The Dove of Death (18 page)

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.

With a reluctant sigh, she swung out of the bed and drew on her robe, making her way over the cold wooden boards to find her shoes of soft leather. Then, glancing back into the gloomy half-light of the chamber, she drew open the door and passed quietly out into the corridor. In spite of her robe and the leather on her feet, the cold of the stone walls seemed to permeate her very being. The bright moon cast its light through the tall window at the end of the corridor, throwing eerie shadows.

Fidelma was moving quietly, keeping to the middle of the corridor to avoid the chests and standing vases that fringed the walls. Thus it was that when the figure seemed to leap from nowhere into her path, she had warning enough to move to avoid a collision.

The figure halted a moment and seemed to cower back. It was clear that whoever it was had not seen Fidelma’s approach, but had come rushing from a side door, beyond which a flickering candlelight spread a little illumination.

It was Fidelma who recovered first and recognised the features distorted by the blending of the half-light.

‘Iuna? I am sorry that I gave you a start.’ She then became aware of the strange posture of the girl, her visible trembling. ‘What is the matter?’

The girl did not respond but looked silently back into the room from which she had just come.

At first, Fidelma could see nothing; frowning, she walked
into the room. A dancing light emanated from a candle on a table beside a bed. A figure lay on the bed, something projecting from its chest, around which spread a dark, shining substance. It was the handle of a knife.

Fidelma moved forward and looked down.

Abbot Maelcar, of the abbey of the Blessed Gildas, was dead. He had been stabbed through the heart.

A group of very worried people were huddled in the great hall as the grey light of dawn crept through the windows. Riwanon, attended by Ceingar, sat moodily before the smouldering wood fire, while a male servant tried to coax it into bright flames. Iuna stood sullenly to one side, still wearing a gown stained with the blood of the Abbot. Fidelma was standing opposite the Queen while Eadulf and Brother Metellus stood nervously by the table. Budic, fully dressed and looking relaxed and refreshed, was perched on the edge of the table, one leg swinging, wearing his perpetual grin. They had been in silence for some time while the male servant was attending to the fire. Finally, Riwanon let out a long sigh of impatience.

‘That’s enough!’ she told him. ‘We can attend to it ourselves. You may go.’

The man bobbed his head in acknowledgement and seemed glad to leave the room.

Riwanon gazed from Fidelma to Iuna and then back again.

‘Well, my sister of Hibernia? What now? You told me yesterday that you were adept at making enquiries into unnatural deaths. I ask for your advice. In fact, I now commission you to investigate this murder and am resolved to abide by your finding. You have my word.’

‘I thank you for the confidence you have shown me, lady,’ Fidelma said. ‘But I am a stranger in a strange land. I do not know your laws nor am I qualified to interpret them.’

‘I do not ask you to do so,’ Riwanon told her. ‘I ask you to find out who is responsible for this crime and then we shall sort out the laws to apply.’

‘Very well. Perhaps you will allow me to begin by ascertaining some facts?’

Riwanon made a quick gesture with her hand that implied consent, and said, ‘It is better than we make ourselves comfortable, so you may all be seated. You as well, Iuna.’

The stewardess started nervously and then sank obediently into the nearest chair.

Everyone turned to look expectantly at Fidelma.

‘Let me start with you, Iuna,’ she began, not unkindly. ‘You told me that you chanced by the Abbot’s room and found him thus. How came you there at such an hour?’

There was a sound from Budic – a curious cynical grunt – and Riwanon glared at him. The warrior grimaced as if in apology and was quiet.

‘It is my task to rise early and ensure that all is prepared for the day in this household,’ Iuna stated. ‘I have to see that the servants have brought water in, that it is ready to heat and that the fires have been rekindled, where they have been allowed to die during the night. I have to see there is enough fuel for the day. There are many things to be done.’

‘That explains why you were up at such an hour, but not how you came to be in the Abbot’s room.’

‘My room is adjacent to the lady Trifina’s room for, when she is staying here, I am appointed her personal attendant and I am so placed that she can call upon my services when she requires.’

‘And Trifina’s room is where?’

‘At the far end of the corridor. I left my room and was making my way along the corridor…’

‘Without a candle?’ Fidelma asked sharply. ‘You did not have one when I came upon you.’

‘The candle in the Abbot’s room was mine.’

‘So what happened? Tell us in your own words. You came along the corridor…’

‘As I was about to pass the Abbot’s room I heard a noise, the sound of a groan. Believing the Abbot might be ill, I paused and knocked on the door. There was no response. I saw that it was slightly ajar and so I pushed it open.’

‘Ajar?’ Fidelma interjected. ‘Not closed?’

‘Ajar,’ confirmed the girl.

‘Continue.’

‘I pushed it open and called to ask the Abbot if he was ailing or required anything. There was no response.’

‘No groan?’

‘No sound at all. I raised my candle and entered the room. I saw the Abbot lying still on the bed. I think I spoke again, asking if he was all right, but there was no reply. I moved across to the bed, put down my candle and bent over him. I felt something hard as I did so…it was the handle of the knife protruding from his chest. I felt blood on my dress. I turned and fled the room in panic…’

‘And nearly collided with me,’ Fidelma ended. ‘Now tell me, you say that you heard him groan before you entered the room?’

‘I did.’

‘Perhaps it was his last dying breath,’ offered Budic. His eyes were focused at some point on the ceiling and he did not see Fidelma’s irritated glance at his interruption.

‘One presumes,’ she continued, ‘with such a wound that it would have been the cause of an almost instantaneous death. However, you heard nothing else – no sound of anyone leaving
the room by another exit? For surely the killer must have been in the room.’

‘There is a window,’ the girl replied quietly.

‘So when you entered the room,’ Fidelma went on, ‘did you observe if the window was open?’

‘No, but there is a sheer drop below it.’

‘The door was ajar, you say. Had you seen any movement, anyone coming from the Abbot’s room as you came along the corridor?’

The girl shook her head. ‘I saw nothing else. I saw no one leave the room as I approached along the corridor.’

‘Now this window in the room,’ reflected Fidelma. ‘I examined it. It was closed.’

‘So we have a mystery again,’ Riwanon intervened. ‘How did this killer leave the bedside of the murdered Abbot? Could someone from the outside have entered the fortress?’

Fidelma gave a thin smile.

‘I have already asked Boric, who I took the precaution of summoning through Iuna, to examine the area and grounds adjacent to see if there was any sign of any egress or exit.’

‘And therefore…?’ came Riwanon’s prompt.

‘There is none. Whoever killed the Abbot knew the way in and out of his room. Also, they must have known which bedchamber he had been assigned.’

Iuna shifted nervously in her chair.

‘Which means?’ demanded Riwanon.

‘The conclusion, according to Iuna’s statement,’ Fidelma went on, ‘can only be that the killer left in the darkness moments before she came down the corridor. That someone has to have access to this fortress and know their way about this building, even to the location of the room where the Abbot was sleeping.’

‘Supposing that it
was
the Abbot who was the intended victim…’ Budic still had a trace of a smile on his face.

Fidelma turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

‘Can you expound on that remark?’ she asked.

‘Perhaps this killer was not committing a premeditated murder. Perhaps they were merely a thief, a thief who wandered into a room by chance, woke the occupant by accident and struck out to silence him.’

‘It is an interesting theory,’ said Riwanon. ‘Perhaps we should make a search for missing items?’

‘I doubt whether anything is missing.’ Fidelma’s expression did not change. ‘And it would still mean that the killer had knowledge enough to wander this place at night, knowing their way around. There is one other thing that we are already forgetting.’

‘Which is?’ Riwanon leaned eagerly forwards.

‘The strange message that brought the Abbot here yesterday. It purported to be from your husband, Riwanon. Was that message designed to lure the Abbot here, to bring him to his death?’

‘Lure?’ Brother Metellus’ brows were drawn together. ‘You mean that the message was purposely sent to bring him here, for him to be killed? That sounds dramatic.’

‘It is something to be considered,’ Fidelma said calmly.

‘But who could have done such a thing?’

‘Isn’t that what we are discussing?’ Riwanon sighed impatiently. ‘All I can say is that the message was
not
sent by my husband.’

‘The point is,’ Eadulf intervened, ‘who would want to kill Abbot Maelcar?’

Brother Metellus could not restrain a chuckle, saying, ‘He was not the most likeable of men. There are plenty who would not shed a tear at his demise.’

‘According to what you have told us, Brother Metellus, that would include yourself?’ Fidelma pointed out dryly.

His shoulders tensed for a moment before he relaxed with a rueful laugh.

‘Just so, lady,’ he conceded. ‘As well as many members of the community at Gildas. And there are many more who are no longer of the community, those whom the abbot expelled when they did not agree with his new Rule, who would doubtless bear a grudge against him.’

Fidelma turned to Iuna. ‘One more question:…how well did you know Abbot Maelcar?’

Iuna started. ‘
Know
him?’

‘Abbot Maelcar did know you, didn’t he?’ she said, before the girl could deny it. ‘I saw from his expression that he recognised you last night.’

The girl regained her composure quickly, saying, ‘He has been to Brilhag several times to see Lord Canao. Of course, I know him.’

‘He seemed to be arguing with you in the kitchen last night,’ Fidelma said gently.

Iuna looked shocked for a second, and then sighed. ‘He was remonstrating with me for not making Confession under his new religious rule.’

Fidelma saw the closed look on the girl’s face and realised that pursuing things further at this stage would not help them make progress.

‘I think we can allow you to go and change out of that bloodstained gown,’ she said gently.

The girl rose, glanced at Riwanon, who nodded as if to confirm Fidelma’s suggestion, and hurried off.

Fidelma turned to Brother Metellus. ‘Do you know the scribe who accompanied the Abbot here?

‘Brother Ebolbain? Not well at all. Only by sight.’

‘Will you find him and bring him here? We should hear if he has anything to add to the reason why the Abbot came here.’

Brother Metellus left the great hall.

Fidelma went to the table where, at the beginning of the gathering, she had placed something wrapped in a cloth. Now she carefully unwrapped it and held it up, so that Riwanon could see it.

‘I wonder if you recognise this, lady?’ she asked.

Riwanon frowned at the object.

‘Why would I recognise it, apart from the fact that it’s a knife?’

‘Examine it,’ invited Fidelma.

‘It’s a hunting knife.’

‘Rather it is a dagger used in warfare,’ Fidelma corrected. ‘But what I wanted you to particularly notice, and express if it means anything to you, is the symbol engraved on the handpiece.’

Riwanon peered closer. ‘It is an image of a bird, a dove. Oh, that is the symbol of the house of Brilhag.’

‘And this was the knife that was embedded in the chest of the Abbot,’ Fidelma explained solemnly.

Riwanon seemed unperturbed.

‘Then it is a dagger that belongs to this household. It would probably mean that the killer grabbed the first item to hand to kill the Abbot. Ah, I see. That would mean that it was not a premeditated act.’ She smiled. ‘You see, I have observed our own advocates pleading in the courts and know some of the ways of their thinking.’

‘Or it could mean that the killer was part of this household,’ Fidelma corrected her. ‘Thus they would have access to the Abbot’s chamber. And who would leave a war dagger lying about? I noticed that Macliau, when he greeted us, was most particular about the placing of weapons in a room for safety. He told us that his people share an old custom with mine. No weapons were brought into the great hall but kept in that small
room, over there.’ She indicated the chamber at the end of the great hall, which Macliau had showed them.

‘The custom is so strong that even your bodyguard, Budic, last night handed his weapons over. That means that the killer would have had to collect the dagger from that armoury, taking the key from its hook to unlock the door. I checked this morning. The door was still unlocked.’

‘In which case it was a premeditated act,’ Eadulf finished. ‘And the dove…’

Fidelma frowned warningly at him as she said, ‘Exactly. The dove is symbol of this household.’

The door opened and Brother Metellus returned. Trailing in his wake was a small, balding man, peering nervously about him in shortsighted fashion. His eyes were large and round, almost owl-like.

‘This is Brother Ebolbain,’ announced Brother Metellus, adding: ‘I have informed him what has happened.’

The little man nodded emphatically, moving his head up and down rapidly in a birdlike motion.

‘The Abbot slain! Terrible! Terrible!’ he muttered.

‘Come forward, Brother Ebolbain,’ instructed Fidelma, pointing to a spot before them. She re-wrapped the dagger and placed it back on the table. ‘Do you know who that lady is?’ She indicated Riwanon.

Brother Ebolbain continued the jerking of his head as he mumbled, ‘Riwanon. The wife of our King, Alain Hir.’

‘I am Fidelma of Hibernia and have been requested by your Queen to ask some questions about the death of Abbot Maelcar. Do you understand?’

Brother Ebolbain looked from Fidelma to Riwanon and back again.

‘I suppose so. I saw you outside the abbey infirmary when you were there a few days ago.’

‘So tell us, how did you and the Abbot come here?’

‘We came by foot, Sister,’ replied the monk ingenuously.

‘I meant, what caused you to come here,’ corrected Fidelma.

‘The Abbot told me to do so.’

Budic, still seated on the table, sniggered.

‘Did he explain why?’ asked Fidelma patiently.

‘Oh yes, he told me that the messenger had instructed him to meet the King, your husband,’ he turned to Riwanon, ‘as a matter of urgency.’

‘Did you see this messenger?’

‘Oh yes. He was in the Abbot’s study when the Abbot called me in.’

‘Describe him.’

This instruction caused the scribe’s eyebrows to raise. He hesitated a moment.

‘He was ordinary. A messenger – that’s all. There was nothing to mark him apart.’

‘He wore no insignia, nothing to denote he was a King’s messenger, no sign that most heralds affect to show their office?’

Brother Eboblain shrugged. ‘I suppose he must have shown the Abbot some badge of his office. I did not see it. One warrior looks much like another, to me.’

‘So he was accoutred as a warrior? He carried shield and sword?’ Fidelma said quickly.

‘I suppose he did. I did not notice.’ He thought a moment. ‘Yes, he did have a shield.’

‘Was there an emblem on it?’