriving on a visit to Brilhag, were to be assassinated? Assassinated in such a way that the Dove of Death was blamed? The family are descended from the kings of Bro-Waroch, and some believe that they have long had a grudge against the house of Judicael, whose son is Alain Hir. Who would question their motive? Macliau, himself, bemoaned the loss of the kingship of Bro-Waroch to Domnonia, and boasted that he wanted to retrieve the ancient rights of his family.’
Lord Canao cast a look of dismay at his son. Macliau sat white-faced, staring unseeingly at his feet. It was as if he had withdrawn into himself.
‘So he is guilty! He is the Dove of Death!’ shouted Barbatil.
Alain Hir was grave and thoughtful.
‘You seem to have gathered a lot of information in your investigation, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ he said.
‘My old mentor in law in Hibernia, the Brehon Morann, used to say that once you have a motive you will be led to the culprit. I am afraid that in this instance he was wrong. The motive was to kill you and place the blame on the family who might have claimed this kingdom on your death. But if that family were not guilty of the assassination…who else could possibly benefit from such events as have occurred here?’
‘You mean, a beneficiary other than the house of Brilhag?’
‘Exactly. As a Roman lawyer, Cicero, once argued before a judge – cui bono? Who stands to gain? That is the basis of this matter. Curiously enough, a short time before his death, my Cousin Bressal and I were speaking of the very motivation behind the assassination of a king or chieftain, and of our concerns for the wellbeing of our own High King. From the attack on our ship, we have made a long journey through many dark minds, but now all shall be revealed.’
The Dove of Death Page 33