The Dove of Death (26 page)

‘I know you say that you could not kill your dog, but continue: what did you do next?’

‘I tried to get out of the pigpen but someone had barred the means of exit. It took me all night, trying my strength against it. It was not long before daybreak that I managed to create a small burrow, whereby I crawled out. I managed to get into some nearby woods, and went through them, wondering where to make for. I had just realised that I was nearer to the abbey than Brilhag when I began to hear the cries of people whom I knew instinctively were my pursuers. I had to make it to the abbey. I ran. I ran as no one has ever had to run before. I nearly fell with exhaustion but then…then I saw the chapel and Brother Metellus, and I fell on my knees before him, begging him to shelter me from the fiends who were after me.’

‘There were no fiends after you, Macliau,’ Fidelma said quietly. ‘It was a father who had lost his daughter, in a most violent and tragic way, and the friends and relatives of that father.’ She was gazing into the face of the weak, indolent young man, trying to judge the honesty of his words. Finally she shrugged and rose to her feet.

‘What of my brother?’ Trifina demanded. ‘We cannot leave him here in this state.’ As much as she had criticised her brother, it seemed that the girl did have affection for her sibling.

‘I agree,’ Fidelma replied. ‘However, as I see it, there is a case to be answered. Macliau must receive a fair hearing before one of your judges – a
bretat
, as you call them.’

‘Iarnbud?’ suggested Bleidbara.

Fidelma shook her head firmly. ‘He is a friend of the lord of Brilhag. No, this judge has to be independent, someone who is beyond reproach. The people of this peninsula must be confident that the judge has no favouritism towards the family of the lord of Brilhag.’

‘Then we must send for a judge from Bro-Gernev,’ Brother Metellus suggested. ‘That is the neighbouring kingdom.’

‘Would that be acceptable to you, Barbatil?’ asked Fidelma.

The farmer reluctantly indicated that if time was to be wasted in a legal hearing, then such a judge was better than one with a close association with Brilhag.

‘Very well.’ Fidelma glanced round at the company as they waited expectantly. ‘I would suggest that we secure an agreement with Barbatil there. Macliau may return to Brilhag and give his word of honour, swearing as a sacred oath, to present himself before such a judge where this matter can be fairly heard. I presume that you have the same concept in your laws as we of Hibernia have in ours? A man is bound by his honour. He will make no attempt to escape or conceal himself from justice until the time comes for the hearing. And Barbatil must take a similar oath that he will not attempt to harm, or cause to be harmed, Macliau, while he resides at Brilhag awaiting this hearing. Can that be agreed?’

Macliau was hesitant about leaving the safety of what he saw as the sanctuary of the abbey but, if guarantees were given, he agreed to accompany warriors back to Brilhag – but on a curious
condition. He demanded that someone went to the farm of Barbatil to recover the carcass of his dog so that he could bury it at Brilhag.

Barbatil took a little more persuading as he saw in the plan some plot to take Macliau to the safety of the fortress and deprive him and his family of justice. Fidelma argued long and ardently through Brother Metellus and finally the farmer agreed.

Brother Metellus immediately despatched a messenger to the neighbouring western kingdom of Bro-Gernev, to ask King Gradlon to send a judge to hear the accusation against Macliau.

‘I suggest that we all return to Brilhag now, where we can await the coming of this
bretat
Bro-Gernev,’ Fidelma concluded.

‘It will probably take three or four days before the man can arrive here,’ Brother Metellus warned them. ‘Our messenger has to travel west to the city of Kemper, which lies at the junction of two rivers, a few days’ ride from here.’ He paused and then looked embarrassed. ‘I nearly forgot – the Widow Aourken was here earlier and asking to see you.’

Fidelma was momentarily distracted because Trifina was still worried.

‘Let us make sure the mob understands that it is to allow us safe passage back to Brilhag.’ Trifina had swung round to Barbatil, who reddened under the fire in her eyes and from the tone of the young woman’s voice as she addressed him. Fidelma was not sure what she was telling the man. However, at the end of it, the farmer turned to Fidelma and spoke firmly and with dignity. Brother Metellus interpreted.

‘He says that he has given his oath to you, Fidelma. He will abide by it and instruct his family, his neighbours and his friends to keep it.’

‘Your word and honour is acceptable.’ Fidelma smiled reassuringly at him. ‘And Macliau will also keep his word.’

They left the chapel and saw Barbatil walk across to his friend
Coric and begin speaking with him. The little man was shaking his head in apparent disagreement but finally he shrugged, shouldered his weapons and strode off into the gathering dusk with Barbatil.

Eadulf saw that Brother Metellus had been talking quietly to Fidelma and she turned to their companions.

‘Eadulf and I have some business to discuss with Brother Metellus before we return to Brilhag.’

At once Bleidbara raised objections to leaving them alone there.

‘Lady, night will soon be upon us and who knows that the mob may change its mood? It is dangerous to be abroad without escort.’

‘I shall have Eadulf and Brother Metellus with me. And we shall not be long following you.’

When Bleidbara insisted, she finally agreed that he should leave one of his men as their escort.

When the rest of the party had left, she turned to Brother Metellus with a query in her eyes. ‘You say that Aourken wanted to see me?’

‘She did,’ he confirmed.

‘Then let us see what it is she wants.’

Brother Metellus led the way along the path to the fishing village, the warrior walking a respectful distance behind. They went directly to Aourken’s cottage and found the elderly woman sitting outside, obviously awaiting them. She rose with a smile of welcome.

‘I have heard that much has happened since you left me,’ she greeted them, and offered them refreshment. ‘Biscam and his merchants dead, Abbot Maelcar murdered and Macliau, the son of the
mac’htiern
, accused of killing Argantken. I didn’t know Argantken well but her father Barbatil is a good man, a farmer who is well respected on this peninsula.’

‘Even good men can be mistaken,’ replied Fidelma, after they had all declined the offer of refreshment. ‘Brother Metellus tells me that you wanted to see me about something specific.’

The elderly woman nodded. ‘You remember that you mentioned a black cat to me?’

When Fidelma indicated that she had, Aourken went to her door and beckoned Fidelma to follow. Then she pointed inside.

Before the hearth, in an old basket, a black cat was curled up. Fidelma took a pace towards it and the cat, hearing the noise, glanced up and gazed at her. Then it rose slowly and stretched on all four legs and let out a ‘miaow’.

‘Luchtigern!’ breathed Fidelma, reaching down to stroke the animal. ‘Is it you?’

The cat purred and stretched again. Fidelma checked carefully and felt the telltale lump of pitch still entangled in the fur on the back of its neck.

‘It
is
the ship’s cat from the
Barnacle Goose
. So it did manage to get to land. I was almost convinced that I was imagining it. That means the ship must have put in somewhere in this vicinity. Maybe the crew has survived as well.’

Eadulf silently wished that he had not been so ready to dismiss Fidelma’s claim when they had first arrived at the abbey.

Fidelma turned to Aourken. ‘Is it possible for you to keep hold of this cat until…until…’ She was hoping that the young cabin boy, Wenbrit, who looked after the ship’s cat, had survived.

Aourken gave her a sympathetic smile of understanding.

‘Until it can be returned to its rightful home? Have no fear, I will keep it. I hope that you and Brother Eadulf will look after yourselves. It seems that these are dangerous times now. I disliked Abbot Maelcar, but no one deserves to be killed in such a fashion.’

‘You heard how he was slain then?’ Fidelma glanced at her in curiosity.

‘Iuna told me.’

‘When was this?’ Fidelma asked quickly.

‘This morning.’

‘This morning? Where did you see her?’

Aourken was puzzled at the sharp interest that Fidelma was displaying.

‘Is something wrong?’ she countered.

‘Nothing that need cause you alarm,’ Fidelma replied with a tight smile.

‘Well, I went to get some oysters with a few other women of the village. There is a bay to the north of here.’

‘Facing the Little Sea, as you call it?’

‘On the north side of the peninsula, yes. It is not a long walk from here. And the oysters are good.’

‘And that is where you saw Iuna?’

‘Indeed it was. She was there, choosing oysters for Brilhag. She likes to choose them herself.’

‘At what part of the morning was this?’

‘When was it that I saw her…about mid-morning, I suppose.’

Fidelma frowned, mentally calculating the time, and becoming aware that she had made a mistake. A bad one. Trifina had
not
been lying. Iuna could not have sailed to Govihan with Iarnbud, after all. However, she had no time to waste on rebuking herself.

‘That is most helpful, Aourken. And you will look after the cat for a while?’

‘I will. He is no trouble, but I think he is pining for his real owner.’

Fidelma was about to leave when she turned back.

‘One more thing. You told me that you knew Abbot Maelcar when he was a young man here. Did he ever speak about his family?’

Aourken was surprised by the question.

‘Not much. His parents had been killed in a Frankish raid when he was scarcely more than a baby. He was sent to be fostered at the abbey of Meven. Then he came here.’

‘The abbey of Meven – where is that?’

‘In the forests of Brekilien, north of here.’

‘Did he have any siblings?’

The old woman frowned. ‘I do not think so. He always spoke of himself as an only child.’

‘I see.’ Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘That is very helpful. My thanks again.’

The small party left the old woman at her cottage door and walked back towards the abbey. They found their horses where they had left them and bade farewell to Brother Metellus before mounting and heading back to Brilhag.

They had arrived back at Brilhag well after nightfall, and everyone was exhausted. Fidelma wanted to question Iuna immediately, but Eadulf persuaded her that the morning would be more appropriate. After a hurried evening meal, everyone went to their bedchamber.

When Fidelma and Eadulf descended to the great hall the next morning they found only Bleidbara standing moodily before the fire.

‘Riwanon left the fortress early this morning,’ he stated with a bleak expression. ‘She decided that she wanted to pray at the oratory, just along the coast from here.’

‘She has gone to do
what
?’ demanded Fidelma in amazement. ‘Why was she allowed to go outside the fortress when there is such danger abroad?’

‘Who am I to dare question the decision of Riwanon?’ Bleidbara answered dourly. ‘Anyway, she has taken her maid Ceingar, and Budic with two of his men.’

‘Better than nothing,’ Fidelma replied but not with approval. ‘Even so, she ought to be aware of the dangers hereabouts. When did she leave?’

‘At first light.’

‘And what is this oratory? I hope that it is not the same one in which Macliau was found?’

‘No, it’s on this side of the peninsula – a little chapel where it is said that one of the saints stayed during some pilgrimage.’

Fidelma shook her head in dissatisfaction. Then she glanced at the remains of the food on the table.

‘It looks as though everyone else has been up before us.’ Eadulf had sat down and was helping himself to bread and cold meats, but Fidelma excused herself. She did not feel at all hungry. Instead, she decided to go in search of Iuna. She found the girl in the kitchens.

‘I was told that you met old Aourken from the village yesterday,’ she opened immediately.

Iuna regarded her in surprise for a moment.

‘You make that sound like an accusation of something,’ she countered defensively. ‘Yes, I did see her yesterday. We often meet when I go to buy oysters. She used to teach me when I was younger and when she was with the religious at the abbey. That was before—’

‘Before Abbot Maelcar took over and changed the Rule at the abbey?’

‘Just so. Abbot Maelcar changed so many good things.’

‘I gather you did not like him?’

‘How could anyone like him? He would insult me by calling me a provincial servant, when my family…’ She took a deep breath. ‘Maelcar was a lecherous old man who shrouded prurience in piety. He preferred to look at women from cracks in curtains. When I was at Brekilian recently, he—’

‘Go on,’ Fidelma invited when the girl suddenly stopped and a flush came to her cheeks.

‘I hear stories, that’s all,’ Iuna muttered.

‘And Iarnbud? I had the impression that you did not like him either.’

‘Am I to take it that these questions have some relevance to the death of the Abbot?’ Iuna said rudely.

Fidelma was unperturbed by the aggression in her tone.

‘You may. You may also assume that I am still carrying out the commission Queen Riwanon gave me.’

‘I was raised at Brilhag. The
mac’htiern
fostered me when my parents were killed in a Frankish raid. Iarnbud is always about the place.’ She shuddered suddenly. ‘He is a sinister old man, as far as I am concerned. Always creeping about the place, always peering and prying. No, I do not like him one little bit.’

‘What was the nature of the argument that I saw you having with him yesterday?’

Again the girl looked at her in surprise and said nothing for a while. Fidelma decided to prompt her again.

‘I was coming to speak with you when I saw you at the door which leads out to the path down to the small cove where some boats are moored,’ she explained.

Iuna was still defensive. ‘If you were that interested, why did you not come to speak to us and enquire then?’

‘I had to fetch Eadulf, and by the time we came back, you had both vanished. We went down to the cove and saw a boat sailing towards Govihan.’

Iuna smiled grimly. ‘That was Iarnbud.’

‘But you had also vanished. I thought you might have gone with him?’

‘I have my rowing boat there and was on my way to collect the oysters. So I left Iarnbud sailing to Govihan while I rowed along the coast to the oyster beds in the little bay beyond.’

Fidelma had already guessed as much after Aourken had told her of the meeting. She was still irritated that she had made a mistake in thinking Iuna and Iarnbud had sailed off together. So she and Eadulf had been on a wild-goose chase. She grimaced
at the dark humour of the expression. They were, indeed, chasing the
Barnacle Goose
.

‘And the argument between you?’ she added.

‘Iarnbud was asking too many personal questions.’

‘Personal questions?’

‘About Macliau, about Riwanon, even questions about you.’

‘I don’t understand. What sort of questions? For example, what would he want to know about Macliau? He has surely known him since birth.’

‘He wanted to know about Macliau’s friends. He was always going off hunting with them, even though there was no need for meat for the kitchens, and sometimes he would return without any game. Iarnbud seemed curious, for it was unlike Macliau to take an interest in hunting.’

‘Why was this a subject of argument with Iarnbud?’

‘I told him that there was a reason for Macliau’s desire to hunt.’

‘Which was?’

‘Hunting was a euphemism used by Macliau. It disguised his pursuit of the local women. I am afraid my foster-brother is…’ She finished with an eloquent gesture of her shoulders.

‘You have heard the story of what happened yesterday. Do you think your brother murdered Argantken?’

Iuna’s mouth became a stubborn line and she vehemently shook her head.

‘Macliau is a fool, a profligate and reckless with women. He is also weak and he should never succeed his father as
mac’htiern
. That does not mean he is a killer. He has a horror of blood. Of course,’ she added, ‘there is no accounting what a weak man will do when there is a prospect of being denied the power he thinks he is entitled to.’

‘You say he should not succeed as Lord of Brilhag. Who would become
mac’htiern
then?’

‘When a suitable male is not available to become chieftain or king,’ the girl replied, ‘then it is time to stand aside for a woman to take over.’

‘Meaning Trifina?’

Iuna’s eyes flashed for a moment and then she seemed to catch herself and smiled without humour.

‘Perhaps,’ she replied shortly. ‘She is the only other child of Lord Canao. One must not only be of the bloodline but be perceived as the best person for the task.’

‘I presume Iarnbud was asking about me because he is suspicious of all foreigners?’ continued Fidelma.

‘He wanted to know if you had known Riwanon before you came here.’

This answer puzzled Fidelma. She asked: ‘How did he think I would have known her?’

‘Perhaps because your Cousin Bressal had been sent as envoy to King Alain and you were on your cousin’s ship when it was attacked?’

‘Why would that follow? Oh, he might not have realised that I only joined Bressal at Naoned. I suppose he thought that I had come to this kingdom with my cousin and had been at Alain’s court?’

‘Iarnbud is a strange man,’ Iuna said, almost to herself. ‘He has never liked Riwanon.’

‘Any reason?’

‘Only that he was once patronised by Riwanon’s predecessor as Queen.’

Fidelma was trying to work that out.

‘Do you mean that Riwanon is not the first wife of this King Alain?’ she asked.

‘Correct. She is his second wife. King Alain is twice her age, you see.’

‘What happened to his first wife?’

‘What happened to half of the population a few years ago? The Yellow Plague, alas.’

‘And then Alain married Riwanon?’

‘He did.’

‘And where was she from? Domnonia?’

‘No, she was of Bro-Waroch. Her father was Lord of Gwern Porc’ hoed on the edge of the great forest of Brekilien.’

Brekilien again, thought Fidelma. This name cropped up so many times.

‘So is Riwanon related to your foster-father’s family?’

‘The Lord of Gwern Porc’ hoed was one of the chieftains who owed allegiance to the kings of Bro-Waroch, but he was not of the royal family.’

‘And you think that Iarnbud dislikes Riwanon for no other reason than that she married Alain Hir?’

‘He needs little excuse for his likes and dislikes,’ the girl replied. ‘And now I think I have gossiped enough. Excuse me – I have my duties to perform.’

With a quick jerk of her head to indicate that the conversation had ended, she turned and walked away, leaving Fidelma gazing thoughtfully after her. Perhaps, she thought, the family relationships were entirely irrelevant to the matter, but they were certainly complicated.

On her return to the great hall, Fidelma found that some of the others had arrived and were sitting morosely around the fire. Macliau was seated on one side of the hearth apparently recovering from his travails, while Trifina sat opposite him, both their gazes seemed concentrated on the flames. Brother Metellus had apparently made the early-morning journey to the fortress to report on conditions at the abbey after the near-riot. He sat near them, drumming his fingers uneasily on the wooden arm of his carved chair. Bleidbara was standing before the fire,
hands clasped behind him, while Eadulf remained at the table, having finished breaking his fast. He raised his eyes in a meaningful expression as Fidelma entered, as if to indicate the awkward atmosphere that permeated the room.

Fidelma was just walking across to join her husband when the now-familiar warning blast on a trumpet at the gates of the fortress caused them all to start.

Bleidbara’s head jerked up, his expression one of concern. He hurried to the doors and threw them open.

They could hear the sounds of horses arriving and Bleidbara’s voice raised in question. It was not long before he came back. His expression was grim and foretold bad news.

‘What is it?’ demanded Trifina.

‘My men have returned,’ Bleidbara announced hollowly. ‘They found the four men who accompanied Macliau.’

‘Well, what do these men say? Why are they not brought before me?’ snapped Trifina.

Bleidbara glanced at Macliau, who was waiting anxiously for his reply.

‘They say nothing, lady, for they are all dead. They seem to have been shot at close range with arrows.’

There was a silence, broken only by a long shuddering breath from Macliau.

‘I see,’ said Fidelma slowly. ‘And where were the bodies found? I mean, were they in the proximity of the ruined oratory?’

‘Not far from it, but not close enough for any warning cry to be heard.’

‘Did your men bring the arrows with them?’

Bleidbara gazed at her in surprise, then muttered something and disappeared. He had returned in a moment and held out one of the arrows to her.

She looked at it. ‘Goose feather and three flights. A professional fletched arrow,’ she said, glancing over at Eadulf.

He nodded slightly, to show he understood. Bleidbara opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind.

Macliau raised his head again, his pleading eyes regarding them each in turn.

‘They were my only witnesses that what I say is the truth,’ he said. ‘What trial shall I get now?’

Brother Metellus looked at him sorrowfully, saying, ‘Dead men do not make good witnesses, Macliau.’

Macliau jumped up, his mouth working.

‘
I
did not kill them!’ he cried. ‘Is that what you are implying. Brother Metellus? I did not kill anyone.’ He turned and almost ran from the hall in the manner of a petulant child.

‘This does not disprove Macliau’s story,’ Fidelma said. ‘It could have happened in the way he described. His men were killed and then the killers could have waited until Macliau and the girl were both asleep, entered the oratory, made him so drunk he passed out, and then stabbed the girl. The story is still feasible.’

Bleidbara glanced at Trifina, who had resumed her gaze at the fire. Her jaw was clenched.

‘There is one thing I should say,’ he said quietly. ‘Lady Trifina knows this.’

‘What is it?’

‘Our own fletcher made those arrows, which you remark on. There is a store of them in our armoury. Two weeks ago, the fletcher noticed that several bundles seemed to be missing. We could not account for their disappearance.’

‘Well, we need proof one way or the other, if we are to satisfy Barbatil and the local men,’ observed Brother Metellus.

Eadulf spoke up. ‘The attackers could well have stabbed the girl – but as Macliau woke, when they poured strong liquor into him to dull his senses, it would surely not have had such a rapid effect?’ he pointed out. ‘You cannot pour liquid down
someone’s throat and expect them to become insensible with drink in so short a time.’

‘Are you saying that Macliau is lying?’ Trifina turned from the fireplace, her voice quiet but threatening.

‘No, I am not,’ Eadulf replied hurriedly. ‘What I
am
saying is that I think he would have had to have been drugged as well as having alcohol poured into him. If so, it would require someone with the skills of an apothecary.’

‘But why not simply kill him?’ Trifina demanded, and then added hastily, ‘Thanks be to God that they did not. But I do not understand the logic of this.’

‘I think the logic is easy to follow,’ Fidelma intervened. ‘Didn’t you tell us that you thought this Dove of Death, as you call him, was trying to disgrace your family? To follow your logic, we have your brother accused of murder and nearly strung up by a mob for something he didn’t do. Isn’t that precisely what you claim this
Koulm ar Maro
’s purpose is?’

‘So you believe Macliau is innocent?’

‘I would add the word “probably” to “innocent”. Having been too long in dealing with such matters, I cannot be dogmatic about anything until it is proven one way or the other,’ Fidelma replied.

To their surprise, at that moment, another warning call of a trumpet was heard from the gates.

‘That is a signal of approaching danger from the lookouts!’ cried Trifina, her face white. ‘The mob are coming for Macliau!’